13. Pippa
PIPPA
I’m in a long corridor, searching for my boy. Running. Running. Running.
“Tobias!” My heart crashes against the inside of my chest threatening to crack itself apart. “Tobias!”
I gasp, blink at the ceiling, then close my eyes once more.
The wide, dark hallway rushes past me, opposite the direction I’m running. Heavy footsteps pound behind me. A latch clicks. Wood scrapes against wood. My nostrils flare as a familiar ether-like scent floods my nose.
Lids heavy, I open my eyes to the flash of the dark, coffered ceiling of my room at the Roan estate.
I try to turn my head, but it’s heavy. My eyelids feel weighted. The blankets suffocate me. I blink and force my head up, looking at the foot of the bed. The room is dark. The air thick with some unknown presence. “Hello?”
My head flops back against my pillows.
“Shhh,” a voice coos.
“No,” I moan, my thoughts doused with exhaustion.
Hope infuses my heart. Has he come back?
My monster. Wildness and vivid desire wrapped in the skin of a creature so beautiful it takes my breath away.
With great effort, I turn my head to see a figure at the side of my bed, certain Shemaiah will be there, and this time he’ll stay.
I want to ease his discomfort, feed his hunger, even though I know it’s a bad idea.
But it’s not him in my room. Someone stands beside my bed, clothed in a long white robe and a white mask with a pointed nose like the beak of a bird.
I open my mouth to scream, but the noise gets trapped.
“Shh,” the monster soothes.
“Just relax,” another voice says, this one more feminine than the first.
I can’t turn my head. Can’t move. I’m stuck. Blinking. My tongue caught in my throat.
The masked figure lifts my limp arm.
“Just relax and think of your son.”
Tobias.
My eyes shut. I remember the last time I saw him. My sweet boy, stacking blocks in The Sanatorium courtyard. The sun, perfectly warm. A peaceful feeling surrounds us and permeates my being as I watch him.
I’m calm. Happy.
Tobias laughs, and I recognize this is a gift. A deep sense of love washes over me. The sun makes his blond curls shine like a golden crown. My little prince. He smiles, his dimpled cheeks red from the heat. I should get him out of the sun.
My arm stings. I slap the inside of my elbow, looking for sunburn, but I can’t touch it. My other hand held out, caught in my son’s grip.
“It’s time to go inside, Toby.” I turn to find him, but he isn’t there. In his place, the masked monster.
“Toby!” I scream.
I dash down the long hall again, throwing myself against locked doors. “Tobias!”
I’m sinking, sinking, sinking into a hospital bed, where someone is weeping. I’m weeping.
“No!” I shoot straight up in bed, tears streaming down my face. My lungs heave for air, and my heartbeat thumps wildly in my ears. I press my hands against my body, covered in a nightshift, soaked with perspiration, and shiver.
A sliver of bright light pours into the room through a gap in the heavy curtains.
Roan Estate. I’m in my room at Roan Estate.
I heave deep breaths as I get my bearings.
None of it was real. None of it.
A nightmare.
For a few minutes, I let myself feel the crushing fear of those strange dreams. I bury my face in my pillow and cry for my boy, for myself, for all of it.
Then I sniffle, wipe the tears, and leave the confines of bed, ready to face a new day.
I throw open the curtains, putting the nightmare behind me, letting in the light.
Everything is better in the daylight.
I could stay in bed today. After what happened yesterday, I have a good reason, but I don’t want to.
I can’t. The room is stifling. The nightmare, the vision of my son, only reinforces my need to find him.
And Shemaiah. My heartbeat flutters, and effusive awareness rushes over my skin as I think about how he behaved last night.
He was taller, though I couldn’t understand how since he’s tall to begin with.
Normally a slender man with a compact build, his muscles threatened to tear the seams of his clothing.
But more than anything, it had been his shiny coal eyes, completely black, and the fangs that had surprised me. Utterly feral.
I want to make sure he’s okay. That we’re okay.
We almost crossed a line last night. When he crawled onto my bed, I knew I wouldn’t stop him from taking anything he wanted. I was so wrapped up in the moment, I would have let him. But in the bright light of morning, I know better.
So with purpose, I wash my face and get dressed. I don’t have to do much, just enough to feel normal. Bathing. Breakfast. Find Shemaiah. Then perhaps a game afterward, something to distract me from the fact that my son isn’t where he’s supposed to be.
I hurry through my morning routine, braiding my hair, wondering if Shemaiah is up yet after last night’s party, anxious to find him.
As I make my way to the breakfast parlor, I peek through the open door of the tapestry gallery. It’s late morning, and the party ended hours ago, but the servants haven’t been in to clean the room yet. My slippers clack against the floor as I walk deeper into the room.
One of the tapestries near the door is ripped down the middle.
A vase of flowers has been knocked over, wilted white blossoms spread across the parquet floor like a trail of fallen snow along with a woman’s bloomers and a pair of men’s socks.
I stop when I see the length of a leather ribbon I recognize.
The same kind of tie Shemaiah secured his hair with yesterday and every day before that. Who pulled it free?
Unbidden, an image comes to me of Shemaiah pressing a woman back against the wall, her hands in his hair, his body pushed against hers, his teeth in her neck, her skirts around her waist, his pants…
No. No, no, no.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and my hands curl into fists along my sides.
Undesirable feelings crawl into my head like unwelcome guests.
Anger. Hurt. Jealousy. Possession. None of which is warranted.
Shemaiah is my friend. One I hope will help me find my son.
Nothing more. Even if there was something between us last night.
It wasn’t anything more than momentary lust. That’s all.
My anger is inexcusable. I have no need to feel hurt.
Shemaiah isn’t mine. And I don’t want him.
I know being with a man above my station won’t lead anywhere.
It’s a lesson I’ve learned before. I won’t open myself up to that kind of hurt again.
Movement catches my attention—a tapestry swaying rhythmically. Curious, I walk deeper into the room. My heart beats in time with the movement. It’s clear something illicit is happening when a woman moans.
I should turn around. It could be anyone, and I’m sure they won’t appreciate a voyeur.
But I imagine Shemaiah’s face, and I can’t stop my forward movement through the room.
Perhaps if I find him with someone else, it’ll cure me of my wayward thoughts once and for all.
Yes, it’ll help me to know the stark reality.
I need the reminder that love isn’t for me.
That men like Shemaiah don’t fall for girls like me.
My palms sweat, and my heart pounds, but I peek around the jerking tapestry anyway and yelp in surprise.
Ruby’s inspector friend Lucy has her hands pressed against the wooden wainscoting, her head thrown back, while Jafeth grips her hips from behind.
Her skirt is pulled up, and his pants are around his ankles as he pounds into her from behind, his legs flexing under the shirt draped down his backside, the tapestry bumping with each of his thrusts.
Jafeth meets my gaze and grins, maintaining his rhythm.
Lucy gasps and moans, unconscious of my presence, lost to her pleasure. “Yes. Oh god.”
“Not god. Say it right.”
“Jafeth.”
“Never forget it.” Jafeth smacks her ass for emphasis then focuses on me, still pounding into her with a devious smile. “Care to join us?”
I gasp, shocked, though heat floods through my veins.
Lucy’s eyes fly open, and she pales, yanking away, though she can’t go very far, smacking against the wall.
She turns, scrambling to smooth down her skirts.
With practiced composure, she swallows and glances at Jafeth, who hasn’t even tried to cover himself.
With a blush, she nods at me and moves away, clearly intent on leaving.
Jafeth recovers from her sudden separation and grabs her arm. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not done with you yet.”
“S-sorry.” I step back. “I… um… didn’t mean to…” My calf bumps a bench, causing me to fall down onto it.
“Thank you for assisting me with the case, Mr. Roan,” Lucy says primly, as if nothing just happened between them.
Jafeth scoffs, pushing her back against the wall.
“Do you think I’m letting you leave before I’ve made you come?
” He presses against her. “Do you think I’ll let you go that easily?
No. I’m going to make you come so many times you finally unclench that stick up your ass.
” He wraps her throat with his hand. “I’m going to fill that tight cunt so full, I’ll be dripping out of you for weeks. ”
She smooths the strands of hair that have escaped her bun. “You presume too much.”
“Why?”
“You can’t even tell when a woman’s exaggerating her enjoyment.” She offers him a derisive glance, then ducks under his arm.
Jafeth blinks, clearly stunned. “What the fuck?”
“Good day, Mr. Roan.” Lucy picks up her skirts and marches past me without a second glance.
Jafeth stares after her with his mouth hanging open and his eyes as dark as night. It’s only then that I notice his pants are still down and his cock is jutting out like a flagpole.
I twist my head away, scramble to my feet, stutter something incoherent, and scurry out of the room.
I’m still out of breath when I enter the breakfast parlor, looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’m still dreaming. Was that real?
“You shouldn’t be running,” Anna says.
I stop short at the sound of her voice, unprepared for any more surprises. A glance around the room confirms she’s the only one who’s come down to breakfast so far.
“You must be feeling better, then?” She gives me an assessing look.
“Yes.” I press my hand to my heart, willing the beat to steady, warmth still flooding my body at the forbiddenness of what I just witnessed. “Where is everyone else?”
“Not here. Last night and all that.”
“You’re here,” I say, cautiously avoiding asking about Shemaiah. “Did you not enjoy the party?”
“I didn’t stay long. Played bridge with Ruby, her friend Lucy, and Jafeth instead.”
I work hard not to picture Jafeth ramming into Lucy, their panting breaths full of pleasure. The image makes my body feel heavy and light at the same time.
An uncharacteristic worried look crosses Anna’s features. “You look flushed. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I’m not sure what to say, so I hum a note of acknowledgement, and cross to the buffet. “I’ll take a nap after getting something to eat.”
It would be the wise thing to do, though I can’t find the will to return to my rooms after last night’s nightmares.
Anna hums a note, mimicking mine. “Hope you don’t have any nightmares.”
I freeze and look at her. “Why would you say that?”
She avoids my gaze. “I had a horrible dream last night.”
Turning back to the buffet, I stare at the elaborate spread of food, feeling suddenly nauseous. I hope her dreams weren’t as terrifying as mine.
“Is something the matter?” she asks.
“No.” When I glance over my shoulder, she’s standing as if to come and check on me. “No, truly. I’m fine.”
I select something, then sit across from her, unwilling to make more of her comment than I should.
Both of us having nightmares is just a circumstantial coincidence.
We’re living in a creepy mansion with blood-sucking creatures.
Untamed debauchery occurs here every few weeks.
We all took part in murdering a maniac who would have killed us.
We’re ill and frightened. There are bound to be side effects, like bad dreams.
“How long were you at The Sanatorium?” I ask, looking for a way to connect with her, to chase away the troublesome thoughts.
She takes a sip of her coffee. “A year and a half.”
“What did you do before you were diagnosed with Vastatio?”
Her jaw works, her teeth pressing together, and I wonder if she’ll answer the question.
“I was a nurse,” she says after a while.
“At The Sanatorium?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
She shakes her head. “No. Not there. There was a hospital annex by the river on the other side of town. I worked with the elderly.”
“Your family sent you to school then?” I ask, recalling my mother. Her greatest dream was to afford schooling for me. She died before that was possible. I cut a bit of fruit, my fork clunking a little too hard against the glass plate.
“I entered a training program,” Anna replies.
“Did you like working with the elderly?”
“I did.” She nods. “Sometimes I was the only one in their lives. So many of the elderly were left completely alone.”
The tragedy of that hits me hard in the chest, nearly robbing my breath. “They were lucky to have you.”
We don’t say more as the rest of the household joins us for breakfast, everyone except for the one I want to see.
Shemaiah is absent, and I can’t stop thinking about the lonely people Anna helped.
I can’t let Tobias end up alone like that.
I’m determined to find Shemaiah as soon as breakfast is over and make sure he’s doing everything he can to find my son.
If he meets Tobias, I know he’ll want to take care of him.
And then, neither of them will be alone.