An Echo in the Dark
“Why are there villagers here?" I asked, staring out the window at the ruins of Rooksgrave and the collection of men and women circling the grounds. I gaped as one young man climbed out over a windowsill, something shining in his grip, others hurrying over to inspect it.
"They started to arrive as we were readying to leave yesterday morning," Jonathon said.
"Vultures. They'll think of reasons to leave as they see me," Amon growled out under his breath.
I was dressed in some of Amon's clothing, a little ill-fitting, but the ease of trousers and boots was refreshing. There were two other carriages behind us, with more of Rooksgrave's male guests, coming to help with the aftermath of the fire, all sporting some kind of garment that disguised them as normal-looking men. Even Booker was wearing a scarf that made his white marble appear as human, albeit scarred, flesh.
The carriage pulled to stop in front of a young woman in a simple skirt and large jacket, staring up at the broken bones of the manor from beneath an enormous hat, heavily trimmed with lace and silk flowers.
Mary.
Our eyes met through the glass of the carriage door as she turned at our arrival, and for a moment, I thought she didn't recognize me, her expression so blank. Then her nose rose into the air and she turned, taking the arm of the stocky man from the hat shop, saying something in his ear that prompted him to guide her back to the road and away from the manor.
Vultures indeed. And with the sun setting on the blackened stone of the manor, it did look like a carcass picked clean. By Birsha and his fiery ifrit, by the villagers scavenging for curiosities from the house they never understood.
Amon stepped out of the carriage, walking slowly forward, eyeing each of the people still milling about, until one by one they all found themselves wandering back to the road, chattering in excitement.
"S'pose if they wanted the jewelry they should've taken it with them, shouldn't they've, Gabe?" one woman cried out cheerily, wiggling something sparkly in the air in front of her.
Amon waited for the locals to drift away, waving us out as the last one reached the road, not one of them looking back as we hurried out of the carriages in a rush. There were one or two other girls, like Sally who was missing Enrique, dressed practically and sporting steely expressions. We Rooksgrave girls had changed after the attack, no longer flowers waiting on chaises for our gentlemen's attention, but with something monstrous in our hearts now as well. Fear or anger or the craving for revenge.
Amon's brownie staff had worked gleefully to feed us and wash us all through the day. Even if it was only due to pure exhaustion I was able to find a few hours of rest, tucked between Mr. Tanner and Booker's massive frames.
"It's going to be a long night," Jonathon said, his hand in mine, my free arm hooked into Booker's. "If you get tired, you can—"
I squeezed Jonathon's fingers, rising to my toes and kissing his mouth silent. "I'm going to be fine."
"You'll stay within sight of one of the men at all times?" Jonathon asked, Mr. Tanner's worry peeking through his gaze with a flash of green.
"I will."
"If we feel the tunnels are safe you can—"
"Sir," I murmured, Jonathon's breath stuttering into silence. "Everything will be all right. Go do what you need to. I will do what I can and stay safe."
"I stay with her first," Booker said as we reached Amon at the hollow doorway of the manor.
Amon nodded, and Jonathon released me with a final kiss on my forehead.
"Let's see what we can find for Magdalena, hm?" I asked Booker as men and women drifted into the manor around us.
Booker nodded solemnly, his right hand covering mine on his elbow.
* * *
The library wasa sea of ashes, the floor still warm under my boots. There was a horned man stationed at the door, and a large green beast of a man like Hunter inside of the room, keeping an eye on the few of us collecting anything of worth in large pillowcases.
"Eight years," Lilah whispered, staring out the broken window that overlooked the glossy black loch.
There was moonlight flowing into the dark room, and the horned man had a small lamp in his hand, the collection of us just little shadows and flickers of light as we wandered lost through the house.
"Eight years?" I repeated.
"That's how long I've lived at Rooksgrave," Lilah said, nodding slowly.
Lilah hadn't lost her gentleman in the fire, but she'd lost her home, I realized with a sudden frozen feeling running through me.
"My father died and we discovered his debts. My mother…she gave up, I suppose. And suddenly, all the friends who were supposedly so sympathetic in their condolences didn't want to take me on and risk my troubles becoming theirs. But apparently, one of our housemaids had a little fae blood. She told me about Rooksgrave, wrote to Magdalena for me. And Magda just let me…stay. No questions asked. No clients. For three years, I was just welcome to live here." Lilah nodded once, then picked up a small dusty figurine from a shelf, polishing it with her skirt.
"Will you stay?" I asked her.
"Yes," Lilah said immediately, her expression hardening.
"Really?" Teresa asked from the other corner of the room. "Neem wants me to leave with him."
"Is it the debt?" I asked, thinking of my own gentlemen's offer.