She blew across the cover.
Necromantic Pursuits.Her heart immediately sped. Her gaze dropped to the author.Archibald Grimrook.
“Devil’s tits.” She flipped it over. “It’s the necromancer’s journal! I wanted it in Loxlen, but it was so expensive and—”
A woeful chime echoed from downstairs.
“Were you expecting someone?”
“No,” said Shaw. His gaze flicked to hers. “I’ll see who it is.”
She watched him walk away for a few heartbeats before following. Neither were naïve; they knew it was likely they would eventually have to answer for what had happened that Hallowed Day. She planned to tell the truth—for the most part.
That the Society of Saints was experimenting on others, particularly the locals. That they were never the rightful owners of the estate but had stolen it for themselves. That they’d been murdered by the very plants they’d twisted and the crows they’d scorned.
Because guardian’sleech,according to Edgar Dosem, was indeed a rather parasitic, venomous plant but particular to cold-blooded creatures. Like crabs. By depriving them of their natural food source and instead, feeding them warm, human blood, they’d grown strange and difficult to sate. Edgar had stayed behind an extra week to convince them to return to their regular diet. Between his ministrations and Lux’s admonishments, the brambles relaxed. He’d even been able to prune them.
Now, Lux could walk amongst her family graveyard with almost no worry.
She made it to the large curve of the staircase when Shaw opened the door.
“Alesso,” he said, and she relaxed.
She shouldn’t have.
“Is Lux here? I’m sorry to say we’ve been brought a student, passed from a carriage accident. Bashed his head on a stone.”
Lux could clearly see the distraught profile of Alixsander and wouldn’t have been surprised if the body wasn’t immediately behind him at his feet. She’d not revived anyone since him. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she would again. It made her sick—and horribly embarrassed—to know she’d faint.
Besides, what if she were making herself worse with every use of her gift?
Shaw’s glance slid up and over to hers. Waiting.
“Oh, bring him in,” she grumbled.
Shaw nodded and said, “Take him to the conservatory.”
Chapter fifty-eight
Luxwasthelastone through the doorway, and she thought her heart might have stopped.
Her eyes landed on the worktable first, dark wood scratched but clean, and the body being laid upon it. Her gaze skipped over to the counter. ToThe Risenpropped open upon a stand, the familiar incantation summoning her from across the room. The shelves were wood too, but without any irritating slant, and they were each stocked with all manner of things she would need for a revival and some things she didn’t. Like plant clippings and paintbrushes.
That was when she found an easel with a stretched canvas pulled taut over a frame. It faced the cove while Lux would face the open sea. Voices spoke behind the stunned humming in her head.
She walked up to the counter and her fingers reached, gliding along the vials and decanters. The jars with fused lids. She picked up a mortar and pestle—a new one set beside the oneshe’d long owned. It was larger, heavier, made of a white stone. She placed it back on the counter.
She reached for the bat wings. The moth powder. The lavender and rain water and rattler venom. She inspected the jar of marsh snapper eyes, and the one of wyvern claws. She didn’t think she’d need the howler canines, but those she held to the lamplight also.
It was all so organized and welcoming.
It felt like a proper workroom.Herworkroom.
But instead of smudged glass and an alleyway view, this one gave her the sea. She pressed her fingers to her lips.
“I know I didn’t ask, but I thought you should have a space.”
Lux turned to face Shaw, his hips leaned against the counter and his stare open and vulnerable. Her glance flicked to the easel and back again. “You mean for us to share it?”
