Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
The steps down to the cove had been more precarious than this, and factoring Shaw’s steadiness and her shorter skirt, Lux felt nearly safe moving along it. Her uneasiness, however, couldn’t be cured.
The bridge loomed before her.
It was like the other in that it was stacked stone and arched.
But now that she stood at its end, she could see its cracks weren’t crawling with moss, fog was not curling over its sides, and the garden beyond it did not whisper her name and hide several breeds of monster.
Now that she was here, she realized instead of like Ghadra’s, it looked as all bridges were meant to look.
Lux’s gaze dipped through the narrow break in the cliff all the way down to the churning water below. Then she stepped onto the bridge.
“This is uncomfortable.” Shaw peered over its side and straightened with a palm pressed to his mouth.
“No spiders. No high places,” she said.
“And no weak tea,” he added, lowering his hand.
“I was listing your fears.”
“I do fear that,” he replied, and with several long strides, hurried across the bridge.
But Lux paused partway. There was no gate at its end. There was, however, a garden wall. Waist-height, it matched the bridge and the house both, and in place of a gate, there were instead small pillars and a clear opening.
It invited her in.
She glanced all around. Could it be so simple?
The manor’s tower loomed from its cliff. With the clouds dispersed, cool light lit the peak and transformed it from shining onyx to glistening silver. She looked for the yellow glow of candlelight but found none. Mothlock’s monsters had entered their cursed sleep.
“This garden seems to have been tended to once.” Lux shifted and found Shaw bent over crimson roses. Cradling a bloom between two fingers, he raised it to his nose. “There are paths cut through it and none of those saintforsaken statues.”
“If Riselda’s family was anything like her, then they also loved growing things. But not always for good, so I’d be careful what you sniff.”
Shaw pulled away from the roses. A soft snap sounded between them. He held a long-stemmed bloom toward her, and Lux looked from the flower to him. To his slight smile.
“The thorns seem normal enough, but I would mind them anyway,” he said.
She plucked the rose from his hand. “We don’t have time for flower-picking, Shaw.” But she inhaled its scent, and his smile grew.
“Look at that.” Shaw snagged her corset. He dragged her to him, and only when the barest breadth was left between them did he say, “Thought this looked familiar.”
Lux’s skin flamed as he pulled the concealed knife from her clothing. When its blade caught the moonlight, she snatched it from him.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said.
He clicked his tongue. “Trade you.” He reached into the sheath at his belt and withdrew a black-handled dagger.
Lux turned his over, the worn, brown handle scraping lightly across her palm. She looked up. “Honest? I’ve gotten rather attached.”
Shaw snorted, lifting her dagger to tap her twice beneath the chin. He flipped it after, so that the handle was presented to her, and she took it—along with all its memories.
Unwilling though she was, she offered his weathered one in exchange. We meet again, you foul gallow blade. Her lip curled. Hopefully you can protect me from other vengeful things.
It did fit better in her palm than Shaw’s, it was true. And she had him entirely now—she didn’t need his knife anymore. She tucked the rare dagger away.
“Devil below,” he said, picking his way through the garden. “Look at that door.”
Lux squinted into the darkness. The door was recessed, protected by a stone arch, and she thought he pointed out the tree that had grown around it, clinging gently to the overhang.
But then the light shifted, and a grotesque devil stared back at her.
She studied it as it studied her, and she realized then, in its life-sized rendering, while it did look similarly to the illustration in Shaw’s book it also appeared like the nightmare of her recent days. It did not have her face. But the essence, the posture, the…teeth.
As the tunnel door below Mothlock showed a Saint, this door to Grimrook House showed the Devil.
Lux’s nails dug into her wrists. “They’re trying to frighten us away. We’re on the right road. I know it.”
“So long as one of us does.” Shaw moved nearer, until he stood beneath the archway and the tree. “It’s a good work of art, from that perspective.”
Lux swallowed her unease. If anything in Mothlock should be faceless to imagine oneself in its place, it should be this monster. The society are devils, not saints. She asked, “Is it unlocked?”
Shaw glanced over his shoulder. “You’ll send me in first?”
“What good is your size if you don’t use it to brush away the webs?” When she could practically feel his responding shudder, her conscience pricked. “I’m not being serious. I’ll go first.”
But he was already at the door, bowing before the devil and inspecting the lock. A rattle sounded when Lux came up behind him. She held out the key.
“It’s the same as the one before,” he said, but he took the key anyway. After several tries, he returned it to her. “I think it’s made to be opened by only one person.”
Lux frowned. “Kent opened the other. Is he the only one who can open the house, then? The lock looks as old as the door, but he’s not a Grimrook.”
“It doesn’t matter much now. We want to get in and we can’t this way. The windows are barred in front, but maybe—”
They startled in unison at the crow’s caw. “Devil’s tits,” she hissed. “That damn bird is trying to kill me.”
The crow landed above them outside their line of sight. Lux heard plenty of rustling as it settled into the wayward tree. It cawed again.
She glanced toward the gnarled trunk beside her, following it up and overtop the stoop. “If you insist,” she grumbled, and wedged her foot.
“What are you doing?”
“Climbing. Clearly that creature has a plan, and since we don’t—”
“I had a plan,” said Shaw, but when she looked down, he’d come to stand at the base. He tugged back his sleeves.
“Hurry up,” she told him. “Or I’ll explore without you.”
She heard his scoff and indistinct mutter, because he likely thought she’d said it in jest. But she was serious. A surety grew in her chest, warm and reassuring, and it began to chip at the disgust leftover from the devil on the door. I’m meant to be here.
Lux reached the top of the tree, found footholds between its branches and the stone arch, and breathed a quick breath of relief. She peered up and over the roof.
She searched for the crow and found it—perched atop her cackling nightmare.
Maybe it was the suddenness of it. Or maybe it was the unexpected clashing of reality and not. But Lux screamed.
Lost her balance.
And toppled from the tree.