Chapter 47
“Very well,” I say.
“Sterling.” Adrian grabs my wrist, as if to physically restrain me. “This could be dangerous. These people might be on our side for the moment, but they don’t care about you.”
Helen nods her agreement. “Think carefully. Mary will use you like a tool and throw you away if you get broken.”
Mary meets my gaze. “I’m not going to lie to you. I think the Swarm are dangerous. The Timekeepers, too—how many people have they reduced to puppets, content to go where they’re told or stand where they’re left? It’s worth a little risk to stop them, don’t you think?”
“Of course you’d say that—it’s not your neck on the chopping block.” Helen all but bares her teeth in a snarl at her former friend.
“If it was, I’d go through with it,” Mary says. “You know I would.”
Helen seems ready to argue…but then deflates a little. “Yes. Because you’re a fanatic who’s lost all sense.”
“It’s my decision.” The strength in my own voice surprises me. After so much fear and doubt and uncertainty, I’ve found something that, to me at least, feels straightforward. “Miss King—”
“Mary, please.”
“Mary is right. The Swarm, the Timekeepers—whatever they want, they’re wrecking lives to get it.
And even if they weren’t…I can’t live with these shadows over my memory.
With never knowing what happened to me, to Bianca.
” My throat feels thick and swallowing doesn’t help.
“My mind has already broken once. Maybe this will break me again. But I think it’s worth the risk. ”
Mary gives me a feral grin. “I like you, Ster. You’ve got grit.”
I’m not thrilled with the nickname, but it’s a step up from her trying to murder me, so I let it go. “I don’t know about that, but I can’t just hide my head in the sand. What do I need to do?”
“For right now? Relax.” She gives Helen a smug look. “I need to reach out to our acolyte who knows hypnotism. He’s got a real knack for it—he’s put me under a few times to help me remember my dreams. In the meantime, we can put you up here. Free room and board.”
“No, thank you,” Helen says.
“I wasn’t including you, but sure, you can stay too.”
“I said no.”
“Come and go as you like, Hellion.” Mary meets my eyes again. “But I do have to insist on Ster staying. I don’t want him wandering the streets while the Timekeepers are running amuck in Widdershins.”
“She has a point.” I’d far rather go back to the hotel with Adrian, but needs must. “Myers probably isn’t very happy with me right now. Or any of us, after what happened at the warehouse.”
Adrian doesn’t look pleased at all, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nods. “You’re not wrong. I’ll go to the hotel and get our things from our room.”
“Dorset can go with you. You two can grab dinner for us while you’re at it.” Mary glances at Helen. “Are you going home?”
“Apparently not,” Helen grates out, “since I’m not leaving Sterling here alone with you.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll have someone get your rooms prepared.”
She leaves us alone at the table. Helen fetches the whiskey and pours us all another measure without asking. “You can’t trust her, Sterling.”
“I don’t. But I do trust that our goals align for the moment.”
“Just remember it’s only for the moment.” She gulps down most of her drink. “She’s trying to resurrect a god. If she thinks you’re in her way, she’ll toss you aside in an instant.”
Adrian watches her, his own drink untouched. “You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.”
Before long, the silent driver who I assume is Dorset comes in, beckons to Adrian, and leaves again.
Almost as soon as the front door closes behind them, a cheerful young man bustles in.
“Hello! I’m Brother Thurston. I’ve got two nice rooms made up for you, one for the lady and one for the gents, but if you find anything lacking just let me know! ”
He seems genuinely excited to cater to us. What has Mary told him?
We follow him upstairs, where the original bedrooms appear to have been carved up into smaller ones.
The rooms he shows us to are close to the stairs and once belonged to a single chamber, at least judging by the interrupted wainscoting on their walls.
The spaces are narrow and windowless, but the linens are fresh and the floors swept.
Both rooms include two tiny cots, one shoved against each wall, a small chest at the foot of each bed, and nothing else.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” Brother Thurston beams as though the rooms are palatial rather than dark and cramped.
“The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the left. Is there anything you need? No? Then feel free to stay here or retire to the keeping room.” He pauses delicately. “I do have to ask you don’t wander.”
“Of course,” I say automatically.
He bustles off. Helen shakes her head. “Aggressively cheerful, isn’t he? Mary has him thoroughly bamboozled.”
“Maybe he’s just committed to the work?”
“The work of resurrecting a god, or egregore, or whatever the hell they want to call it?” She snorts. “Oh, I’m sure he is. But what will this god do when they have it back? More importantly—what will it feed on?”
“Do gods have to feed on something?” It doesn’t sound very godly to me—but I’m thinking of an omnipotent creator. The Greek gods had feasted, and the Norse ones, and probably others that I don’t know about.
“Why do you think they demand devotion? Worship? Sacrifice?” Helen shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to freshen up. I’ll see you downstairs.”
With nothing else to do, I return to the keeping room, where I’m soon joined by Helen. Brother Thurston comes in and out, checking on our needs to the point where I’m sure he’s as much guard as dogsbody.
Thankfully, Adrian and Dorset return with dinner and our belongings within the hour. Dorset leaves, and the three of us eat chicken sandwiches and mashed potatoes, washed down with bottles of root beer.
None of us want to have an open discussion with Thurston lurking around. After a half hour or so of only the most desultory conversation, we give up and climb the stairs to our rooms. Thurston of course follows us up, leaving only when all three of us declare our rooms satisfactory.
As soon as he’s gone, Helen slips into our room. “What do you think?” she asks in a whisper. “Should we wait until our cheerful shadow has gone to bed, then sneak out and explore the house?”
“I would like to know more about these people before we entrust Sterling’s mind to them,” Adrian admits. “But we’ll have to be careful.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at his concern. “You have a good point.”
“Stay ready, then.” Helen reaches for the door. “We’ll meet in the hall outside at midnight.”
Once she’s gone, Adrian turns to me. “Would you like to sleep some? I’ll wake you when it’s time.”
“I’m not sure I can sleep.” I glance at the cots. To hell with it. “Let’s push these together, if you don’t mind.”
He smiles, then kisses me. “Of course.”
We shove the cots together, then settle in.
I wish we could make love, but I don’t feel comfortable doing so in this house.
Adrian props himself up, so I curl against him, my head resting on his chest. He settles his arms around me, and I listen to his heart beat beneath my ear. Before long, I drift off into slumber.
Thankfully, no dreams haunt me, and I’m gently shaken awake some time later. My mouth is dry and gummy, but I don’t want to rattle around brushing my teeth and risk waking up the cult members.
Helen is already in the hall waiting for us. “This floor seems to be where everyone sleeps,” Adrian whispers. “But there are rooms downstairs we haven’t seen yet.”
Hopefully they’ll be unoccupied at this time of night.
We make our way down the stairs with agonizing slowness, struggling to keep the old boards from creaking too loudly under our feet.
The house is utterly silent and we don’t dare switch on a light.
Fortunately, the streetlamps outside filter through the dirty windows, giving just enough illumination to guide our steps if we’re careful.
We’ve already been in the keeping room, so we go through the door on the other side of the entryway. As I’d guessed when we first entered the house, it opens onto a parlor. We shuffle in and shut the door behind us.
Glowing coals in the fireplace cast a dim light on the room, revealing the shapes of furniture.
Adrian signals us to stay where we are, then picks his way to the fireplace and runs his fingers along the surround until he finds the matchbox.
He holds a long match to the coals, and light blooms as it catches.
When he raises the match, the wavering flame reveals a desk, a worn daybed, and several threadbare chairs.
Mary King sits in one of them, her wand in her hand.