Cardinal House (The Blackwell Brothers Book 4)

21. Luna

Haisley has pretty red hair. Wild ringlets framing her face where they don’t quite pull up into the thick, high ponytail she’s sporting. Her eyes are green, these big emerald orbs split with oceanic blue, framed in thick strawberry blonde lashes. Her freckled skin is almost as light as mine, but you can tell she’s seen the sun regularly for there are criss-cross tan lines across her upper back, the royal blue sundress she wears now showing off the marks.

With my crayons and papers, like I’m a child, I’m still sitting in the grass as the sun starts to lower. But when we were inside after the men left, something that’s still making me nervous, the old stone building echoey and cold even in this heat, Haisley moved around the space like she lived here. She knows where everything is, she knows how to use all of the appliances, and how to find an old bookshelf full of gothic novels.

Watching her, so free, flitting around the space made my insides churn. I got jealous. Deep down, I know I don’t need to be, she’s marrying his brother, but Wolf is the only thing that I have, and he has so many people that care for him, and they all know him. The way Haisley has chatted about him today, almost gushing, has made me realise that I don’t really know Wolf Blackwell at all.

Back against a headstone, the rough sandstone grazing my skin with every shift in my shoulders, I watch the wildflowers sway, the tall grass swish, and that’s when she comes back.

The bunny.

A large white rabbit sits just a mere foot away, its pink nose working overtime to find the slivers of apple I placed out for it. There’s something wrong with it. Its eyes are all squished closed, red, weepy and crusty, and its pretty white fur is balding in places, its skin beneath raw.

Still, I sit quietly, unmoving as it hops closer, studying the whiskers on either side of its face twitch insanely fast, it makes me think of the butterflies surrounding me earlier, their wings open, relaxed, and then suddenly like they were catching fire they took flight.

The bunny finds the first piece of apple by scent alone, the pale flesh of it browning in its pink skin where I’ve left it in the sun for too long, but the rabbit doesn’t seem to mind as she gobbles it down. I nudge the next piece a little closer, the seven slivers of fruit like a little trail leading towards me.

Wolf’s been gone for hours, and he said he’d only be a few, but I’m not so sure that’s true. My skin ripples with goosebumps under the warm evening breeze, my skin chilly and too pink, burnt. I already know what Wolf will say about it when he gets home.

Home.

It’s a funny thing to feel, the warmth of him in this cold, unusual place.

Only death existed here.

Until me.

The bunny is right beside my bare thigh now, nibbling on the last piece of the apple trail, the final piece is in between my fingers. I’m sure the rabbit has already scented me, but with dirt on my knees, and the smell of the grass and flowers smeared across my skin, maybe it makes me more palatable. Or, perhaps, she’s just starving.

Unsure how to feel about that, I cautiously twist my wrist, offering the final slice of apple up. The white rabbit presses a little front paw against the side of my thigh as it gnaws on the fruit in my fingers, and then, very carefully, I lift my right hand, reach across my lap and stroke up the length of its twitching nose. It flinches at the contact but then carries on enjoying the apple.

“Oh.”

The one word is breathy and feminine, but it feels cold as ice as the sound travels down my spine like splintering glass. Slowly, looking up, Haisley stands a few feet away, a scattering of crumbling graves between us. Her blue dress ruffles around her knees as the breeze picks up, and I think she’s going to stand there, unsettled by the zombie-looking bunny.

But she doesn’t.

Haisley comes closer, her short, curvaceous body folding neatly to her haunches at the end of my outstretched legs, my own feet bare, hers in pretty sandals with painted toes that she covers with the skirt of her dress. She watches the rabbit with a soft smile on her face that makes my own cheeks ache.

She’s so pretty. The white length of a scar through the bowtie shape of her upper lip only adding to her beauty. Her cheeks are round and high, her lips thick, a natural, dark blush. The outer corners of her bright eyes turned up, like a feline, and she doesn’t need anything to help her. She’s natural, and she smiles like that, too, is natural.

“Poor thing, looks like it has myxomatosis,” Haisley tuts softly, her eyes still on the rabbit, but mine are on her.

“What’s that?” I ask her, still staring at her unblinking, it’s a little hard to look away from her actually, because the woman is truly beautiful, young, happy, free.

“It’s not curable, unfortunately, widespread through rabbits, they get swelling around the eyes, genitalia. Lethargy. A cruel end, really.”

I stare down at the rabbit, still stroking its nose as its whiskers twitch. Its eyes red and weeping. My head pounds, a burning ache along one side of my skull, and I’m feeling that thread of irritation at not knowing anything. Maybe I had pet rabbits before, maybe that’s why I’ve been coaxing this one closer for the last couple of days. Maybe I miss them. I should have gone in earlier for my nap, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so off.

“It’s such a nice day out,” Haisley hums, more to herself than me, she’s been doing things like that all day.

Saying things that allow me to feel like I can reply if I want to, or to stay silent if I don’t.

It’s been very quiet here at Cardinal House today.

“I’m looking forward to the summer,” she says whimsically, breathing out as she looks down at her hands, a large diamond that almost looks like a boulder on her tiny ring finger. “Thorne’s taking me to Sicily. I love the beach, the sound of the waves, the scent of salt. It’s my favourite thing.”

There are boats on the water, a deep crystal blue with white foam. I’ve got a pinwheel in my hand, a rainbow of colours trilling in the hot breeze. The sun is burning the top of my head and I’m waving to someone I can’t see clearly under the haze of the sun.

Blue eyes, familiar, but they are not my own.

“Luna?”

I blink, look at Haisley as she stares at me with wide eyes, her lip trembling.

“Yes?” I reply, feeling adrift, but Haisley looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“I think the boys will be back soon,” she says next, changing the subject. Leaning back on her haunches, her eyes leaving me and scanning across the fields and trees and forest all around us, “It’s just after eight.” She pulls a phone from a pocket in her skirt, a smile lighting up her face, “Oh. Yes. They’re almost home.”

I can’t stop the frown, but I don’t think it actually shows on my face, it’s just something I can feel deep inside, right beside the little black thread of Wolf. His darkness hollowing out its space inside of me even further, burrowing deeper. I want to stitch it there.

“I’m going to go and set the table,” she beams, pushing to her feet, her smile bright and white. “Do yo-”

“Okay,” I say quietly, cutting her off, holding her gaze like a stare in defiance until her smile drops away and she turns back towards the house.

I track her with my eyes as she goes, watching the dress drift around her, her huge, thick, curly ponytail swishing. My fingers curl over the poorly rabbit’s neck just as Haisley hops up the front steps to the house, her head coming over her shoulder to glance back at me as she pauses in the open doorway. I don’t smile at her, holding her eye, and when she disappears inside, I feel the crack vibrate up the length of my arm more than I hear it as I snap the sick bunny’s neck.