Chapter 17 #3
She shook her head. ‘Why do I feel as if I’ve known you all my life?
Why are you so familiar to me?’ Her eyes met Miriam’s.
‘Sometimes, I despise you so much—I want you so much—that it feels as if you and I are the same person. That it feels as if you are responsible for all the pain I’ve ever felt. ’
Miriam said, ‘You cannot trust these visions, Esther. They aren’t reality.’
Esther shook her head. ‘You are lying to me. You are always lying to me, I think. When you told me you loved me, was that a lie, also?’
‘No,’ Miriam replied. ‘Love is a sort of magic, my dear. It comes slowly or quickly, cruelly or kindly; but exchange is all it requires. It may not be the sort of love you want. But I have given you part of myself, just as you have given me part of you.’
Esther’s breath stuttered. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know.’
At that moment, Thomas Harding emerged from the crowd, darted forward, and seized Esther’s arm.
Esther gasped his name, nearly slipping on the marble floor of the ballroom in her fright.
He must have come in a hurry, as he was in disarray, cravat badly tied, erupting in a spider-limb sprawl from his neck.
His pupils were minuscule; he had the bitter scent of laudanum on his lips, and as he leaned towards Esther, she could smell it clinging to the air.
He said, ‘Where is it?’
Esther resisted the urge to flinch away. Most of the crowd remained on the dance floor or watching the dancers from the walls; but Thomas was making a scene, and they would soon be noticed. ‘Where is what?’
‘The grimoire. The salt—the salt might be gone, but perhaps, perhaps…’
He was delirious. ‘Thomas,’ Esther said, slowly, ‘there is no need for—’
Miriam took a step forward. ‘I have it.’
Esther expected him to react with fear, but Thomas was too far gone. He turned his face to her, snarl deepening, revealing the pink-white line of his upper gums. ‘You.’
‘Release her,’ Miriam said.
His fingers tightened around Esther’s arm. ‘Why should I? Kill me, demon, if you’d like. I have nothing more to lose.’
Esther saw heads turning towards them, as the dancers sped up their movements—the music was coming to a crescendo, and soon their conversation would be far more audible.
Panicking, she called to the shadows. A sharp pain, and then they were her servants once more; they slipped into the skin of her arm, where they burnt so hot that the fabric of her sleeve began to smoke. Thomas flinched away, hissing in pain.
‘Stop it, both of you,’ Esther snapped. ‘We’re surrounded by people. We will be noticed.’
Miriam’s eyes were so dark they reflected the candles surrounding them, a thousand flames whimpering in the shadows. ‘We should not have let him live.’
‘Ignore him,’ Esther said, desperately. ‘He is merely an—an insect, Miriam. He isn’t worth the bother.’
‘I have had enough of your mercy, darling. It is a weakness of yours, and one that must be excised.’ Miriam rolled her neck, and a dark smile stretched over her face. ‘I shall hand you his heart before this night is finished. A fitting gift.’
‘I’d really rather you didn’t,’ Esther replied, as Thomas took another step away, his eyes wide and unfocused. He crashed into the candelabra, and—although it didn’t fall—it sent the candle flames billowing, the fire growing taller, plumes of smoke rising to the ceiling—
Then it all fell apart.
She looked into the flames reflexively; they swallowed her whole.
The fire was growing, the fire was catching, the fire was a memory and the memory was ashes filling her throat, bitter and hot.
She was choking on them. Esther thought, The Hall is burning, Harding Hall is burning, and she panicked, tearing herself away from Thomas and Miriam like stitches pulled from a wound, stumbling back into a table of drinks.
Gasping, she pressed her palms against the tablecloth, gloves slipping halfway down her arms, chest heaving.
The glasses of claret beneath her outstretched arms smelt cloying, oversweet, and it made her stomach turn.
There were bowls of food here, too: cups of trifle oozing blood-red compote, sliced calf’s tongue accordioned along its platter, and gnarled, walnut-like oysters piled in a silver bowl.
The servant beside the table mistook her horrified stare for interest, and he raised an oyster towards her in offering.
‘Fresh in season, miss,’ he said. Without waiting for her reply, he took an oyster knife from his belt: a stubby thing with a blade the size of Esther’s thumb, its handle twice as long, a filigreed ivory the same shade as Esther’s dress.
As he began to lever the oyster open, Esther felt a presence at her shoulder.
‘Esther?’ Miriam murmured. ‘Are you with me still?’
Esther didn’t respond. She was watching the servant struggling with the oyster, which was evidently harder to crack than he’d first presumed.
Hands slipping against the knife’s handle, he made a little grunt of frustration.
Esther saw the glint of the blade, felt terror well in her throat, and reached forward to snatch the knife from his hands.
The oyster flew from his grip, skidding across the floor.
‘Madam,’ said the servant, horrified.
Esther looked down at the knife, and then up into Miriam’s face. ‘What is happening to me? You know, don’t you?’
‘Esther, you must sit down—’
‘Enough!’ Esther snarled. She felt a presence rise within her, a second voice, both the same and discordant with her own. Heat built in her hands. ‘I will not forget again!’
‘Esther,’ Miriam said, more urgently. But Esther wasn’t listening; there was a fury in her, ancient and terrible, and flames were beginning to dance along her palms. ‘Esther, stop, you will raze this place to ashes—’
Esther reached toward her, burning, burning—
‘Cybil!’ Miriam cried. ‘Stop.’
Cybil. The word tore Esther apart, remade her, all in an instant. The flame in her hand flickered and died.
‘Cybil,’ Esther echoed. She took a stumbling step back, repeating, ‘Cybil.’ Then her foot came down upon the discarded oyster, and she slipped.
Miriam leapt to catch her, but someone else had already been standing behind her. Esther felt arms loop around her back. She looked up to see Thomas’s upside-down face peering at her, grinning with a rabid intensity. He said, ‘Lily,’ poppy-bitter breath washing over her face.
Esther’s back was bowed over his arms, her feet still on the floor.
Blood rushed to her head; she felt dizzy.
The back of her skull was pressed against his stomach.
He was stooped over her, cradling her as if he intended to pull her into his arms. His hands were pressed into her waist, and they were smoking with heat—Esther could smell the terrible stench of charred flesh, but he did not seem to notice or care that she was burning him.
Esther tried to pull away, but Thomas’s grip was iron.
She looked up at him, and his face changed.
Looming over her, there was now another man: hairline receding and features aging, a black hat on his head.
And Esther knew with a sudden cold certainty that if she didn’t escape this person, she would die.
Her right arm was limp beside her. The oyster knife was in her hand.
She raised the knife and stabbed Thomas in the stomach.
For a moment, nothing happened. He only stared at her, and she stared at him, while the string quartet continued to play the country dance.
It was a short knife, sharp, and Esther could hardly tell whether it had met its mark.
Then she felt something warm soaking her hand.
Thomas said, ‘Oh,’ very faintly, and he dropped her.
Esther landed heavily on the floor. She scrambled away from Thomas, leaving bloody palm prints on the marble. He stood half bowed, arm twisted over his abdomen, the ivory handle of the knife protruding from his waistcoat.
Miriam said, reverently, ‘I knew it would be beautiful.’
Thomas screamed. The crowd around them immediately fell silent. The quartet faltered and then stopped playing. The dancers paused. Hundreds of people had stuttered and stilled, Carroway House trapped in amber.
Someone cried, ‘Esther!’ as he elbowed his way through the crowd. It was Isaac. He lunged toward her and pulled her up to standing. Then he looked at Thomas, who was staring down, silent and stricken, at the blood saturating his waistcoat. ‘Oh, Lord. You’ve really done it now.’
‘I know,’ Esther replied.
And then there was chaos.