Though fatigue did its level best to drag down her eyelids, Briar was too stubborn to give in to her exhaustion. She resorted to pinching herself sharply on the arm to keep from falling asleep. As the only practitioner of the infernal arts in the group, Briar knew she was their best line of defense; sleep was a luxury she couldn’t yet afford. She’d felt some relief when they left the suffocating confines of London. In the countryside, she would see a swarm of imps long before they could attack. It did her more good than she’d realized it might to see the sky again, unbounded by rooftops on all sides. The air was cleaner, the birds sang, but Briar still couldn’t relax, not until everyone was there and safe.
By the time they rolled into Grimsby Lodge’s carriage yard, night was almost upon them. The sky was still light enough to see by, though darkening swiftly in the east. A few stars were already visible in the darkest part of the evening sky. Briar alighted from the carriage, ignoring the driver’s hand as was her wont. Althea accepted the aid gratefully and made her slow way down to solid ground. Pain creased her face and her movements were labored. They’d stopped for meals and provisions, but it had been nine hours in a carriage. The lack of movement had not been good for her leg.
The lodge was dark, exactly as Briar had hoped. The building’s stone wings and walls would not have looked out of place centuries before. Spring had a bite to it this far north, which Briar hadn’t considered. Althea wasn’t likely to be very comfortable here, though she had yet to complain.
Briar made her way up to the main doors, towering things through which someone could have comfortably driven a small herd of cattle. The door was locked, which was unsurprising. As Althea made her labored way over to her, Briar licked her fingers and sketched a small circle around the handle. When she keyed the final rune, the lock clicked open and the door creaked a few inches inward. Briar pushed it open enough to allow Althea to make her way inside.
“I’ll have to light the lamps and kindle a fire,” Briar said.
“It appears no one has been here for decades,” Althea said. “I imagine that will take some time. I shall assist you. There are matches in my trunk.”
“If you prefer, you could be seated. I’ll have everything lit presently.”
“I’m not dead yet, girl. If I sit now I’ll be so stiff that movement will swiftly become impossible.”
“Very well.”
The driver pushed open the door further and staggered in with Althea’s trunk. It was much too large to be handled comfortably by one person. He put it down with a thud after Althea pointed him at the nearest wall.
“Patterson,” Althea said, her voice brisk, “see what you can find in the way of wood. Let’s do what we can to dull the edge of this chill.”
“Yes, m’lady.” The chauffeur left quickly.
Althea opened her trunk and dug around inside it while Briar looked around. The entry hall was large and echoing. Much of the decor consisted of hunting trophies that hadn’t stood up well across the intervening years. A stuffed pheasant at one end of the large mantel had lost most of its feathers and looked quite diseased. It had been too much to hope that some wood would still be laid in the fireplace. Whoever had closed up the lodge had done an excellent job, much to their current inconvenience.
Candles still stood in their holders, at least those that had been left behind. Briar carved the rune for fire into the stiff wax, and the candle came to life with a small gasp. It burned red for a moment before the color receded to the warm yellow-orange of a normal flame. She touched the flame to the wick of a nearby candle and wordlessly handed one to Althea who was still looking through her trunk. It contained an interesting assortment of objects. The top layer had been clothes, but Althea had pushed those aside in her search. No less than three pistols sat to one side of the trunk, complete with ammunition and a kit Briar assumed was for cleaning the weapons. Next to those was a closed doctor’s bag. That would come in handy if it did indeed contain medical tools. Based on the gadgets and contraptions Briar couldn’t put a name to, that was an even chance at best.
Joseph and Isabella showed up soon after they’d found and distributed candles throughout the ground floor hall and parlor. The driver was trying to coax a fire to life on the hearth, but with little success. Althea set him to checking the flue. Sure enough, it was clogged with years’ worth of accumulated debris.
“It’s quite chilly in here,” Joseph said, rubbing his hands briskly. “Are you comfortable, my dear?”
Althea crossed over to him. After taking one look at her pronounced limp, Joseph hastened over to her and gathered her up in a large hug. He kissed the side of her cheek and Briar found herself looking away. Their affection was real, that couldn’t be denied. She found herself staring at Isabella, who watched her parents, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. Somewhere along the way, she’d cleaned up the wounds on her face and neck. They looked much less angry now, though the scratches were unmistakable. It was Briar’s fault Isabella had come to be wounded twice in less than twenty-four hours. Her own injuries had already started to itch. She healed more quickly than most humans did, at least she hoped it was that and not an infection. Imp claws were not known for being overly clean. She should have Isabella take a look at them to make sure they were all right when she changed out of the coveralls.
“Oh no,” Briar muttered under her breath.
“What is it?” Isabella asked as quietly.
“I have no clothes to change into. Everything I own is at the earl’s townhouse.”
“Never fear. I have something you can borrow. Mother had a trunk standing by for me and one for Father.”
“She’s a well-prepared kind of person, isn’t she?”
“That she is. Sometimes a little too much.”
The driver leaped back from the fireplace as the materials clogging the chimney chose that moment to break free. A large cloud of soot and dust belched forth and settled on the floor, covering furniture like a smothering blanket. He stammered apologies, though everyone had been far enough away to avoid the mess.
“Never mind that, Patterson,” Althea said. “Just get us a fire, if you please.”
“Of course, ma’am.” Now that there was some airflow over the hearth, the wood caught quickly. Before too long, a fire roared away cheerfully on the hearthstones.
Patterson removed the coverings from some nearby chairs and pulled them as close to the hearth as possible. Althea levered herself down into the nearest one. Her face smoothed as she allowed herself to let go of the pain of keeping herself together.
“Oh yes, Izzy and I stopped at the village pub to pick up some dinner,” Joseph said. “We’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“That sounds lovely, Joseph.” Althea smiled up at him. “The girls should get changed for dinner, however. They’re in quite a state.”
Briar stared longingly at the paper-wrapped packages he’d produced. At the mention of food, her stomach had tried to wrap itself around her spinal cord. It gurgled loudly in the stillness of the hall.
Althea ignored it. “Make yourselves presentable, then we’ll discuss what happened today.”
“Yes, Mother.” Isabella grabbed Briar by the elbow and pulled her into the cold hall. “It’s best to do as she says when she gets like this.”
“I don’t let my own mother order me around like this. I’m not going to let her do so.”
“Then we’ll find ourselves bundled up and back in London before you can say anything.”
“She can’t—”
“She will. I know it’s difficult for you, but you need to let her be in charge of some of the small things right now.”
It was hard enough having Althea arrayed against her, but with Isabella taking her mother’s side, Briar felt like she might as well be pushing a boulder uphill. She was exhausted, she ached deep within her bones, and all she wanted was a few days’ sleep. Using her own blood for magic had put quite the strain on her. She still had no idea how many
hours she and Isabella had managed to sneak last night while curled around each other on the remains of the cot, but it hadn’t been enough to recharge her. Their time together had provided some respite, but she refused to use Isabella in that way. She would have to allow her energy reserves to replenish naturally, which would take time and rest. Lots of rest.
“Very well.” There would be time enough to fight about it after she’d gotten some sleep. Hopefully Althea wouldn’t have gotten used to having her way by then.
She assisted Isabella in bringing in her trunk from the horseless they’d rented for the trip up. It looked quite different from the one owned by the Sherards. After spending hours on the road staring at the modifications Isabella’s father had made to his carriage, the standard one seemed quite unremarkable, spare even.
They maneuvered the trunk upstairs. By the weight, it seemed likely that, like Althea’s luggage, it was packed with more than clothes. They stuck their heads into a few of the upstairs rooms before deciding on one that looked like it might be an adequate sleeping chamber.
Briar took a moment to recover on the edge of the bed. Isabella pulled a white sheet off a heavy wooden dressing table that hadn’t been fashionable for a century or more.
A large face dominated the mirror. It glared at them, eyes glowing red.
“You’re not Briar,” her mother boomed. “I demand to talk to my daughter!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isabella blinked at the face staring at her. The resemblance to Briar was unmistakable, especially through the cheekbones and the sensual lips. Briar didn’t have the jet-black horns that curved back proudly from this woman’s forehead, and Isabella thought perhaps she’d caught a glimpse of pointed ears.
“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” The demon wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Are you perhaps the one responsible for my daughter’s current state? Come closer so I can get a better look at you.” She leered deliciously, one eyebrow arched high on her forehead.
Isabella took a step forward without meaning to. When she realized she’d taken a step, she forced herself to stop, trembling as her body fought not to answer the demon’s call.
“Mother!” Briar stepped up next to her, taking the full force of her mother’s regard and shouldering Isabella away.
Glad though she was to no longer be the object of the demon’s attention, Isabella still longed to gaze upon her. Sweat trickled cold down her back. She clenched her hands until the knuckles ached and her nails scored the tender flesh of her palms. The pain gave her something else to focus on and she bit her lip in an attempt to further clear her head. The sharpness of her teeth reminded her how Briar had bitten her on the thigh while they made love. Arousal built hot and demanding within her; she watched the side of Briar’s face, the way her lips moved as she said something savage to her mother. Her eyebrows pulled together highlighting the fierceness of her eyes. This was the one Isabella needed, not the one in the mirror who tried to use her own body against her.
“What do you want?” Briar was saying. “I’m extremely busy.”
“I’m quite aware of that. Too busy to take care of yourself, it would seem.” The demon looked Briar up and down, critically this time, not the lascivious inspection Isabella had been subjected to. “Why have you been using so much magic?”
“How do you know that?”
“Briar, dearest, your flavor is all over the magic we’ve been receiving. You don’t expect a mother to know her daughter’s signature?”
“Do you mean to tell me you monitor the bore for the signature of each of your children?”
“Of course not.” Briar’s mother didn’t even have the grace to appear embarrassed. “The others are all pure-blood. They haven’t the same impediments you do.”
“They don’t have the same value, you mean.”
“I don’t understand why you refuse to have even one child. Think of the power a child of yours could bring to our family.”
“My childhood was quite horrific enough. I won’t subject another to it. If I ever have a child, you will have nothing to do with it.”
The demon gestured irritably. Her fingers were tipped with immaculate black claws that made those on the imps look dull by comparison. Isabella watched them with sick fascination.
“I am quite well, Mother. Now if you would be so kind as to depart.”
“Briar.” Gone were the pouts and outrageous flirtation. What remained seemed close to genuine concern. “You aren’t well, I can feel it. Drop your shroud so I can get a proper look at you.”
Concerned, Isabella peered more closely at Briar’s profile. She seemed well enough, or did before she dropped her disguise. The opalescent shimmer of her skin was muted. Instead of collecting light and reflecting it back, it was almost matte. Her eyes glowed faintly red; they no longer shone as they had the night before.
“As I thought.” Briar’s mother shook her head in reproof. “You haven’t fed, have you?”
“I’ve been eating just fine.”
Isabella doubted that very much. She and her father had stopped twice on the road to eat. If Briar and Althea had stopped once, it would have been a miracle, given how insistent Briar had been that they get to the lodge and as quickly as possible.
“You know that’s not what I mean. You’ve depleted your magic past its ability to regenerate naturally. It needs to be restored more quickly, and there are two ways to do that if you don’t plan to convalesce for a month.” The demon’s eyes flicked over at Isabella. “You have the means for one at hand, and it seems you’ve already sampled her…charms.”
Isabella glared at the seductive face that still pulled at her from the mirror. Briar’s mother grinned, exposing pointed teeth that Briar thankfully hadn’t inherited.
“I am fine and I will thank you not to insert yourself into my life, Mother.” Briar pulled herself up to her full height and glared at the face in the mirror. Isabella hadn’t realized how sunken in on herself Briar had been until she did so. Her skin flared to something more akin to its previous pearlescence for a moment, then died back to flat grey.
“You are still my daughter, however much you might wish that weren’t so.” The demon’s face darkened, and her hair took on a life of its own. The ends rose, sluggishly at first, like they were caught in a gentle breeze. Before long, they whipped about her head in a frenzy. “Take care of yourself, Briar. If you don’t, I’ll know and I will do something about it. You may be certain that I’ll be keeping an eye on you. If you truly want me out of your life, then I suggest you do something to preserve it.”
The mirror went completely black, then rippled and showed their shocked faces staring back from it. Briar slumped down onto the room’s bed. “That was Carnélie. My mother.”
“So I gathered. She’s very impressive.”
“Among other things. I couldn’t let her get her hooks in you. I saw the way you reacted to her attention. You liked it.”
The last was accusing. If Briar had slapped Isabella across the face with all her strength, the pain still would have been less. “She surprised me.” The response was weak—Isabella knew it—but it was the best she could muster when she hurt so badly inside.
“It’s not your fault. It’s what she does. What we do. No one can help but be attracted to a succubus. We’re poison.”
“I couldn’t stop the attraction, not until I looked at you.”
Briar looked at her sideways, scoffing openly. “Impossible. She’s much more powerful than I.”
“Don’t tell me what I felt.” Isabella had to get through to Briar. She could feel her lover slipping away. “Touch me and find out for yourself.” She pushed her sleeve up and stuck out her bare arm. “Feel me, damn you!”
Briar reached toward her, then pulled back as if afraid of what she might find. Isabella grabbed her hand and stripped off the ever-present glove. This had to work.
Briar’s eyes flared bright red for a moment, then the light disappeared as they
slid shut. Isabella frantically wracked her brain about every time they’d ever interacted and tried to remember how she’d felt. The first time she’d really noticed Briar had been at the ball when she’d picked up Isabella’s lens. The fear and desperation she’d felt at possibly being discovered had been washed away by anger at Briar’s insistence on learning more about it. The glee Briar’s irritation had awakened in her hadn’t been the most admirable emotion, but somewhere along the way, it had changed into excitement to see Briar. Whether that had happened before or after Briar trapped her, Isabella was no longer certain. Certainly, the admiration she’d felt for Briar had grown as they’d spent more time together. Somewhere along the way, admiration had morphed into attraction, then arousal, then something more. There was no denying the pleasure Briar’s company brought her, but it was more than the intimate time they’d spent together. She’d spent the ride to this lodge wishing they’d ridden together. The journey had passed with excruciating slowness as a result. And now Briar thought she didn’t like her enough or… Isabella wasn’t rightly sure exactly what Briar was thinking, when it came down to it, but she knew that the idea of not being able to be around the overly proper, infuriating woman who had more courage than any dozen of the Queen’s men left her empty inside.
Tears prickled at the back of Isabella’s eyes. She blinked furiously; they wouldn’t drop in front of Briar.
There was no response from Briar. The silence stretched between them, growing thinner and more brittle the longer it went on.
Finally, Isabella could stand it no longer. “Well?”
Briar lifted her eyes to meet Isabella’s in the mirror. Like hers, they glittered with tears she was too stubborn to let fall. “That was a lot.” She sniffled and let go of Isabella’s hand to run a hand under her nose.
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