Chapter 11
C H A P T E R
E L E V E N
dry lightning
They staggered through the night as if wounded.
Nadine was pressed limply against him, nearly boneless, and Cal wasn’t certain whether this was because of him or the drink.
He chose to believe that it was because of him—that it was his mouth and hands that had left her barely able to stand, and had her clinging to him like a vine as he unfastened the heavy iron gate.
But desire was a heavy burden; it draped its coils around them like the chains on the gate, leaving behind the ferric tang of old blood. Those gates, once opened, could not be closed.
Nothing could buck tradition.
Grit crunched beneath their feet, caught beneath the soles of their shoes and the cobbles.
Too loud for a silence this oppressive. Even the servants would be asleep at this hour, gone home or retired in the old servants’ quarters beside the carriage house.
It made him feel like a trespasser in his own home.
Or like game. Neither feeling particularly welcome or reassuring.
Nadine’s head lolled against his shoulder. “Cal?”
“Shh.” His eyes scanned the piercing gloom. “My father is fond of taking his nightcaps in the study.”
He didn’t have to elaborate; the warning of his father was enough.
He had run into him in the dark hallways often, wandering without so much as a phone to guide him.
There were few lights in the halls, anyway.
Outlets and wiring were expensive add-ons in a building that one wished to preserve the structural integrity of—and in a darkness like this, time was meaningless.
Cal sometimes suspected that it was this darkness, more than anything, that his family longed for. That they wanted to return to an era of gaslamps and candles.
To an era where it was easier for things to simply . . . disappear.
Her fingers bit into his bicep through his shirt as he led her down his great-grandfather’s halls like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld.
Every step they gained across those shrieking boards was borrowed time.
Cal’s jaw tightened and he removed Nadine’s hands from his shirt, pushing her up against the door to her bedroom with her wrists held loosely against the wood as he kissed the surprise from her parted lips. She still tasted like him.
“Goodnight, little sparrow.” The words were scarcely louder than a breath. “Dream of me.”
That was where he left her, fumbling her way into her bedroom. Light snapped on beneath her doorway as she readied herself for bed. Cal did not bother to do the same as he undressed himself in the dark. The light of the moon was enough to see by, even wreathed in clouds.
Later, when that small flickering band of light disappeared, he crept through the passageway to study his sparrow unaware, sipping broodingly from his glass of rum.
She slept restlessly, the way only someone haunted by dreams slept: hair mussed, clothes tangled, a heavy line on her brow.
He wondered whether her dreams of him tonight would be sweet or nightmarish.
He wondered if it even really made a difference.
???????
Cal awoke to a bitter chill, heavy with vapor. Beyond the window frame, the sky was bleak with clouds the color of dark bruises tinting the light an eerie corpselike shade. He could see smudgy lines of virga over the mountains, their chiseled vista mirrored by a buttress of thunderheads.
A storm was coming, a big one. Cal had seen enough skies in his lifetime to know that those warping clouds meant windshear. The rain would be landing soon enough, and hard.
He closed the window and the drapes, dressing quickly. There was a lot to do today and he wanted to be off before the weather turned.
To his surprise, he found Odessa in the kitchen, awake unusually early.
She looked equally surprised to see him, and then relieved, and when he caught the herbal scent of her clove cigarettes, he knew why.
She wasn’t eating but there was an open bottle of Champagne on the sideboard and her orange juice was a little too pale in color.
Like mother, like daughter, he thought grimly, giving her a chastising look. “We were saving that.”
“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Drink to your victory.” She brought the cigarette she’d been hiding under the table to her mouth and took a defiant inhale, blinking at him, sphinxlike. “I am.”
“Father would kill you if he caught you smoking in here.”
“Yes, because he cares more about his precious wallpaper than he does for any of us. We can’t forget about the bronze powder.” She stubbed the cigarette into the empty teacup set out in front of her, scarring the porcelain. Then she swigged down her juice. “Join me,” she commanded.
Cal ignored her, switching on the coffee machine. Whoever had used it last hadn’t bothered to refill the grounds, and he cursed quietly.
“You’re not going to drink with me?” his sister asked.
“I’m driving.”
She snorted. “Awfully rich of you to play morality police when you stay out all night doing—what was it that Father likes to say? Getting carnal with the wildlife? I’m trying to be happy for you, Baby Cal, really, I am, but your condescending attitude is really testing my patience.”
“You haven’t got any patience,” Cal responded, with a glance over his shoulder. “Unless you’re taking a page out of Ben’s book.”
“Cullraven women can’t write in the book.” Odessa took another draught of her drink. “Don’t look so reproachful. I heard you come back, is all.”
“There weren’t any lights,” he said, matching her tone.
“Well, I wasn’t in my room.” She swirled her glass, watching the bubbles. “I was in the solarium. I’m surprised you didn’t notice, actually.” Her eyes went to the window, her cocky smile fading. Cal turned back to the machine and heard her say, “Think it’ll take out the power?”
“The storm? I’d bet on it. Those are arcus clouds.”
“Arcus clouds,” she repeated. “How disgustingly scholarly.” Some of the teasing returned to her voice, but it didn’t sound right. “You should go out to Arboreus to buy some candles for this evening, just in case. We’re still out from last time.”
“That’s not on my way. You can go yourself.”
“My license is expired,” Odessa yawned. “Besides, you could take Nadine, if you went. I know you want to—take her.” She studied her nails. “You probably won’t be able to get out, anyway. The roads might be closed by now.”
“The roads are still fine,” Cal said impatiently. “Rather than busying yourself in my affairs, perhaps you ought to keep your eye on our older brother, whose behavior of late has been unpredictable and erratic.”
“He’s not here,” Odessa said “He and his explosive temper are out running errands with Father, and they decided to leave me behind, as usual.”
Cal turned from the coffee machine again. “What could they possibly be doing in this weather?” he asked. “Festival business?”
Odessa’s eyes cut to something to his left. He followed her gaze to where Nadine was standing in the doorway uncertainly, regarding the two of them with a watchful expression.
I didn’t even hear her come in, he thought. She was learning quickly how to navigate this place, with that instinctive caution that served her so well. But would it be enough to save her?
“There’s a storm coming.” His sister spoke too loudly, as if narrating from a playbook. “I hope the power doesn’t go out.”
Cal rolled his eyes.
“Does that happen often?” Nadine asked anxiously.
“Often enough. Baby Cal’s going out to buy candles later, just in case.” She gave him a sunny smile he did not return as he brought his bitter coffee to his lips. “How did you sleep, Nadine?”
“I—um. Fine?” She stuck her head into the fridge, and he shook his head at his sister who made a crude gesture with her tongue. Both of them stood up straighter when Margaret, the head cook, entered the room, announcing herself with a loud shriek of the boards.
Her eyebrows slashed downward as she surveyed the kitchen, skipping over the scorched bone china and the open Champagne bottle, before landing on Nadine.
She pulled her bodily from the fridge, steering her towards the table with such brutal handedness that she went wide-eyed and helpless with confusion.
“Just tell me what you want,” the cook said sternly. “I’ll get it.”
Nadine looked at him, as if for permission. Amused now, and not bothering to hide it, he winked at her.
She turned red. “I don’t want to impose. I have an allergy. I was just going to have maybe some plain eggs.”
“Eggs it is.” The cook turned away, dismissing all of them. “They’ll be ready soon.”
Odessa laughed. “You’re so cute around the help. Do you always get flustered being waited on?”
“I don’t want anyone to make a fuss,” Nadine said, in the direction of her knees.
“God, Nadine. They’re paid to be here. It’s literally their job to do what you tell them to do.” She sipped her mimosa, oblivious to the frown on Nadine’s red little face. “You weren’t this timid the other night,” she said mischievously.
“I—what?”
I’m going to kill her. “Ben.” Cal took a firm step forward, shooting his sister a quelling look that visibly heightened her glee. “Remember?”
“R-right.” She still looked cagy and uncertain. “Where is Ben?”
“Out,” Cal said. “He’s taking care of something for my father.”
Perhaps he’ll get trapped in the storm and drive into a ravine.
“It was rather shameless of you, accusing him of murdering his own wife. I didn’t think you had it in you—” Odessa broke off mid-wag, frowning at him. “What are you smirking at over there, Cal?”
“Nothing,” he said innocently.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been encouraging her.”