The Rose Master (19 page)

As I carried the serving tray with Lord Grey’s meal to the dining room, my stomach began to wail again in hunger, a low lament that vibrated throughout my body.

To my surprise, Lord Grey was already seated in his chair, head in hand. He threw me a look that dripped irritation as I placed the tray before him. “There was a dish here for me already,” he said.

I eyed the meal Dora had prepared and moved it aside. “It’s better to have a fresh dish, not one that’s been sitting there for hours.” And would probably shrivel up his organs, I thought, but did not add.

He picked up his spoon, and I retreated.

“Where’s your plate?” he asked.

“In the kitchen, sir.”

“You couldn’t manage to carry two plates?”

“Sir, why would I bring mine here just to return it to the kitchen?”

“Ah, so you’re planning on eating there.”

I stared. Was he daft? Need I run to the door and away from the lunatic and his rose-scented hallucinations?

“It’s where I always eat, sir.”

He sighed. “What nonsense. Bring your plate here, Anne. It’s beyond ridiculous to have you across the house. There’s more than enough room for the two of us.”

“Sir!”

“It’s ridiculous and dangerous. Bring your plate.”

In confusion, a feeling that was becoming more familiar by the minute, I returned to the kitchen to fetch my plate.

I couldn’t help noticing though, as I entered the dining room again, that Lord Grey had waited for me before beginning. Just good manners, I supposed.

He pointed to a chair on his right and I placed my food down. I stared straight ahead, but could still see as he lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips. He paused half-way through chewing some potato chunks, his eyes narrowing to dark slits.

“You know how to cook,” he said.

“I was a scullery maid for many years, sir.”

“A scullery maid.” The chuckle woven through his voice made me shift to look at him.

“Is something amusing, sir?”

“Just the thought of it is quite funny. With your temper, I would never have let you near the knife drawer.”

His eyes lifted from his plate in a surge of energy that sent my hands tingling. He held my eyes in his own for a few seconds, then placed his spoon down and cleared his throat.

I found I’d lost my appetite. My heart galloped at a painful speed, sending my blood racing in a frenzy through my veins. It felt peculiar to be sitting there, the two of us alone, sharing a meal as equals.

It was almost a relief when a cold current stepped like a person into the room. We both felt it, and exchanged a neutral glance, Lord Grey already encased behind his icy sarcasm once more.

I shivered as a wave of air passed behind me.

“It cannot harm you in this room, not with the mirror watching,” Lord Grey said.

Small comfort when I felt like I was being swallowed up by winter.

The mirror began to hum with power, the symbols beneath its surface pulsing like a heart. Soon, the creature moved on to sit beside the master as he sipped his wine. I could see his knuckles through his thin skin, fury and pain gripping Lord Grey’s slight body.

“That’s enough,” he said.

A low laugh bubbled out and the cold evaporated.

“I think we should attempt to get some sleep,” he said, after we’d pushed the food around our plates for a few more minutes. His eyes closed in damp exhaustion. I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me.

“Yes, sir. All right.”

Scrubbing our dishes clean took only a matter of minutes and soon, I was ready to sink into sleep. Even after the long slumber I’d had that morning, I felt heavy and sluggish. If anything, the nap had made me realize how tired I was. Like a sip of water when thirsty, I needed more.

As I was leaving the kitchen, I heard the painful sound of coughing trailing down the staircase. I moved toward it and listened. The sound jolted yet another memory loose. My mother, coughing through endless minutes at a time, her body shaking with the sharp spasms. Where were these memories coming from?

For long seconds, I waited for the intake of breath that would bring relief to Lord Grey’s body.

I went back to the kitchen and put water to boil. My movements were automatic, my thoughts not interfering with what my body was doing. I rummaged through the pantry and found what I needed: a thick ginger root. I chopped it up, adding it to the pot of water and letting it simmer until it filled the kitchen with its sharp scent.

I poured the ginger water over tea leaves, and strained the concoction into a cup. I mixed in a strong dose of honey and stirred it all into a golden brew.

Tea cup and saucer in hand, I went back to the main hall and up the stairs. The second story was in complete darkness except for one sliver of light. Coughs punctuated my steps until I found myself before Lord Grey’s door. I took a breath and knocked.

His face showed surprise as he opened the door, although he brought his features under control an instant later.

“Sir, I heard you coughing, and I thought tea would help ease the spasms. It has no magical properties that I know of, but it does provide some relief.”

He took the cup from me and moved aside to allow me in. An image of Dora’s face flashed in front of me. I hesitated.

“Come in, Anne. I won’t bite, you know.”

With a thin smile, I stepped into his antechamber again.

“Take a seat. And don’t tell me ‘no,’” he said, just as my mouth was opening. “What is it with you and chairs?”

I smiled and took the seat I’d used the previous night. Lord Grey sat down and took a sip of tea.

“Ginger,” he said. “Interesting concoction.”

“It is, sir. The woman who raised me always prepared it for me when I was ill.”

“The woman who raised you?”

“Well, sir, my mother died when I was young, so the cook at Caldwell House took me in.”

“I see.” His voice was soft, his eyes locked on me. He had a slight flush to his skin.

“Sir, it looks as if you might have a fever.”

“It’s nothing, Anne. If you recall, I mentioned the demon feeds off my energy. It sometimes places a strain on my body.”

I looked down at my hands. “Sir, I’m concerned about the name we need for the banishment. How will we ever learn it? The creature will never reveal it.”

He sighed. “I have thought long on that, and I’ve come upon only one way. You will have to provoke it, Anne.”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Wraiths toy with their prey, with what they are about to destroy. This one is no different. It won’t be able to help itself from taunting you with the truth before attempting to take your life.”

My face must have betrayed my shock.

“I would do it myself, but the creature would never tell me because it does not want to kill me. I could never provoke it enough.” He clutched the tea cup tighter in his hands. “We wouldn’t even consider attempting anything like that until you were ready to defend yourself, though. And you would not be alone. Do you understand, Anne?” His flushed face lifted to meet my eyes as he said softly, “I would be right there to help you. I wouldn’t allow it to harm you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. My mind reared back at putting my life in such danger. I couldn’t turn myself into bait!

A stab went through my chest. But . . . but it could mean everyone in the manor would be free once again. Could I deny them that, after all they’d been through?

I could think of no other way of extracting the name we needed. I closed my eyes. “When, sir?”

“I don’t know. When you’re ready. When we’re both ready.”

I nodded and attempted to smile as my stomach churned with nerves. “Um, sir, I was also wondering why you asked me a few days ago if I was religious? Would it have helped defeat this creature?”

“No. On the contrary, it would have made it more difficult to bring your powers to the surface.”

“Why, sir?”

“For one thing, that particular group of people doesn’t take too kindly to magicians. I rather think you would have ‘aided’ me by burning me at the stake.”

I did smile that time, despite my new worries.

Silence descended on us as he sipped his tea. At least his coughing had stopped.

As I watched the pain relax its hold on his face, I could picture him as he must have been before all of this had happened. Full of energy and laughter. Full of smiles for the people he loved . . . perhaps even for Miss Bellingham.

Suddenly, I began to feel uncomfortable.

“If you’re done, sir, I’ll take the cup back to the kitchen and let you rest.”

“Yes, of course.” He handed me the cup. “You should get some sleep also, Anne. We have more training to do tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Anne.”

With a healthy dose of nerves in my veins, I marched back to my room, head held as high as I could manage without spraining anything.

As I was about to open my door, I heard another one opening behind me. I turned and saw Ms. Simple hovering on her room’s threshold.

“Ms. Simple, are you all right?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing, Anne.”

“Yes, I am.” I gave her my most reassuring smile, even as Lord Grey’s plan swirled in my head.

There was a moment of silence as she looked at me. “I knew there was something different about you when you arrived, and it seems I was right.” She moved the few steps toward me. Her hair was down, released from her usual severe bun, and its length surprised me. The dim light played over the white streaks that snaked through it.

“Here,” she said, holding out her right hand.

I took what she held: a small, silver cross.

“I don’t know if it’ll help any with what you and the master are doing, but I always feel safer when there’s a cross nearby.”

The metal was warm in my palm, warmed by Ms. Simple’s hand. I smiled.

“Thank you. I’ve never had one of my own before.”

A growl passed by me, low but resonant in the small hall. The cold had returned and with it, the fear.

“Go back to bed, Ms. Simple. It’s safer.”

She hesitated. Even in the shadows, I could see the bruises on her cheek, displaying the creature’s hate.

“I’ll be all right. It’s best if we don’t anger it.” Not yet, at least.

She nodded and turned back to her room. The growling followed her until she closed the door behind her.

eighteen