Page 56 of Court of Shadows
“If I can find a way to leave and take you with me, would you go?” I asked.
Mary’s green eyes widened, lashes fluttering. “Oh yes. Please, Louisa, could we go? But where would we go?”
“I... don’t know that yet. I believe I’ve found a way to come into some money soon; perhaps I could use it to take us far away. To London. Or farther. I know it sounds far-fetched but I really am trying, and I think my plans just might work.”
She hopped out of the bed and flung herself at me, hugging me hard. I walked with her to the door, and she embraced me again as I turned the knob and peered out into the hall, checking for Residents. There was nobody there, though I could feel that dawn was close, and I would get very little rest.
“Nobody,” I told her. “Here,” I added, shrugging out of her housecoat and handing it back. “Almost ran off in that, wouldn’t want to accidentally steal your good-luck charm.”
Mary had begun to turn away, then laughed. “My what?”
“Your lucky charm,” I said. “Chijioke said you always have it on you. To rub for good fortune.”
“Oh.” Her brows knitted again and then she smiled, a strange, hot glow on her cheeks. I had forgotten my nakedness, aware then that she was fidgeting nervously. “Right. The, the...”
She was acting very strangely.I wonder...
“The coin,” I supplied, giving a falsely teasing wink. “How could you forget,Mary?”
“Yes! Of course. Brain must still be asleep, ha! My lucky coin, aye, don’t you run off with it!” She shook the housecoat at me playfully and I blinked, hard, feeling my heart plummet to my toes. I stared at the back of her head as she turned toward the bed, and a cold, merciless rage flooded through me, suppressed only by the lump in my throat.
A fish. Her good-luck charm was a fish.
I left, striding quickly toward my room. Behind me, I heard her sweetly calling, “Good night!”
“Good night,” I choked out, flinging open the door to my room. I sank down at once, curling up on the cold, hard floor. The tears were immediate and sobering.
A drop of blood, a lock of hair, lands you in the Changeling’s snare.
“Which did you take, Father? Blood or hair?” I whispered into my hands. Mary. God. Where was the real Mary? What did he do to her? How long had he been masquerading in her image?
I stood and wiped blindly at the tears on my cheeks. The bed felt nearly as cold as the floor, for there was no comfort to be found that night. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and bared my teeth to the darkness. “It had better be the lock of hair, Father. For your sake.”
Chapter Thirty
Facing “Croydon Frost” early the next morning was unbearable. I served him tea as he read in the west salon, that horrid pink spider straining its chain as it watched me from his shoulder. It looked eager to hop on my face and take another bite.
Perhaps I had a future on the stage, I thought, putting on a kindly smile as I waited for him to choose a pastry from the tiered plates. His suit that morning was black, simple, with a celadon-green cravat, a tiny leaf holding the silk ruffle in place. The smell of pine drifted from his clothing. He sat with one leg resting on the other, stirring a cup of tea, long chin jutted out thoughtfully as he perused the selection.
“I wanted to propose something,” I said quietly, making a big show of glancing around the room to reaffirm that we were alone.
He grinned up at me, at last taking a scone from the tray. Now when I looked at his narrow, handsome face I could see nothing but the stag skull beneath it, as if the flesh he wore were only a thin and fading covering that would slip any second, revealing the true monster. It took every fiber of restraint I had to keep from smashing him over the head with his own teacup.
Where is Mary? What did you do with her?
I was bargaining from a position of weakness, for as soon ashe discovered I knew the truth about Mary he would have dangerous leverage. He had seen firsthand how dearly I admired her, and the knowledge of her true location was invaluable. If I did not play this game carefully, I would lose before it even really began.
“I am listening,” he said, inhaling deeply.
He did not eat his scone but rather abandoned it on his saucer. I took a step closer, loathing every minute I spent in his presence. My plan had altered in the night, but my original goal remained. I had to leave Coldthistle House for good, and avoid the mess he was determined to make.
“The book,” I whispered, giving another conspiratorial look about. “I’ll find a way to get it for you, but I want something, and I want it up front.”
“Money?” Of course he knew, the clever bastard, having heard it from my own lips last night. He smiled like the cat that got the cream, making death by teacup that much more tempting.
“Not just money,” I replied hastily. “A fortune. Enough to start over, enough for me to take Mary and my friends far away from here and begin a new life.”
“Intriguing,” he purred. “Go on.”
