Page 3 of Tomb of Ancients
The thick fog seemed to muffle and swallow our words. That feeling of being watched never left me, and as it persisted, a heavy dread settled over me. I had come so far, all the way to London, and made a new life for myself, one I had perhaps always wanted and dreamed of, but even now I was not safe. Even now, far, far away from Coldthistle House and its dark mysteries, I was hunted.
A group of women in white dresses so bright they cut through the fog huddled on the church steps across the road from us. I had noticed these women before on walks through Mayfair. Recently their numbers had grown, more clusters of white-garbed chanters appearing on street corners, shivering together like sheep on the moors as they braved rain and cold to sing or shout at passersby.
I couldn’t help watching them now as we passed. Perhaps it was the fashionable thing to take a phaeton to the ball, but I preferred to walk and so did my compatriots. Khent craved the darkness and the fresh air on his face. Mary had been confined for a long time, too, and she enjoyed the exercise. Neitherof them seemed to pay any mind to the chanters, but I did, squinting into the mist, listening to their shrill voices rise above the steadyclip-clopof traffic.
“The shepherd guides you in love! Join the fold, join our flock—the shepherd, you are lost without him! You are lost!” Then they began to sing in unison, a childlike song about the safe embrace of the shepherd.
His arms keep out the wind; he forgives all who sinned...
That steel-edged shiver returned and so, too, did one of the voices in my head. I caught eyes with one of the chanters as she raised her voice to boom at us from across the road.
Are you lost, child?
The sound of evening hymns ought to bring comfort, but my stomach squirmed as if filled with snakes. Something was wrong, and either my own instincts or those of the soul in my head felt the danger keenly. I began to walk faster, as if I could outrun the man in my head and the strange women all in white, who watched, vigilant, as we disappeared into the dusk.
Chapter Two
Aspider clung to the hem of my gown like a grotesque little bead as we were announced at the ball. I grimaced at it as I made my curtsy, presenting myself to the hosts. It was a tradition I detested, but Khent seemed oddly at home. Perhaps this pomp and grandiosity scratched some long dormant itch from his days among Egyptian royalty. Whatever the case, he swept a bow that did not go unnoticed. Lady Thrampton was a wealthy widow, tall and willowy, with penetrating brown eyes and a narrow chin. She was dressed in a white muslin frock, her necklace studded with fat emeralds. She fanned herself more vigorously as Khent, his black hair smoothed back from his wide forehead, his jaw recently free of the bristly whiskers that had sprouted there like weeds, gave off an eminently courtly style.
Sometimes it was quite easy to forget that he was Dark Fae like me, and that he could transform into a massive, shaggy jackal at a moment’s notice.
Mary, however, reflected my nervousness. She made a wobbly curtsy, nearly dropping her shawl as she did so. It was my first ball, and a bundle of nerves gathered in my chest, a cruel reminder that I had been born in obscurity, poverty, and that my name—Louisa Ditton—meant nothing to the sleek aristocracy gliding across the parquet.
“Miss Louisa, I was so very pleased to discover that you and your...charmingfamily would be joining us this evening.” With pinched, rouged lips, Lady Thrampton stumbled over the wordcharming. She obviously meantbizarre. No group of people could look less alike than we three. “Miss Black spoke so sweetly of you, and I understand you recently resided in Yorkshire?”
I felt the urge to fiddle with my skirts but forced my hands into a tidy bundle at my waist, trying to appear prim. “Indeed!”Good start, a little too enthusiastic. “We decided to abandon country life for something more exciting. There are only so many birds one can shoot before it all becomes a dull affair.”
Khent quietly cleared his throat.
“And you are unmarried?” Her lip curled at this.
Mary fidgeted at my side. I glanced at her, but she offered no help, her eyes huge with terror, as if this rich woman were a bear rearing up on hind legs and not a frail dowager. “I have... only just come into my inheritance. The business of matrimony can perhaps wait until I am more comfortably settled.”
“An inheritance!” And now Lady Thrampton’s eyes, glossy as glass buttons, sparkled. “How intriguing. You will have to tell me more, dear, after you sample the punch and enjoy a dance or two. You are most welcome in my home, of course.”
Of course.
But there was a strain in her voice as she said it. We made our polite curtsies again and turned toward the arched entrance. To the left, a wide, shallow set of marble stairs led down intothe magnificent foyer. I had little experience with great houses, Coldthistle House notwithstanding, but Lady Thrampton’s was the subject of considerable gossip among the “glamorous elite.” She favored bold chintz and exotic carpets, the foyer filled with stone pedestals, atop which stood statuettes and vases. Her wealth was on display for all to see, and I had no illusions that it was only my own recent and large inheritance that allowed me to mingle in her company.
If she knew my true origins, she would toss me out into the gutter like a used handkerchief.
“Miss Louisa Ditton, Miss Mary Ditton, and Mr. Kent Ditton!” Our names were all but shouted over our heads as we descended into the hall, a cane striking the floor afterward, making me jump.
“This jacket itches,” Khent informed me, tugging at his collar. “I do not like how that woman gawks at you. How long must we stay?”
“You seemed right at home making an impression on Lady Thrampton,” I teased.
“Charming a ridiculous person and tolerating this suit are not the same.”
“At least until I’ve spoken with Justine Black,” I told him in a low voice. Lady Thrampton was not the only gawker. Our presence was sure to drum up gossip—three mismatched strangers to Mayfair, swooping into society with few possessions, no connections, a mystery inheritance, and a pink spiderin a cage, which had also been passed down to me from my strange father. We were bound to set tongues wagging, and the company at the ball did not even attempt to hide their curiosity or, of course, their disdain.
“Try to enjoy yourselves,” I told them both with a tight smile. “After all, it’s quite diverting, all of them staring at us because they suspect we’re really poor or grifters when the truth is so much more horrifying.”
“They would not act so superior if they knew,” Khent said with a growling chuckle. “Is a demonstration in order?”
“No. Absolutely not.”But he was only poking at me, and both he and Mary laughed. Ordinarily it would not bother me, and I might have shared in their merriment, but the beastly voice in my head woke and snarled and snapped. He did not like to be laughed at, my father, and his displeasure spread like poison in me.
I squeezed my hands into tight fists, feeling nauseated from fighting back the voice in my head. Something had to change. When we reached out to Chijioke about the strange happenings at our house, I needed also to inquire about how to eliminate the dark influence that day by day tried to overpower me. I was grateful, naturally, that Chijioke had saved my life, and I understood the desperation of that moment—my life leaking from my body, shot to death, and a conveniently nearby spirit that might bring me back. But still, it felt like another curse had been heaped upon me. I could more or less controlmy Changeling powers now, but this was something entirely different.
