House of Salt and Sorrows

by Erin A. Craig

  “Thank Pontus!” Papa cried, crossing the room in three great strides to embrace me. Over his shoulder, Sterland perched on the end of a sofa and stiffened. “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!” He looked past me, searching. “But where’s Verity?”

  I counted my remaining sisters. Camille in an armchair near the fire. Lenore on the chaise. Mercy and Honor on the floor with a picture book between them.

  “What do you mean? Verity wasn’t with us.”

  “She never came down for breakfast. When we went upstairs, her room was empty, as was yours. We thought she was with you. Where have you been?”

  A wave of nausea swept over me as I envisioned my sister’s tiny body laid out in the snow, another victim of Viscardi’s bargaining and Kosamaras’s beguiling.

  Camille made a small noise, a sound of horror lodged deep in her throat. “Oh, Annaleigh, what have you done?”

  Gasps rose around the room, and Camille leaned forward, her eyes hot and accusing.

  I felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath my feet. “What do you mean?”

  “Where is she? What did you do to Verity?”

  “Do? Nothing! I was on Hesperus, relighting Old Maude’s beacon. Silas died in his sleep…. And Fisher…”

  Papa’s face grew hard with confusion. “Fisher died weeks ago, Annaleigh.”

  “No…I mean, yes, he did, but we didn’t know until—”

  “Know?” Camille repeated. “There was an accident on Hesperus. One of the oil cans exploded…. We went to his funeral. Don’t you remember? You cried the whole way there.”

  “And back,” Mercy added.

  “What?” I heard their words, understood each one’s individual meaning, but when they were put together—when they were strung together in an accusation—it was like hearing an unfamiliar language.

  And then I heard the laughter.

  It started in the corner of the room, growing louder and deeper until the cackles rang across the arched ceiling, threatening to bring it crumbling down. But no one else looked up. I turned to Cassius, silently pleading for help, but he only shrugged. He didn’t hear it either.

  “Kosamaras is behind everything! She’s making you misremember—all of you.”

  Papa and Camille exchanged uncomfortable glances. “That doesn’t make any sense, Annaleigh. Why would a Harbinger be here?”

  I balled my hands into fists, wanting to shriek. How could they not see this? “She’s messing with your memories. That funeral never happened. Fisher has been here since the triplets’ ball.”

  “Annaleigh, you know he hasn’t.” Camille stood up. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. First with Eulalie, then that whole scene in the marketplace with Edgar. And I thought it must have been terrible for you, finding both their bodies. Then Rosalie and Ligeia went missing—only to be found, again, by you. And I tried to push away the thoughts, the wonderings. I tried to tell myself you’d never hurt one of us. You loved us too much. But now Verity? Annaleigh, how could you?”

  My mouth dropped open. “You can’t believe that. You’re not seeing things clearly.”

  Camille crossed over to me, each step a fresh threat. “You’ve been blaming the curse, but it was you all along, wasn’t it?”

  I wanted to flee but was frozen in place, too shocked to react. Even though I knew Kosamaras was playing Camille, her words still stung, wounding deep. “What are you saying?”

  “I think you’ve been wanting to be the heir all along. Inherit Highmoor, inherit everything.”

  “Camille!” I cried out. “You know that’s not true! I’d never do anything to hurt any of you, least of all Verity! Killing her wouldn’t put me any closer to inheriting Highmoor. Surely you see how mad that sounds.”

  “Mad,” she agreed. “Seen any moths lately?”

  My eyes darted to Papa. He was the only one who knew about that night in the gallery.

  “Roland!” Camille shouted, calling for the valet.

  “He’s not here. He’s at the shipwreck,” I said. “All the footmen left for…”

  I trailed off as Roland entered the room. He paused at the threshold, his eyebrows raised, waiting for instruction.

  “You’re not really here,” I murmured. “You can’t be.”

  I felt my family’s eyes fall on me, their weighted stares ranging from pity to horror, all pressing in on me until I couldn’t breathe.

  The room spun around me sharply, and I sank to my knees. Colors leached away, leaving everything in shades of gray, then suddenly flashed back, vivid and more saturated than ever. I squeezed my eyes shut against the brightness, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I saw exactly what was about to happen.

  Roland would haul me from the room and lock me away. Cassius wouldn’t be able to stop them. They’d say I would be taken to Astrea to stand trial, but Camille wouldn’t let her sisters’ murderer leave Highmoor unscathed, especially with a Harbinger feeding her lies.

  Would Camille poison one of my meals? Make it look as if I’d used the bedclothes to hang myself? Kosamaras would cross my name off her list, one step closer to her murderous goal.

  Candlelight caught on oily tracks running down Camille’s face. Though they were faint, it was enough to see Kosamaras was at work, altering her memories.

  Without thinking, I grabbed Cassius’s dagger and whirled around, brandishing it at Sterland.

  “Annaleigh, no!” Cassius shouted behind me, but I did not waver.

  “Annaleigh, put that down,” Papa ordered, approaching me from the side.

  I countered, keeping the blade trained on Sterland. “He did this. He made the pact. He’s behind everything, Papa.”

  Sterland’s face turned red. “What? What are you talking about?”

  I tried to still the tremor in my hands as I stared down the dagger’s blade at my father’s lifelong friend. “Tell them! Tell everyone about Viscardi and the bargain. Tell them the dancing and the balls weren’t real. Tell them all about the deal you made!”

  “Deal? What deal? Annaleigh, you’ve gone mad!” He glanced around, presumably searching for a weapon.

  “You’re punishing Papa because he became the Duke, stealing everything from you.”

  His mouth opened in surprise. “What? I would never—”

  “Sterland, is this true?” Papa asked, eyes widening. “You think I killed Evangeline? My own sister? Just for some title?”

  “Of course not,” Sterland said. He raised his hands as I took a step toward him, swishing the dagger back and forth. “I admit it’s crossed my mind before, but I never truly…Ortun, I don’t know what the girl is talking about. I never made a deal—certainly not with a Trickster.”

  “Papa, do something!” Honor or Mercy—I couldn’t take my eyes off Sterland to be certain—let out a strangled sob.

  A thought trickled down, running through my head like rainfall on a stone wall. Though it seemed clear Kosamaras was using Camille’s accusations to have me killed, maybe she was creating all this confusion to make me strike at Sterland first?

  Which meant Sterland hadn’t made the bargain…

  Or had she known I would jump to that conclusion and wouldn’t be able to kill him, thus protecting the dealmaker?

  Or, worse, was she putting these ideas into my head now, overloading me until I snapped? My temples pounded, my mind cycling through too many possibilities. How was I ever to know which was right?

  “Annaleigh, why don’t you give me the knife?” Papa said, approaching slowly, hands raised in supplication. “You’re upset, obviously. You’ve been through a lot these last few weeks. Let’s talk, and I’m sure we’ll come up with a solution.”

  “No. Sterland has to die before the bargain can be completed. This is the only way to fix it. Tell them, Cassius.”

  I glan
ced over my shoulder. I needed his reassurance. This was rapidly spinning out of my control. But when I looked to the doorway, he was gone.

  A sound of confusion escaped me. I hurried out into the hallway, but he was nowhere to be found. “Cassius?” Crossing back into the room, I scanned it more thoroughly. “Where did he go?”

  Camille frowned, confusion clouding her face. “Who?”

  “Cassius.” I turned back to my sisters. “He’ll explain everything, Camille. I didn’t do anything to Verity, I promise you—”

  “Who are you talking about, Annaleigh?” Camille’s voice was calm and measured, as if she were talking to a madwoman. The real glint of fear in her eyes gave me pause. She was looking at me as if I was a madwoman.

  “Cassius…Cassius Corum. Captain Corum’s son.”

  “Captain Corum is dead.”

  “I know that. His son took his place at Churning. Why don’t you remember any of this?” Despite my best efforts, my voice rose in pitch as I spoke, verging dangerously on hysterics.

  “It’s like Elizabeth all over again,” Papa murmured. His face was ashen. I’d never seen him look so old. He offered Sterland a look of spent resignation. “I’m so sorry, old friend. Would you allow us a moment with just Annaleigh?”

  Sterland edged away from the chair, patting Papa on the back with remorseful condolence. “Of course, of course. Family affair and all that.” His eyes lingered on me, deep with sorrow. “If there’s any way I can be of assistance…”

  Papa thanked him and waved him away.

  “You’re just going to let him go?” I asked, watching him leave the room a free man. “Papa, he—”

  “Sterland isn’t the issue here.” The look on his face said everything his words did not.

  “I am?” I asked, aghast. “Me?”

  “No one else is seeing people who don’t exist.”

  My dagger clattered to the floor as the room swam in and out of focus. This was a mistake. It had to be. Cassius was real. I’d been with him. All night. He was the one who told me everything about Viscardi and the bargain. Kosamaras and her games.

  Her games…

  She’s the Harbinger of Madness, creating so many false visions and skewed realities that the poor soul takes his life just to end the torment.

  With his words ringing in my ears, I sank to my knees, shivering uncontrollably. Had Kosamaras made me imagine Cassius? Was she powerful enough to create an entire person from thin air? We’d had so many conversations, shared so many kisses. I remembered the look in his eyes when he said he liked me best. I could still feel his hands on my body. That couldn’t be manufactured, could it? He was real. He had to be.

  I remembered talking about him with my sisters. They’d seen him—I wasn’t the only one! But as quickly as my triumphant thought came, it was snatched away, like trying to hold on to the changing tides with your bare hands.

  Rosalie and Ligeia had spoken with him. They were dead and couldn’t vouch for him or me.

  “Honor! Mercy! You were with him at the tavern in Astrea. He bought you cider.” They stared blankly at me. “The day that Edgar…the day we got new slippers to replace the fairy shoes…”

  Even as I said this, I spotted a twinkle of jade. Incomprehension flooded through me as I pushed aside my skirts, staring at my fairy shoes, whole and intact. They looked as new as the day we’d unwrapped them. I quickly covered them back up, wishing I’d never noticed them.

  “Camille, you’ve seen him, I know you have. He sat right next to you at Churning! He was at the ball in Pelage….” I shook my head, trying to dislodge that thought. The balls weren’t real, and Cassius hadn’t been there.

  The truth crashed through me, falling from above like an anchor settling on the seafloor.

  Cassius hadn’t been at the ball in Pelage, even though I was so certain of his presence.

  Kosamaras had made me see him there.

  She’d made me see him everywhere.

  Slowly, watching Papa for approval, Camille crossed the room and knelt beside me. She rubbed soothing circles across my back, the way you would comfort a frightened horse, crazed from a storm. “You mean the triplets’ ball? Annaleigh, no one named Cassius was there.”

  “Not that ball. Stop saying my name like that.”

  “Like what?”

  I shoved her arm away from me. “Like I’ve gone mad. Like you’re trying to calm a mad person.”

  “No one thinks you’re mad, Annaleigh,” Papa said. “We’re just worried about you.”

  “And Verity,” Honor chimed in.

  I whipped around to her, a snarl rising in my throat. “I told you, she wasn’t with me!”

  Camille bit her lower lip, eyes shiny with growing tears. “But maybe she was with…this…Cassius?”

  A sharp blade of fear stabbed into my stomach. “How could you think I’d do something to Verity? It’s absurd! You know I could never hurt her!”

  “I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of this,” Papa said, snatching the dagger from the floor. Now in his hands, it was clearly nothing more than a butter knife, no doubt plucked from breakfast earlier that morning. The memory shimmered in my mind, bright and clear. I saw myself pick it up from the buffet and hide it in my skirt.

  “No,” I murmured, staring at the tiny bit of brass. “No, no, no, no.” I curled into a ball, gripping my arms over my head, trying to make the pieces fit together. “What’s happening to me?”

  The dark cackle rose up again in the corner of the room. Camille stared at me, worry etched on her face. It was obvious she heard nothing. Just as suddenly as before, it sounded now from the right. I knew without looking Kosamaras would not be there. The laughter continued, creeping closer and closer to me until I realized it had been inside my mind all along, fusing itself into my brain until I broke.

  I smacked my temple to dislodge this most unwelcome intruder, but the cackling only grew. I hit myself again. And again, using more force. Part of me was aware of Papa and Camille rushing in to wrestle my hands away, deterring the strikes, but I couldn’t stop. When they pinned my arms back, I flailed forward, trying to smash my head on the floor. If I could just break it open, even a little, the voice could escape and leave me in peace.

  The sound of porcelain shattering momentarily broke through my fit, causing me to pause. A vase from one of the bookshelves had exploded into hundreds of sharp pieces across the floor.

  I was so relieved to see everyone’s heads snap toward the noise, I sobbed.

  A marble bust of Pontus slid along the edge of a higher shelf, pushed by unseen hands. It balanced precariously for a moment, as if waiting to make sure everyone was watching it, before plunging to the ground.

  Honor and Mercy shrieked, racing away from the broken bits. Neither had on shoes—they’d staunchly refused to go about the house in the sailor boots Papa had issued—and they wailed as the wicked shards sank into their feet.

  Echoing them, a prolonged scream sounded from upstairs. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as the pitch grew higher, trailing off to a ragged end.

  “What now?” Papa groaned.

  Lenore straightened, sitting at the edge of the chaise. For the first time since the morning Rosalie and Ligeia went missing, her eyes looked sharp and present. She pointed to the ceiling.

  Another cry tore the air apart.

  “Morella,” Mercy said, following Lenore’s finger.

  It punched through my stomach, clearing my thoughts—and that awful laughter—from my head. “The twins.”

  “Stay here. All of you,” Papa ordered. Morella’s howls swelled louder, ripping through the house like a tsunami, bathing everything in their pain and misery.

  “With her?”

  I turned back to what remained of the Graces. They were scared of me. Tears stung my eyes
as I watched them cower from my gaze. “Mercy?”

  “Papa, please don’t leave us,” she whimpered, holding her arms out, clearly wanting to be carried out of the room.

  With a growl of impatience, he doubled back and knelt beside Mercy and Honor, folding them both into his arms.

  I grasped my fingers, twisting them together in painful knots, ashamed to meet my sisters’ faces. I’d frightened them. They truly believed I’d done something to Verity.

  My breath hitched.

  The night of the moths, Eulalie’s ghost had accused me of murdering her. I’d passed it off as a bad dream, a case of sleepwalking gone horribly wrong.

  What if it wasn’t?

  What if Kosamaras had used me to push Eulalie from the cliffs? And Edgar from the shop—I’d obviously not been with Cassius when it occurred.

  But no. I would never have hurt my sisters, no matter what. This was just the beguiling.

  Wasn’t it?

  If Kosamaras could bring a dead man back to life, create dozens of balls from thin air, and make me believe in a person who wasn’t real, I shuddered to think what else she had in store for me.

  What had I done to my little sister?

  Papa broke their hug. “Morella needs me, and I need you to be brave right now.” He kissed their foreheads, one after the other. “My brave little sailors. Camille…I’ll likely need your assistance.”

  She blanched. “But I don’t know anything about childbirth. Annaleigh takes care of her. She’s the one who’s been talking with the midwife. She helped with Mama’s deliveries.”

  He looked me up and down, then sighed. “I’m not taking her up there in this state.”

  I hated the way he spoke over me, as if I wasn’t fit to be included in the conversation. Studying the butter knife in his hand, I supposed he might be right.

  I opened my mouth, forcing my voice to remain even. “The midwife left a book the last time she was here. There are pictures in it. You and Camille should be able to follow them. They’re very detailed.”