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She Called the Darkness Home

Page 84

by Grace Ivy Hall

Minutes later, another figure exited the house, a young man with hair a shade lighter than the woman’s and nearly as long, tucked beneath his shirt collar. Obedience held her breath as he started in her direction, but he stopped at the tree line, wind playing with loose tendrils of his wavy hair as he snipped away small branches of wisteria and forsythia. He gathered them in one hand, while with the other he plucked daffodils, tulips, and crocuses out of the sandy soil. A dazzling ray of sunlight streamed against his face, highlighting two bone-white scars that trailed like rivulets down his cheeks. There was something unnatural about them.

As the young man drew into the shadows near her hiding place, Obedience sunk deeper into the weeds behind a thatch of trees. She studied his aura, the fine gray mist that clung to his skin as though frightened to let go, the flashes of brilliant light at the edges of him.

It took everything within her to remain hidden.

Throughout the rest of the day, Obedience lingered as a silent observer, watchful as the ancient trees obscuring her. She caught sight of other family members as the afternoon progressed: an older middle-aged man and two young women who appeared to be close in age to the man with the wild aura.

The prospect of that young man’s untapped potential made her pulse skip in her throat. Her excitement only increased when she took a moment to process all she’d seen that day. A family living in the same house that the Saltonstalls had occupied in the 1600’s. Mother, father, two sisters, a brother with clearly repressed powers… What if these weren’t the descendants of the family who had lost their little girl?

What if they were the very same?

A wave of dizziness nearly brought Obedience to her knees. If her hypothesis was correct, it would mean that the family was immune to aging and death. So then, wasn’t it possible that the young servant woman who had frightened the minister and his wife in Seekonk was the same little girl who’d been taken from the arms of her mother well over a hundred years earlier? Perhaps the child had been spared. Perhaps she’d been living amongst humans for decades like a pearl tucked inside an ordinary shell.

If so, the girl could be the answer to two of the dreams Obedience had held close to her heart since learning she was a witch: both a weapon who could protect her and a means by which Obedience might discover the secrets of immortality.

Best of all, the Similar was potentially all alone in a city with no means of supporting herself. Unlike this young man with his family by his side, the girl—his sister, if Obedience’s theory proved accurate—would be a much simpler target.

Assuming the young woman didn’t cause any more problems, the council would likely remove their watchful eye on her within a fortnight.

And then Obedience would strike her deal.

33

Clement arrived just as the sun was setting behind the trees, his presence making the house feel several times darker to Iris than it actually was.

It had been a little over an hour since Gabriel had burst out of the apothecary, his expression carefully guarded as he’d led them back to the car, raced home, and barricaded himself in his room. He’d spent the next hour speaking to Clement in hushed tones over the phone while Blair paced downstairs.

Iris had texted Audrey to say they couldn’t come to dinner because Gabriel wasn’t feeling well, before trying to occupy herself with her punch needle embroidery project. Her hands trembled so badly that she accidentally poked herself several times with the needle. She couldn’t seem to banish the image of her father from her mind—his chilling smile, the skin dripping off of his bones. She knew it had been an illusion, but that didn’t make his appearance any less terrifying. If anything, she felt even more threatened than if her father had actually risen from his grave to torment her.

Perhaps her ghosts would always come back to haunt her, even if they were just that: ghosts.

When the needle jabbed hard enough for a bloom of crimson blood to pool on her finger, Iris gave up and tucked her project away in a basket beside the couch.

Blair, meanwhile, had been completely silent since they’d arrived home. Iris had a feeling he was trying to understand how he hadn’t realized that his investor was some kind of malevolent witch. But this was all Iris’ fault; she had been the one to convince Blair to accept Anna’s offer in the first place.

At the sound of Clement’s engine cutting off, Gabriel stalked downstairs, released the deadbolt in the front door, and stepped outside in the boots he’d forgotten to remove earlier, letting the door slam shut behind him. Blair stopped pacing and he and Iris watched from the window as the two conversed in the shadows of the drooping elm trees. How there was anything left to say when the friends had been talking for the past hour, she had no idea.

Iris reached for Blair’s hand, taken aback by how cold and clammy it was, and led him over to the couch. She was trying to come up with something reassuring to say when Gabriel and Clement stepped into the entryway. Gabriel closed the door at once, forcing the half-frozen deadbolt back into place. The day had grown steadily colder as the afternoon wore away, and now the thermometer was pointed back at the mid-twenties.

Clement pulled out a chair next to the hearth, while Gabriel leaned against the front door as though expecting someone to try to force entry at any moment.

“I see you’ve gotten yourselves into quite a pickle,” Clement said by way of greeting.

Iris grimaced, already irritated by Clement’s laissez-faire demeanor. Blair shot him a steely glare but said nothing.

“A rather chilly reception for someone who's only here to help you,” Clement observed lightly.

“How did you know that woman?” Iris asked Gabriel, ignoring Clement.

She could see Gabriel’s chest rising and falling rapidly, though he was obviously trying to keep himself composed. “We ran in similar circles once. She’s not someone I expected to ever encounter again.”

“She wasn’t one of the sorcerers you were afraid of coming after you?” Iris could feel Blair’s surprised gaze on her and remembered how little he knew about Gabriel’s past. Well, it was about time that Gabriel revealed more of his history. Blair was part of their family now.

“No,” Gabriel said flatly.

Iris bit her nail, wincing as she broke through the skin.

“What does she want?” Blair spoke up at last, and the three of them turned to him. He looked drawn, his complexion sallow.