House of Sand and Secrets (22 page)

“If?”

“When, obviously.” I shift so that I can press my mouth against his neck, not-quite kissing his heated skin. “Idiot,” I mutter.

“Fine. Guess that will do.” Only he makes no move to start.

After a while, I bite gently against his neck then pull away so I can look at him properly. “So why are we waiting?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

He smiles thinly. “I’m wondering how to do this. Every House vampire knows techniques to keep their minds mostly their own.”

I lean back a little. He’s staring past my shoulder, but I don’t think he’s lying. “You said it was inevitable.”

“It is, but it doesn’t have to be totally crippling.” He snaps back from his pondering, and focuses on me. “Or are you telling me you want my mind trampling all over yours – knowing your every secret fear and hope?”

“Not if you don’t have to.” I wrinkle my nose. “Not at all, if you know a trick to stop it.”

“It’s not a trick.”

I wait. Then I jab him in the shoulder with my index finger. “Jannik?”

“We build houses in our heads.”

“You what?”

He sighs. His hands have migrated to my hips, and he’s drumming his fingers in thought. It’s not an unpleasant sensation. I shift against him, but he’s apparently distracted by his mind-houses. “A house is a safe place. It has walls for defence, doors to let people in. A house has places to hide things.”

“Like thoughts?” The idea is intriguing.

He nods. “I’ve built up my house year by year, from when I was very young, and I had tutors who helped me. You, on the other hand, are going to start this now, and I’m not much of a tutor, I’m afraid.”

“But you’ll show me how.” It’s not a question, but he answers anyway.

“Of course.”

“Good then.” The buttons that run down the front of my dress are more for decorative purposes than anything else; the whole thing is laced up at the back. It doesn’t stop them from working though. I fiddle the first three of the tiny cloth-covered buttons from their tight buttonholes, exposing skin. “Don’t bite me where it will show – I still need to act like nothing has changed when I march into House Eline demanding an audience.”

Jannik starts laughing softly, and shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. It was always obvious that you weren’t going to do what anyone told you.” He tugs a few more buttons free, and the front of my dress flaps open completely. He stares for a moment, one side of his mouth quirked in bemusement then he grips my hips, and coaxes me to my knees.

I do what he wants, my chest rapidly rising and falling.

He lowers his head, and bites deep into the side of my left breast. The pain is immense, and I stifle my shriek with one fist. My other hand grips his shoulder so tightly I know that I’m going to bruise him. The pain surges as he drinks, and I can feel the tickle against my cheeks as my tears run down my face. I don’t blink, don’t sob. My teeth grind deeper into the flesh of my fist. It hurt less on my wrist.

That time I got through it by breathing in colours; by imagining each breath long and slow and made of light. Now I don’t want to just be a person enduring pain. With a ragged gasp, I lower my fist, and unclench my grip on Jannik’s shoulder.

The burn on the side of my chest lessens, almost as though accepting it into me robs it of its power. The pain changes, disappears, and Jannik raises his head. My breast stings, and blood is running down my side, but it’s nothing.

Euphoria rushes through me, a taste of magic, music and addiction. This is him. This is what he really feels like. I shiver uncontrollably, and the rush sweeps though me, filling my head and veins. Any moment, I’m going to pass out. I laugh.

Something cool presses against my side, and Jannik’s voice buzzes around me. “You’re all right?” He sounds far away. Fingers snap right by my ear, and I’m back. The euphoria is still there, but it’s muted.

The room is draped in shadows made of violet and indigo, the scarlet of my dress glistens like new-spilled blood. The smell of silk is so thick I can taste it, like stuffing wool down my throat. In my ears, my heart beat is not a lone drum, but a symphony. “I’m here,” I say, and marvel at the way my voice plays in the air. Slowly, I pull myself together, and sink back down. He’s hard again. “Beautiful,” I say, then give my head a quick little shake, like I’m bothered by a sandfly. “Your turn.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stays still, looking at me.

The seconds flick faster, and a minute passes.

“Are you–”

“Yes,” he says. “No.”

Bitterness fills my mouth. “Jannik.”

“This is because of what I said at House Guyin, isn’t it. You’re feeling guilty and so now you offer me this?”

“Stop being so, so … .”

“Right?”

I thump him on his shoulder. “No. Don’t go looking for reasons not to do this. I’m offering, so take it.”

“Since you put it so elegantly,” he says, “how can I resist?” But he stays unmoving. “This is a mistake.”

I shift above him, pressing myself down harder. “Then let’s make a mistake.” I lean forward to kiss him. He tastes of blood, sweetly metallic. “It will hardly be our first.”

He sighs and pulls one arm up to bite at his wrist. The action is the only clear thing in the room, all about us the shadows have made everything hazy and unreal. When he holds up his bleeding arm to me I’m almost confused by it. I have no idea what it is I’m doing. Perhaps this is some strange dream I’ve fallen into, brought on by fire and exhaustion. We’re in the office, we haven’t woken, Isidro is still with Harun, where he should be. Harun has had no Vision of our black and terrible future. Of the children I will not have.

My tongue flicks out, tastes the magic in Jannik’s blood. There’s a momentary nausea as I think of what it is I’m actually doing then that is squashed under a trampling of sensation. My head is filled.

“Wait,” says Jannik. His mouth is still set in a grim line as he watches me suck at the tender vein. The sound of his voice is in my head, pulling up walls and floor and a roof. It’s no place I recognize.

* * *

I’m standing in
a white room, returned to a more conventional state of dress in my crimson gown, the buttons done up, the silk glimmering. Jannik too is dressed and unrumpled. He’s opposite me, thoughtful, his eyes dark as he frowns.

“Where are we?”

“Inside your head,” he answers.

I take another brief look around me at the empty nothingness. “I’m certain I’ve at least had a thought or two in my time. I’m not that vacuous.”

He smiles with just one side of his mouth. “Not like that. I mean I’ve made a space inside your head where you can build.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” I squint. “You made a space? You’re rearranging my head?”

“In a very small way.”

Dimly, I’m aware of my real body, outside, all around me. Moving and sighing. I think I would rather be out there enjoying what’s going on than stuck in a bizarre architectural lesson.

“Forget about that for now,” Jannik says. He steps closer and clicks his fingers under my nose. “You need to concentrate on this.”

“You’re reading my mind.”

“I did warn you, and since right now I’m inside your head there are no barriers. You have no defences, especially as the rest of you is otherwise engaged.” He looks uncomfortable.

“And you’re not?”

“I’m here and there.” He grins at me.

“You bastard. I’ll want a re-enactment.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to oblige.”

I sigh and push loose tendrils of hair back from my face. “Fine, teach me.”

“A challenge.” He’s secure here, playful, lightly mocking.

I’m in his territory even though the head space is mine. My mouth twists wryly at this, and I almost smile.

He steps closer and rests his hands on my shoulders. “Well start with a single room. It has to be a place you felt safe – where nothing bad could come for you.”

That’s easy enough – my tower room at the old manor. I was the only one with the key to it, my mother’s kindest gift to me. The first thing that shimmers into existence is the bed with its old notched varnish, and the dark blue coverlet. “It’s so real.” I reach out and touch it. It’s solid. The wood is cool and hard, the coverlet soft, the wool of unicorn kids.

“It is. It’s more real than the rest of the world.”

“If you start quoting bad verse at me I’m going back,” I warn him.

“Barbarian,” he says, laughing a little. “It’s good, Felicita.” He motions to my childhood bed. “Really, a good start. Just keep remembering the room with that kind of attention to detail.”

“That’s it?” I say as the rest of my bedroom unrolls around me. I laugh in delight as the rich patterns of my carpet crawl under my feet and the stone walls spring up, the roof beams shooting overhead. “Ha!” My entire room is there in an aching, very real way. It smells of home. “It’s so easy.”

“No it’s not. You’re a natural magic-user. I should have known you’d take to this. You must miss this place,” he says softly, then shakes his head. “Not that easy. I’m going to go now. After I’ve left, think of something simple, the name of a favourite pet, and hide it here, then leave.”

He flicks out, disappearing so quickly I am left with a cold stone in my throat. There is a flash of red like traces of ribbons, as if they bind him to me, then they too are gone. I do what he says, then let go of the vision of my bedroom.

I am back in the physical world and it’s like being smashed in the head with a hammer.

* * *

Blood is everywhere
, bursting from my nose and dribbling out of my mouth in warm spurts. I try press my nose, my hands cupped over my face but the blood runs between my fingers. I’m swallowing blood, choking on it.

“Shit.” Jannik scrabbles over to find a length of silk and tugs it free before holding it up to my face. “Hold on, it will pass.”

He presses the cloth in place for me and eventually the dribble slows. Carefully I pull the silk away; it’s almost black, dripping over my skirts and Jannik’s shirt. There’s a pattern of spray across his face.

The room slants, slips away from me. I can feel myself falling but even though I command my arms to reach out to catch on to something – anything – they remain slack. No part of my body responds and I feel terror and then

nothing.

* * *

When I wake
, I’m lying stretched out on the couch. The soft blanket is tucked under my chin, and my face feels clean, the blood wiped away.

The light in the room is dim. The fatcandle is sputtering, making shadows leap along the walls.

I blink.

“So ask me a question,” Jannik says from the other side of the room. I turn to his voice and a dull pain clamps my head. “Don’t move, Felicita.” He sounds weary.

“What-” I lick my lips, swallow. My throat is dry and I’m parched. “What question – oh.” I close my eyes; let the soothing dark caress the pain away. “What was the name of my favourite pet?”

I can feel him in my head, walking like a ghost between my memories. In my dream room, I strengthen the walls, hold them fast. It’s surprisingly tiring.

Eventually, I feel him retreat. “No idea,” he says. “Well done.”

I groan and shift my head slowly, inching my cheek toward the pillow until I can see him. He’s cloaked in the shadows, but the paleness of his skin stands out, cool as a Long Night candle. “That’s it, then?”

“Hardly. It’s a start. You’ll work on building the rest of your house, though it’ll take years, and when you’re done, every thought and secret you want to keep your own will be inside and I’ll never be allowed in unless invited.”

“Years,” I echo. “That’s disheartening.”

He shrugs. “I warned you.”

I sit up gingerly. Every part of my body has been bludgeoned into an aching pulp. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About three hours. As soon as you’re ready to travel I’ve made arrangements for us to stay in rented apartments. It won’t be the luxury you’re accustomed to, but it’ll be better than this.”

“Jannik.” I can feel now the dampness between my legs, can smell clearly the salty musk. Even if I barely remember it, it happened. “I have slept on sacks in a house with no windows. I think I’ll survive a rented apartment.”

He smiles at me. “Of course you will.”

And I will send a servant to buy me rake’s parsley. There’s no point living up to Harun’s Visions.

SILK ARMOUR, GLASS ARMOUR

My head feels
bludgeoned in, but I help Jannik with the moving arrangements as best I can. Not that we have anything left to move. Our other holdings are occupied, and neither are suitable. The Grove Estate is too far south, out of the city and in the orange country downriver, and the house on Chantery street far too small. Besides, Eline’s men will know if we return to either of those. Jannik has said he will find us a place, and I believe him. Somehow, he will cover our tracks.

I supervise from the heat of the offices, have clothes brought to me, new contracts written out for the servants. Master Twissel, Mrs. Winterborn, and Mrs. Palmer meet with me, and it’s with relief that I realize how much I can trust them, how much they will do for me. They are family, and we have all lost a home. Mrs. Winterborn’s narrow face is crumpled. She still has the ring of ivory house keys and she flicks them this way and that, the bright knocking sound sharp as a crack in a wall.

There is nothing left of Riona to send home, nothing left of her life and belongings. “We will provide for her brother,” I say. We can send her salary in as a kind of pension. Even my brother would have made sure that the family of the dead were paid off. It feels so cheap, so utterly useless in the face of what has happened. But I cannot bring her back to life. All I can offer is coin.

Mrs. Palmer sits with her hand over her mouth to keep her sobs quiet.

A constant stream of messengers and servants file in and out of the offices and my seal stamps page after page in an inky blur. It will take a lot of silk to pay for us to rebuild our life, our name. We work until my head feels ready to roll right from my shoulders, and I wouldn’t even care.