A Study of Hierarchy
Iwas becoming nocturnal after the nights with Auguste and Jonathon in London. The great dark mass of Rooksgrave—a black shadow against the murky night sky—greeted me on my return, clouds glowing with the force of the moon they hid behind their curtains.
"Did you miss it?" Auguste asked, fingers linked with mine in the carriage.
We'd left Jonathon in London so he could organize his practice enough to allow for more time away, and this trip, Auguste had indulged my interest in the private compartment of the train, to both our enjoyment.
"I…missed the others," I admitted slowly.
"Not Rooksgrave though?"
I turned to Auguste as the carriage slowed along the drive. "Rooksgrave is just where I wait for all of you to come see me. It can be lonely when I don't have a visitor."
Auguste's eyes widened slightly, his hand reaching out to take my jaw gently, pulling me closer and grazing his mouth over mine. "Well, you won't be without company now, mon coeur."
I smiled at that, my eyes falling shut as his mouth slanted over mine, tongue slipping in on my sigh to tease and caress mine. My arms reached up to wrap around his shoulders, forgetting where we were, forgetting anything but the slow coax of Auguste's kisses. Returning from our trip was a little like coming down from a great height—there was comfort in being back on the reliable ground, but I felt a loss of exhilaration too.
Auguste scooped me up as the carriage door was opened, and I gasped, drawing back from the kiss as he hauled me out, grinning. "We'll see how long it takes before you'd rather be left in peace again," he teased.
I opened my mouth to argue the point—I'd never liked being alone, and if I'd enjoyed one thing most of all in London, it was having both Jonathon and Auguste as company in the evenings—when a pale face in the doorway caught my eye.
"Booker!"
Auguste set me on my toes and I ran for the door. My stone butler looked solemn and steady as ever, but his eyes were on me. Some of the other girls in the house couldn't tell the golems apart, but I knew every dark line of stone on his face as well as I knew my own features.
"Welcome back, puisín."
I yelped as a pair of thick arms sprang like a trap around my waist, squeezing my ribs and lifting me off my feet again, gravel skidding below me. Ezra snapped his teeth against my throat and sucked on my skin there as I broke out into giggles. He carried me over to where Booker waited and then pressed me against the golem, trapping me between their two large forms, clean stone and soap from Booker in contrast with the smoke and sweet honey scent of Ezra.
"Ohh, I missed you both," I said, softening as Ezra moved his hands to my hips, Booker's touch claiming my face and lifting it to his. Milky blue eyes studied me carefully like he was cataloging any changes that might've appeared since he'd last seen me. Ezra, meanwhile, continued to help himself to my taste, worrying my throat with teeth and tongue until I was squirming between them.
"Hello, friend," Booker said.
"Hello," I echoed, breath hitching as Ezra rubbed his crotch into my ass.
"Mortimer wants to see you," Ezra mumbled into my throat, nipping roughly once more before pulling away and taking a deep breath.
"Good of you to put Esther's mind well away from any sensible matter before saying so," Auguste said drily, passing us in the doorway, but he winked at me as I looked up, cheeks flushed.
"No, Book, you take them in, I'll get the bags, mate," Ezra said. I swayed in place as he stepped away and then squeaked as he swatted my ass.
Book. Mate. I grinned up at Booker. "You've been making friends while I was away."
He let out a soft grunt and then took my hand. I'd had a wonderful trip to London, an amazing time with my gentlemen, but lord, it felt nice just to have Booker take my hand, his touch cool and firm and familiar. Steady as a rock, no pun intended. Well, maybe a little bit of one.
Rooksgrave was bright and rich, even in the confused hours between the dead of night and the beginning of a new day. The chandeliers were lit and lamps were burning, mirrors reflecting the light in the dark entry, making it dramatic and decadent instead of the intimidatingly mysterious space I'd stepped into on the first day. There was a door open to a social room, cigar smoke filtering out, feminine laughter, and someone playing a popular tune on the piano. On the balcony above, as we headed for Magdalena's office, a couple raced down the hall, a male growl rising in the wake of a bright, teasing scream.
"Can we spend an evening with the others while you're here?" I asked Auguste as Booker and I followed him.
He spun on the ball of his foot, eyebrows bouncing as he glanced at me. "You haven't? No, I suppose not. The sphinx is more of a morning bird, isn't he? Of course. We can spend our evenings any way you like," Auguste said, flashing a toothy grin.
Magdalena wasn't alone when we reached her office. There was another woman sitting at Magdalena's table with a teacup in her hand, petite and pretty with brilliant freckles and pale eyelashes, dressed in a truly atrocious amount of flounce and lace and silk flowers. She looked up as we entered, flashing a smile full of sharp, pointed teeth. Auguste stiffened, stepping in front of me at the sight of her, and then his shoulders bunched up toward his ears as he turned and found the man by the window—tall and broad, an eerie glisten of blue and green over his skin, and an odd whisper of feathers as he twisted to stare at us.
"Should we come back, Mags?" Auguste snapped.
Magdalena sighed, looking up from her own teacup and meeting my gaze with a weary smile. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair wasn't in its usual glossy coif.
"Welcome back, darling," Magdalena said to me. "And no, Auguste. This is Siobhan, of Gan Deireadh House, and Julian of Fleur Noir."
Auguste relaxed but only marginally, and the strange man bowed at the waist.
"Sister houses to Rooksgrave," Magdalena said to me. "They're here because they both lost a girl recently to unexpected visitors."
The man at the window stepped toward us, releasing a rapid tumble of a foreign language that must've been French, because Auguste quickly responded with, "En Anglais."
Julian's lips pursed to a shade of purple at the request, but he let out a huff and began again in heavily accented English. "The wraith, said it nothing of who it was sent by?"
"Only that it was calling somebody 'master' who would…make good use of me," I said, finding Auguste's hand and taking it in my free one as Booker held the other. Auguste's fingers squeezed mine and he shifted closer, still guarding me slightly from the new creatures in the room.
"Birsha certainly has the resources to send others to do his dirty work," Auguste said to Magdalena. "Probably those who couldn't pay their bill at his filthy houses."
Siobhan's eyes narrowed and seemed to be eyeing me up and down. "My house has never had an enemy in Birsha. He doesn't have anything as far north."
"He could if he ran you out of business," Julian answered with a sniff. "Or frightened your girls out of service. I've waited for something like this since he moved to Paris. I know Berlin’s house is having issues already.”
"Esther, did you get any sense at the theater? Did he speak to you in any way—"