Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
“Death is not an ending, but another beginning, or so I’m told. I’m not sure I believe it, but Mother says to not contradict the vicar.” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age twelve.
Sleep did indeed take me at some point, because my morning began with a rapid knock on the door and my brothers Nevan and Neil bursting in moments later.
I shot up in the bed, naked still from the rendezvous Abnus and I had had last night. I might have cleaned up, but I hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes.
Nevan’s eyes traced over my chest, and I realized what he was seeing—the scattering of purple kiss marks Abnus had left behind. I yanked up the sheet and demanded, “What the devil is going on?”
Neil, unlike his twin, wasn’t distracted by what might or might not be occurring in my bed, and said, “Get dressed. Immediately.”
I didn’t question him. My brothers wouldn’t burst in unless they had a very good reason, and the last few days had been fraught with happenings. I rushed through my morning ablutions as quickly as physically as possible and my valet helped me dress before I rushed out of the door.
I’d always been taught not to run within the manor, as had my elder brothers, but such lessons seemed to have left their heads because they bolted through the halls so rapidly that I struggled to keep up with their much longer strides.
Nevan was in the lead, and he raced to the side garden, Neil and I were right on his heels. Unfortunately, Nevan stopped quite abruptly, and Neil and I crashed into him, sending the three of us into the snow.
“Steady on,” Phineas said as he lifted me off the ground and held onto me until I was solidly on my feet. Georgie helped Nevan and Neil up.
My gaze landed on what had made Nevan come to an abrupt halt.
A twisted, dead figure in a white nightgown on the snow, surrounded by a pool of blood.
My thoughts first went to the ill young woman who I’d met twice in the moonlight when I saw a shock of light hair, but when I stumbled closer, it became apparent who it was.
Mrs. Sarah Kelly.
A tortured gasp ripped out of my lips, and solid arms kept me from collapsing to the ground. Father stood over her lifeless body while Mother clung to his arm. Frances was on her knees, hair streaming around her shoulders as she prayed for the dead woman’s soul.
My eyes could not shift from Mrs. Kelly. She’d been a fixture my entire life. Always there, scolding, chastising, and lecturing us, and yet, she often gave us sweets and had often snuck me treats when I’d been confined to my many lessons.
Her death hadn’t been a peaceful one, if her remains were evidence. Her gray hair had been ripped from its braid, her nightgown torn to the point of indecency, and sigils had been carved into her wrinkled skin.
“How did we not hear?” Georgie asked, gesturing to Mrs. Kelly. “This is torture, which is not a quiet affair.”
“Look at the blood,” Sevrin remarked from right behind me, alerting me to the fact he was the one supporting me. “There is not near enough to take her life. Either she was murdered elsewhere or she was killed in another way.”
My thoughts locked onto the word “murder.” Mrs. Kelly had been murdered. There was a murderer in Byrne Manor, in the home of my childhood, in my vicinity.
“True,” Phineas replied. “Father, would Aidan have sensed such magic?”
“I do not know. His tie to Sídhetír is new, and yet it is far more profound than the one I shared.”
“I believe,” a cool voice that soothed my soul said, “that it depends on what type of magic this is.”
Abnus moved into my line of sight, and it took everything I had not to fling myself at him like a damsel in distress from one of the gothic novels that I rather adored.
His amethyst eyes scoured me from head to toe, but he didn’t move in my direction, probably because of the audience surrounding us.
As much as I might desire him to be the one holding me instead of Sevrin, it was not proper for him to do so. And for some unknown reason, Abnus seemed hell-bent on maintaining my reputation, even in these dire circumstances.
“What do you sense?” Mother asked Abnus, forcing him to look away from me.
“Nothing but an unnamed darkness of the same ilk that tainted the farmland. This wasn’t done by the hand of the fae.”
Father’s eyes closed at Abnus’s words.
Mine and my brothers’ thoughts most likely mirrored that of our father’s. A necromancer walked the land of Sídhetír, but they were far closer to home than any of us imagined.
Phineas played a light tune on the pianoforte in an effort to penetrate the heavy cloud that hung over us all; it wasn’t working. The air in the family parlor was that of a funeral for all the mirth it held. Even my dear nieces were subdued as they quietly played in the corner.
Father had ordered the body—Mrs. Kelly—to be moved inside and cleaned. Mrs. Maher had been assigned the task, and she’d been all tears when she saw her friend's body, demanding how this had happened and insisting that they were supposed to be safe here in Sídhetír.
Head held high and shoulders straight, Father had listened to her without comment or recrimination.
He’d allowed Mrs. Maher to say her piece before she attended to her friend.
He’d then summoned the vicar and the magistrate before writing a letter to Aidan.
We’d had no news of how he and Cethin had fared, but now, we needed him to return, for the necromancer was here.
The tea went cold as we all silently waited for the arrival of the vicar and magistrate. When they arrived and the vicar had said his prayers and the magistrate had assessed the situation, the three of them would head to the village to inform Mr. Kelly of his mother’s death.
I was steadfastly grateful that I was no longer the heir, let alone the lord, because I wouldn’t be forced to accompany them on that bleak task.
My thoughts whisked back to another time, another place as a child, when I’d hidden behind Aidan as Father told the parents of the stableboy who had died in an accident.
Their cries had engraved themselves onto my mind, and even now I could hear their agonizing screams, though, this time, they were twinning with Mrs. Hillridge’s cries as she mourned for her husband.
The couch creaked beside me, and a cold thigh brushed mine before moving away. I jolted and turned to look at Abnus. He caught my gaze and asked in a low voice that wouldn’t be heard outside of the two of us, “Are you well, Oren?”
Normally, those words put a smile on my lips and a fire in my heart, but not this time, because he wasn’t worried about a chill or some such nonsense. And this time, I couldn’t answer him, for I had none.
I merely shrugged.
His perfectly arched eyebrows drew together to form an ink slash across his proud forehead. Abnus glanced around the silent parlor before sliding his hand toward me. I took it, and our fingers laced together, fitting in such a way that spoke of how much they belonged together.
I closed my eyes and fought the burn that had taken up residence in the backs. Poor Mrs. Kelly. She’d done nothing to deserve her fate. If I’d been the lord, perhaps I could have prevented it?
No, that was foolish. If I’d been lord, I would’ve gone away as Aidan had. This was no more my fault than his. The fault lay solely with the perpetrator, and I vowed with a fiery anger that I would find them and see them repaid in full for all of the hurt they had brought down upon Sídhetír.
“Oren?” Abnus asked in a whisper.
“I want them dead. Whoever this is, I want them to die.”
He stared at me for a moment, then inclined his head. “And so they shall. If it is within my power, I will end their life.”
“Good,” I replied, not the least bit regretful or sorry. This necromancer deserved to die, and if I had to force a promise out of Abnus for it to happen, then so be it.