Chapter 14 Aurelie
Aurelie
All night, Aurelie tossed and turned in her bed at her uncle’s cottage. For the first time in as long as she could remember,
she hadn’t wanted to return to her laboratory, hadn’t wanted to be alone. Though she knew Bonnie and the other servants were
paid to be kind to her, she also needed to be reminded that not everyone found her unbearable.
The nightgown she’d been wearing was damp with sweat from her altercation with Des. She still had a few old things in her
wardrobe here, and she changed into one with silly pink ribbons at the cuffs and collar, inhaling the scent of the lavender
sprigs sprinkled in every drawer. Frivolous, he’d called her. And perhaps he was right. She snuggled under her ruffled comforter,
still trying to ward off the chill the giant had left her with.
She hated the way being near him made her feel weak and small, how his presence forced her to confront her physical limitations.
Most people would have been relieved to have a member of the Iron Guard watching over them, but she hated knowing that all
week, she’d been spied on by that overgrown flatiron of a man. He’d said the first time he saw her was the night she met with
Everard, which meant he’d seen her before the café, doing heaven only knew what.
Who did he think he was, telling her what to do and where to go? When he’d stuck his finger in her face, she’d had an almost overwhelming urge to bite it clean off.
Perhaps she’d been spending too much time with Mephisto lately.
Was the universe trying to give her a sign? Trailed by demon hunters. Stalked by somnia. She had taken a commission from a stranger to do something she knew would create more demons, and while she had spent the greater part of the last ten years pretending that demons were not
all that dangerous in today’s Wisteria, she now knew how wrong that notion was.
She believed the lieutenant was mistaken about the man’s death, for the record. He had said a thrall was following Everard,
but she’d seen no sign of it herself. Besides, this portal was going to create the greatest good possible, and rid Wisteria
of demons forever! She and the giant were working toward the same goal, even if he couldn’t see it.
She may be dangerously irresponsible, but she wasn’t the only one who knew the necessity of taking risks. Professor Sheldrake
had all but encouraged her to take this project on. To change the world, because clearly stagnation hadn’t made things better.
At the university, all that mattered was the strength of her mind, the stamina of her intellect. Her curiosity. Her ambition.
She nestled deeper into her pillow, comforted by the fact that she could now begin Everard’s project in earnest. Uncle Leopold
would return soon, and Aurelie would be tucked safely behind the university gates.
And the giant would be back where he belonged.
Aurelie’s first order of business the next morning was to take a proper bath.
Uncle Leo had a lovely claw-foot tub in his room with a view over the tops of the campus’s many trees to the clock tower, and she allowed herself to wallow in it until the water went cold.
She changed into one of the few dresses she kept here—a little risqué for her tastes, considering it showed a hint of clavicle—and combed out her hair, pretending not to see the haunted look in her own eyes in the mirror.
Yes, last night had rattled her. She would recover.
With her hair still wet, she went down to the library and started a fire in Leo’s fireplace, the one thing she was missing
in her lab. She ran her fingers along the familiar spines of books she’d once thought boring but now found profoundly comforting.
She made herself tea and curled up in an armchair with the spare sketchpad and pencils she kept in her room.
The tingle she felt every time she started to work on a new project traveled from the tips of her ears to her pinkie toes.
Everard’s schematic for the door was more sketch than blueprint. From what she could tell, each metal plate fitted to its
neighbor via a series of grooves and notches that needed to be lined up just so, but there were no clear instructions on how
to achieve this.
With her growing—albeit slowly—understanding of Elder Vansion, she skimmed the runes again, but she could barely recognize
a single one. Elder Vansion was known for its fickleness: one wrongly placed accent or overly curved flourish would change
the meaning of the rune entirely. A symbol resembling a quaint little cottage represented safety, prosperity, and good fortune,
but it became the rune for eternal damnation if the “chimney” was placed on the wrong side. It was no wonder Dr. Sheldrake
insisted Aurelie translate the runes before she carved them.
The overall dimensions of the portal were quite large, almost as tall as the ceiling and just as wide. She would need engraving tools, scaffolding materials, and a lot of coffee to get through this project by spring.
Bonnie’s chirpy hello startled her so badly that Aurelie spilled tea all over herself. “Dash it!”
“Begging your pardon, miss. There’s someone here to see you.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sa—”
“It’s not Mr. Viridian,” Bonnie said.
Aurelie stopped mopping at the wet spot on her skirt—luckily it was dark blue and wouldn’t be visibly stained—and met Bonnie’s
suspiciously twinkling eyes. “Then who is it?”
“A Lieutenant Whitlow, he says.”
“Who?”
Before Bonnie could respond, a man walked into the room, and Aurelie’s heart stuttered beneath her ribs.
“Apologies,” he said, his massive frame taking up most of the doorway. “I wasn’t sure if I was meant to come in or wait in
the hall.”
Bonnie’s eyes flicked to Lieutenant Whitlow, her round face flushed pink. She bobbed a curtsy and disappeared before Aurelie
could formulate a coherent thought.
He wasn’t wearing his armor or his sword, and while he was still enormous, Aurelie felt almost as though she were seeing a
turtle without its shell. There was something vulnerable about the open collar of his tunic, which revealed a sliver of smooth,
suntanned skin.
Aurelie rose, praying Des couldn’t see that she’d spilled tea all over herself.
“What are you . . .” She pushed a lock of wavy hair behind her ear, realized that her hair was wet and unbound, and wondered if it would be possible to melt into the floorboards.
“I mean, can I help you with something, Lieutenant Whitlow?”
He raised his brows slightly at her polite tone. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. I . . . My uncle still isn’t at home.”
“I’m aware.”
Aurelie watched in a daze as Des entered the library, which now felt almost claustrophobically small, given how much space
he took up. She gestured to a wingback chair, then bent down to where her spilled teacup was still resting on the carpet.
She set it on its saucer, hoping he didn’t notice the rattling caused by her shaky hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
He studied her for a minute, clearly relishing the fact that he’d caught her off guard. Fortunately, the fire had died down
to kindling, because Aurelie was flushed all over. Why didn’t he say something?
His lips twitched in an almost-smile as they took their seats in the two armchairs. The difference between how much space
they took up seemed suddenly impossible to ignore. Aurelie was often described as petite, but the truth was, she was short,
barely five feet tall on a good day. It made Des’s size feel even more ridiculous. She was acutely aware that her feet dangled
several inches above the ground, and while there was nothing wrong with being little, there was a certain indignity in having
to perch at the end of the armchair or sit back fully and have her feet hover above the floor. She had the peculiar feeling
of having no earthly idea what to do with her own hands and somehow concluded that sitting on them was her best course of
action.
She’d never been alone with this man before.
This man, who had humiliated her and accused her of horrible things. This man, who had also saved her life.
Now she was in such a state that she honestly didn’t know what to feel. Aurelie looked up to find Des watching her intently.
She shook her head to clear it. “I apologize. I’m not myself today. This week has been . . . Well, you know how this week
has been.”
He nodded but remained quiet.
“At the risk of sounding self-absorbed,” she said, trying and failing to keep her tone neutral, “is there something I can
do for you?”
He scratched the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than Aurelie would have thought possible. He inhaled and released
his breath slowly. “I came to apologize, Miss Blake. The way I behaved last night, how I spoke to you.” He shook his head.
“It was uncalled-for.”
Aurelie hadn’t expected an apology, and now she found she didn’t want it, either. It was easier to believe that he was a callous,
unfeeling ogre than a human being who made mistakes. “Oh, please don’t—”
“What you said, that I was accusing you because of my own guilt? You were right. My duty is to protect the people of Wisteria
from demonic activity, and someone died because of my own failure. Mr. Barley . . .” He broke off when he saw the confused
look on Aurelie’s face. “The man who died. You should know, he was not a good person.”
Aurelie had no idea what to say to this. To any of this. Every single word out of the giant’s mouth was anathema to every
feeling she’d had for him up until this moment. “I don’t understand.”
“He was a criminal. The worst kind, in my opinion. If someone had to die at the hands of a demon, I suppose we should be grateful
it was him.”
Aurelie wasn’t sure if this made her feel better, but she decided it didn’t make it any worse. “I see. Thank you for letting me know.”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, as if he were waiting for Aurelie to say something more. For a brief moment,