Chapter 15 #2
She didn’t like being in the dark. A creature of fire and light never would. Pity for her, the dark was Thomas’ favourite place.
‘Because I asked. Just as I am asking you now, would you like to amend our rules?’
‘It was only meant to be one night.’ Clio raised an eyebrow. She was baiting him, the tricksy woman.
‘It can only be one night, if that is your wish. We never need talk of this again.’ He shrugged as if her answer couldn’t so easily shatter something inside him.
If she didn’t want more, he wasn’t sure he could stay across the hall from her.
He would need to abandon the investigation.
Escape to London. Avoid Lachlan and anything else that reminded him of Clio.
Parks would be out of the question. Too many crows that looked like ravens.
But he would do it. He would walk away if she did not want him.
She pulled free but continued down the hall. ‘We shall amend the rules. But when this investigation ends, so does our arrangement.’ Looking over her shoulder, her amber eyes glowed in the gloom. ‘Agreed?’
Absolutely not. Unless you break this spell you have over me.
‘Of course.’ Thomas schooled his features into stern lines to hide his lie.
‘And I shall take the lead when we interview Anna.’ It wasn’t a question, but he responded regardless.
‘I expected nothing less.’
‘Exactly.’ She paused at the stairs leading up.
The dim light faded into total blackness.
Holding her hand in front of her, a single flame, tall and unwavering, glowed to life in the centre of her palm.
She looked at him, golden flickers spilling over her features.
There was a challenge in her eyes. And pride.
And a glimmer of fear. She could have been a fairy.
Or a goddess. Or a witch. His witch. ‘Are you with me?’
She wasn’t asking about the stairs. He felt the weight of her question, but it didn’t crush him. It grounded him.
Always.
‘Lead on, my lady.’
‘I’m not your lady,’ she muttered before turning and stalking up the steps, her bottom swaying enticingly.
But what magic that would be. To claim a woman like Clio Blair as my own. To have her claim me as hers. Such sweet sorcery.
Because how could any man not lose himself in such a woman? Certainly not Thomas.
She was showing off. With her magic. In front of someone outside her coven and kin.
It was unaccountable. But also a strange miracle.
To be able to reveal such a visceral and sacred part of herself to someone, and instead of experiencing fear or rejection, he looked at her like she was something immeasurably valuable.
A woman could become addicted to that kind of regard. Which was a rather large problem.
When Clio reached the top of the stairs, she clasped her hand in a fist, extinguishing the witchfire.
She needed to focus less on impressing Thomas and more on solving this investigation.
So that it would end. And she could leave.
Because that is what she wanted. To return to her home and her life before Lieutenant General Thomas Grey came into her world and turned everything upside down.
Topsy-turvy moments were exciting, and new, and all good and well, but they couldn’t last forever.
Nor did she want that. Because it would mean sacrificing an integral piece of herself.
At least, she always thought so. But with Thomas, new questions formed.
Was it possible to find a partner who accepted every piece of her and didn’t ask her to change?
What an astounding thought. One she would need to ponder. Later.
‘Where do we go from here?’ It irritated her that she had to ask him. Based on his smug little smile, he was very aware of her frustration. And why did that cause a clenching awareness low in her belly? Since when did his arrogance inspire her arousal?
‘On the southern side. Over the family wing.’
Clio nodded as Sir Robin’s claws dug into her shoulder. He clacked his beak before rubbing his head against her cheek. ‘It’s all right, Sir Robin.’
But something felt very wrong. She hastened her steps along the corridor, passing too many closed doors to count.
Grey’s quiet footfalls behind her assured Clio he was staying close.
A girl’s voice echoed in the stillness. A corresponding murmur from the nanny sounded before a door opened, light spilling far down the hall as a woman exited the nursery.
Clio froze. What would they do if she turned towards them?
How would they explain their presence? Lady Langley had given permission the night before, but Clio doubted the woman had time to explain the plan to the nanny.
She was far too busy chasing footmen. And Grey.
And any other man on the short side of forty.
The very idea of Grey doing any of the things he described to her the night before with Lady Langley inspired a sharp, unfamiliar emotion in her chest.
Jealousy.
She did not like it. Jealousy indicated some kind of proprietorship between herself and Grey.
While they may have amended their agreement to include fidelity within the bounds of their fortnight together, it hardly signified any lasting commitment.
Nor did she wish for that. She could not keep Grey.
He might seem to accept her powers, but this was only a dalliance for him.
A man as dominant as Grey would never accept such an affront to his authority in a marriage.
That which he found exciting and unusual about Clio would quickly become threatening when facing a lifetime together.
It was the same for her mother. And when her lover demanded she abandon her powers, she did so without hesitation.
Such was the curse of love. A curse Clio would never cast upon herself.
Her mother gave up more than just her witchcraft.
She gave up her daughters. Their futures.
Everything that should matter most. And when her husband caught the fever, she had no power to save him.
He died, and Aspen welcomed the illness when it came to her as a way to reunite with him.
Aunt Rowan tried to help her. She went to their dirty little cottage, stinking of decay and despair, but Aspen would not let Rowan past the entrance.
She had become so twisted by the views of her husband, she believed her magic was the Devil’s work.
A sin from which her husband saved her. Aspen accused her own sister of being Lucifer’s handmaiden, trying to seduce her back into the darkness.
Her own daughters, flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood, were spawns of men unworthy of God’s love, or Aspen’s.
She would rather die than welcome evil back into her heart. And so, she did.
Clio would never give a man such control of her thoughts. Her powers. Her very self. Not even a man like Grey. The risk was too great.
His fingers wrapped around her arm and squeezed gently, bringing her back to the present. ‘It is all right. She has taken the far stairs to the family wing. Come, we should hurry. There is no telling when she might return.’
He misunderstood her hesitation. Which was best. As he was also correct. They needed to move swiftly.
Gliding on silent feet, she paused at the door to listen. No sound emerged, so Clio held her breath and twisted the handle, hoping Anna wasn’t prone to screams.
The nursery was exactly what one might expect.
It was painted in soft pinks and dewy greens.
Large windows let in the wintry morning light.
A fire crackled in a hearth on the far side of the large open space, and lamps had been lit to bring false cheer to the room.
Lemon oil and fresh linen lent the air a comforting cleanliness.
Clio’s eyes stalled on a young girl sitting in a bay window, a book on her lap and a doll leaning drunkenly against the girl’s side.
She was dressed in a beautiful white lace affair that heightened the sense of fragile innocence surrounding her.
She looked very much like the half-finished painting Clio had found in Lord Beachley’s home.
Her dark-blonde hair lay around her shoulders in perfect ringlets.
Huge, brown eyes only grew larger in a face that was porcelain-doll pale.
Anna’s pink lips opened in a silent, ‘Oh.’
Before she could make a sound, Clio moved swiftly to where Anna sat and crouched so she was at the same level as the girl. She smiled kindly, and Sir Robin cooed a gentle, melodic whistle.
Anna’s gaze moved from Clio to the bird and back again. ‘W-who are you?’
‘Hullo, Anna. I’m Clio. A friend of your aunt’s.’ She turned to look over her shoulder at Thomas. ‘And this is Lieutenant General Grey.’
Goddess, he is handsome. And looks as sinister as the Devil on Samhain. The poor girl will be terrified.
She turned back to gauge the child’s reaction. Instead of screaming or jumping from her seat and attempting escape, Anna turned to Sir Robin. ‘Is that a raven?’ She pointed her finger at the bird.
Sir Robin fluffed his feathers, clearly pleased the clever girl had correctly identified him. He stretched his neck forward, and the young girl bravely extended her hand, running chubby fingers over his sleek head.
‘Yes. Your aunt thought you might like to meet him.’
‘He is very beautiful.’ Anna’s gaze remained locked onto Sir Robin.
‘Beautiful!’ Sir Robin chirped. Anna’s face broke into a delighted grin, the book falling from her lap as she clapped her hands and giggled.
‘He talks! A bird who really talks!’
Clio couldn’t stop her own smile. The girl’s joy was infectious.
While she knew Anna had been very sick, she seemed to be moving towards recovery.
Her cheeks held the faint blush of health, her eyes were bright and flashed with intelligence, and there was a glow about her that defied any lingering illness.
‘Sometimes, he talks entirely too much.’ Grey’s rough voice stroked over Clio’s senses, but she refused to be distracted.
‘Mother told me not to speak to strangers. She said I must always be very careful. Even now. But a bird can’t possibly be a stranger.
’ The girl’s brows drew down in confusion as she looked from Clio to Thomas.
‘But you are strangers. Mother wouldn’t want you here. Are you going to take me to my father?’
Clio’s heart stalled.
Dear goddess. Did the girl not realise her mother was missing, and her father was dead? Had grief pulled her into madness?
‘He said a woman would come with black hair and a bird. But Mother told me to stay away from him.’ Tears filled Anna’s eyes, and Clio tried to follow her skipping logic. Who told her they would be coming?
Sir Robin hopped onto the girl’s lap, tucking his head under her chin and leaning his body against her narrow chest, chirping in his version of a soothing murmur.
Anna’s eyes flew wide for a moment before she lifted her hand and stroked his wing. ‘You’re such a lovely raven. I don’t think Mother would tell me to stay away from you, Sir Robin.’
A cold ball of dread formed in Clio’s belly.
‘How did you know his name?’ She asked the question in tandem with Thomas, but fear eclipsed any annoyance she might feel at Thomas for stepping into her investigation.
Anna blinked owlish eyes at Clio, then over her shoulder at Thomas. Shrugging, she resumed stroking Sir Robin’s midnight feathers. ‘Father told me, silly. When he said you would come to visit.’