“Recognize it, do you?”
I hadn’t heard Warwick’s shoes on the marble floor. He stood in an archway leading into a sitting room. Hands behind his back, he walked closer, appraising the strange display.
“I had it made specially to protect this place from the wraith. Superstitious, perhaps. Edwin told me later it only worked because the wraith had no interest in me. Just you.”
“That seems to be the case.”
“Why do you think that is, I wonder?”
His interest in the topic put me on edge. If I’d been responsible for the drownings or the wraith, I wouldn’t be brazen enough to talk about them like this, but perhaps that was part of Warwick’s facade.
“I don’t know. I always thought it was because I’m the one who survived. Not so sure now.”
“I’m sorry. It’s probably not your favorite topic. Perhaps one best discussed over tea.”
He led me into a conservatory, bright with afternoon sun and providing a luscious view of the gardens outside. Tea had been laid out for us. I’d never got on with fine china, the clinking sound too painfully sharp compared to the less refined ceramics I made. Wanting something to do with my hands won out over my aversion, because Warwick was already stirring a teaspoon of sugar into his cup, his osprey familiar hopping along the broad swathe of his shoulders.
I leaned forward for the sugar, but he waved my hand away and opened a separate cup, also containing sugar. I thought perhaps he was particular about germs, but he said, “That’s the salt. I prefer salty tea. Strange, I know.”
The very thought made me ill. As I reached for the sugar, though, it flung itself off the table, white granules spilling across the floor as it rolled away.
Warwick raised both eyebrows. “If you don’t take sugar, you need only have said.”
“That wasn’t me,” I said, staring at the shattered cup. The lid still rolled on its end, clattering behind a plant pot.
“Hm.” Warwick didn’t seem to believe me. “Well, Foxbury Manor is quite old. Could be haunted, who knows? Would you prefer something else to drink altogether? I can make us something stronger.”
“Tea is fine.” I needed a clear head.
Warwick called for his butler to fetch it for me. I dug my fingernail into my palm and focused on the plan. I couldn’t ask any direct questions about Grandpa’s murder, so Kessian had coached me to ask why Warwick had wanted to speak to me, and see whether I could guide the conversation from there. I could ask about his partnership with my grandfather, how his death affected Warwick, if anything strange had cropped up before it happened, and gauge his responses.
Kessian would have been better at this, but I would have been no more comfortable snooping through Warwick’s house.
“So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” I asked.
Warwick chuckled. “Straight to the point. I like it. Your grandfather said as much, that you didn’t dilly or dally. But I digress. It is a strange thing I called you here for, because I am not entirely sure how much you know about your grandfather’s role in Shearwater. As Keeper, I mean.”
That Warwick had known about this Keeper business made me feel all the more alienated. Had Grandad’s murderer known him better than I had? “He didn’t have the opportunity to tell me.”
“I know. Quite tragic, that. The role I refer to, and all his work associated with it, was largely pursued in the hopes you could return.”
I shifted uncomfortably. The topic of returning never ceased to put me on edge. I didn’t know if my aversion came from a genuine dislike of the place or from fear of letting myself want what was out of reach. “He was looking for a way to deal with the wraith, you mean.”
“Yes, nasty thing. I’d been trying to help him find a way to trap and banish it, but truth be told, it was quite difficult to research or test when its appearances only coincided with yours. All theoretical, you understand. He had a good head for magical theory, your grandfather.”
Kessian’s voice filtered into my mind as the butler returned with a replacement sugar.I think I found his office, but it’s locked. Who locks doors in their own house?
I tensed, covering my silence by stirring sugar into my tea and taking a long sip.Give me a minute. I’ll excuse myself to go to the toilet and find you.
Third door on your right after coming up the stairs.
“Taliesin?” Warwick asked.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. It’s a lot to take in. No one ever told me about a trap for the wraith. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“To be clear, we still don’t know if it is, but Edwin thought so. I reckon he was quite close to finishing the spell, but alas … time got the better of him.”
I weighed that coincidence against the one in which Warwick bought the spa and it miraculously regained its profitability soon after. It was very strenuously plausible, but that he spoke openly of it set me off kilter. I was not good at lying, nor at telling when someone else was.
