There, sitting in a wet puddle on the floor a mere few feet away, were my plastic bags of thawing meat and other goodies.
Gaping openly, I jabbed my finger at the stuff. “How... but this place...”
Shaking his head at my display, he scooped up the bags and continued walking. “It doesn't matter. Let's hope none of this spoiled. I'll show you where the kitchen and larder are.”
My head was a mess. Suspending my views and beliefs to allow for the hand-waving assumption that the house was 'just' the kind of place where shrinking halls that went on forever could happen was... well.
It's giving me an awful migraine.
Dealing with the shadowy inside of the home was fraying my nerves to the brink. With the orange light swaying in front, he led me to the stairwells. From there, into a window lined hallway I'd never noticed before. It sat under the walkways above us, and as we passed through it, I caught glimpses through the glass of other parts of the building.
Is there... a courtyard out there? The size of the house had felt generally 'big' to me. But seeing hints of it extending away into the dark night made me wonder just how large it all was. It had looked like a broken three-story from outside. Here, I felt I was touring the inside of an old mansion.
At the end of the hall, there were two paths. Grault didn't slow; he headed down to the left, so I followed. I was disoriented, made worse by my curiosity of the backyard. “Grault, what's behind the house?”
“I can show you later, if you like. It's mostly hills. Come, in here.”
Strangely dejected by his claim of boring hills, I hurried behind him. Am I getting spoiled, expectant, about this place? To think that a big backyard in a pretty countryside could be disappointing. Who am I, suddenly?
Together, we entered a large dining room. It was obvious what it was, the long tables stretched from one side to the next. Somehow, seeing such an empty place, it felt sadder than any other room so far. If I hadn't met my odd guests already, I would never have thought anyone lived there at all. “Does no one use this? It's so big!”
“Would you sit and eat in the dark, in here, as it is?” he asked, his eyes flashing in the glow of my lantern.
Tightening my lips, I followed him through into another wide doorway. “No, you're right. I guess I—oh!” I should have expected it was coming, but even so, the kitchen surprised me.
Turning in a circle, lantern held high, I gazed over the dusty counters, the brick oven, the pots and pans dangling from hooks. Everything metal looked red in the light, everything else the color of dirty clouds.
I saw what I was sure was an old stove on one side. On the opposite wall was a large, rounded tank, sitting like a boat that had been run aground. It reminded me slightly of the stove, but I didn't know what it was. “This is so big! How did Tessa do it all, run all of this? Surely not on her own.”
Grault tugged open a thick door in the corner. Beyond it, the room was jet black. “She did everything, yes. Tessa used her magic for it all.”
“Right, magic,” I said quietly. I don't like how that's the answer for everything. “I should tell you something.”
He called out to me from behind the open door. It sounded like he was in a well. “What's that, Miss Blooms?”
I leaned around the corner to see a set of stairs. They led down into a large cellar, the walls lined with shelves. From the ceiling, grisly hooks dangled. Ah, this must be the larder. “Well, I was never much of a cook at the best of times. I'm getting a gut feeling you're expecting me to be like my grandmother, to do everything she did with no help?”
He emptied the grocery bags on the shelves, arranging everything carefully. “That's correct.”
“Yeah. I thought so.” Sighing loudly, I rubbed my arms. The larder was uncomfortably chilly, I could see my breath even in the low light. “I'm not Tessa. I don't know any magic, and I'm not confident I can make anything but toast. I might need some help with all of this.”
He ducked under a hook, a chicken in one wide hand. “Miss Blooms, I'm not sure what you expect me to say. You're going to need to learn how to care for this place, its guests. How you do that is up to you.”
How I do that is up to me...
“Anyway,” he murmured, eyeing the stock of the larder with frustration, “why did you buy so little? Was my list not clear?”
“Oh, uh. Grault, you didn't expect I would bring back that much food, did you?” The look on his face told me he did. “You sent me on an impossible task!”
“Not impossible at all.” He rubbed his scalp, considering me thoughtfully. “I'm sure you could have found a way.”
He wasn't making me any more confident in my new role. Turning, I pushed out of the room, wanting to escape both him and the cold. In the process, I banged my knee on the top step. “Ah! Dammit!”
Grault appeared by my side, and though he looked concerned, I twisted away. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I grumbled, rubbing my leg gingerly. “Just these dumb broken lights. I'm sick of them.” I hate it, but how do I fix it? How do I fix any of this? I'm not Tessa, I don't even know if I can be.
He reached down for my leg. I sidestepped, not meeting his eyes. To his credit, he didn't comment on my petulant move. “Maybe you should start your duties tomorrow, Miss Blooms. It is getting late tonight, things can wait a bit longer.”
“Fine,” I said to the ceiling, gripping the lantern's handle tight. “Show me where I'm staying in this mess of a house.”
It wasn't far. I spent the entire time glaring at the floor, focusing just on Grault's shoes.
If he'd asked me why I was upset, I wasn't sure I'd have an answer. The sourness in me came from a fearful place.
Why did I decide to do this? Why does it have to be my responsibility?
I'm not a caretaker, he should have realized that when he saw my apartment.
And I'm not...
I'm not a witch.
I'm not magic.
“Here,” he said, gesturing up a staircase in the circular room. “It's up here.”
I lifted my head, focusing on the railing above. “Isn't that where all the tenants are?”
“Of course,” he said flatly. He wouldn't look at me. I saw only the hard side of his face. “Now, follow me, Miss Blooms.”
The wood creaked under our steps. I thought I would have felt more nervous, ascending into a place full of the weird beings I'd seen that morning. Instead, everything felt mulled, blocked out by my smoldering bitterness.
Lined with rich green carpet, the upstairs was a giant, railed circle of hallways. Grault led me down the one directly opposite the stairs. Passing the other doors, the silence weighed on me more than anything.
How can such a big place, full of so many... so many tenants, be so quiet?
“Here,” he said, pausing outside a room that looked the same as all the others. Nudging it open, I moved the lantern around to gauge the inside. It did, in fact, remind me of a hotel room.
A single bed sat in the middle, the blankets dull yellow in the dark. I wondered when they'd last been washed, but decided not to dwell on it. Who am I to judge? I don't know when I washed my blankets last, either.
On the middle of the mattress, I spotted my backpack. I thought Grault must have brought it there after I'd left it sitting in the entrance.
He leaned on the door frame, speaking over my head. “There's a bath in the corner. Unfortunately, without the furnace running in the kitchen, there's no hot water.”
So that's what that big metal thing was.
“There are also no toiletries—”
“I bought some,” I said quickly, jingling my purse where I'd stuffed my own private purchases.
Grault closed his mouth, meeting my eyes a scant second. Then, he showed me his back.
“Wait,” I blurted, not catching myself in time. What am I doing? The big man halted, hands resting in fists by his hips. He didn't respond, I knew he was waiting for me to make the effort. “Where's you
r room? In case I... need something.”
The shift of his chin was subtle. “You don't need to know that.”
“Why are you being so close-lipped?” The edge of my tongue was a razor. “You went from assuring me you'd answer my questions, to not telling me anything again!”
“It's an answer you don't need. Goodnight, Miss Blooms.”
So cold, he's being so cold. “What is it, what did I do?”
He held his position, then walked down the hall. “Goodnight, Miss Blooms.”
The door banged loudly, swinging shut with the brisk strength of my anger. It wasn't my most mature moment.
Sitting heavily on the bed, I set the lantern by my ankle. My forehead fell into my hands. Dammit. Dammit dammit. What's wrong with him?
What's wrong with me?
Lying back, springs rustling, I spread my arms like I was making a snow angel. The lantern, partially blocked by the blankets, cast funny shapes on the flat surface above me.
Everything ached. Some had to be from the exertion, my trip to the house, into town. The rest from my panicked run in the halls, fleeing that tiny door. My head hurts, the backs of my eyes. Like I've been screaming for hours. I suspected it was from frustration.
Rolling onto my side, I let my eyelashes brush my skin. The backs of my lids had a funny orange and purple light show from straining in the darkness. I think I disappointed Grault. But how could I not? He apparently expected me to come here, to be some amazing magical replacement for Tessa. To take care of everything, and I'm just...
I'm none of that.
Why am I here?
Twisting on the blanket, I buried my face in the stiff pillows. They smelled like dust and dying flowers. That's the real question, isn't it? Why did I agree to do this? Was it just for the money?
A thought hit me, making me reach for my backpack. It didn't take much time to find what I was looking for.
In my hands, Tessa's letter felt fragile.
With the flickering orange lantern helping me, I unfolded it and read the words.
It's because of this. A scribbled note from someone I never met. My mind filled with the image of the painting downstairs. Someone who looked so much like me.
Someone everyone here expects me to be.
And someone my mother wanted me to avoid.
It was a big jumble, I had no answers to any of it. Was it possible for me to become like my grandmother?
Did I even want to?
With my arm across my eyes, blackness seeping into my vision, my ability to think weakened. So much had happened, and in such a short time.
But I knew one thing for certain
If I want to get more answers, I'm going to need to get them from Grault. Thinking of his hard frown, his serious dark eyes, made my lungs struggle. Especially when I recalled how he'd looked, sitting so peacefully in that overgrown garden.
He'd promised me answers. I thought so much about getting information about Tessa, this house, the weird creepy guests...
But not about him.
I'd been conversing with him so casually, but knew almost nothing about the man. What was his relation to Tessa, what was his job here?
Another mystery in the pile. Something else to focus on.
But for now...
For now I needed to sleep.
Chapter Eight.
My dream was strange.
First, I knew it was a dream. That wasn't common for me. Normally, I didn't recall my dreams at all. When they occurred, I never felt very aware.
Now, thrashing in water, blinded by blurry vision, I was very aware. I had the distant realization that I was drowning, coldness turning my limbs numb and useless.
My world was green and black, falling further as I sank. Weird. I don't know when I went swimming last.
From above, I heard a noise. I didn't know it, didn't recognize the source. But somehow... somehow it filled me with relief.
Then something bit down on my arm.
I sat up in my bed, gasping in surprise. Wide-eyed, I stared down at my arm in dismay. I expected to see gashes, some deep wound, anything.
It was only my smooth skin, lit by greenish sunlight from the window.
The blankets beneath me felt dry, reminding me that the dream hadn't been scary until the last second. Not waking up in a panicked sweat was a tiny upside to having a nightmare.
Groggy, I looked around the room, remembering where I was. Across the way, I caught a glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror. My hair was a giant knot, sticking up all around.
Smoothing it with my fingers, I slid out of the bed. There were no clocks to tell me the time. The weird glass in the window didn't make it easy to judge, either.
Stretching until I felt dizzy, I looked around until I found the copper tub in the corner. It was surrounded by a curtain, nothing more. Huh, how... historical? The novelty wore out when I realized the only water coming out was ice cold. Alright, revoking that. It's ancient, just ridiculously ancient.
Dejected by the start of my morning, I slipped on some jeans and a blue sweater. It took a bit, but I managed to tug my hair into a messy bun. I wanted hot water, hot breakfast, and knew I'd need to leave my room to get it.
Wiggling my toes in some thick wool socks, nothing more, I cracked my door open. Carefully, I peeked through the slit, eyeing the one side of the hallway I could see.
It was brighter than last night, which seemed obvious when I considered it. Sunlight filtered in where it could, desperately trying to illuminate the rows of doors.
I wasn't sure if I was hoping to avoid the guests, or to spot them.
Hmn. Well, I guess I should go downstairs. If anything, I can figure out what's for breakfast.
Stepping forward, I stubbed my toe against something hard. My squeak was pathetic, followed quickly by a confused glare at what lay just outside my room.
Recognizing the thick stack of papers, I bent down to grab them. Ah, right. My 'duties' or whatever. Grault was supposed to go over these with me, but we never got a chance.
Recalling the tension of the night before set my neck on fire. I shouldn't have gotten so mad. I'm sure he didn't mean to make me feel like a failure. My tiny smile was sour. He should just have waited till I gave him a real reason, is all.
Sighing, I flipped through the pages. The list was gigantic, a detailed explanation of everything I, apparently, needed to do. Did Tessa actually do all of this alone?
Holding it under my arm, I shut my door and walked quietly down the hall. The morning chores listed coincided well with what I was interested in.
Food, and hot water.
Passing by the strung lights at the base of the stairs, I pondered the problem that had plagued me the most. Lights that work by magic. Or, lights that worked only for Tessa. Hmn.
With only my thoughts for company, I considered how I would, or could, fix such a thing.
I had no answer by the time I made it to the long hall of windows.
Outside, through the glass, I was able to finally see the yard that the late hour had hidden before. It wasn't a pretty sight, it was as bad as the greenhouse.
So many problems, so much work... I need to tackle one at a time if I hope to fix any of this.
My heart was thumping, anxious at the realization of all the labor ahead of me.
In the kitchen, I set the paperwork down on a counter. My nose brushed the page as I read it from top to bottom, then flipped to the next. Tessa made breakfast for everyone, every morning. But not just that... she made specific things...
So much stuff, my goodness.
Shaking my head, I pushed the papers away. There was no reason to work so hard, not that I could see. In normal hotels (though this was far from normal, admittedly) there was just a basic breakfast for the guests to eat.
Turning, I headed into the larder. Grault had arranged everything I'd bought on the shelves, but the room was big enough that it still looked bare.
Scooping butter and eggs into my arm
s, I shoved out of the chilly locker hurriedly. I'd done very little baking in my life, but I knew one recipe by heart. Pancakes were surely the easiest breakfast to make in bulk.
The pantry attached to the kitchen was full of spices, containers without labels, but sugar was easy to spot. I also saw the bag of bagels and package of cookies I'd bought. They'd been shoved into a bottom corner, like Grault didn't know what to do with them.
My first bottleneck was understanding the stove. It seemed Tessa didn't have a gas range. No, that would be too easy, I sighed mentally.
Squatting down, I eyed the big metal thing thoughtfully. It had two doors, and inside one of them, I found some unburnt logs. You're joking. It actually burns wood. Hmn.
Lifting my eyes, I followed the long tube that extended from the back of the stove, into the roof. And that's where the smoke goes. Alright.
It seemed inefficient, but I was relieved it was something I could figure out. No magic here, wonderful. Nodding to myself, I looked around the kitchen for matches.
The pantry saved me again.
Sticking my head into the stove, I wondered if I just had to light the wood. Will that be enough?
“Excuse me,” a familiar voice said behind me. I smashed the back of my head on the hard metal, my shout echoing in the stove. Old soot floated around and into my hair.
Turning, I held the spot on my skull that I was certain would swell up. There, floating by me, was the yellow slug-thing from yesterday. “Oh!” I said stupidly, one eye still shut from the sharp pain spreading around.
“I'm sorry,” he said insistently, still unsettling me with his lack of mouth. “I didn't mean to scare you, Miss Blooms!”
Looking at my hand to check it was free of blood, I decided to stay on my knees a bit longer. Standing had a good chance of making me nauseous. “No, it's alright. I just wasn't expecting anyone to show up. I haven't seen anyone all morning.” Or much of yesterday, after my little freak out.
He bobbed in place, a ribbon on the wind. He was close enough that I could have touched him, I resisted the urge. I wondered how the creature might feel. “Well,” he scoffed, “you did leave a bit of a bad impression yesterday.”
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