Elias (GRIT Sector 1)

by Rebecca Sherwin

“He’s inspiring…he inspires you.”

  “He’s fascinating, Grandma.” I stared at the drawings scattered around us. I felt Elias looking at me as he surrounded me, his dark eyes intense and consuming. “He’s fascinating.”

  “I like this one,” she said, pointing to a sketch of my muse with the smirk I’d dreamt about for three nights. “It looks rare.”

  “Like he doesn’t smile often?”

  “Yes, like he doesn’t smile as often as he should.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t,” I pondered, glancing down at the picture, remembering the twitch that made him adorable against the backdrop of the secrets he kept. “Maybe he should. Maybe he needs a reason to smile.”

  “Maybe he does.” Ruby stroked my hair and stood up. “I’m going to make some tea. Take a shower and come in the kitchen. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  That was never a good sign. Ruby wanting to talk—planning a conversation—meant one of two things. Either she had something planned and she’d forget by the time she had the opportunity to talk, or she wanted to tell me off for something I’d done that was seen as unacceptable in the eyes of the Ashford elders.

  I wasn’t sure which it was. She couldn’t tell me off for drawing pictures of the man who had brought me home to safety, no matter what his reasons, hesitations or motivations were…could she?

  Ruby left my bedroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaving me in a silence that felt much heavier than it had when I was lost in the world of art. Gathering up my drawings, I secured them in the back of my sketchbook and got off the bed, stretching my stiff back and shaking my dead legs, before heading for a shower.

  That I would agree to without question. Three days was a long time.

  I hated earl grey tea. It was all Ruby drank and all she allowed me to drink when she brewed it in her delicate china teapot, set out her tea set, and offered Rich Tea biscuits as a snack. They were too plain, lacking excitement and dry with the twangy tea that made me thirsty. But I’d accept it anyway, and hope that in the time I’d taken to shower and through all the effort she’d gone to to set us up an afternoon tea, she hadn’t forgotten what she’d wanted to talk about.

  “You should dry your hair after washing it, Trixie,” she said, settling herself on the chair opposite me. “You’ll catch a cold.”

  “I’m fine, Grandma. It’s warm in here. Do you not want to sit in the lounge?”

  Ruby shook her head. “I can see the city from here, and I like to watch it when it’s safe.”

  I nodded and tried to get comfortable on the wooden seats the previous tenants had left here when they moved away from the capital.

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  Ruby was silent as she poured her tea, then mine, and placed a biscuit on each of our plates.

  “Trace will be here soon.”

  “Trace? Why?”

  “He’s going to take us to the Estate.”

  “Why?”

  A huge lump lodged itself in my throat. I’d been waiting two years to return to Ashford House, to speak to Richard and Mae beyond bi-weekly phone calls to check on Ruby and make sure neither of us were starving or dead. I didn’t want to go. I had a weird, unsettling feeling about the reasons why I was being summoned. It didn’t feel like my life. I’d been consumed by tension since the night in the loft and I wasn’t sure why. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong and it wasn’t my fault Seb had disappeared. Had I not been in the kitchen when Elias cleared the showroom, I may have gone missing too. I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.

  “Your father wants to see you.”

  I didn’t need to watch Ruby worry her lip and reach for me, or feel her take hold of my hand and give it a reassuring squeeze to know that I had paled. I felt it. It was like every cell in my body recoiled and tried to dig deeper and hide, settling as a nausea that made me cover my mouth with my free hand. I was in trouble. Bigger trouble than when I’d snuck out of my bedroom and hidden in the grounds of the estate to smoke when I was a teenager. Bigger trouble than when the headmaster had told Richard that I had written ‘Mrs William Tate’ with hearts around it in the back of my book because I’d developed my first crush and that wasn’t allowed. Bigger trouble than I’d ever been in my life because this visit was unexpected. It was unplanned for and my father didn’t act without prior planning.

  “Is he mad?”

  Ruby tipped her head from side to side, raised her teacup and severed eye contact as she took a sip, her trembling hand placing the cup back on its saucer.

  “He isn’t happy.”

  “What did I do?”

  Ruby shook her head again. She was trying to comfort me, playing the good cop in preparation for Richard’s bad cop.

  “There is a time and a place for everything,” she said, her voice changing. I didn’t know how or why, but she sounded different—far away and unfamiliar yet strangely reassuring. “There is always a plan, Trixie, but we cannot always account for anomalies. We cannot always prepare for the events we fail to foresee.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we have to adapt. It’s evolution, darling, and it is time for us to evolve.” I had no idea what she was talking about. Maybe she was breaking, claiming the lunacy she often allowed to take hold of her when she explained things that made no sense. “It’s a little earlier than planned, but it’s time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Trace is here.”

  She stood up and shuffled to the window. I hadn’t heard anything, and I’d thought Ruby was deaf…another ailment she claimed when it suited her. I shuddered when I thought of all the things she’d heard me say when I thought she couldn’t hear me.

  Trace was here. Seconds later I heard his key slide into the lock and the door opened with a creak.

  “Grandma?” he called out, closing the door behind him and wiping his feet on the mat. He sounded worried. He was panicking. I didn’t like it. I needed him to calm down, to help me through whatever was going to happen today. “Trixie?”

  “We’re in here, dear,” Ruby replied and shooed me from the chair. “Go and get dressed.”

  I hurried from the kitchen, bumping into Trace on the way. He caught me and held me at arm’s length.

  “I’m safe, right?” I asked, squeezing the tops of his arms. “He isn’t going to banish me or throw me out with them, is he?”

  Trace laughed, “Go and get dressed, Trixie. It’s disrespectful to not be presentable.”

  My hope evaporated. I’d hoped he’d drop the formality and promise me everything would be okay. Maybe I couldn’t rely on Trace as much as I’d hoped I could.

  He clicked his fingers as I walked towards my bedroom and when I turned around he shot me a grin and mouthed, “You’re safe.”

  I felt marginally relieved, until I stepped into my room, closed the door, and realised I had nothing to wear that Richard Ashford would deem appropriate.

  Shit.

  “Elias.”

  “William.”

  I held out my hand to shake his, but William Tate pulled me into an embrace with two tree trunk arms.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” I lied.

  It, whatever it was, was far from good. I hadn’t slept all week, I hadn’t been able to find a moment of peace from an overactive mind that had been closed off to me for so long, and I had gained access to a corner of my mind which I’d had no idea existed.

  Pining. Longing. Craving.

  Blackwood’s didn’t crave. We didn’t want, or wish, or desire. We took.

  Only the one thing I wanted was the one thing I couldn’t take.

  “How are you?” I asked, to escape my own thoughts.

  I’d never been so wrapped up in myself, so self-obsessed, the spotlight shining on all the things I tried to keep locked away.

  “Great.” William winked and tilted his head for me to follow him. “Do you want to know about the business?” />
  “You know that’s of no importance to me. Just tell me we’re safe and that’s good enough for me.”

  “Doubting my skills, Mr Blackwood?” he asked, bumping his shoulder into mine. It was unnerving. He was far more informal than I should have allowed, and far less respectful than he should have risked being. “We’re safe. She’s impenetrable and bulletproof.”

  “Good.”

  “Cigar?” he asked, when we stepped into his office and he closed the door behind me. “It’s malt you prefer, isn’t it?”

  “Yes to both.”

  I watched him cross the office to a cupboard where he kept his cigars and liquor, and wished I could be him. I was a proud Blackwood, heir to the throne and rightful leader of GRIT…but I wanted to be William. I’d wanted to be William since our time at Sandhurst together. I met him during the selection process—planned of course. Everything was planned. He was always going to be my partner, my pet, my servant destined to cover my discrepancies and pay for my sins. He was the fun one, the cocky one, the one with freedom. He could have walked away from the Blackwood’s if he wanted to. He’d pay with his life, of course, but at least he had that choice.

  He returned with two glasses of malt whiskey and contraband cigars, handing me one of each and leading me to the sofas in the corner of his office.

  “So,” he said, leaning back and clipping the end of his cigar before he stuffed it in his mouth and tossed the clipper to me. He lit his and I caught the lighter when he threw it to me, as he casually threw his arm over the back of the sofa. “Now you’re the big boss man, are you banned from all fun and pleasurable activities?”

  Oh, if only he knew. I should have chastised him for the way he spoke to me. He wasn’t my equal, he was several rungs below me on the ladder, but I didn’t threaten to punish. Instead I smirked. William was refreshing and I welcomed the distraction.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Are you sure? There’s no crime you plan on asking me to cover? You don’t need a few hours to be filled with an alibi so you can break free for a while?”

  Again, if only he knew. I rolled the cigar between my fingers and stared at William. I didn’t want to light it; I was suspicious. We didn’t drink whiskey and smoke cigars during the day, in an office in a building at the back of Fleet Street. William was here to distract me and I would find out why. I watched him puff until the smoke became thick and white, biding my time while he fell into comfort I shouldn’t have warranted.

  “Unfortunately not.”

  I sat back and continued to watch my partner as he stilled, his eyes widened and he nervously licked his lips.

  “Maybe you should go out and have a little fun.”

  “Like a night crawler, you mean? Like a man with a death wish?”

  “We both know you can handle the underground, Elias.”

  “So what is your point, Mr Tate?”

  He swallowed hard, his eyes dilated. His cigar shook between his fingers as he leaned forward to roll it over the edge of the ashtray, entirely too early.

  “My point is that you should have a little fun. We should get the boys together like we used to.”

  The boys. It sounded so juvenile now, spending time with people who were my family or lifelong employees, descendants of previous lifelong employees and pretending we were the ‘lads’, but I missed them. I missed the antics—telling them off for the antics, although I did it with a smile. I was never allowed to join in— the drinking, and the sneaking out at night. I missed it all, everything that came before the transition began.

  “What’s the purpose of this meeting, Tate?”

  “Tate?” he asked. Yes, I had decided to claim authority and superiority now. “That shifted quickly. I can’t decide I want to spend some time with my buddy?”

  “I’m not your buddy. Why are we here? What’s going on that you’ve been asked to keep me from?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  William hesitated and chewed on his lip. He was nervous, which meant it wasn’t something insignificant. It wasn’t something that I was prepared to brush under the rug and ignore for the sake of squashing curiosity. This was my empire now, and I had a right to know.

  “Your grandmother called a meeting.”

  I got up from the sofa and left William’s office before he could breathe another word.

  There was nothing comforting or reassuring or exciting about being in the back of Trace’s car with Ruby, heading across the city to Ashford Estate. Standing in the centre of what felt like an infinite number of acres, Ashford Estate had more greenery than I’d ever seen in one place before; lakes, multiple additional buildings, an orchard, botanical gardens and fields of flowers.

  The car pulled into the lane and drove the mile to where the house stood and had done since the 1500s when Henry Ashford built it. It had been altered one way or another during every century since then, by every male Ashford who had owned it and wanted to make his mark. It looked like a castle, complete with the Union Flag at the top of the west wing, and the Ashford coat of arms at full-mast in the east. When I was younger I’d pretended I was a princess who lived in the castle and one day my Prince Charming would ride in on his horse and take me to another land where we would have adventures and see the world. I was so optimistic then…now? Now I was just praying to make it through another day.

  The car rolled to a stop outside the house and Trace jumped out, opening my door first and then running round to Ruby’s to open hers and help her out. She linked her arm with his and I walked next to him as we ascended the steps and walked into the house.

  It was silent. It wasn’t unusual for the house to be silent, it could easily sleep an entire army but had only ever been occupied by six Ashford’s since my arrival here. But the stillness was unexpected today since Richard knew we’d be coming.

  “Richard?” Ruby called out with more authority that I’d ever known her to possess.

  Nothing. There was no answer.

  “Trace, darling, take Trixie upstairs.” She turned to me. “You have an ensemble laid out on your bed. Clean up, get changed and come to the dining hall. Dinner will be served at six.”

  Ruby tapped Trace’s hand to thank him for his assistance and we watched her shuffle along the hallway and disappear into one of the side rooms.

  “Come with me,” Trace said, turning on his heel and leaving the house.

  I followed quickly, eager to get out of the house already, desperate to know what was going on because I knew my brother would know, and I already felt like I was suffocating in the ghosts of the Ashford’s who had never truly accepted me into their lineage.

  Trace led me back down the steps and off to the left, to where the first garden was located, filled with rosebushes and brimming with life. I watched the butterflies flutter around the flowers, listened to the gentle buzz of the honey bees and the chirping of the birds in nearby trees. I was a few feet behind Trace; he was dressed entirely in black, as was the Ashford custom, and stood out as a dark shadow against the innocence of life in the garden. I couldn’t figure him out; we’d always had a connection, something only siblings could have and I had no doubt that it was as strong as that between biological siblings. But I’d felt him slip away, and I’d watched him morph into the replica of our father—someone who carried centuries of expectation and years of responsibility and pressure. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like who he’d become because I didn’t think it was who he wanted to be.

  “Stop overthinking, Trix,” he said, calling over his shoulder. “You’re grinding your teeth.”

  I snorted a laugh. I had been grinding my teeth, and my jaw was aching. Like I didn’t mumble enough nonsense, as pleasantly or otherwise surprised by my own utterances as everyone else, I also ground my teeth when I was in deep thought—when I was anxious or worried and couldn’t switch off.

  “Where are we going?”

  Trace stopped then and ducked to the right, into a thic
k bed of flowers that reached his waist and almost drowned me in pollen. He turned and sat, disappearing beneath the weeds, on a Trace’s-backside-sized patch.

  “You come here often?”

  He laughed and stretched his legs out, squashing a patch for me before telling me to sit down. I did, crossing my legs, tucking my hands into my lap and staring at him expectantly. I was done waiting; my brother needed to cough up some information and it needed to be good. I’d damn near ground my teeth to the gums.

  “You know I can't tell you anything, right?”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed, “So why am I here?”

  He looked around as if surveying the area for danger before turning back to me and ducking lower, his voice a whisper.

  “Because I can warn you without giving you detail.”

  “Warn me about what?”

  “There are things about us, Trixie. Things you don’t know and things you shouldn’t know.”

  “So why am I here to find out? What sort of things don’t I know?”

  “I don’t want you to know. You’re my little sister and I should protect you from things like this.”

  “What things, Trace? You’re scaring me.”

  “Ruby has decided it’s time for you to find out.” He bowed his head and played with a dead rose that had fallen to the ground between us. “I suspect it has something to do with what happened on Tuesday.”

  “Nothing happened on Tuesday, Trace.”

  “It did.” He was quiet for a long time and I didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t give me details and I wouldn’t expect him to disobey our father, but I’d be lying if I said his warning hadn’t elevated my nerves. I was terrified. “Whatever it was, it was enough for Ruby to change her plans.”

  “What plans?”

  “They’re the things I can't tell you about. I realise I’ve probably confused you more, but I’m trying to do the right thing without crossing the line into defiance.”

  “Because you don’t know exactly what I’m going to find out.”

  “Exactly. There are so many secrets, Trix.” He pulled his tin out of his pocket and lit us both a cigarette. I accepted without hesitation knowing I’d be in some sort of trouble anyway. “There are so many rabbit holes and so many portals, and I’m not sure where you’re going to be led.”