10. A Nocturnal Trip
A NOCTURNAL TRIP
Irene
What I loved most about my morning ride with Papa was that the park and pavements were empty. Dealing with my curse was easy.
As we were returning home from Hyde Park, I searched the streets for Alex. He hadn’t shown up in two days, and I was worried his wounds had got worse.
“You’re quiet,” Papa said.
“I’m sorry. I’m not good company today.”
My silence wasn’t due to tiredness. I hadn’t told him about Alex’s sickness, and I had no idea if Jones was aware of Alex’s health.
That morning, with the sun still low on the horizon, the red brick walls were dull and serious. Not even the bright yellow daffodils in the garden lifted my mood.
My black riding habit mirrored my mood, and even Papa’s feelings were a jumble of steel-grey worry.
“What worries you, Papa?” I stroked my horse’s muzzle in front of my house before the groom took him away. “You can’t lie to me.”
“We should start thinking about your Season.” Papa rolled back on his heels.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s time for your debut. I’ve postponed it for too long.”
People didn’t invite me for tea, let alone a ball.
“Do you want me to get married?” The thought terrified me.
Other girls looked forward to getting married, starting a family, and becoming the lady of the house, but they were normal girls. I had seizures and a curse I struggled to control. Not to mention, I had no friends aside from Alex.
His expression softened. “No, I don’t want you to leave. But during your Season, you’ll have more freedom. Parties, afternoon teas, plays. You’ll spend time out, have new experiences, and make friends.”
“What about my seizures? Everyone thinks I’m insane.”
“Your health has improved considerably, and you control your ability better.”
I fiddled with the riding crop. Papa didn’t know everything.
“I’ve kept you with me, sheltering you from everything, while you need to be independent and learn how the world works.
” His voice lowered, and his love for me reached me like a caress.
“Some doctors claim that leading a normal life reduces the frequency of seizures while isolation exacerbates them.”
“But I’m happy to spend time with you.” If I had to be honest, finding myself in a ballroom full of strangers frightened me.
“So am I.” There was a hint of indigo sadness snaking through his aura, but it wasn’t bitter. “I won’t be with you forever…”
“Don’t.” I gripped the riding crop. “I can’t bear the thought.”
“One day, you’ll have to, and I want you to be prepared to face life without fear.”
We were headed for the front stairs when a dark-haired man came out of the servants’ entrance.
At first, I thought it was Alex, but no.
This man was skinnier and had puffy green eyes rimmed with red.
When I probed him, a riot of colours burst in his aura.
He had the brightest and most varied star-shaped halo I’d ever seen. The colours changed constantly.
He removed his flat cap when we walked past him and muttered, “My lord, miss.”
Papa proceeded towards the front door, but I stopped to talk with the man. “May I ask why you’re here?”
“Irene.” Papa frowned. “You don’t know this man.”
“I’m Mr. Darius Strange, Alex’s friend.” He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Alex isn’t well, miss.” His deep sadness itched along my skin.
“Is it the infection?” I pointed to my neck.
Shock flashed burgundy in his halo. “Yes.”
A few dark tendrils snaked through his glow. He wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“What else?” I searched his face.
“Alex’s situation is complicated.” His words were careful.
My chest tightened. “Papa.”
He held up a hand. “I can ask Dr. Fletcher to visit Alex, but you aren’t going to get involved.”
“I want to see Alex.” Guilt made me feel small enough to disappear through the cracks in the pavement. I should have visited Alex earlier.
Papa knocked on the front door, and Jones opened it. “Get inside. Now.”
“You said you’d sheltered me for too long.” I lifted my chin. “That’s the perfect opportunity to give me more freedom.”
“I’ll shelter you for a little longer.” He pointed to the entrance hall.
Darius cleared his throat. “Your father is right, miss. Seeing Alex now is a bad idea.”
“Why?” I put a hand on my hip. “His neck wound—”
“What neck wound?” Papa cut me off.
“The infection must have worsened.”
Darius’s aura pulsated faster. It was fascinating to look at. “He’s in a terrible state.”
“That’s why I want to see him.”
“Irene, enough!” Papa took my hand. “You aren’t going to the rookery to see Alex. And that’s final.”
His rage formed a scarlet brightness around him and stung my skin.
“Go to your room. Now.”
“You wanted to give me more freedom.”
“Catching a disease isn’t freedom. To your room.”
With angry tears wetting my cheeks, I did as told. But I refused to stay home for long.
The streetlamps lit up London when I donned an afternoon gown and a thick coat that night.
I peeked into the corridor. No light came from Papa’s bedroom, and the house was quiet.
I let my power go, which was something I didn’t do often.
Usually, I tried to rein it in. It leapt out of me, eager to prance around, but I directed it downstairs.
If Jones or the housekeeper was still up, I would sense their feelings.
Only Papa’s peacefulness reached me. He had to be sound asleep. Before leaving my bedroom, I placed my gold cross on the dresser. Alex had an aversion to it.
I tiptoed down the stairs and paused in the entrance hall. Every shadow startled me, but there was no one around. Slowly, I pulled the door open and paused before going outside.
Excitement tore a nervous giggle out of me.
It was the first time I’d disobeyed Papa, and while a good dose of guilt weighed me down, there was also a sense of anticipation.
When he’d told me I should learn to face life on my own, he hadn’t meant sneaking out of the house at night, and, under normal circumstances, I would have agreed.
But he was right. I should start making my own decisions, live my own life without fear.
And what better reason to do so if not to help a friend in need?
Ten minutes later, I was in a hansom cab, riding towards the rookery. I checked the driver’s feelings, just in case he had sinister intentions, but he was mostly bored and tired.
The cab didn’t fit into the narrow alley where Alex lived, so I climbed out to proceed on foot. Old paint flaked off Alex’s door, and gaps opened between the wooden planks. Mould was chipping the brick wall away.
The hinges were broken, and the door didn’t close properly. I pushed it gently.
“Darius? Alex?”
The smell of decay and humidity pinched my nostrils when I stepped into the single-room flat.
Two mismatched chairs and a table leaning to one side were the furniture.
A rusty stove took up a corner, but the fire didn’t fend off the chill that clung to the air with desperation.
The other side was closed by a tattered curtain.
I’d never seen such poverty, and it pierced my heart.
Alex’s pain slammed against me and rocked me to the core.
He was lying on a bed behind the curtain. I squinted in the semidarkness.
The greasy window didn’t let light in, but an oil lamp burnt brightly on a wooden crate. Awful gurgling sounds reverberated out of him when he inhaled. His face was a mask of bruises and bumps. His eyes were swollen shut, and his lips had so many cracks they were barely visible.
I clamped my hands over my mouth, shaking. Someone had beaten him.
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. His desperation and agony touched me intimately.
Papa had told me I’d been sheltered all my life and didn’t know the real world, and he’d been right.
While I planned my Season and complained about my lack of friends, Alex lay half dead in his bed in a house Papa wouldn’t deem fit as a garden shed.
My problems were so trivial compared to what Alex was enduring.
He was barely breathing. Trembling with the strength of his sharp pain, I perched on the edge of the bed.
He felt nauseous, cold, and boiling hot at the same time. The wounds itched and throbbed, and his body was sore.
Gently, I lowered the collar of his shirt and cried out. The wounds were swollen and covered with a yellow crust. Dark bruises circled them. If it was gangrene, which led to blood poisoning, he wouldn’t survive the night.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat. His pain burnt my skin, and I concentrated on breathing to block his feelings. I wouldn’t leave him alone.
He was weak and starving, but the same anger I’d sensed the other day raged inside him. And then there was the craving. Whatever he craved, he was ashamed of it. Disgusted even.
I put a hand on my stomach. The downside of being able to focus easily on his emotions was that blocking them wasn’t simple.
“Irene,” he whispered in a broken voice.
I caressed his forehead, brushing his dark hair. “Would you like some water?”
He shivered, his teeth chattering. “Ye-yes.”
I fetched a pitcher and a glass, but helping him drink required a few attempts. He was quivering so hard the water spilt everywhere.
He licked his lips. “I felt better after…having eaten. But Riley beat me, and it started. It’s the craving.”
His words didn’t make sense. He had to be delirious. His aura was a combination of violet pain and dark blue sorrow.
“It’s all right. Rest for now.” I would beg Dr. Fletcher to come here.
I tried to give him more water, but he twitched too hard to drink. His breathing was uneven and raspy, and maybe I was too tired, but I could swear his canines had become longer and sharper. His pain rolled off me, but it was diminishing. Whether that was a good or a bad sign was debatable.
A gurgling sound woke me up with a start.
The oil lamp wasn’t burning anymore. The flame must have died a while ago, and Darius hadn’t returned. Deep darkness surrounded me. I focused on Alex’s emotions while I blindly groped around for a match.
No feelings came. Not even pain. Either fatigue interfered with my power, or Alex was dead.
A shaky breath rattled me.
“Alex?” I almost choked with sobs. “Alex?” I cried out, searching for the stupid box of matches in a panic.
When I closed my hand around the box, I cried harder.
The yellow flare of the match cast a glow on the room. I lit a candle. After I wiped my cheeks, I steeled myself to look at poor Alex. He’d died when I’d been sleeping. He’d died alone. And where was Darius?
I turned around and jolted.
The bed was empty. The covers were lumped to the side, and the pillow showed the impression of Alex’s head. As delirious as he’d been, he might have wandered off. Why I hadn’t heard him leaving was a mystery.
“Alex?”
He could barely stand. How had he left the room without help? The door was still closed.
A loud wheeze sounded from the other side of the room. And here he was.
He was crouched in a corner, arms over his head, hiding his face and panting.
I remained still. His feelings were non-existent. No pain and no worry. A void replaced them. How could that be? Either my power had suddenly vanished, or something horrible had happened to him.
“Alex?” I said in a low tone.
“Run,” he half-whispered, half-hissed in a cavernous voice that didn’t belong to him.
“What’s happening? Do you feel worse? Better?”
He lifted his head, but I couldn’t see his face or sense his intentions. But malice thickened the air.
“Run,” he repeated with more urgency in a disturbing voice. “I can’t hold it.”
“What?”
A tremor started. The world receded, and the seizure took me.