Page 97 of Blackwicket
“Regarding you,” William remarked, stepping closer. I flinched, and he halted his pursuit, choosing to hold a hand to me, beckoning, “Don’t be afraid, darling, I won’t hurt you.”
William Nightglass wanted to be in control and intended for me to surrender to the inevitability of his owning me as his father had owned the other women in my family. Thea had admired my sister for her ability to handle the Nightglass men, and while the thought sickened me, complying seemed the most logical path toward creating an escape route for us all.
I couldn’t simply charm him, not after our confrontations. He wouldn’t be taken in by it. But I could pretend to be afraid.
I placed my hand in his, and he began leading me from the dining hall, relying on his cane, though his gait was much smoother than I recalled.
“We’ve had our differences since you arrived,” he soothed, “but it’s all been a misunderstanding. It’s time to put it to rest.”
William opened a door for me, motioning me to step into relentless darkness. I couldn’t know what was waiting for me.
“Eleanora.”
A disagreeable shiver crept over my skin at his ominous tone, which he used to emphasize my lack of choice.
I entered, standing in the darkness for several moments until a lamp flickered to life, its green glass reminiscent of seaweed-choked waters. We stood in a compact, windowless study, the herringbone floors giving way to walnut paneling that stretched to the coffered ceiling. The rear wall was lined with bookshelves, filled to capacity with neatly arranged rows of leather-bound law books and medical volumes. A cold fireplace had been built in as an afterthought, small and unused, and a partner’s desk hulked in the center, the only furniture. The space offered little in the way of comfort.
“Did you know this is the very room where I lost my ability to walk without this bastard?” As he neared the desk, he threw his cane into the air, catching it and eyeing the gleaming wood, the gold curve of the handle. My heart skipped a beat.
“Grigori was fashioning Thomas into something great - but it was a difficult transformation. My little brother always kept a stiff upper lip, but I couldn’t handle it. One night the codger plied him with so many curses, I heard his ribs snap.”
I didn’t have to feign being shaken; my hands clenched at my side.
“I came here to his office, begged him to take Tommy to your mother, and he beat me senseless with this very cane. For good measure, he brought his heel down, right here.”
He tapped his hip.
“You remember what a big man my father was, don’t you, Eleanora?” He chuckled as though it were an amusing memory. “Acetabular fracture. He swore to his death I’d dreamed it up, that it was Thomas who’d done it.”
I held no sympathy for this lunatic, but I was sorry for the child William had once been, the boy who’d tried to help and paid so dearly for it.
“I know you think I’m a beast,” he said as he reached for the crystal decanter on the desktop, poured the tan liquid intotwo glasses. “But I’m afraid you’re missing some vital information, and I want to clear the air.”
He offered a glass.
“No, thank you,” I said stiffly.
“Drink it.” There was no command in his tone, but it was one. “No hidden curses.”
I took the cold crystal in hand, and in a pointless show of annoyance, which benefited William more than myself, I knocked the liquor back in a quick tilt of my head. It burned, and I resisted a cough. I didn’t drink, it made it too difficult to keep the shield protecting my magic in position, which William likely knew.
He raised his glass in approval and then followed suit, releasing a hiss of appreciation for the astringent flavor, before trailing his eyes over my features, searching for something familiar. When he touched my face, I resisted the urge to lurch aside, allowing him to trace his thumb along my chin.
“Why do I have a feeling this blood isn’t yours?”
I had Coppe’s blood on me. The frequency with which I’d worn someone else’s gore on my skin was beginning to disturb even me.
“Because it isn’t.”
My flat response pleased him, and he fought his smile, though there was a twinkle of merriment in his eye.
“You’re a dangerous little thing. There was the same fire in Fiona, but she never quite let it free. In the end, I think her restraint destroyed her.”
I almost laughed. Instead, I moved to wipe any remaining blood away, revolted by it, but William caught my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine as if I’d been his lover since our youth rather than my sister.
“Don’t do that,” he said, “It looks too good on you.”
“What do you want?” I asked, adding the right amount of tremble to avoid sounding combative.
