Page 43 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
. . . mosses and flowers to . . .
She knocked, and when there was no answer, she went in, her attention immediately drawn to a large mirror dominating the foyer. Its elaborately embellished frame teemed with flora, fauna, and a beautifully carved snake that wove in and out of its border.
Whose rooms were these? She stepped cautiously into the main hall, following the tune. As she moved through the suite of rooms, she didn’t notice the snake wriggling free from its moorings. She was only focused on the whisper of a song that ebbed and rose like a fickle tide as she tried to find it.
The first room she encountered was a sitting room with an eclectic collection of furnishings that spanned the centuries, from Gothic to classical, but mostly they were unique pieces that couldn’t be wedged into any art period she had ever studied. Elphame had its own unique style. Her attention was particularly captured by an enormous armoire with bronze doors containing detailed reliefs like something Lorenzo Ghiberti might have sculpted, though it told a very different history. It was a story of forests, stags, swords, and all manner of creatures engaged in deadly or amorous activities. In the center of the room were two plum sofas and a low table. Its base was carved to resemble multiple stalks of bundled barley. That was part of their lesson that day—the many things the Tuatha de took great pride in, foremost among them their horses, their art, their might, and of course, their plows and fields.
As she ventured farther down a hallway, she came to a bedroom more sparsely furnished than the previous room. Despite its expanse, it only held a large bed with a plain white blanket and a wardrobe. Tall Palladian windows at the far end of the room looked out to a stunning view of Danu. The sky was ribboned with violet seams, and the light spilling through the windows cast a lavender glow on the white fur rug at the end of the bed.
In the corner, almost lost in shadows, was a circular stone staircase. Bristol stilled, her head turned to the side, listening. Was the tune coming from there? She swiftly crossed the room, but the melody stopped abruptly. Before she could register disappointment, the tune was replaced with a nondescript hum that was steadily growing louder. An oddly familiar hum, but not human.What was it?She crept up the steps and faced a single door at the top of the landing. She pulled in a deep breath, hoping no one was inside, and warily pushed it open.
The room was empty, and she stepped into a large, messy study crowded with furnishings and odd collectibles. In the corner was a strange green globe with lands and seas and clouds flashing with lightning. A marble owl with burning yellow eyes stared at her from a shelf, looking like it could come alive at any moment. On the desk, at least a dozen misshapen stubs of melted candles leaned drunkenly atop tall brass candlesticks. Their wax had wept over the drip plates onto the desk and hardened into puddles.
Maps and etchings filled one entire wall in mismatched frames. Two frames lay shattered on the floor. Open books beside them appeared to be the missiles of their destruction. More books teetered in piles everywhere. Besides those stacked on the desk, books were piled on a nearby window ledge, and still more on an overstuffed ottoman—more books than could fit in the empty spots on the bookshelves lining the wall. The borrowed books of an avid reader? Frenzied research—or madness? She eyed the shattered frames on the floor and guessed the latter. Compared to the rest of the suite, the room seemed abandoned. Dust frosted the desk like a timestamp. But when she turned, the wall behind her was the most frightening of all. Tally marks. Hundreds of them. Some groups had only a few marks; others had a dozen or more. Some small, some large, some carved into the wall with a knife, and others made with dark liquid that dripped down the wall. Blood? Just below the marks was a green velvet chaise. A long gash ran its length, as if someone had mistaken it for a fish in need of gutting. Its stuffing oozed out like a layer of fat.
The musical scales started up again, clear as a starry night, and Bristol’s heart jumped to her throat.
Cat.
Please don’t let this be another trick.
Even though she knew it couldn’t be her sister, it didn’t keep her from frantically hunting for the source, if only to be closer. She searched behind the heavy drapes, a chair, and even peeked into a cabinet, but it held only ledgers and ink.
And then a bare breeze.
A cool tickle around her ankles.
And the scent of fresh laundry.
She dropped to her knees and peered beneath a side table piled with dirty goblets and plates.
All that greeted her was a gray stone wall. Still, she crept closer, reaching out to touch the stone, and her hand disappeared—into the wall. She gasped and jerked back, banging her head on the top of the table. Dishes rattled above her, but for a brief moment, a circle of bright light the size of a dinner plate spilled into the room, and the sound amplified. She moved forward on her knees again, pressing her hand to the same spot, and the blinding light returned, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw through to the other side.
Two beady eyes stared back at her.
It was Angus.
He sat alert on his haunches, balancing on the top of a washing machine, as shocked to see her as she was to see him.
Bristol blinked. Dug her nails into her palms to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
A portal, she thought.That’s what this is. Some kind of portal.
The knocking hum she’d heard was from the dryer in her mudroom.
Her sisters were doing laundry.
CHAPTER 31
Harper screamed. An arm shot out from the wall over the washing machine and waved madly. She dropped her basket of laundry and crashed back against the cabinet. Angus flew through the air like he had wings, to avoid the flailing arm—and then it disappeared back into the wall. Harper trembled, too afraid to move for fear the arm would appear again, but then a voice called out, “Harper, it’s me! Bri!”
Harper remained frozen against the cabinet, certain it was a trap, but the voice called out again.
It sounded like Bri.
She cautiously stepped closer, peering into the dark hole in the wall. She saw two amber eyes looking back at her.
“My god, Bri! What happened?” Harper cried. “Are you . . . inside the wall? How did you—”
