Page 66 of House of Furies
He had the good grace to flinch. Taking a measured breath, he refolded his cloth and ran it carefully down my temple. “Men like Bremerton were just a whisper for a long, long time. Theirsort and others like them have always tried to eliminate me. He might have succeeded, too, if you hadn’t decided to sneak in here.”
“I see. I wish hehadkilled you.”
“No, Louisa, you really don’t.” Mr. Morningside—the Devil—gave a dry laugh. “It would mean the end of the Unworld and the human world as you know it.”
“Oh.” I let him push the handkerchief across my forehead, trying to grasp the magnitude of this person, thisbeing, sitting with me and calmly cleaning my face. Squinting, I looked harder. “You were wrong. Lee was innocent. Bremerton killed his own brother and Lee had nothing to do with it. He onlyfeltresponsible because he was a good person. Please, you’re the Devil—I want to make a bargain. Isn’t that what you do? Trick people into giving up their souls for some favor?”
He shook his head, glancing at Lee’s still body. “I know what you would ask, and I cannot help you...”
“No,” I murmured, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.
“... but Mrs. Haylam can.”
I didn’t care how silly my expression was. Had I heard him correctly? Could the hag-turned-housekeeper really bring Lee back to life? I searched his face, but it was no jest. The others were still milling around in the hallway, and I could see Mrs. Haylam standing there, watching us intently.
“Mrs. Haylam, would you come in here, please?”
She approached us slowly, her hands clasped together overher simple black frock. Her skin glowed orange in the late afternoon light filling the room. I looked up at her expectantly. Pleadingly. She fixed her gaze on where my hand held Lee’s.
They began a quick conversation in a language I didn’t understand. It was beautiful and guttural, and both of them spoke it with a native’s ease. From her expression, I could tell she was not happy about what Mr. Morningside said.
Her silvery eyes narrowed to slits. “You don’t know what you’re asking, child.”
“Yes, I do,” I said.
“She read the book?” Mrs. Haylam asked him.
“Indeed. Ostensibly she understands the risks.”
Her eyebrows twitched under her cap. “Ostensibly is not good enough,Annunaki. TheDa’mbaerucould demand anything upon its return, and I will not be the one to pay the shadow price.”
Mr. Morningside looked back to me, his chin still tilted up toward the housekeeper. He cleared his throat and paused. “You read the chapter on shadowmancers, Louisa?”
I nodded.
“And you remember it?”
“Yes,” I said, but I was less certain now. I did remember it, and I remembered the awful things that were asked in exchange for a shadow to be brought back. At the time, it had seemed harmless, stupid, the kind of scary story used to frighten children into behaving and choosing a God-fearing path. Now Icould feel my stomach tightening with dread. “I remember it.”
Would Lee thank me for this? I looked at last on his face and felt my chin quiver with sorrow. Selfishly, I did not want to lose him. Mary, Chijioke, and Poppy peered in through the ragged hole where the door had been. Bartholomew stared up at his masters, his ears flattened back against his head.
Mrs. Haylam began rolling up her sleeves, her rheumy eye clearing entirely and then flashing molten gold. When I had first met her on the road, I had seen the hint of markings on her wrist, but now I saw that her arms were covered in tiny tattoos, rows and rows of little pictures. Her voice was thicker, stronger, edged with an unsettling echo. “I will ask you only once, Louisa, foolish child, and you will think carefully before you answer: Will you raise this boy and pay the price? Think before you speak; be certain you will give what is asked, even if it means your life for his.”
I agreed.
If it was selfish or not, I could not say, for I felt certain that his death had been preventable, andIcould have prevented it. I’d never told him the full truth. I’d never risked that much, and he might have saved himself in some way, been more motivated to leave, been more primed to protect himself. And as I sat on the floor, staring up at Mrs. Haylam with anticipation, the thought of losing my life for his seemed almost preferable. What was I, anyway? A monster, apparently, one that belongedamong only misfits and creatures of darkness.
It was childish, to think of my own life with so little regard, but in that moment it felt like the truth. My life for his; a troubled life for an innocent one.
“I agree.” That was all it took, and Mrs. Haylam was kneeling next to Lee’s head, cupping her hands over his ears. Her eyes rolled back, solid, flashing gold again, and she whispered a string of words in the language she had spoken to Mr. Morningside just a moment before.
The room began to shake, subtly at first, and then it felt as if the whole roof might come crashing down on us. I gasped and inched back, watching as the sliver of Lee’s shadow visible on the floor soaked into his body, disappearing, before his mouth dropped open and that same shadow emerged, floating up from between his lips until it stood, the very silhouette of the boy I knew, hovering over us.
I gaped up at it, shivering, watching as it held out its ghostly black arms and inspected them, as if trying on a new coat.
“What is the price?” Mrs. Haylam murmured, her eyes flickering like fairy lights.
Lee’s shadow spun to face her, and she nodded toward me.
