Page 19 of Unbroken
The ghul gave chase, running on all fours as she barked and snarled her rage. She might have caught them, or at least he thought so, but seemed more interested in driving them off. Did she understand Sebastian’s attempt at an apology, or did she simply have no desire to actually fight, outnumbered as she was?
They went over the low wall, Noct lifting Irene off her feet and putting her down on the other side. Ves vaulted over it last, then stopped and looked back. Annalise had halted about five feet from the wall, every tooth bared as she continued to bark and snarl.
“We didn’t take the body!” he called back, in case she could still understand human language. “Someone else caused it to reanimate.”
“Ves, get in the auto!” Sebastian yelled at him.
He did so. As Irene roared away, Annalise stood with her hand-like paws resting on the stone wall, glaring daggers after them.
“Is everyone all right?” Irene asked from the front.
“I think she was just trying to drive us off.” Ves settled into the seat.
“Still.” Sebastian grimaced. “I’m going to have to figure out how to make amends. Otherwise, if I die before her, she’ll find my ashes and piss in them.”
CHAPTER 10
While places such as Boston might have a city directory including the names and addresses of its inhabitants, Ves had quickly learned that Widdershins citizens valued privacy over convenience. The telephone company, on the other hand, was far more free with its directory, and the members of the WHS had the sort of money and business dealings that necessitated a private phone line.
The members Mrs. Siewert had listed all lived on the same privileged side of town at least, which would make walking house-to-house convenient. Sebastian had taken the train to Ipswich first thing that morning, so it was up to Ves and Mortimer to interview them.
They began with the house nearest the trolley stop. Ves tipped his head back as they walked, feeling the sun on his face, breathing in the heady fragrance of the flowers. Bees hummed contentedly in the blooms spilling through wrought-iron fences, and birds sang in the trees above.
He’d never wanted to return to the little shack where he and Noct had been raised. But the countryside around it, the deep forests and steep ravines, the thousand little brooks winding past mossy boulders…
“This is Mrs. Rice’s home,” Mortimer said, breaking Ves from his reverie. “I know her—not personally, but we were introduced at one point.”
“But she isn’t one of the old families?” Ves asked. The social structure of Widdershins tended toward the Byzantine, and he was still unsure of the intricacies.
“Heavens, no,” Mortimer scoffed. “I believe she was born in Salem and married a Widdershins man—also not from the old families, before you ask. He made a fair amount of money through some sort of factories—brassworks, I believe. Then he invested in railroads and shipping, and made even more.”
“Hence the mansion.”
“Indeed. Unfortunately, their only son was murdered…I can’t recall exactly how long ago. Fifteen years, a decade, something like that.”
Ves glanced at him. “Do you think what’s happening now could have any bearing on the son’s death?”
“Oh no, that matter is settled and done. Philip Rice became involved in things he had no business dabbling in. He was a social climber, he had money, and the old families found him…useful.”
“To do their dirty work?” Ves knew enough of the old families by now that it wasn’t much of a guess.
“He might have done well for himself in such a role—others certainly have.” Mortimer shrugged. “Unfortunately for Philip, he got cold feet at the worst possible time.”
“So your family murdered him?”
“Well, not my family,” Mortimer said, looking offended. Then he winced. “Not directly, of course. I don’t know the details. I was far too young to be admitted into the…fraternity, let’s call it. Rice was silenced before he could cause trouble, and though the case was never officially solved, I understand justice was served in a fashion. The fraternity was disbanded by the survivors, and Mrs. Rice seemed content with that, so far as I know. At any rate, she resumed socializing once her period of mourning was over. Her husband died a few years later, something with his heart, I believe. Since then, she’s been a wealthy, respectable widow.”
“But the horticultural society wasn’t involved?”
“The parvenus on the list Mrs. Siewert gave us? Good lord, no,” Mortimer said, as if he didn’t live in a boarding house and have to take the trolley like the rest of them these days.
Mrs. Rice’s mansion was surrounded by an iron fence with roses planted on the other side, perhaps to discourage anyone from climbing over. If so, these would certainly do the job: the canes were thick as his wrist, with thorns like daggers and blooms the size of bowling balls. Whatever the WHS was doing with their plants, it was causing them to flower out of season; the roses should have dropped their petals a month ago.
They disturbed Ves, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps it was simply because humans couldn’t leave things alone, wanting flowers out of season, or a certain color, or a larger size, rather than letting the rhythms of nature take their course.
A maid answered the front door when they knocked. Mortimer produced his card and said, “Mortimer Waite, calling on Mrs. Rice. Is she in for visitors?”
The young woman shook her head. “No, sir. I’m afraid she’s out on her own visits. But I’ll make certain to give her your card.”
