Chapter Nineteen
The Urchin took her straight to her front door, confirming he knew precisely where she lived. Light returned as he released it, and Alora blinked up at the moon trending lower in the sky. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle the yawn.
“About the healing…”
Alora’s brow raised when he paused. “Yes?”
“I didn’t recognize your reaction for what it was. I’m sorry.”
“I feel foolish over it now.”
“Don’t. And don’t think to go to the constable about me, Miss Pennigrim. They’re all in Merridon’s pocket. Good night.”
“Wait.” The word was out of her mouth before she thought why she wished it.
Before she’d processed even a sliver of what he meant by the constable and Master Merridon’s seemingly endless pockets.
She imagined his eyebrow arched as he turned back toward her, tried to picture what color it would be. Dark, I suppose.
“What would happen if I didn’t complete the contract?”
“Those are scenarios I would not put into your head before bedtime.”
Alora swallowed. “So bad?”
“Either you run very, very far and very fast,” he said, steadfast as ever. “Or you finish what you began.”
What in the godforsaken earth?
Her first breath drew shaky, but her next steadied her.
One week, she thought. One week, and after that we’ll see what can be done about these bludgeoning Urchins.
Because she did love Enver. She adored the people who said good morning to strangers and singing while atop her terrace.
She loved the flowers and shops and variety of enchantments. But this contract. This contract.
“I’ve already run away once. I won’t do it again. Goodnight.” Then she closed the door and imagined three locks after it.
Let William try anything now.
***
She’d not slept well.
Alora yawned though the hour crept toward noon only to lose it partway. A letter slipped through the slot. She walked toward it slowly as the envelope hinted at what it was—the gold lettering, the gold embossing at the corners.
She bent and lifted it, her heart somewhere near her toes.
Miss Alora Pennigrim
126 Eldergrove Avenue
Enver
She slipped her finger inside, unfolded it, and read it quick. Then she read it again.
She swallowed the distinct taste of bile.
Fear squeezed her like a snake. She’d been all bravery and bravado last night, but now the thought of running very, very far and very fast didn’t sound so bad an idea.
Of course, it didn’t help that she’d nearly scorched her entire home with nightmarish imaginings.
She’d woken to black marks charred onto her walls in the distinct shape of flames; William had haunted her, managing past her locks and into her dreams, and she loathed him for it.
And now she must meet with Master Merridon. Master Merridon, who would surely have something to say over how she’d only a week remaining and all she’d managed was wallpaper. Well, if his Urchins and his performers would only leave her and Enver be, she might have been done days ago. As it were—
“Mrs. Flops! Forage on the terrace today. I’ve an appointment with my early demise which can’t be missed.”
Then she ran and leapt into the tub.
***
The afternoon sky appeared as ominous as the letter felt.
Alora had packed an umbrella into her satchel in hopes of warding it away.
The wind picked up as she neared the end of the lane, whistling through the white tops of the overlarge trees, bending them to its will.
Her hair hadn’t fully dried before she’d left home, but it was now, whipping against her face.
She pulled pieces from her mouth to smile at Reginald. Then faltered when he didn’t smile back.
“Hello, again.” She lowered her hood. “It’s me—”
“Name and appointment time.”
Alora startled. Because the voice wasn’t Reginald’s at all, but deeper and more exacting.
She braved a step to peer beneath his helm.
Narrowed hazel eyes stared back at her, not coppery brown.
Cold eyes. A hard-set mouth. His uniform was the same down to the curling shoes and gold paint, but that was where the similarities ended.
This guard did not want to make friends.
Her fingers retreated from her satchel where they’d begun to enclose a bottle of Winnowillow juice. “Alora Pennigrim,” she said. “Two o’clock.”
When he held out a hand, she didn’t place her own within it, but the letter.
The guard scanned it before brusquely handing it back.
A reach behind him and the gate swung in.
No instruction. No warnings. The guard faced forward once more and didn’t so much as glance her way when she stepped past him and onto Opulence’s grounds.
Where has Reginald gone? She wanted to ask but was scared for the answer. She only hoped he had a day off to himself, a vacation to somewhere cool and temperate with no gold paint in sight. She hoped it, but the ominous feeling only grew. Same as the thunderclouds in the east.
Something was wrong.
The grounds were still; even the wind had vanished. Alora picked her way tensely down the lane. Aside from the darkening sky, she could neither hear nor see anything out of the ordinary. Maybe—
Snip. Snip, snip, snip.
At the end of the path, upon a ladder wide enough to support his large frame, perched Mr. Macaw.
In the groundkeeper’s hands was an enormous pair of sheers, which he used with expert precision as he sliced and snipped a new topiary into submission.
Alora stared awhile, transfixed, as the glinting blades maneuvered through the greenery.
She couldn’t yet tell what it was meant to be.
“Good afternoon, Mister Macaw.”
Snip. Snip.
She frowned. He must not have heard me. The storm is loud. “I didn’t know you were such an artist!” There. He couldn’t have missed that. She’d practically shouted.
But aside from a brief pause in his work, the groundskeeper continued on.
Alora was more than a little offended now, wondering what she could have done to earn his ire.
Until she remembered their parting. His meeting with Master Merridon and the wheelbarrow.
Perhaps she’d gotten him into some trouble with management.
Discarding her feelings, she hurried down the pebbled path, far enough that she came upon his opposite side.
“Mister Macaw. Have I caused you trouble?”
She thought he would continue snipping and slashing forever when he didn’t immediately turn around, and she made to leave on a defeated sigh, when he shifted at last. His long gray hair lay lank around his head as he held a finger to his lips. A single gesture and no words.
Alora could only nod her understanding.
Yes, something was very wrong.
Madam Feebledire answered at the end of her third knock, and the crease between the woman’s eyes became a canyon upon seeing Alora standing there.
“Miss Pennigrim.”
“Madam.”
“Well, hurry in. You’re nearly late, which would be a horrible offense, considering.”
Alora could take it no more. “Considering what? Where is Reg—the usual guard?”
A scoff burst from Madam Feebledire. “Reginald, is it? Do you ignore all warning and instruction, Miss Pennigrim, or only when it suits you?”
Alora’s eyes widened, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“I mean— Nevermind. You’ll find out soon enough. Door Zero. Good luck.”
Alora briefly contemplated yelling out for Madam Feebledire not to abandon her, but the woman was already far away. It was just as well. She would have only scowled at Alora in disgust over her raised voice and abandoned her anyway.
You are a professional, Alora, she reminded herself. Business meetings are a part of the work. As are disgruntled clients.
If disgruntled was even what he was. Oh, she should have run when she had the chance. Damn her stubbornness!
Alora knocked three times.
The door swung in.
“Ah, Miss Pennigrim. Two o’clock, exactly. I do enjoy your promptness.”
“Master Merridon.” Alora inclined her head as she stepped in, noting with a practiced air that the owner of Opulence sat rather rigid in his seat.
He wore a golden jacket today, finer than when she’d first met him, and his smile, though still meant to charm, seemed fixed. “You wished a meeting with me?”
“I did. Care for some refreshment?”
The sight of the crystal bottle of clear liquid upon his desk along with matching tumblers brought back unwanted memories. Alora shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Then let us jump straight into it then. Sit, please. How do you feel your progress on our project is coming along?”
Ugh. She hated questions worded in such a way. It left her feeling like a trap was being carefully assembled at her feet. And she did not want to be trapped by a man like Merridon. She sat.
“It is, perhaps, moving a little slower than I’m accustomed to, but part of that is the distance. I still have a clear idea of what I intend for it, and I’ve not missed a deadline yet. I won’t in this project either.” She offered him her most polished smile.
“It is a rather bare considering the month’s end is encroaching. I’ll admit I’m growing worried.”
“Please allow me to appease that.” Good grief, how she hated simpering before such a man.
Every time she looked at him all she could see were lost eyes and nothing to be done about them.
“The carpenter has what I’ve ordered ready for pickup, same as the carpeteer, and every detail after that will be no problem in acquiring. ”
“And how do you plan on delivering your larger purchases?”
Alora fixed her smile same as his. He tested her, the hardness of his eyes at odds with the pull of his lips. “I’d planned to inquire after transport options with Madam Feebledire.”
“As is appropriate. Good to hear, Miss Pennigrim. Our establishment abides by rules which, if not followed, can embark catastrophic consequences. One cannot hope to maintain so much enchantment without them.” Beneath the desk, Alora clenched her hands to fists.
“To the next matter. I’m told of a most unfortunate incident involving you and one of my performers. ”
Alora flushed scarlet. She could feel it like a dousing. Same as she could feel the phantom press of William’s lips to her neck.
“I don’t mean to cause you discomfort, but I think it’s best if we lay out this rule clearly for you.
You are not, no matter the circumstances, to go beyond any door besides Door Twenty-five until you’ve acquired your membership.
After that, by all means, enjoy what Door Ten, Door Eighteen, and all others have to offer.
As for the performer in question, he has since been reprimanded.
” Master Merridon’s face pinched. “Both in a professional and…unprofessional manner. But I digress.”
The Urchin’s words came back to her. “I should have choked the light from him.”
Oh god. Had he?
“You will not engage with any employees unless you need to do so in a strictly work-related practice, which I can’t imagine you would require outside of management. You are certainly not to engage any performers. Do we understand one another?”
“Yes, Master Merridon.”
“Good. Now are you sure you wouldn’t like some refreshment? Water? I also have iced tea. And fresh lemonade.”
Trap, warned Alora’s intuition. A horrid little trap. Poor Reginald. She didn’t think he was on vacation after all.
“No.” Her teeth clenched around the word, not allowing even a forced polite ‘thank you’ to follow it.
“Suit yourself,” said Merridon, and abruptly his smile turned real. “Do enjoy the remainder of your day. I look forward to what the end of the week brings.”
Minutes later, Alora stood outside Door Zero, her hand on the knob and unable to let go.
Inside her, fury bubbled away. At herself, for putting Reginald in danger by her continued interactions.
For ignoring her intuition when it came to William and following him behind that door.
And at everyone else in this horrible place, spewing their evil across Enver like some foul-smelling infection.
She knew with one-thousand-percent certainty, she’d never use that membership. In fact, she might burn it at her contract’s end. Perhaps even in front of Merridon.
One by one, her fingers eased from the knob.
Calm yourself, she admonished. She did need to find Madam Feebledire and schedule transportation for the trim she’d ordered.
But how? She scanned the length of the hall and found no one.
The woman had gone that way though after abandoning her and so must be somewhere.
Adjusting her satchel, Alora stepped past Door Zero and continued on through the depths of Opulence.