Page 100 of Blackwicket
Victor withdrew.
“When the Drudge come, keep your guard tight and get out,” he said. As he stepped around me, his fingers brushed mine so softly it might have been an accident. “There’ll only be one window open; everything else is sealed. Follow Thea and Jack, they know the way. Then find the thing that makes the fight worth it, Ellie.”
“Victor.” My voice trembled, but he moved on.
Thea slipped through the door, strung tight.
“Get out there,” she hissed. “He’s coming up.”
I surrendered to inevitability, hoping the resulting numbness would protect me from whatever came next. Thea entwined her hand with mine, but instead of the softness of her skin, there was the cold, hard touch of metal—a pairing knife she must have swiped from a table.
“If there were ever a time to commit murder, I suppose it’s now. I only wish I’d had the strength.”
“You had the strength not to,” I said. With both tenderness and regret for the moments I’d missed, for the chance I’d once had to be Thea’s family, I kissed her cheek.
“She loved you so much, Eleanora,” Thea whispered.
“I know,” I replied, then entered the hall, holding a knife against my hip, obscured by the chiffon pleats.
The balcony where I stood encircled a two-story room of white marble and mahogany. Twin crystal chandeliers, splendid marvels of gold and glass, sparkled with candlelight, their electric bulbs dim. In the center of the mezzanine, a staircase ascended, flanked on each side by three-armed candelabras on each step. Victor hadn’t been overstating when he’d said William had a penchant for the dramatic. Nonetheless, the gloomy ambiance served a dual purpose, hiding the identities of the High Tide attendees below. Adorned in lavish attire, they sat at banquet tables spanning the gleaming alabaster floor, its sheen reflecting a golden glow beneath them, like hellfire. Their faces were additionally veiled by black silk masks, obscuring their eyes and noses from anyone who’d report on those present.
The hall’s only windows, five arranged along the rightmost wall, were veiled by heavy velvet curtains in the shade of absinthe, shielding the covert society formed among the Brom and Authority from the outside world. Those present, immersedin their own corruption, showed regard for neither the people nor the magic they viewed as chaff for their fires.
William stood at the base of the steps with Jack by his side. The boy was dressed in a fashion mirroring William’s suit, unruly hair neatly combed in a style better suited to a grown man. As I came into view, all heads pivoted in my direction, and William beamed up at me, as if I were his bride, raising an arm to present me to the guests.
“Ms. Blackwicket comes to us as an angel in our hour of need. She’s agreed to be here tonight because she believes in this mission we’ve chosen to undertake. One that will improve the lives of all in this room, including young Jack.” He placed his hand fondly on the boy’s shoulder. “Each of you here has already given a piece of yourselves to this worthy project. Your trust. And it’s with my deepest gratitude that I deliver to you tonight, with the help of my two assistants, the product of my father’s vision and many years of your most gracious support. Jack, the vessel.”
Jack pulled a jewelry box from his pocket and offered it to William. Inside lay a bracelet featuring familiar, multicolored facets. This had been the vehicle of Ms. Rosley’s doom, stolen from my bags by Darren, who subsequently returned it to its original owner.
“Many of you doubt the value of curses, concerned about their instability. Yet with determination and practice, they can be wielded for good and are, as I’ll demonstrate, the most potent form of magic.” William lifted the bracelet to catch the flickering light, and with the poise of a seasoned Curse Eater, he summoned the curse lingering within. It emerged as a vaporous red cloud, and with a deep inhale, like a gasp for fresh air after a century of suffocation, William absorbed it. I clutched the low banister, steadying myself.
A gasp of alarm arose from the crowd, calming whenWilliam handed his cane to Jack and turned to the stairs, which his injury would make it difficult to climb without assistance. Nevertheless, he mounted them with the ease of a man whose hip had never been crushed by his abusive father.
The guests erupted in awe and applause as William Nightglass ascended to the second-floor balcony, with Jack following obediently behind. Upon reaching the top, he beckoned me to meet him, triumphant. Keeping the knife concealed in the folds of my dress, I approached, facing the crowd in a mimic of unity.
It was then that I saw Victor entering the hall through the double doors on the first floor. He paused, looking up at me with an unreadable expression. Then he went to work, unnoticed, sealing the door shut in the same manner he’d locked me inside Blackwicket House, stitching together the seams by encouraging long-dead wood to revive and grow together. If William noticed him, he either didn’t care or this had been part of the event. I glanced at Jack, the boy standing stiff as a board, his hands clenched into fists.
“Curses, when handled by a body trained in resilience, create strength. My father’s methods were long misunderstood, and his intentions had always been to create a society undeterred by hardship, free of fragility and fear. And here I stand as an example of his success. But I’m sure you aren’t yet convinced. Before we continue, there’s a small matter I must see to.”
William faced me. I thought he sought to take both of my hands, compromising my hidden weapon, but he took only one as though he’d ask me to dance.
“I’m afraid I brought Ms. Blackwicket here under false pretenses tonight. She’s very private, but this moment is too precious to keep to ourselves. It is my greatest hope to be bound eternally with this woman, sharing a soul, as well as a devotion that will sustain us for this lifetime, and all the lifetimes to come.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Complete shock rooted me to the spot, and I searched for any sign of jest on William’s face, but all I found was a besotted softness that sat unnatural on his expression, combined with the horrific sight of his irises, gone white, creating the illusion that his pupils floated in the milky void of his eyes. The audience erupted with delight, along with a small murmur of surprise.
“William, you can’t be serious,” I said, but he was undeterred.
“Present your magic to me, my love.”
I glanced at Jack, who watched with wide eyes, his uncertainty making him look his age, despite the costume of maturity he’d been dressed in. If I gave in to William, did as he asked, I’d be showing this child the only thing to do when standing before tyranny was crumble.
“No.” My refusal echoed.
William raised a brow, and I thrust the knife toward the soft underside of his chin. Predicting the attack, he caught my wrist, his magic igniting like embers and burning my skin until I dropped the knife in agony, crying out.
“Oh, but I’m sure you mean yes.”
