Page 9 of Court of Shadows
“We don’t need to ask permission, you know. We have the right of passage.”
“Och, lady, you could have every right in your world and mine, and it could be carved on your forehead and I couldn’t be bothered. I’d sooner invite a scorpion into my boot.” He gestured to me again, and absent a stile, I was forced to scamper back over the rickety fence. At least Chijioke offered me a hand of assistance, though he never took his eyes off the well-dressed twins behind us.
“Don’t trust them,” he whispered as he helped me down. “Not the nasty one nor the one with all the friendly smiles. They’re not our kind, and they’re not here to help, whatever they may say. Keep to yourself and keep close to the house; Mrs. Haylam says everything will be topsy-turvy with this Court going on. There’s danger afoot, lass, and we best stick together.”
I nodded, keeping my head down. Enough problems swirled in my head; I did not need to add more to that morass.
Before we could start back toward the house, I noticed a shadow moving toward us at great speed. It flickered in and out of sight, leaping forward invisibly and then appearing again closer to us, and then closer. It made a soft popping sound, as ifit broke through an unseen barrier each time it emerged. Chijioke did not seem bothered by it, but I heard the girl Sparrow groan.
When the shape was close enough to touch, it took solid form at last, and Mr. Morningside came through, stepping out of a black and shifting portal. He adjusted his fine cravat, walking toward the fence and the twins, never breaking his stride as he went. When he passed us, he gave a subtle wink.
“The Beast himself,” Sparrow said, shaking her head. “We were just talking about you; were your ears itching?”
“Not exactly,” Mr. Morningside replied. Their appearance did not seem to upset him, and he leaned jauntily against the fence, regarding the twins with a twinkle in his golden eyes. He was taller than the two newcomers, but only just. He buffed his nails on his striped coat and basked as languidly as a cat. It was strange, I thought, to see him out of doors and in the sun. It was like seeing a fish happy to be on land.
“I thought I felt a nasty indigestion coming on,” he continued. “Then I realized it was only our esteemed guests arriving. Jostles the innards, the presence of Upworlders, doesn’t it?” Perking up a little, he turned to me and cocked his head to the side. “Did you feel it as well, Louisa? Something must have alerted you to their presence.”
“I did feel cold and strange,” I admitted with a shrug. “Not sick so much as frozen. But I saw them, too, a great glowing shape that fell out of the sky and into the east fields.”
“Frozen,” he repeated, lifting one brow.
I pointed, and Mr. Morningside followed my fingers, leaning to the left to see around the twins. Then he chuckled and smoothed his hair back with one palm. “What a landing! I’m sure I remembered to warn the shepherd about the new protections around the place.”
Finch crossed his arms over his chest, glowering. “I’m sure you didn’t.”
“Intentionally,” Sparrow added. “Not the best way to begin the proceedings, Beast, given you’re the one on trial. Punishing the wicked to sate your ridiculous bloodlust should be enough, but here you are, causing even more trouble.”
Mr. Morningside clucked his tongue, spreading his hands wide. “That’s awfully hostile, Sparrow. The Court can be more than a trial—why, I thought we could make it civil. You know, more of a meeting of the minds. We are all just trying to coexist peacefully, are we not? I’m going to throw a grand ball for you all. It will be a diverting change from your usual life of toil and sobriety.”
“Distractions only make you look more desperate,” Sparrow replied coolly. “And more pathetic.”
“Doubling down on the hostility, are we? That’s all right, that’s all right.” He waved off her glare and then just as breezily beckoned them across the fence. I took a step back, remembering Chijioke’s words of warning. “You’re free to come and go, though I will ask you not to interfere with my staff or theirduties. We’re expecting guests of a more... mundane nature, and they must not be neglected. As you said, mybloodlustmust be sated.”
I saw Finch shiver at that. Did they know what went on at Coldthistle House? Was it simply accepted, even among these so-called Upworlders? I wondered if they would try to stop Poppy or Chijioke, though I couldn’t imagine them being more dangerous than the employees of the mansion. They might have wings that I could not see, but otherwise they appeared quite normal. Normal. Was any of this normal? Surely they had as many secrets as we did.
“There is tea waiting in the downstairs salon,” Mr. Morningside continued, turning back toward the house with a flourish. “You will show them in, won’t you, Louisa?”
For a moment I said nothing, staring at him and then Chijioke. The groundskeeper gave me a single nod and I swallowed my trepidation, waiting behind to see the “guests” inside. After a similar hesitation they breached the fence, though they did so much more gracefully than I, buffeted up and over as if on a strong, perfect wind that carried them safely to the ground. As they did, the gentle glow around their shoulders brightened and I felt another twist of cold in my guts.
I heard their shoes whisper softly over the grass as we left the fields behind. There were fewer fresh holes in the lawn now that Bartholomew was a few months older; he seemed more interested in eating and napping than trying to dig his way backto Hell. Poppy called it “murder sleep,” some kind of ritual he had to undertake after helping her with Colonel Mayweather’s demise. Coldthistle House reared up before us like a skeletal stallion, dark and unwelcoming even awash in sunshine. The spring light never seemed to really touch the place, as if always a shroud of winter hung around it. And the house, unsettling as it was, was not to have a moment’s peace—the drive was cluttered with three teams of horses, each pulling an ornate carriage. Chijioke rushed on ahead of us, and Mrs. Haylam swept out of the front doors, walking swiftly to the descending folk, the next batch of evil souls to be reaped for Mr. Morningside.
“Maybe the side door,” I said, changing course.
For I did not want to see their faces. It was hard enough knowing they were all irrevocably doomed.
Chapter Seven
Iwoke the next morning in a deep fog. Somehow I made it down to the kitchens for a meal at dawn, but I had no memory of dressing myself or fixing my hair, and I could not remember tying the laces on my boots or pinning a cap to my head.
But there I was, sitting in the chilly gloom before sunrise, warmed only by the meager heat left by the baking ovens. The room smelled oddly... empty. Normally my first meal of the day saw me enveloped in the tantalizing scents of fresh scones and meat roasting for supper. Sometimes Chijioke packed the little smokehouse off the kitchen and brought in a tray of pig’s belly musky and woodsy with the perfume of oak. None of those smells met me today, not even the usual hot blast of bergamot from Mrs. Haylam’s morning tea blend, steaming away in a cup just for me.
Today the room was odorless. Colorless, too. The fog in my head and my heart thickened, and the walls, table, and floor all looked dead and gray. I waited alone, wondering if Chijioke and Poppy had gotten an early start—there were human guests to tend to now, and that would require more work from all of us.
I waited for a long time for Mrs. Haylam to bring me my food. Most days she appeared at once, but this was strange.... Where was everyone? What was taking so long?
At last I heard her quick, clipped stride as she approached from the larder. Face cold, hair as severe and neat as ever in its bun, she did not even glance at me with her one good eye but instead slammed down a giant tray in front of me. It was laden with meat, an entire haunch of it, the shape of it still intact. I knew little of butchery, but even to my eyes it did not appear to be from swine or goat. Not mutton, then, but what...
“Porridge will do,” I told her, but she was already gone, bustling out toward the foyer with a tea set.
