He shifted when Quarrel bumped him under the chin, moving his hand to scratch the dog’s ears. “They can return, but not here. These chambers are our sacred place. We call it Sanctuary. It has never been breached.”
I glanced around, trying to take it in. The chamber was not much to look at for a sacred place, but I could see the signs. There were candles scattered around the room and old books on shelves. The tapestries on the walls seemed to have stories to tell. In a way, it was not unlike the chapel in our village: small, quiet, and somber.
I wanted to be furious, but I was also overwhelmed. There was too much going on here that I did not understand. Mostly I wanted to hold my sister in my arms and assure myself that she had not fallen prey to the horrors of this place.
Corwin cleared his throat. “If you ask any question of me,” he said, “I will answer it. I owe you that and more.”
“Yes, you do,” I agreed. I drank from the cup again before setting it down on the bench. I breathed slowly and searched for the right words. “I should like to know who you are and what you are doing here at Briarstone,” I said.
He sighed and let his hand slide from Quarrel’s head down over his shoulders. “That, Miss Haverly, is a long story.”
“I think it’s time,” I said. I would not let him put me off again.
His eyes darted over me, almost frantically. “Yes,” he finally agreed, “I believe it is.”
Chapter 12
Corwin
I DID NOT know where to begin.
Bet watched me, her short hair snarled around her pale face. I could not quite interpret her expression, but I appreciated that she gave me time to collect my thoughts.
I hated myself as fervently as I hated the underworlders. I saw now the folly of reticence. My cowardice had nearly cost Lilybet Haverly her life. I felt as monstrous as the villagers imagined me to be. Pushing Quarrel away, I tried to come to my feet, but my leg buckled and I jolted to the side, grunting in pain.
She was there instantly, ducking under my arm, close to my side. “Easy,” she ordered in a gruff little voice. She waited. I took a tentative step, and she moved with me, bearing the weight of my arm across her shoulder. I didn’t dare put much weight on her, but I lifted my foot and took a step, gritting my teeth against the pain, feeling the uncanny warmth of her stocky body against my side as we moved to the nearest bench. I sank down with a groan.
She ducked from under my arm and sat a few feet away. “So, are you going to tell me your story?” she asked as Quarrel moved to sit between us, looking from me to her. When she held out a hand, he rushed to lick her cheeks.
“I am a member of an ancient order,” I began. I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. “Centuries ago, the Ever chose my ancestors to guard the Neverway. I am a Warden, as were my parents before me. We accepted the Calling, to keep the underworlders—the wraiths and ghouls—out of our world.”
Her expression twisted in confusion. She did not quite believe me. “Where is their world exactly?”
“The Underworld,” I whispered. “The Neverway is not what it seems. Think of it like oil and water trying to fit into the same container. They push against one another, correct?”
She nodded.
“Well, the Neverway is like the place between the oil and water. The fabric between realities. And the boundary is being ripped open. We call them breaches.”
“The ghouls—and the wraiths. They’re coming through the ‘breaches’? From the Underworld.”
“Yes.”
“But why have we never seen this happen? Papa travels the Neverway frequently. He has never seen any breaches—or wraiths. Are they only here?”
Her logic surprised me. She was already leaping ahead of me, trying to put the pieces together. I had been wrong in the beginning when I thought her the wrong daughter.
She was the perfect daughter.
“At present,” I managed, trying to keep my tone neutral, “the breaches are confined to the catacombs beneath Briarstone, although I suspect there are other weak places. I cannot account for the ghouls. They seem to be breaking out somewhere else; I have not yet discovered where. The Ever knew this area was a weak place. He built Briarstone to defend it and called the Wardens to help her. It was all planned long, long ago.”
Bet continued to watch me, her eyes probing. I found I could not hold her gaze and looked down. I did not want her to know my thoughts, that I doubted the very foundations of my existence. My ancestors had fought bravely for centuries, and I would be the one to undo it all. I shifted to grip the bench on either side of me, knowing the stone should feel hard and cold beneath my touch.
But I couldn’t feel it. I was as cold as the stone. Someday soon I would be as lifeless as this bench, as hard and cold and unmoving. My heart would be stone.
“I am afraid the Order of the Wardens is going to die with me,” I whispered. “Then no one will be here to stand with Briarstone. I fear . . . I fear the Ever has forgotten me.”
My fingers clenched, and I heard stone crumbling beneath my touch. My hands were white, covered in crumbled, chalk-like debris. I could see cracks in my skin. I was growing so tired.
I closed my eyes and searched Briarstone with my spirit. She towered proud and strong toward the sky, but I knew her too well to judge her strength by looks alone. In my precious gardens, black petals floated to the ground, wilting as they fell. Every petal was a sacrifice, a bit of her withering away. She was getting tired, too.
For this reason I had demanded a life from Merchant Haverly when he plucked a rose from the wall. A life for a life.
I exhaled. Inhaled.
“I think I understand, at least mostly,” Bet said, breaking into my thoughts. I opened my eyes. She still studied me, a wrinkle between her brows. “But what are you exactly?” she asked. “You’re not, well, human.”
Here it was. She was finally ready to hear the last, most brutal truth.
I shifted forward, pushing myself upright. Bet jumped to her feet, startled. I lifted a placating palm toward her. “I think it will be easiest to show you,” I said softly. I paused, and then turned my hand so that my palm faced up. “Will you come with me?”
Her expression changed from concern to distrust to lingering anger. At last she nodded. “I will come.” She hesitated, as if she wished to say more. “I will come, but do I have to hold your hand?”
I sighed and curled my fingers into my palm. I could not blame her for refusing. I wanted her to like me—no, I wanted her to love me. She was the perfect daughter. But I had already asked too much of her, too soon.
Besides, in a few moments she would know the entire truth. She deserved to know everything. Once she knew everything, then she would have to decide.
I had no choice but to wait.
Chapter 13
Bet
“WHERE ARE WE going?” I asked when Corwin did not move toward the doorway but rather deeper into the chamber.
“Not far,” he promised. He leaned one hand against the wall as he hobbled along on one leg. His body creaked and groaned.
Several Lonely went ahead of us into one of the alcoves, and Corwin followed them. The alcove seemed to be some sort of weapon room. Swords, knives, double-bladed axes, and even crossbows hung from iron hooks on the stone walls. He walked past all of these and entered a wide passage which sloped upward and into a dark chamber.
Quarrel and I followed close behind him. I could hear our footsteps echoing. Craning my neck, I looked up and was surprised to see faint light above me. We were in the room with the massive stained-glass window I had seen from the outside. I could tell that dawn was approaching by the gray light coming through the broken windowpanes. It must be several stories up, however, as we were so far underground.
The Lonely flowed around me with torches, moving into the chamber until they were spread all around. I followed their movements with my eyes, noticing the statues for the first time. The room was filled with them, filled with stone
gargoyles like the ones I had glimpsed on the battlements.
“What is this place?” I whispered as Corwin led me deeper into the chamber.
“This is the heart of Sanctuary,” he said as he pulled his cloak away from his shoulders and shook himself so that two massive wings peeled away from his body. They were leathery like the wings of a bat and tattered at the edges.
I felt my mouth drop open in surprise, but I had no words. He crouched and then leapt into the air, his wings flapping as they lifted him high, high into darkness.
I twisted in a circle, watching him until I noticed that the Lonely were climbing some sort of stone staircase to my left. Although it had no railings, I ran to join them, climbing round and round. The stairs led me to a wide circular platform directly below the stained-glass window.
Corwin waited for me beside another stone gargoyle. His hand rested on the gargoyle’s shoulder. I moved around him so I could see. It was taller than I was by several inches and had two long stone braids trailing over its shoulders. Stone wings arched above the gargoyle’s head. The features reminded me of Corwin somehow, but they were narrower, more feminine.
“We weren’t always like this,” Corwin whispered at last. “I was human once, like you, before I accepted my Calling.”
I opened my mouth to question his statement, but then I felt as if my eyes were pulled to the other gargoyles scattered around the room. I had seen them all over the Abbey.
“Oh,” I breathed, horrified. “They were people?”
“They were family.” He sounded like a broken-hearted child, not like a monster, not like a Warden who fought demons from the Underworld. He was all of those things at once and yet none of them. “I am the last,” he told me. “And someday soon I too will be stone.”
I stared at him with fresh eyes. He was not what I had thought. He was not a monster but a man—a man who had refused to abandon his duty even when his loved ones fell by the wayside, turning to stone, broken beneath the weight of their burden.
I could not stand the idea that these people were turning into stone while fighting a battle none of us had known about.
Corwin moved his hand to rest on the female gargoyle’s head. “This one was called Miriam,” he whispered. He sounded as if he were crying. “She was my sister.”
I gasped and covered my mouth with both hands. Sookie and Rosamond flashed before my eyes. I imagined them as stone and the thought made me ill. How could he bear it?
“Don’t pity me,” he continued, as if reading my thoughts. “I do what I must. I chose this. If I do not tend to the breaches, then everyone is in danger.”
“My village?”
He turned to look at me at last, his eyes haunted. “Everyone, Bet. Everywhere.”
I couldn’t speak or swallow; I could hardly breathe. All this time he had been living in this place, trying to stop an apocalypse, and none of us had known. We had feared and resented him. We had told ghost stories about this place for our own amusement.
But for the sake of all humankind, Corwin had refused to give up. I considered how harshly I had treated him, how I had despised him and suspected him of unspeakable things.
I was the monster. He was perhaps the noblest soul I had ever known.
The room continued to brighten as morning crawled toward us. The first hint of sunlight began to slant through the window. Corwin moved away from the stone gargoyle that had once been his sister, hunkered down, and braced himself on the knuckles of one hand.
“The other night you asked where I come during the day. This is where I come,” he said. “Miss Haverly, will you—”
But the first ray of morning touched the top of his head. As soon as it hit him, his body began to change. With faint crackles and hisses, his body transformed from pale flesh to hard stone. By the time the transformation was complete, he was like all the other gargoyles. Every part of him, even his clothing, had transformed into stone.
I stood alone, surrounded by the dead, surrounded by the Lonely. It occurred to me that he was not as alone as he thought. The Lonely glittered in the expanding pool of sunlight, casting shards of color around the room. Whatever they were, they adored him.
Quarrel came to my side and pressed against me. I did not believe the Ever would forget about Corwin if the danger was so great. He would have planned for this, as He had planned to protect the Neverway. I covered my face with my hands as I remembered Corwin’s heart-wrenching proposals.
I could not be his only option. Surely, the Ever had something else in mind.
Chapter 14
Corwin
THINGS WERE BETTER than I had imagined they could be.
Bet’s attitude changed. It took several weeks, but her sharp remarks and explosions of temper began to dwindle. Soon she began speaking to me with genuine interest. Now that she felt I did not intend to threaten her with bodily harm, she became curious. Every evening she pestered me with questions, grilling me until I had to send her to bed so that I could do my rounds. When I woke at the end of each day to find her bright-eyed and waiting for me, the aches began to fade. I felt my body strengthening. I could walk without my cane for the first time in two years.
During the day, Bet had taken to working in the gardens, weeding the paths and mowing down the overgrown flower beds with a scythe she had found in one of the garden sheds. Even the roses began to bloom more frequently. They were still black and sickly, but I no longer had to hunt for them. They appeared everywhere. I allowed myself to imagine that things might truly get better, that I stood a chance of succeeding, even if it was a miniscule chance practically unworthy of mention.
But then the Spook arrived.
Bet had been with me for a month. It was nearly evening, but I was still in Sanctuary, and Bet labored behind the Abbey in the gardens. When trapped in stone, my senses were limited to what Briarstone could tell me. It was Quarrel who alerted Briarstone. She sensed his barking as the Spook reached the perimeter of the briar wall and banged on the rear gate.
I felt the roses shudder as Briarstone squared off against him. The briars spiraled up the gate, winding around the iron, tighter and tighter until the gate had become just another wall of thorns.
The Spook stood there and watched. He spoke. His words leaked back to me, slowly trickling through the castle, passing from one stone to the next until it reached my awareness.
I have a message for the girl.
I gauged the angle of the sun. One hour till sunset. That one hour seemed like an eternity.
What if the Spook began shouting and Bet heard him? She worked around at the other side of the Abbey, but she would surely hear him if he made enough noise. I wished she were indoors where it was safe—where I could control what she heard and saw.
I felt the Abbey rumbling as she tried to alert the Lonely that something was amiss. She did not always see eye to eye with me, but in this she did. We both knew that we didn’t stand a chance without Bet. She could never, ever leave.
It’s Sunflower. Tell her. Tell her it’s Sookie.
I felt my heart sinking as the message trickled up to me. Bet could never know. She would leave me for her sister without a second thought.
Chapter 15
Bet
QUARREL’S INCESSANT BARKING battered upon my ears.
I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand as I tromped through the long grasses on my way to the shed. With the other hand, I propped the scythe I had been using against my shoulder so that the curved blade arched over behind me. As soon as I stashed my tools, I intended to see what was bothering the dog.
I had spent a good portion of the day trying to clear out the brush stifling the vegetable garden. Twilight had shown me where they grew their food, and it shocked me to see the state of the vegetable beds. It was a miracle Corwin had not starved to death long ago.
I hoped he would be pleased when he saw my progress. I could not give him what he really wanted, but that did not mean I could not help him in other ways.
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Quarrel continued barking.
I broke into a light jog, enjoying the feel of boots instead of slippers or heels. After I destroyed my muslin gown the first day I worked in the gardens, the selection in my wardrobe improved. There were now tunics and leather vests, work gloves, and knee-high boots in the finest leather I had ever seen. Twilight and Dawn also provided me with trousers in various fabrics: corduroy, plaid woolens, and brocade, the latter clearly from fabrics once used for the gowns.
It amused me that they had butchered their gowns to make me some practical clothes. They’d done their best to please me, but it had clearly been a trial to give up their fancies.
Since the wraith attack I seemed to have passed some unspoken test. Somehow I had gone from petulant prisoner to something more. I was actually rather fond of the Lonely.
I heaved the scythe from my shoulder as I entered the stone shed beside the path winding to the kitchen door. I had no sooner hung the unwieldy tool on its hook when the door slammed shut behind me.
“Merciful After!” I spun around. A gust of wind must have blown it closed. I laughed at my startled reaction as I moved to push the door open again. It resisted my touch. I heaved against it with my shoulder, grunting.
Had I been locked in?
“Oh no,” I breathed. I began to imagine the worst, wondering if another breach had ripped open with Corwin defenseless in Sanctuary.
“Unlock the door,” I demanded and pounded on it with my fist. “I can help!”
I tried to remember how late it was. The sun had been dipping toward the mountain peaks when I decided to quit for the day. How long before Corwin woke up? By the Never, what was happening in the catacombs?
“Listen up, you,” I shouted. “Let me out! I know you can hear me. I can help!” Once I would have felt ridiculous talking to a fortress as if it were a person, but not now. Now I knew there were things in the world I did not understand. If the Abbey would just let me out, perhaps I could make a difference.
Five Enchanted Roses: A Collection of Beauty and the Beast Stories Page 14