The Wolf Witch

by Kara Jorgensen

  “We’ll talk later. Get ready for breakfast and try not to give us away,” Wesley whispered.

  “Mr. Talbot, go first. I want to ask my brother one more thing.”

  Nadir hesitantly looked between Emmeline and Wesley, but it wasn’t until she pressed her hand to his arm that he finally complied and slipped into the hall.

  “What is it?”

  Emmeline opened her mouth ready to snap at him only to close her mouth with a huff. “Have you ever heard the word ‘heoruwearh’ before?”

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  Deflating a fraction, Emmeline shook her head. “Nothing, I just heard it and thought it might mean something.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Solace

  Emmeline watched the fire eat through her grey dress. She had never loved it, she even despised what it represented, but it still hurt to watch it char now that it was beyond redemption. Upon closer inspection, the skirt had been torn in several places by branches, and along the hem, a several inch high watermark of mud and snow sullied the fabric beyond hope. Even if Price could fix it, Emmeline feared if one of Roulet’s maids happened across it, they would know of her outing and report back to their mistress or master. Even if Wesley trusted Colonel Roulet, she wasn’t taking any chances. Tucking her shoes and her remaining soiled clothes deep in her trunk, she donned a clean outfit and tidied her hair in the mirror. Dread coiled around Emmeline’s ribs as she checked her reflection one more time. She didn’t want to go down to breakfast and make polite conversation with murderers, especially when she knew her face would betray her feelings.

  Holding her head high and her back rigidly straight, Emmeline headed for the foyer, but as she stepped off the stairs, a hand clasped her arm. She swung her free hand and jerked back only to have her captor catch her other arm and pull her against him. As Emmeline collided with his chest, her panic abated at the sight of his ink-stained hands.

  “Why are you so violent?” Nadir hissed as he released her arms and stepped back. Dark circles shadowed his eyes beneath a rim of kohl, though the rest of him looked bright and polished in hunter green and dark blue. “One of these days you’re going to give me a black eye.”

  “Then, don’t startle me. Get my attention like a normal person, Mr. Talbot! What is it you want? We should really get to breakfast.”

  Nadir glanced down the hall before whispering, “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was a werewolf?”

  “It isn’t exactly something I thought I could bring up over dinner. You would have thought I was delusional. Besides, I…”

  She didn’t want to say it, and she didn’t have to because the shadow of guilt on his face said it all. He waved away the thought and gently held her hand between his.

  “You’re right. We all have things we fear to share. Are you a—?”

  “No, but my father is. Apparently you can’t be a medium and a werewolf.”

  “Well, of course not. You would be far too interesting, then. How would the rest of us compete?”

  Emmeline laughed. “Are you truly all right with this? I didn’t want to scare you off with my strangeness. First dead people lingering about, then this.” Not to mention the fire, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

  “Truly. As long as none of the Bisclavrets try to tear me limb from limb.”

  “Don’t give them cause, and you should be fine. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you would trust me if you knew.”

  Meeting his gaze, Emmeline pinned it with her own. His pulse echoed through their joined hands until they seemed to blend into one. Calloused fingers brushed the soft skin of her wrist, sending a wave of gooseflesh up her arms. At the touch of his hand on her cheek, Emmeline’s eyes fluttered closed. Nadir Talbot’s warmth radiated through her. Everyone she had ever loved or thought she could love was dead or gone, but Nadir refused leave. Emmeline’s breath hitched at the touch of Nadir’s thumb on her bottom lip. He was waiting for her, and all it would take was for her to lean in and close the gap between them. Standing on tiptoe, she felt the caress of his breath on her lips and the curl of a smile beneath her mouth as she kissed him. The first came reverent and tentative, but when she brought her lips back to his, she marveled at the way he parted for her. How pliant a man could be at her touch. He returned exactly what she gave, letting her set the pace. A sweep of tongue or a brush of a tooth was met in kind until finally she drew back for air. Her head swam with a heady feeling she had read about but never truly experienced. She felt giddy and detached, but at the brush of flesh beneath her fingers and the weight of Nadir’s forehead resting against her own, Emmeline returned to the hall.

  “I would trust you with my life,” Nadir said softly, his voice hoarse.

  A sad smile crossed Emmeline’s lips as she slowly pulled out of his arms. Death had haunted her since she was a child, stealing away what happiness remained. If Nadir Talbot trusted her with his life, he may not have one for long.

  ***

  Wesley watched Emmeline and Mr. Talbot as they gathered their breakfast at the sideboard. Something was going on that made them cast awkward glances at each other before darting their gazes away. Oh. Well, at least it was covering up their panic enough that they weren’t pointedly staring at Colonel and Mrs. Roulet. Wesley sat at their host’s side, listening intently as he described the woods around the house and what he liked to do in warmer weather. The colonel’s face had lit up as Wesley told him of the bayous surrounding his family’s home in Louisiana, and Wesley felt an odd sense of relief at that. The man had been so vulnerable and fearful, and though, yes, it was the light of day, he seemed more upbeat than he had been the day before. When Wesley looked up from his plate, he found Mrs. Roulet smiling at him. She must know what her husband had asked of him and what he offered. Wesley slowly smiled back between bites, hoping he didn’t look as prickly as he felt. He would have to start working with Roulet if he could spare a moment away from the others. Balancing a group of murderers with a hot-housed wolf would have been par for the course as the Rougarou. No pressure.

  Emmeline sat across from Wesley with Mr. Talbot at her side and Mrs. March across from him. The latter woman barely glanced up from her porridge to murmur a greeting. At the trill of bell-clear voices in the hall, Emmeline paled and Mrs. March flinched. Lady Bourgot swept in looking every bit the toast of society. Her dress looked far too fancy for eating eggs and deviled kidneys, but then again, it deflected nicely from what might be sullying her husband’s hands.

  “And where is Lord Bourgot?” Mrs. Roulet asked as she joined Lady Bourgot at the sideboard.

  She didn’t waver as she said, “He ran into Gernier in the hall and started talking of horses.” She shook her head and tutted. “They should be down shortly, I hope.”

  As they sat back at the table, Lord and Lady Verdun appeared at the threshold. Lord Verdun’s face was pale and drawn. Sweat glistened on his brow as he lurched into the dining room with halting steps. At the sight and smell of the food, he blenched, and for a moment, Wesley feared he may vomit. His wife steadied him, bracing his arm and back as she led him to a chair at the far end of the table. Fear and distress rolled off of her, and beneath Lord Verdun’s cologne, Wesley could make out the scent of the not-wolf. It wasn’t the same as in London, but it was close.

  “Lord Verdun, are you all right?” Colonel Roulet said, rising to come to his side. “Should we send for a doctor?”

  Lord Verdun waved him away with a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, but I’m quite all right. Just a little under the weather. Too much brandy, perhaps.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite.”

  Lady Verdun looked between the colonel and her husband with furrowed brows before turning back to the buffet. Filling her own plate, she brought her husband an egg and toast with a cup of tea. He thanked her, his voice raspy and thin as he eyed his plate warily. Lady Verdun looked pleadingly at the others, but Emmeline was focused completely on her eggs and sausage while Nadir
Talbot chatted with Lady Bourgot about the latest fashions.

  “Lord Verdun,” Wesley began softly. “Perhaps, it may help to lie down after breakfast. I don’t want to overstep, but I doubt Colonel Roulet or any of us would be upset if you needed to rest a while longer.”

  Wesley gave Colonel Roulet a pointed look. If Verdun and Bourgot were the not-wolves, they must know that Wesley came from a family of werewolves as Colonel Roulet had. Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t transforming into a werewolf, but they didn’t need to know that.

  “Yes, I think that would be prudent, Lord Verdun. It would be a shame to miss what we have planned today, but your health is far more important.”

  Verdun’s hands shook as he tucked them into his lap. When he turned to Wesley, his eyes seemed far away. It was the same haunted look he had seen in hot-house survivors. Had they told him what would happen when he became a monster? Did he know what he had done or was it only coming back to him in snatches of blood and gore? Verdun hadn’t seemed vicious the day before, and he didn’t seem so now.

  “Verdun, how are you feeling, old boy?” Bourgot called as he swaggered in with David Elsworth at his side and Gernier trailing their heels. “You look positively green.”

  “I wonder if you have whatever Mr. Doughty had,” Gernier added as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “What’s wrong with Mr. Doughty?” Colonel Roulet asked in unison with his wife.

  “Oh, poor chap wasn’t feeling well last night. Asked if one of us could bring him into town. We helped him pack his things and dropped him off in Stow-on-the-Wold.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me? I should have seen to my guests.”

  “We didn’t want to bother you, Colonel. Besides, it was very late, and I have my own steamer. I figured it was less trouble to take my cab than finding and waking you or bothering the servants,” Elsworth replied.

  Elsworth didn’t strike Wesley as the kind of man who minded bothering the help.

  “What state was he in when you left him?”

  The table turned to face Mrs. March who seemed to have lost what little color she had. For a moment, Wesley had forgotten March and Doughty knew each other. Where Doughty was warm and full of stories, March felt unapproachable and otherworldly in the worst way. What would have been alluring in one woman, made her cold. Beneath the stiffness and sidelong looks, he could smell her fear as well, though it was muddled with confusion.

  “Quite poorly I’m afraid.”

  “Would you be willing to take me to Stow-on-the-Wold? I would like to make certain he’s all right.”

  “Of course. I would be happy to take you.” When Colonel Roulet opened his mouth to protest, Elsworth added, “Let me. I know the way, and it’s really no imposition.”

  Emmeline shot Wesley a pointed look from across the table, and he returned it with a nearly imperceivable shake of his head. The murders in London had been days and streets apart. The chance of Mrs. March meeting an untimely end so soon after Mr. Doughty was unlikely. They would probably dump her in the middle of nowhere, but at least she would be out of harm’s way.

  Colonel Roulet cleared his throat, and when the others had settled in with their plates and appeared to be listening, he said, “I know our party is at an inopportune time with the weather being as it is, but I thought perhaps you men would like to go shooting. I had one of my men set up the old targets and clean the rifles if you’re interested. It’s been a while since I shot targets and clay pigeons, so let me know if you require anything else.”

  Bourgot and Gernier exchanged a look before nodding their ascent.

  “You won’t be joining them, Colonel Roulet?” Lady Bourgot asked.

  A line of worry formed in the furrow of his brow. “No, no. I decided after I retired from the army that I wouldn’t shoot anymore. I’ve already fired far too many bullets in my lifetime, but that doesn’t mean others can’t take advantage of the property.”

  Wesley’s ears perked at the possibility. “Colonel, would you mind if I stayed behind, so you can show me the grounds and tell me the history of the land? I’ve never been to a country house before, and I may never be at one again.”

  “You don’t want to shoot, Bisclavret?” Gernier asked between bites of deviled kidney.

  “Honestly, not really. I handle guns regularly in my line of work. It isn’t much of a novelty.”

  The nobleman narrowed his eyes at Wesley before the realization dawned on him. “Oh, I forgot you work.”

  The wolf released a low growl and Wesley didn’t disagree. “Would you be willing, Colonel Roulet?”

  Wesley met the colonel’s eyes and angled his head as he had the night before when he stilled Roulet’s wolf. The other man’s eyes brightened with relief and trepidation. Wesley’s wolf paced happily below the surface, nudging to be let out. He pushed it back down with a silent apology. Soon.

  “I would be happy to. As long as the others don’t mind my absence.”

  “I think we can manage on our own. Talbot, are you coming with us?”

  Nadir Talbot stilled at Elsworth’s question, slowly lowering his coffee cup to the table. For a moment, Wesley feared Talbot might turn sickly pale again, but by the time the cup hit the table cloth, a startling sultry grin had cut across his features.

  “Heavens no, I can’t think of anything I should like to do less. I’m not one for brutish pastimes. No offense meant, Colonel. I plan to do a little writing. Every holiday is a working holiday when your publisher is breathing down your neck.”

  Giving Talbot a derisive huff, Elsworth sneered and added, “It’s probably better this way. I would hate to have to show you how.”

  If that had been meant to goad Talbot into going with them, it fell flat when the writer gave Elsworth a blank look before turning to Lady Verdun to compliment her sapphire earrings. As they ate, Wesley’s attention covertly migrated to Lord Verdun. The man sat in silence, holding his head and pushing his eggs with the tines of his fork. Verdun glanced at Mrs. March, his eyes glistening and red, before turning his face away. If he hadn’t known what he had done, Wesley might have felt bad for him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Making Promises

  Why did Emmeline ever think she wanted to be a member of the nobility? After her sixth round of cards, she wanted to scream, and apparently, she was the only one who hadn’t brought a sewing basket. Somehow when she received an invitation that included a possessed grimoire, she didn’t think she would be wasting her time on needlepoint daisies. Lord and Lady Dorset’s gatherings had always felt warm and natural. Everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. People squabbled over politics and the feasibility of Lady Dorset’s inventions, and no one gave the others prudish looks or took offense. The men and women adjourned together and stayed together until everyone went to bed or left for home. This proper version felt far more awkward and stilted. She had nothing to say to these women, and they knew nothing of her. Emmeline had asked if anyone wanted to play billiards, but Lady Verdun and Lady Bourgot had demurred while Mrs. Roulet looked confused. At least if Mrs. March was still there, they could have discussed mediumship.

  Instead, Emmeline excused herself and took to the writing desk in the morning room to compose a list of potential guardians. Emmeline frowned at her candidates. It was rather short and uninspired, but in the time since she lost her mother, her social circle had collapsed into more of a dot. If she had remained in Oxford after her mother’s death, things may have been different, but that wasn’t worth contemplating now.

  “I thought that was you. Why didn’t you come to the library?”

  Turning, Emmeline found Nadir Talbot leaning against the threshold. His jacket had been left unbuttoned as if he had taken it off while he worked and the inky ghosts of words lined the side of his palm.

  “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “What I’m hearing is I didn’t want to bother with you.”

  Emmeline scowled but sighed and set her pen aside. “Do
n’t put words in my mouth, Mr. Talbot. I would have come in, but I assumed you wouldn’t want to be disturbed while you worked. Aren’t you the one who complains when your cousin interrupts you?”

  Crossing the room, Nadir folded his arms across his chest and perched on the edge of the desk. “True, but some distractions are always welcome.”

  Hear crawled up Emmeline’s face at the phantom sensation of his lips brushing hers. Shaking it off, she fingered her pen and focused on her papers. “Truthfully, I only just sat down.”

  “Should I leave you to your work?” he asked without a hint of malice.

  “No.” Holding up the page, she offered him her meager list of half-crossed out names. “It isn’t going well.”

  “I see.” His head snapped in the direction of the parlor at the sound of Lady Bourgot at the piano. “Let’s discuss this in the library. At least it will afford us a little privacy.”

  Emmeline hesitated. What was she afraid of? Certainly it wasn’t impropriety. Anyone at the party lost their right to complain after the murder. Besides, she had spent countless hours in Nadir Talbot’s company without a hint of anything more than playful banter and spiteful remarks. One kiss wouldn’t change that, yet it had. It had morphed their friendship into something she dreaded, something that she feared could only end one way. She could tell him it was a mistake and that they shouldn’t do it again. But she would betray herself. Even now as she took his hand and stood, she wanted to know how it would feel to have his arms around her.

  Shutting the pocket door behind them, Nadir motioned for Emmeline to sit at the desk. Pages of half-written paragraphs littered the surface. As Nadir gathered them into a pile, she spied whole sentences that had been scribbled over and rewritten and a paragraph near the top of the pile had been crossed out with an angry hand. Suddenly she didn’t feel so bad about her scant list. Turning the nearest armchair toward her, Nadir settled in with the pile of papers on his lap.