Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Little do they know they’ve already caught the rat, she thought, swaying with the cart’s movements. Her mind, quick to conjure anything grotesque these days, brought about an image of Ghadra’s overgrown alley rats, boiling away in a wide pot.
Silas. She shuddered. There is something wrong with him. With that room. With…all of it.
The cart lurched, and Lux winced as her head knocked against the side. The men pulling it were not in sync with their hauling, and her many bruises were about to be proof. She carefully lifted the lid again; she’d done it twice already.
A sliver of torchlight and black stone came into focus.
They were still in the same underground passage.
A welcome rush of air filled her nose before she allowed the lid to ease shut.
It smelled pungent, a sharp scent she was unfamiliar with and wished she had remained so.
The same, faint smell she’d noticed when entering the tunnel.
What had she gotten herself into?
Because this was certainly no good and honest business.
Think, she scolded. What do you know for certain?
Nothing, was her first instinct, but she ignored that one.
She knew there’d been poisonings of Mothlock investors but knew neither by what nor why.
She knew her own brilliance had broken somehow, and a probable madness previously tied to Riselda’s family had crept in.
She knew there was a man frozen in an ice grave, and he looked near enough to the murdered overlord to unnerve her.
She knew there were a lot more secrets here than she realized, and that chamber in particular felt like it housed an insidious one.
But if buying up Ghadra’s lifeblood was one of the manor’s mysteries, why were there so many bodies gone to rot below ground?
If only she had also discovered the vault to be sure.
Lux bit at her cheek. She knew, of course, she must return to that chamber by whatever means. There was nothing else for it. She had to know what else they played at. Because she hadn’t seen any books.
The cart slowed. Maybe this was her chance to leap out. But her hand only brushed the wood before she was biting back a gasp. A grunt had come from outside and now, she lay fully horizontal.
The attendants were carrying her.
Gravity gripped her, and she slid down to the foot.
As they began their ascent upstairs, the attendants didn’t speak to one another, not even an oath.
Aside from heavy breathing, they made no noise.
Lux knew she wasn’t so heavy as that body had been; she’d hoped because of it they wouldn’t think to check at the start, and they hadn’t.
But surely, carrying her would have been another thing. Did they not feel the difference?
“Should we just drown ourselves in the sea, Lucena?”
Lux sucked a gasping breath and shoved away from the face now peering down at her. Long strands of lank hair dripped on either side of the nightmare’s features, draping atop Lux’s own. It mimicked her every movement.
No, not here. Go away. GO AWAY!
The apparition—her broken brilliance—ran a bloated tongue over rotted teeth. “Carve me out or keep me.”
Carve you— Lux couldn’t bear to see her own face so twisted and gruesome. Though her mind begged her otherwise, she shut her eyes.
The Stripping.
The Stripping…
The healer’s experiment flooded her mind. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she thought if it was this now or a permanent hollowness later—devil below, the attempt might be worth it. Her chin quivered in the dark.
“Someone will die tonight. We’ve felt it before. Do we feel it now?”
Lux held her breath in wait for her nightmare to solidify and run one of those cracked nails along her cheek. But if it did, she couldn’t feel it. It was all in her head. None of it was real.
Sure, she’d felt Death coming to Mothlock. What did it matter?
“What do you want from me?” Her demand was whispered, so soft it might not have left her lips at all.
“To choose.”
Lux braved to blink and found the perverted version of herself so near, she could see nothing but its eyes. They weren’t murky or grey but dilated to only black.
I’ve made my choice.
When she blinked next, the apparition was gone—and they’d stopped moving. Lux felt the wheels settle again to the floor.
She attempted to sort her thoughts into a semblance of something that might do her good.
But that…monster. It terrified her to the marrow.
And she did not have time to be terrified.
Lux scrunched her eyes shut for one deep breath, and when she opened them again, they were narrowed and filled with fire.
I will not be undone by something rotted and better off buried.
Lux settled her heels against the back of the cart. One palm rested beside her hip while the other rose to the lid. When they rapped on the door, she would sneak out.
Her hand fell away as she was jostled. Moving again?
“No, don’t leave it in the middle of the room. Over there in the corner.” The muffled voice eased through the cracks of the cart, and Lux’s lips parted.
We are already inside. Her stomach plummeted. The healer’s door had already been opened. Lux braced her hands on the walls as she was suddenly propped upright.
Artemis’s voice came again. “Good. Be on your way.”
A shuffling sounded and then a click of a latch. Devil’s own tits! She was back in the damned healer’s workroom. How would she ever get out? The pungent smell still lingered. Saints above...would he think to clean it?
“Now, child, I know it’s frightening, but you won’t be allowed to remain in here forever.”
Ah. Lux rested her head back as her body went limp.
Of course he knew. How he did, she didn’t know, but then she supposed it didn’t matter.
Riselda had been gifted with the ability to feel the state of certain things with just a touch.
Perhaps this healer had learned something similar and all without the need to place his hands on her. How inconvenient.
Lux could think of no lie that would make any sense. Why would anyone in their right mind sneak into a cart that had previously hauled the dead? Why would she have even been near that tomb of a chamber? Why had she—
Except I’m not in my right mind…am I?
It would have to do. She began to press at the lid, the words prepared on her tongue, when another answered, meek and pitched high. “I don’t want to go back. Please don’t make me.”
Lux held onto her breath and let go of her plan at once. Her eyes widened over the unfamiliar voice.
“You’ll feel better once you’ve had the elixir. I understand it can be hard, transitioning from a life in the forest to a life beside the sea. Your lungs need to adjust. Sip this.”
Lux heard nothing for a short period and then a dainty cough. Whoever the meek voice belonged to seemed nervous to even clear her throat.
“Excellent,” said Artemis. “Feel better?”
“A little.”
“Give it more time.”
“Sir…Lord. What about my holiday? I was promised two days.”
“After the Hallowed Banquet.”
“But Corvin said—”
“Lord Corvin must have told you it would be after the banquet. Besides, you’re ill with the salt-sick.
We cannot have you out wandering your way back toward Ravenwood with a respiratory ailment that urges you into the sea.
These cliffs are perilous and so is the water.
What sort of employer would Mothlock be if that were excused? ”
Lux couldn’t understand the girl’s subsequent muttering.
“Yes,” said the healer. “Exactly right. A bad one. And we are not a bad one. Who else would cultivate your brilliance while providing room and board? All for the mere exchange of your honest work.”
“But the others—”
“Are content. Soon, you will be content too. Lord Tobias will return you to your bedchamber. The Saints have blessed you, Ms. Otterbee. A position here is a privilege. You’ll realize that. One way or another.”
There was no more argument. Lux could hear the barest footfalls of their leaving and then little else. Something burbled and glass clinked.
“There it is. Ah, that’s beautiful, isn’t it? Just the tincture for a transformation.” A hacking cough followed.
Inside the cart, Lux narrowed her eyes. Sounded like apothecary nonsense to her. Or worse…
An alchemist.
She recalled that old woman puttering in her basement apartment in Ghadra. With her bubbling liquids and creation of a potion which had begun a plague. Mothlock didn’t dabble in that, too, did it?
Another thing I do not know.
A soft knock. Lux swung her head toward the subsequent click.
“I took care of her,” said Artemis. “She won’t cause any more problems. For today, at least.”
“I didn’t doubt it,” said a voice. It wasn’t one she recognized. It was harsh and rasping. Like the person was ancient or fought a chest cold. “I appreciate your quickness in stitching the cook closed.”
“Head wounds do tend to cause a mess.”
“I don’t understand how she broke through to begin with. I thought we had administered enough.”
“It’s the red hair. You have to double anything you would give anyone else. That is why it’s the color of fire—warning you they burn through it all too quick. Hallowed Day will be blessed, indeed.”
A hard chuckle descended into a cough and then, “All these righteous years, and I am still learning.”
“The beauty of Mothlock.”
“Praise to the Saints. As for the necromancer”—Lux caught her breath again—“she is the answer and must be cared for as such.”
“I offered her all I could,” said Artemis. “She is rather strong. Even in her current state.”
“All the better,” hummed the unfamiliar voice. “She is all I’ve ever wanted for Mothlock.”
A drawn pause brought with it a wave of tension. “You cannot mean—”
The rasping voice said, “Think of it, Artemis. She is tied to the Beyond. She is tied to this estate. By Hallowed Day, she could become Mistress of Mothlock as it was meant to be. She could soothe it.”
Lux’s every muscle stiffened.
“You said nothing of this. I have already told her of her diagnosis. I have already recommended the Stripping.”
“As you should.”
A grumbled oath. “I see it is your plan to keep me in the dark.”
“You must learn to thrive in it as I do—or risk being lost.”
The healer snorted. “Good luck in your endeavor. When I said she was strong, I also meant her will.”
“Your faith is lacking,” replied the voice, and now it grew hard. “We must thank the Saints for their offering. It is by their design we have her at all, and so it is meant to be.”
“Of course, Overlord. I didn’t mean to falter. We will see it done.”
A low noise resounded, vibrating from deep within the manor. Lux felt it in her bones.
“Second Invocation already, is it?” said Artemis. Something clattered onto the counter. “The days do fly by. Here you are, Overlord. Freshly brewed.”
“Thank you, I’ve gone too long. After you.”
Lux waited until she heard the door open and shut and then waited a little while more.
Tentatively, she pushed from the cart. The workroom was empty.
On the counter, a pot sat suspended above a small flame; a thick substance within was bubbling away.
She was reminded of Riselda’s brewing when she was a child, how some concoctions would take days to cure but then could do great things.
Like heal bones. This entire room smelled earthy and herby and warm, and if it weren’t for the conversation Lux had overhead, she might have been put at ease.
As it was, she was sure every nerve of her body hummed.
No one had mentioned a living overlord before. And the only dead one she knew of had a portrait hanging in the hall. Why hadn’t Corvin told her about him? It didn’t make sense for a living leader to be kept secret.
Unless he isn’t living…
She rejected the thought. No. Ghosts did not exist. She could feel souls and they never lingered, regardless of the manner of their deaths. She coaxed them back from the Beyond every time.
But the rasping in that voice didn’t sound natural. It sounded like a nightmare. And that body entombed in ice felt like one.
Her fingertip moved carefully over the rim of Artemis’s elixir.
Lux was no stranger to aged men wanting her for some purpose or another.
The mayor of Ghadra had desired her rare power to ensure his longevity.
But what could this mysterious Overlord of Mothlock desire her for, if not for that?
What could she possibly soothe? Her brilliance was broken.
Mistress of Mothlock.
Ghadra’s Necromancer.
Lux had no use for titles, and decidedly less for ones that tied her to something. And she would not be tied to something evil again.
They will never keep me here.
She would find out this night whether the lifeblood of Ghadra’s people lined Mothlock Manor. She would destroy it if it did, and then she would leave.
Damn the overlord.
Damn the Hallowed Banquet.
And damn her draw to Grimrook House as it sat beside that enthralling, consuming sea.
She would find Corvin, and she would trick him into telling her everything.