“I can’t see a thing.” Quoth set aside the mobile phone flashlight app he’d been using, transformed into his raven, and poked his head down the ripe. “Croooooak!” he called into the darkness below.
“Hurry up, bird, this bath ain’t light,” Morrie complained.
Quoth hopped away. He transformed back into a human, clamping his hands over his nose. “It reeks down there.”
“What did you see?”
“Not much. It all looks pretty ancient. And disgusting. Whoever owns these rooms has never cleaned out the drain.” Quoth went to the jug of water at the wash basin to splash his face.
Leaving them to investigate the rest of the bathroom, I wandered into the closet, running my hands through the racks. Luxurious silk, chiffon, velvet, and linen slid through my fingers. Fine lace and sumptuous trims adorned collars, sleeves, and hems. Bustle pads and fashionable hats adorned with lace, mesh veils, silk flowers and strings of pearls hung from a rack by the window. Victorian fashion was so sensual, soextra. I could enjoy the tactile impact of the clothes, even though I couldn’t see the colors or shapes.
I pulled a particularly fine silk and damask dress from the racks and held it up against my body. Corset ribs rubbed against my skin. Morrie watched me from the doorway with an evil grin on his face as I twirled around, admiring the way the heavy skirts fanned around my legs. “Isn’t it odd that the desk is full of letters and this closet bursting with clothes, yet the chairs by the window are covered up, as though they’re not to be used?” I asked.
“Not necessarily,” Morrie replied. “This might be a room reserved for guests. Covering the furniture would help to keep it free of dust.”
“That’s not it,” Heathcliff called from the office.
I dropped the dress back into the rack. Morrie offered me his arm. I hesitated.I can make out the door on my own.But it was dark and a headache flickered across my temples, the start of one of the migraines that plagued me more and more these days. Biting my lip in frustration, I looped my arm in his, and he led me back into the main room. We passed Quoth at the window, splashing water from my drink bottle over his hands, in a further attempt to wash away lingering drain gunk. I sat down on the bed while Heathcliff read passages from the letters aloud.
“‘Dear Madam’,” he intoned, his deep voice reverberating through my body, right down to my toes. “‘I hope this letter finds you well. I have enclosed the Works of Francis Bacon, ten volumes in large octavo, bound by J. Johnson of London in calf, gilt titles, and tooling, as you requested. The second has a slight imperfection on the cover, and I have adjusted my price accordingly. If you are compiling a collection of occult materials, I have enclosed a list of additional titles I hold in my possession. I draw your attention in particular to theSphere Cabalistice Fatidicis numeris contexteI have recently acquired – this attractive Cabalist manuscript contains twenty-six leaves of divination tables and lists of animals and birds for augury. If you wish to possess this, please return my letter with haste, for I have two other interested buyers…’” Heathcliff set down the letter. “Most of the letters are of a similar vein, relating to the buying and selling of occult books. This particular missive was addressed to the infamous French clairvoyant, Madame de Thèbes. There are similar such missives between other noted occultists of the era. The woman who lived in this house – one Victoria Bainbridge – was a book dealer. She specialized in buying and selling rare antiquarian occult volumes.”
“A basic assessment judged solely through surface details, as to be expected from your savage, lazy mind,” Morrie sulked. “Give me the letter. I’ll be able to tell you her hair color, sister’s middle name, and views on colonialism.”
Heathcliff bristled at the wordsavagebut didn’t rise to Morrie’s jab. Instead, he slotted the letter back into the desk. “The Victorian book trade was dominated by men, but Ms. Bainbridge made a name for herself by courting her clientele at the spiritualist gatherings in fine houses and amongst the intellectually curious of the upper classes. It seemed she had to keep a certain standard of living, as she frequently entertained clients at her home. However, from the looks of the ledger here, as she fell on hard times she had to dismiss staff. Likely, she also closed off rooms to lower heating and cleaning costs.”
I loved the idea that an enterprising woman lived here in Nevermore Bookshop, making a life for herself using her wit and intelligence.
“According to her latest letter, she’s visiting the continent for the winter to peruse the latest volumes of the French spiritualists and escape the inclement weather.” Heathcliff set the paper down. “Clever woman. She won’t be returning until after Christmas. Hence, I believe, the drop cloths over the furniture, to avoid an excess of dust when she returns.”
“Another bookseller,” Morrie noted. He shifted beside me, his body twitching with excitement. “This can’t be a coincidence.”
Heathcliff rubbed his eyes. “Likely not, but I’m too tired to consider it now.”
Tired?I was anything but tired. I wanted to know more about this woman. I wanted to pull out every drawer in that desk and try on every fine outfit in her closet. My skin tingled with anticipation.We’re on the cusp of figuring out Nevermore’s secrets, I can feel it.
A hand brushed my leg, and I realized that Heathcliff might have been thinking about bed, but not sleep.
“Yes,” I said, my voice catching as my heart pounded in my chest. “We’ve conducted our search, and it’s getting late. I think we should all go to bed.”
I pulled back the covers. Heathcliff held up the candle and inspected the bed to make sure it was clean. We had no idea what kind of woman Victoria Bainbridge was and what she did between these sheets. Heathcliff declared the bed safe and I slid in between the covers. Grimalkin bounded across the duvet and nuzzled into my hair.
“Not right now, kitty,” I whispered as I untangled her and dumped her on the floor. She meowed in complaint before scurrying off into the gloom.
“Wise move, gorgeous.” Morrie slid in beside me, slipping his arm beneath my head. “We wouldn’t want Grimalkin to see what was about to happen.”
“What’s about to happen?” I demanded, still not sure I wanted him right now, after the rude things he’d said. “You going to insult your friends some more?”
“Only if they get in the way.”
Morrie’s lips met mine. The kiss seared me inside and out, packed with all the promises he’d been teasing me with all day. I sank into the soft linens as Morrie’s hands explored my body, and all his niggling insults and barbed comments faded from memory as his touch lit me up.
I should be stronger… I should make him open up to me… but maybe later…
The bed creaked as Heathcliff climbed in behind Morrie. He’d snuffed all the candles bar one beside the bed, so all I could see was the corner of his head, the flickering light dancing against his wild hair. “Get your feet off my side,” he complained to Morrie.
“Sleep on the couch if you’re worried about our feet touching,” Morrie warned. “Mina and I have plans.”
“Don’t listen to Morrie. He’s being a wanker.” I reached behind Morrie and grabbed Heathcliff’s wrist, holding him in place. Morrie didn’t get to be in charge tonight. I did. And I wanted all of them in the bed with me, even if that meant…
