“Drawing up more contracts?”
For once in a long while, I found Mr. Morningside’s office door wide open. I waited just outside, watching him bending over his desk while he wrote languidly across a fresh parchment. He smiled but did not look up from his work.
“Not this time, dear Louisa. This is a bit of important correspondence, a letter I was hoping you might deliver to an acquaintance in London.”
We had not spoken outright about my leaving, but the knowledge of it was in the air. Everybody seemed to know I would go even before I said a word about it. Perhaps Poppy had glimpsed me packing my meager belongings and sorting through Father’s possessions, and that was indication enough that the rumors should start. I didn’t mind.
“Here.” Mr. Morningside finished the letter swiftly. It was not very long, and he closed it with one of his flourishing signatures, then dashed it with drying powder and folded it. “I would say this isn’t urgent, but please give it your full attention when you get to the city. Something has not sat right with me for quite some time.”
The folded note was still warm from his hand when I took it and tucked it into the folds of my skirts. “Who is it for?”
Mr. Morningside leaned casually against the edge of his desk and coaxed one of his birds onto his hand. It was a dainty finch, and it climbed onto his fingers with a soft cheep. I don’t know if it was nostalgia or anxiety, but I felt suddenly sad and a little afraid. Was this the last time I would stand in this strange office and smell the scent of his books, tea, and the dusty pleasant perfume of so many fluttering wings?
“I’d like for you to visit the shop where I purchased Bennu’s journal. I want more information about who brought it in initially.”
Nodding, I felt another wave of fear. Leaving had felt like a way to extricate myself from all the confusing mysteries of the house, but it seemed the mysteries would never end. This would be one last favor, I told myself, and then I would be done. “I thought about that, too. How did the journal leave the First City? Someone must have taken it, perhaps a thief or . . .”
“Yes.” Mr. Morningside looked distracted, his eyes fixed over my shoulder. “Let us hope it was a thief. My alternate theories are far less harmless.”
I turned to find that Chijioke and Poppy had been summoned. The little girl with the marked face had her hands deep in her pockets and swung side to side, grinning up at me. Chijioke, by contrast, could not even for an instant meet my eye.
“Well. The time has come, Louisa, to discuss the dissolution of their work contracts,” Mr. Morningside said, striding briskly into the foyer and standing between us.
At once, Poppy’s face fell and she hid her eyes behind spread fingers. “You’re . . . You’re going to make us leave? But why?”
“Did we do something wrong?” Chijioke quickly added.
“Wrong? No, not at all. You have both been exemplary employees,” he said.
“Then why must we go?” Poppy whined, but she sounded on the verge of tears. “Who else would take me in?”
I cleared my throat with some difficulty and knelt, but she did not come nearer. “Why, I would take you in. I have some money available to me now, Poppy, and I wanted all of you to come with me. You don’t have to stay in this wretched place anymore; you don’t have to kill people or do Mrs. Haylam’s bidding. And you, Chijioke, would you not like a house of your own?”
He chuckled and crossed his thick arms across his chest. “Wait, lass, is this your idea of a gift?”
“It isn’t wretched here!” Poppy scampered back and flung her arms around Chijioke’s leg, hugging it. “This is my home. It’s where I belong!”
“That’s not true,” I said, but I could already tell this was a battle I was going to lose. “Just because it’s the only thing you know doesn’t mean it’s the best place in the whole world for you.”
“We like it here, Louisa. I like it here.” Chijioke shook his head, giving me a pitying smile. He put his hand reassuringly on Poppy’s little shoulder. “I’ve no desire to live in a city. I wouldn’t be able to breathe there.”
I stood and went quiet, saying nothing until Mr. Morningside ushered Poppy toward the steps leading up and out of the cellar. “There is no need to fuss, Poppy. I am not sending you away, only allowing Louisa here to collect on her end of our bargain.”
Chijioke took the girl’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs, giving me a glance over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, lass. No offense, but you might’ve asked. I would have gladly told you I’ve no desire to leave.”
And then they were gone. I had the letter in my hand still but it felt like nothing, like I held nothing at all, and that that emptiness was my reward in all of this.
“Lee?” I heard myself say softly.
“Mrs. Haylam knows of no way to untether him from the Black Elbion. Leaving its circle of power would kill him, Louisa.” Mr. Morningside took a few strides toward the stairs, and waited to speak again until the door up above us latched. He looked at me sidelong and sighed. “You know, I almost wish they had agreed to leave with you. I do so fear what the shepherd might do next.”
Fighting the numb feeling in my body, I squinted and watched him pace. “What do you mean?”
“Finch . . . What he saw . . . They were never to know that Chijioke has the ability to transfer souls from vessel to vessel. I’m meant to be banishing the souls here to death permanently. Instead, I may have . . . tweaked the rules. Slightly.” He ruffled his dark hair and puffed out his lips. “I would be more nervous, but for having you on my side.”
“Your side?” I laughed, mirthless. “I will deliver this letter for you, but then I want nothing to do with you.”
His face went still and unreadable, like one of his flickering masks from the pavilion. “You might now have the luxury of money, Louisa, but you do not have the luxury of anonymity. The shepherd will hear the story from Finch. He will know just as I do that you have Father’s soul inside you. Pretend you can run all you like, girl, but ancient wheels have a way of turning, and old, ugly wounds have a way of opening up again.”
I shook my head. No, no . . . he was wrong. I could go to London and live a normal life. I could free Mary and then find a way to be myself again.
“I suppose time will tell which of us is right,” I told him softly.
He walked by me and took hold of his door, closing it after him as he began to leave me standing alone in the foyer. “Time will tell indeed, Louisa, but I do not think we will have all that long to wait.”
At least in one respect he was correct; time really did move swiftly as my departure from Coldthistle approached. As ready as I was to leave, I felt ambushed by it. This time, there was none of the hope that I would be leaving with my odd friends in tow, which made the leaving all the more difficult. On that fateful day, a carriage waited outside for me, and with it, the promise of a new life. I had more possessions now than I had when I arrived, inheriting Father’s bags and leather case, and the cage with his pink-and-purple spider.
Poppy had wanted me to leave it behind, eager for another pet. Bartholomew panted at my side, leaning against my legs as I waited for Mr. Morningside to emerge from his green door. My heart felt heavy, the urge to cry pressing constantly at the back of my eyes and throat. Why did it feel so hard to leave? I alternately hated and tolerated this place, but now . . . now . . .
“You will take care of that spider, won’t you, Louisa? It looks very rare,” Poppy said, crouching down to look into the cage. The spider lifted one leg as if in greeting.
Whenever I looked at the thing or someone mentioned it, my head hurt, as if there was some memory trapped in there, punching its way out. I would remember eventually, I thought, for Father’s influence came and went. It would take time, I decided, to sort through his knowledge and memories, to find a balance between the anger that had defined him and the struggles that had defined me.
“You must give her a name!” Poppy said excitedly, jumping up.
“Hm,” I replied, tapping my lower lip. “How about Mab?”
“Like the queen,” she breathed. “I like it!”
Then she was flinging herself at me, hugging me hard around the waist until I returned it. And I did in earnest, finding I would miss her bouncing around on my bed, waking me from ugly dreams. I scruffed Bartholomew’s ears and he whined, as if offended I was trading in one guardian hound for another.
“This won’t be the last time we meet,” I told the dog, patting his head. “Something makes me sure of that.”
“Well, I will guarantee it.” Mr. Morningside had arrived, sparkling as always in a pristine ice-gray suit and silver cravat. He sidled up to me and bowed, which was his habit now, and extremely irritating. He must have noticed the sour expression on my face. “You’re more than a maid now, Louisa; you’re a young woman with a fortune in her pocket and the soul of an ancient god. You will soon have a great house in London. You will experience the Season. This time next year you’ll have marriage proposals coming out of your ears. So please, for the love of all that is dark and disastrous, learn to enjoy a man bowing to you.”
I couldn’t help but smile, and even allowed him to take my hand and kiss it. He then straightened and carefully reached for the pin on my frock, the one that had given me freedom. With a sigh, he undid the clasp and pulled it free, showing it to me in his manicured palm.
“You know I have to take this. You never did finish all the journal translations. A deal is a deal, Louisa.”
“Because you told me to get to the end,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Yes, I did,” Henry murmured, a bit sadly. He avoided looking at me, pouring his focus into the pin. “Yes, I did. And now I think again we have come to the end.” Brightening, he closed his fingers around the pin and tucked it into his pocket. “Until we meet again, that is. Chijioke will drive you as far as Malton. I trust you won’t get in any trouble there?”
I gave a thin laugh and nodded toward the staircase behind him. “I will not be alone.”
They had dressed Khent in one of Mr. Morningside’s old suits, and he looked exceedingly uncomfortable in it. To the rest of us, however, he looked quite dashing, groomed, wounds seen to, his beard shaved off to accommodate more modern English tastes. He had a pack over his shoulder, one of my bags, and a sturdy shawled coat under one arm in the event of rain.
“Do look out for fleas,” Mr. Morningside said with a wink, strolling toward the kitchen door, where Mrs. Haylam had appeared. I had no idea how long she had been watching us, but her one good eye was distant, hooded. She had been largely silent during my recuperation, only drawing breath to complain that she was shorthanded again and to bitterly admit that because I had died, the book no longer held sway over me.
The marks on my fingers had faded away.
Khent joined me in the foyer, picking up another bag and looking as if with his size and bulk he could carry all of them without strain. He took up a polite but vigilant stance behind me and to the left. I picked up the spider cage and one bag, hesitating. Lee had never appeared, but then, I would never dream of asking him to.
“Well,” I said, drawing in a deep breath. “Thank you for . . . for everything you’ve done. I don’t think this is good-bye, and truly, in my heart of hearts, I hope it isn’t. When we retrieve Mary, I will give her your wishes. You may all be seeing her shortly if she decides to return.”
“Oh, I hope she does!” Poppy squeezed her hands together as if in prayer. “And if not, you had better let us come see you, Louisa. I want to go to London! To the First City! All of it!”
Mrs. Haylam grunted. I could tell she was eager for me to go. After all, I had upset the balance. There was an order to things at Coldthistle House, an order I never seemed to understand. Mr. Morningside had been bending the rules he and the shepherd had set down, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the trial was only the beginning of his problems. That it might put my friends in danger, and that they had refused to join me in leaving, was the hardest jab to bear.
“Of course you can visit,” I chuckled. “Anyone is welcome, only, I have no idea where I will go. I must see to Mary, but then . . .” I shrugged. Anything was possible, wasn’t it? “I will write.”
“Yes, you will.” Mr. Morningside winked at me from the kitchen door. “Now, be off, or Chijioke will be a bearded old man by the time he returns.”
Now that it came to it, I did not want to go. But I picked up the last of my things and turned, following Khent out the door. It felt odd to be leaving with someone I hardly knew, but having read what he had done for Bennu and knowing that he had tried to warn me against Father, endeared me to him for now. It was a relief, at least, to have company, to forge ahead with this new life and this new soul aided by someone who knew the ins and outs of our curious world.
“Good-bye!” Poppy called after us. She and Bartholomew chased me to the door, waving like mad. The dog bayed, throwing his nose into the air as he wailed. “Write soon! Very soon! In fact, write when you get to Malton, and then every town after that. . . .”
“She’s saying good-bye,” I told Khent in his language. “She’s, um, very precocious.”
He grinned and gave me a sidelong look. “That was obvious in any language.”
Chijioke met us at the carriage, pulling me into a bone-crushing embrace before hauling my bags onto the driver’s seat. When he was done, he took a small wooden fish out of his pocket and gave it to me while Khent secured our bags for the trip.
“For Mary,” he said, blushingly. “The real one.”
“She’ll love it,” I replied, tucking the fish away. “You will know the moment we find her.”
Nodding, Chijioke gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then leapt up into the driver’s box. “We can say good-bye at Malton, then I can do my weepies on the way back without you there to tease me.”
I was about to take the fish and the spider cage with me into the carriage, but I heard a soft scuffle on the stones behind me. Like a shadow, Lee had come, emerging from the foyer headfirst, as if peering out to see if I had already gone. I lifted my things up for Khent to take, my hand on the door, my body twisted around to face Coldthistle.
Lee walked over to me slowly, eyes darting. Foolishly, I had thought that we were even, that now that he had decided my fate we would share some kind of intense and unique bond. But it was not so. And it was unfair to expect parity, especially when his resurrection had come with a price and so much pain, and mine had resulted only in greater power and understanding. It simply wasn’t fair, and my heart ached for the things that could have been between us were life kinder.
On a whim, I reached out my hand toward him and he took it, his fingers cold, his posture careful. I had no idea what to say, the immensity of feeling swelling in my heart almost too much to bear, choking me. There is what the heart wants and what reality demands, and they are often as incompatible as snow and fire.
I took the spoon out from the chain around my neck. It had been repaired by Chijioke only recently, but I pulled the necklace off and placed it in his palm, closing his fingers around it.
“This has brought me such exceedingly bad luck,” I told him in a whisper, tears making my voice ragged. “Please chuck it off the roof or bury it in a deep, dark hole. For both our sakes.”
Lee gifted me a small smile and nodded. “I thought I was so gallant, stealing that thing for you. My first act of larceny. No wonder it’s cursed.”
“Take care of yourself, Lee, please. I’m sorry.”
He shoved the spoon into his pocket and pulled his shoulders back. “Don’t be, Louisa. I’m not sorry we met, but I am sorry to see you go.”
Then he hugged me, as suddenly as he had in the library, and I sank into that feeling for as long as propriety allowed. When it was over, he left in a hurry, disappearing into the house with a shadow’s lively, cunning step.
It was time to go.
Khent helped me up into the carriage, holding out his huge hand for me to take and then following me inside. It was humid and quiet inside, Mab the spider sitting between us in her cage. Chijioke cracked the whip. I sighed and sat back in my seat, and watched Poppy chase us down the drive as we at last left Coldthistle House behind. I closed my eyes, listening to the gravel crunch under the wheels, feeling as if the mansion was watching me go, feeling as if it was giving a silent scream of frustration that I had managed to escape.
I did not know if I was free of the place, but I was on a path, and that was something. The sprawling parapets and long black windows of the house grew more distant as we made our way along the lawn.
The farther we went, the better I felt, as if a fog were lifting from all around me. I leaned against the window, memorizing the last of it, wondering if the melancholy weight in my heart would ever lift.
My eye caught on something as we passed from field to forest and turned toward the main dirt road. They had burned Father’s body, a tiny black sapling already sprouting where the ashes lay. A black mist hung around it, and as I looked, the clouds brought on the wind opened up and a hard rain began to fall, a rolling roar of thunder threatening from a distance.