27. VERENA GRAVENHURST
TWENTY-SEVEN
VERENA GRAVENHURST
Irritation gnaws at me like a parasite as I lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
The room is quiet, save for the steady tick…
tock…from the ancient grandfather clock down the hall, which only manages to deepen my vexation.
The look of disappointment on Reed’s face when I returned to the vehicle empty-handed, and his rough hands and harsher words later that evening, eat away at my every thought.
I’ve been rolling back and forth in my bed since climbing into it hours ago.
Sleep never came, and my annoyance slowly morphed into an unrelenting anger.
On a huff, I ball the comforter in my fist and yank it from my body.
A sharp, burning pain shoots through my shoulder as I roll from my bed and pad across my bedroom to the tall mirror leaning against the wall.
Standing before it, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
Someone I no longer recognize stares back at me.
My body has filled out more since I’ve arrived at the Gravenhurst Manor, and I’m far from the lost and malnourished girl I was months ago.
I have a purpose and a sense of belonging now more than ever.
I toss my hair over one shoulder and let the sleeve of my robe slide down my arm, just enough to glimpse the pattern that now marks my skin forever.
H-I-S. I gently run the pad of my finger over the marred flesh, tracing my fingers along the petals, and wince at the light touch. It’s been a little over a week, and the pain still hasn’t ebbed.
I catch a blur of movement behind me through the mirror and pull my sleeve back up with haste.
I swallow as our eyes lock. Loxen leans lazily against the doorframe, staring at me through the reflection.
His arms are crossed against his chest, the sleeves of his black t-shirt straining against his biceps.
My heart hammers against my ribs. Did he see the mark?
His eyes narrow, suddenly suspicious, and I nervously break our gaze. “Are you going to say something, or just stand there and stare?”
“Haven’t decided yet.” He’s quick to reply, and I don’t have to turn around to know that annoying smirk is holding his lips hostage. I swipe two bobby pins from atop my dresser and stride towards the door with a newfound diligence, eager to pick the lock that bested me earlier today.
Loxen blocks my exit with his large frame, his body hard and unmoving, but his eyes soft and searching mine with a delicacy and fervour that’s never beheld me before.
I tip my head up, ignoring the way my chest aches under his stare.
“Is there a reason you’re standing in my doorway in the middle of the night, asshole?
” I take a step towards him, our bodies nearly touching.
The muscle in his jaw tenses, and his gaze drops to my mouth for half a heartbeat.
“Do I need to have a reason?” His lips are inches away from mine, and I almost let myself get swept away in the hypnotic depth of his eyes when my mind is pulled back to the Society and my unfinished task.
I take a step back, allowing the tension between our bodies to be replaced with some much-needed distance.
Disappointment flashes across his face so quickly, it would have gone unnoticed had I not been studying every inch of his features.
“Shouldn’t you be lulled to sleep by now, dreaming about whatever rubbish your boyfriend fills your head with?” I know he’s deflecting his true feelings from the sting of rejection. Mr. Mysterious is not as mysterious as he likes to think.
“Careful, Lox, you’re starting to sound jealous.” A smirk mirroring his own signature expression tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Loxen scoffs, rolling his eyes as if my words are completely preposterous.
I take this moment to swiftly slide past his body before he can cage me in or make an objection. My footsteps are light, not wanting to draw attention from Archie or other members of the household, but Loxen’s voice echoes in the silent corridors, oblivious of my attempt to be stealthy.
“Where are you going, anyway?” He follows closely behind, like a curious puppy tagging along for a walk.
“Will you be quiet! I don’t see how that is any of your business.” My frustration seems to amuse him, as it does not deter him from following suit.
“You are my business, little crow.”
I spin around, coming face to face with the man; the audacity that he expels sets fire to my already anxious nerves.
“Look, I have something I need to do, so either help me or scurry off to the gardens like a good little pup, okay?” I may be a little harsh, but in my defence, my day has been a complete shitshow. He tilts his head to the side, looking at me like I have just spoken to him in another language.
“Someone seems to get cranky when they’re tired.” He grins from ear to ear.
My shoulders drop, and it takes everything in me not to press my fingers to my forehead and show him any sense of defeat.
Spinning on my heel, I ignore his remark and approach the office.
Fishing two bobby pins out of my pocket, I pry them open with my teeth, forming a narrow V and crouch down in front of the door.
Loxen stands in front of me, and when I peer up to meet his gaze, the suggestive position in which we stand leaves little to the imagination, and I can almost see the filthy images he has running through his mind.
His little crow on her knees. That damn smirk reappears, and he quirks a brow, his silence saying more than necessary.
My eyes narrow and I give him my best scowl, shaking my head, and ridding myself of the sinful thoughts that have corrupted my mind.
Inserting the bobby pins, I steady my hands and twist the metal, letting the ridges of one of the pins fall into place.
I listen for a click as I maneuver my fingers to push the metal in different directions.
The endeavour feels hopeless, and I clearly have no idea what I’m doing or how to pick a lock.
A light chuckle sounds beside me, fueling my frustration further.
“You know, if you’re just going to stand there and look pretty, you could always go find something else to do.” I tinker with the lock, letting my annoyance fuel my dedication.
“So, you think I look pretty?” His cockiness tells me I’ve just boosted his ego by about three notches. My eyes roll so hard I could almost see the back of my skull. I hear the click and smile to myself at my small victory.
Turning the doorknob, I give it a little push, and it slowly swings open. The hinges groan in protest of my intrusion, and suddenly, I’m feeling anxious about being in here at all. Maybe this is a mistake.
“Are you going to go in, or do you plan on staring at the open door for the remainder of the night?” He never fails to speak at the most inopportune moments. Sticking out my tongue before entering the room, Loxen’s grin only grows as he follows me inside.
Illuminating the lantern on the small entrance table, I hold it up high, casting light amongst the shadows of the dusty office.
I’m utterly shocked at the disorganization and disarray that lies before me.
Papers, letters, documents and small trinkets are layered on my grandfather’s desk, rendering it hard to find a single place to set something down, let alone find what I’m searching for.
I sift through stacks of papers and folders, looking for anything that bears the Hollow Iris crest, but come up short.
Loxen moseys around the room, touching everything in sight.
He spins a globe covered in a thin layer of dust as he passes by, distracting me from what I’m looking for, which only adds to my agitation.
I sink into my grandfather’s office chair, resting my head in a huff.
My eyes wander to the large painting that looms overhead on the back wall.
It’s a stunning piece, but intimidating to the eye with its deep, muted colours and eerie, intricate detailing.
A wilting black iris flower, sitting in a silver chalice filled with a rich red wine.
A serpent wraps around the chalice stem, its mouth wide and poisonous fangs bared.
A single drop of its venom flows into the red wine.
It’s beautiful, yet daunting to look at.
I hear a scuffle at the far end of the room and swing the lantern in its direction.
Loxen is rummaging through a large bookshelf I hadn’t paid any mind to.
“You know, if you tell me what you are looking for, I might just be able to be of some assistance.” Loxen stares at me in wait.
“I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own.” I give him an innocent smile. Even if I wanted to tell him, which I don’t, I know damn well that I can’t.
His eyes narrow, and he purses his lips into a tight line. Loxen saunters to the door and pauses to get his last jab in before leaving me for the night.
“Suit yourself, stubborn girl.”
I spend hours upon hours sorting through documents, searching for the folder Reed has requested.
It feels like I’ve been sent on a fool’s errand with no end in sight.
I’m just about to call it a night when something pulls me toward the bookcase where Loxen stood.
Novels old and new line the shelves, giving me insight into who my grandfather was and what he enjoyed.
Picking up several pieces of literature, I skim through the pages and set them back down again.
A sudden thump startles me, sending my heart into a beating frenzy.
A book has fallen over on the shelf next to me, untouched, unprovoked and completely unexplainable.
I take small steps toward it, my curiosity piqued, and pick up the book bound in deep purple leather.
I gasp at my discovery. Sliding my thumb over the Hollow Iris Crest, I thank God, or whoever is listening, for guiding me to this forbidden treasure.
I flip to the first page and see the handwritten inscription.
Property of Ambrose Gravenhurst - The Hollow Iris Path.
This may not be the folder Reed had asked for, but I’m willing to bet this is even better.