44 #2
I couldn’t risk them coming back from their injuries. Vipera were tricky things, you always should take the head for good measure.
Respect for the dead was important, so I wasn’t going to leave them like that, even if it took all night.
The rain and thunder served as my symphony during the process, nearly as good as playing whatever cylinder was already on the phonograph.
I placed their bodies in chairs, positioning their limbs casually before the rigor mortis set in. They could relax and watch themselves do so.
Their heads were placed atop the mantel, looking down at their own bodies. They matched the rest of the mounts; hopefully they wouldn’t be camouflage for long. It would start to smell rancid.
Mary did take my horse, but she was lucky I was in such a remarkable mood.
By the time I reached the house, the birds had begun to sing, rejoicing in the banishment of the night’s rain. The heat of the day was already beginning to rise despite the pale blue of the early-morning sky.
Six in the morning.
The household should be gathering for breakfast.
If they were at all sluggish, my presence should wake them up properly.
The door opened before I even set foot on the front steps. The poor doorman was too tired to see who approached.
The chiming came from the dining room. Conversations about the weather and compliments about the color of napkins provided. All so happy, so blithe, so meaningless.
My bare feet tapped against the cool marble floor.
Stray guests fluttered past me, having to look again to check if they saw me correctly.
There was no more room to care.
I lost my shoes on the walk across the park. My hair was coming undone from my braid, the blood stuck to the strands was barely noticeable, but the blood on my face and down my chest was the fashion statement of the morning.
Not too many noticed me when I stepped under the room archway. Representatives passed scones and grapefruit, poured coffee between their Hosts and wives, even arranging their napkins across their laps before the voices stopped, and all eyes were on me.
I grasped my blackened hands in front of me, beaming when they settled down.
At the end of the table, Mr. Astor.
A collection of gasps, some looked away, others dared to stare. Soon the cutlery no longer chimed, the chatter stopped like dampening a wick. Not even the security detail knew what to do.
“Pierce Soros and Rebecca Aldritch have broken the trust of the trial and tried to take matters into their own hands. Their debt was settled on a feast of traitors. You may collect them at the West Side Guild.” My voice carried indisputably.
“I would like to have free roam of the entirety of my own home for the remainder of the trial. I can’t be confined to just a single floor.
” My eyes landed on Mary, her gaze down on her plate at the table, dressed and cleaned for her Host duties.
“I trust my actions will be forgiven, as I am sure the same fate would befall any of us who dared tamper with the covenant we have made between ourselves and the pursuit of justice.” I made sure each word was careful and clear.
“If there are no objections, I wish to retire. May I see all your lovely faces intact when we resume the trial and Appraisal tomorrow.”
When I turned to leave them, the whispers erupted into dispute.
The knife still lodged in my back, all they needed to see.
As I went up the stairs, my posture was relaxed and my steps slower.
My legs and feet hurt from walking bare across the park.
I wasn’t sure if anyone saw me, but who would believe them if they did?
An indecent, ghostly woman covered in blood with a knife lodged deep in her back?
The authorities would assume they were describing something from a penny dreadful.
Much like a phantom, I found my body tracing a path in search of what she knew.
The scent of tobacco and bay leaves wafted from the parlor, the small tang of blackberry elevating the senses.
The room was empty except for one.
The furniture had been moved back to the way it was before, in anticipation of the end of our guests’ stay.
Silas flipped through a paper, the light casting his silhouette through the pages and producing a dancing smoke as he breathed, the cherry of the tip pulsing to life with every inhale.
It may have been that he sensed my presence. A bond so strong that his soul knew mine, that no matter where I was, we would always be able to find each other.
But it was likely the scent of blood.
And then my tears that came after.
Silas dropped everything. The paper, the cigarette from his lips. The legs of the chair scraped as he stood.
I almost made it to him, steps away before I collapsed in his arms. But he did too.
Silas fell to his knees the minute his arms had me, like catching me was more important than remaining upright.
“Where were you?” He was so angry, but his embrace was desperate. “Luka went to look on foot when we realized you weren’t here. Sidney said Mary slipped you a note before you left.”
“Enough questions,” I breathed. “Tell Luka to take better care of where he keeps his calling cards.”
I felt him touch the blade in my back, yanking it out quickly when he realized it was there.
A groan melted into a sigh, rolling my shoulders to celebrate their newfound freedom.
“My God.” He sank fully to the floor as he held me. “We should have run when we had the chance,” he whispered, his grip tightening. “We can go now. Leave everything behind.”
I shook my head. “It’s already in motion, be patient.” I looked up at him. There was no concealing the smile with such bliss in my soul. “There’s no escape now.”