The grey in the canvas began swirling, thicker and faster, gathering into a storm around a central tunnel of calm. The edges of the storm closed in on Lily, the wind rushing in behind her, pushing her into the tunnel, sweeping her along.
Just as suddenly, the storm collapsed and she was standing at the base of a narrow stairway. She got a fleeting glimpse of the back of the demon as it disappeared around the bend in the stairs. A lady, dressed in a fine evening gown of shimmering silk layers. In her wake, the trail of a faint, citric odour. Lemons left to stew in the sun.
There was still a separation between her and the scene, a window through which she looked, but even as the thought came to her, Lily was moving, following the demon, pausing only to briefly examine the rune scorched into the planks at the small landing midway up.
The demon had entered a bedroom and was rifling through the drawers of the bedside chest when Lily caught up to it. The odour grew stronger. Rotten with a vicious bite. Lily held her breath as her stomach gurgled, but the demon took no notice, couldn’t see or hear her.
It ripped the drawer all the way out and tipped the contents onto the floor.
The gurgle in Lily’s stomach curdled and she gave a dry heave, feeling slightly dizzy.
The demon moved onto the next drawer while cramps and gnawing pain clutched at Lily’s gut. She could no longer watch, couldn’t concentrate.
She had to get away, get out of here…
She was in the front parlour once more, sitting across from Kelan. The cramping pains filtered off and, despite the remaining nausea, her smile was triumphant. But diminishing quickly as she realised the conclusions he might draw from her success.
“What is it?” he asked when she couldn’t meet his eyes.
Stuff and cockles! So, what had she actually given into? That Kelan had plenty of experience in the art of kissing and even when doled out against her will, she hadn’t, in theory, totally hated it with every fibre of her being?
She’d used that kiss to reach inside and neutralise her natural repellent to the unacceptable, just as she’d used her tainted blood to access that vision. Both were just a means to an end. She refused, absolutely, to give it any more credence than that.
She lifted her gaze to his and declared, “The demon isn’t at Stobcross house.”
FOUR
“I cannot comprehend how this might happen,” Lily said for the umpteenth time. “How could one not know?”
“I saw her once, exiting the Royal Opera House in Edinburgh.” There was a clanging sound as Armand tapped on a steam valve in an attempt to adjust the pressure of the parlour’s radiator. His voice came to her slightly muffled from where he hunched behind the sofa. “His lordship, too. He dined at Stobcross House on at least two occasions, that I know of.”
Armand straightened, shaking his head. Presumably at the uncooperative radiator. “There was nothing about her that you’d notice, other than her exquisite beauty.”
“It,” Lily thought it pertinent to clarify. Always objectify a demon. Never confuse the human form they took on as anything human at all. “There was nothing about it to notice, other than its exquisite beauty, apparently.” She couldn’t suppress an undignified snort. “This demon must be quite impressive, mesmerising the two leading experts in the country. I suppose poor Mr. Winterberry never stood a chance.”
Armand missed her sarcasm by a mile, nodding solemnly. “To make matters worse, Mr. Winterberry will raise a ruckus when his wife goes missing.”
Kelan had likely reached the farmhouse by now, was hopefully banishing the siren demon even as they spoke. Good riddance, and if Mr. Winterberry knew what he’d married, he’d agree.
As much as Lily appreciated the additional worries of the demon she’d described to Kelan turning out to be Eliza Winterberry, she was still stuck on how this could have come about. “Beneath all that window-dressing lies a demon, Armand. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand how any man could find a shred of decency in there to love and, indeed, actually marry.”
“A man doesn’t have to love, or even like, a woman to become enamoured with her, um—attributes,” Armand ended stiffly. “Yes, well, a cup of tea, m’lady?”
She gave him a blank look, which he took as an affirmative and walked out of the room. Leaving her to muddle through the bizarre behaviour of men on her own. She wasn’t a dunce and she certainly wasn’t naïve. Times had moved on. Now-a-days, a lady couldn’t go through her first season without being privy to all kinds of inappropriate knowledge and Lily had been a quarter way through her third season when it had been so rudely interrupted by Greyston and demons.
She’d heard about paramours, and mistresses men kept before and after marriage. But even when the engagement was of a purely physical nature, surely there had to be some warmth between the parties, a mutual affection to some degree?
And did that imply a demon could in fact possess such qualities?
Dear Lord, this was what came from embracing her demon blood! Now she was starting to look for redeeming factors in the beasts. She only had to recall the ravaged body of Jean, the incidents documented by the McAllisters of demons murdering humans en masse for a lark, to know there were none. Demons were cruel, twisted abominations cursed with powerful magic forged from the fires of hell.
She jumped up as Armand returned, bearing a silver tray. “It was sheer madness for Kelan to go alone. He should have taken you with him.”
“That’s my fault, I’m afraid.” He set the tray on a table and busied himself with pouring the tea. “I said something earlier that he took great offence to.”
“He did something earlier I took great offence to, but I forgave him,” she retorted. “We may be able to stand alone, but we are stronger together.”
“His lordship has always stood stronger alone,” Armand said calmly.
From choice, Lily wondered, or because it had always been believed or expected of him?
“I’m going to try and see what’s happening.” She sat down again and bowed her head, focussing her thoughts inward, repeating the motions of before with one exception. This time, she didn’t want to find the demon. She wanted the demon to be banished, well beyond her reach.
The transition was quicker, smoother, nearly effortless as her mind caught the whirling storm and swept along the tunnel into a field of tall rushes, blanketed in darkest night. There were no stars or moon to illuminate the mounted figure that cut through the rushes in a full gallop. The demon, the dark shadow blurred around the edges. If Kelan was giving chase, he was too far behind for her to see.
Lily stayed with the demon, gliding along seamlessly as if riding the Aether in an invisible dimension. The noxious odour assailed her again, floating along in the Aether with her. Her stomach turned. She swallowed hard, past the bile pushing up her throat.
They approached a line of trees that bordered a road. Over the road and onto another field. Racing toward a private estate cast in the shadows of gaslight from within the perimeter walls. Lily realised then that the demon hadn’t glanced back once. It wasn’t being chased. Where was Kelan?
The odour was so bad now, she retched, again and again and even though nothing came up, her throat felt blistered and raw. Her stomach was in knots and surely it couldn’t just be the curdled smell? Her body was reacting—no, rejecting her existence in this warped, parallel dimension tunnel.
Her vision smeared and the perimeter wall grew smaller and smaller…she was slipping away. Lily grimaced through the spasms of pain and strained her eyes wide, determined not to fade. The gap closed in a heartbeat and she was right there with the demon, galloping down a pebbled driveway that curved between artistically pruned hedges.
The house was basked in a yellow glow. Both levels of the front-facing rooms were lit up, as well as the porch. The double doors stood open and a middle-aged man came hurrying down the steps as the demon pulled deftly at the bit and dismounted.
“Eliza, my dear,” the man gushed. “Where did you g
o? Is everything all right? What the devil was so important that you had to rush off…in the…middle of…” His arms dropped to his side, his gaze fixated on the demon striding up to him. “Did you enjoy the ballet?” he said, as if they’d shared a conversation Lily hadn’t been able to hear.
The pain was no longer confined to Lily’s stomach, but spiking through her veins like razor-edged flames flickering at her consciousness. It took all her strength to gather her wits. The man must be George Winterberry, which meant this was Stobcross House.
“The St. Petersburg Troupe belong in a dancing hall,” Winterberry’s wife said in a derisive tone. “Why else would I have left early?”
“Yes, yes of course, my dear.”
Lily decided she’d learnt enough, was about to give in to the blackness threatening to sweep her away, when Mr. Winterberry sharpened her attention.
“And you!” Mr. Winterberry called to the stable boy who’d run up to grab the reins.
“But, Sir, that wouldna be—”
“Now!”
The boy dropped the reins to scurry up the steps and inside through the front doorway.
Mr. Winterberry turned to his wife, who waved him inside with the words, “After you, George.”
“But, my dear…” He seemed to get lost again, staring into his wife’s eyes, then nodded and walked inside ahead of the demon.
The Winterberry demon stood there for a moment, framed in the doorway, looking out into the night. Then closed the door with a decisive slam.
Lily tried to go inside with them, but the blackness was rushing up at her and she couldn’t hang on.
When she came to, she was lying on the sofa, her head supported by the armrest and a blanket tucked in around her.
Ana gazed down on her. “I was about to send Armand for the physician.”
“I-I’m fine.” She shifted into an upright position.
Armand was there in an instant, his expression stern and overbearing. “You’re not doing that again.”
Lily worked her lips around the dryness in her mouth and looked past him to the silver tray he’d brought in earlier. “I’ll take that cup of tea now, thank you, Armand.”
The tea was lukewarm, but Lily drained it without complaint. A moment later the implication of what she’d witnessed struck her.
1685. The tenth of September. Every man, woman and child in the village of Toul Gharin marched to the peak of Cairn Toul and kept right on marching, clear off the edge, plunging to their death. The church declared the entire village had been possessed by demons. It was only one demon and its name is Raimlas.
“The Winterberry demon is Raimlas,” she croaked. The same demon she carried in her blood. “It’s able to manipulate minds. That’s how it managed to become so closely entrenched in Mr. Winterberry’s life. How long was I out for? Where’s Kelan?” Her gaze darted around the room. “Has he not returned yet?”
“No,” Ana said. “Not yet.”
“Where’s the demon now?” Armand asked.
“At Stobcross House.” Lily pushed up from the sofa, testing her steadiness. Her knees buckled weakly, but she’d manage. “Kelan was nowhere in sight.”
Armand glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “The farmhouse is more than a half-hour ride away. The demon must have left soon after you initially saw it there.”
“Wouldn’t Kelan have met it on the road?”
“It does no good to stab at guesses, m’lady.” Armand stepped forward to take the cup she still held. “His lordship will be back before you know it.”
“By then, it’ll be too late,” Lily said. “The demon was herding everyone into the house. Even the stable boy; through the front entrance. It’s up to something and, whatever that is, it’s happening now. You said you stabled the extra horse at the mews?”
Armand moved to block her as she tried to pass. “You are not going after the demon.”
Put that way, Lily’s limbs hollowed to the bone. Her, go after a demon! Where the blazes was Kelan?
“I just want to take a look,” she said, more to reassure herself than Armand. She’d sneak into the grounds and peek through the windows. Maybe try another vision again, although they weren’t truly visions, were they? Demon glass, Lily decided. She’d try another look through the demon glass. “If everything appears normal, we’ll wait for Kelan.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “And if it doesn’t?”
Which was more likely than not. The reason Lily really, really didn’t want to contemplate it, else she’d be petrified to the spot and never make it out the door. “Ana will be with me.”
“As will I,” Armand groaned.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She gave him a terse smile. “Ana can ride with you.”
Stobcross House was a short ride from the townhouse. Once they’d turned off Finneston onto the approach road, they slowed their gait to a trot. The plan was to scale the main gates and sneak up to the house. The gates, however, stood wide open and the silhouette of the Georgian pile at the end of the pebbled driveway looked wrong, as if a chunk had been hacked off the left. The only light came from a slither of moon peeking through the overcast sky.
“Christ.” Armand set off at a gallop, nearly unseating Ana at his back.
Lily’s heart thumped with fear and dread. Fear that this was it, the day she confronted a demon and failed. Dread that the demon had already done its worst and was long gone. She sucked in a deep breath, gathering the reins in her trembling fingers as she dug her heels into the horse’s flank and took off after them.
Except for the missing chunk, the structure of the house seemed intact. As she neared, however, she saw the windows had been shattered to leave gaping holes surrounded with jagged teeth. And everything was too quiet, too dark. No one huddling in shock in the front gardens. No distressed screams or wails of panic
Armand was already inside, but Ana waited for her on the porch. They slipped inside and paused in the spill of moonlight at the entrance of the hallway. The freeze hit Lily immediately. Tendrils of frost twining around her ankles, sliding up her petticoat to chill through her stockings. She pulled her cloak tighter, fisting her gloved hands in the material for added warmth. Further down the hall, the shadows gave way to complete blackness.
Brittle glass crunched beneath her boots as she stepped deeper inside. The wall lamps… The cabinet… It wasn’t just the windows that had been shattered.
“Listen.” Ana glanced at her. “Do you hear that?”
The faint jingle of bells from outside grew louder and louder. Lily turned and hurried back to see what on earth it was.
“Oh, thank goodness!” she exclaimed at the sight of the police wagon hurtling up to the front door, lanterns dangling on either side of the driver’s bench and the large bell swinging crookedly from its post. She knew they’d be of little use in a demon attack, but the presence of the authorities was a natural comfort hard to resist.
Footsteps thundered down the passage from behind and a hand grabbed her arm, jerking her from the doorway. “You don’t want to be answering the questions they’ll be asking,” Armand spoke near her ear.
“Surely they won’t think we had anything to do with this?”
“Being an official witness is just as bad. Ana,” he ordered in a low voice, “take your mistress. Second door to the left is a library that opens into the courtyard. Don’t linger to look and don’t stop. If the courtyard gate is locked, climb over the wall.”
“Come on,” Lily whispered, sprinting down the hallway. Armand was right. It would not do for her to become embroiled in a police investigation.
“Halt!” The echo of a gruff bellow came after them.
Lily skidded on the polished floors as she rounded into the library, banging a shoulder against the doorjamb. She bit down on a yelp of pain, but a small hiss still escaped, echoing in the cavernous mausoleum. Ana caught her by the arm, both dragging and guiding her further into the dark room.
“Sergeant,” Armand s
aid loudly, “I’m so pleased—”
“I say,” the officer overrode Armand, “who is that? Halt, I say!”
Lily dug her heels in, sliding a short way until Ana realised she’d stopped.
“What is it?”
“We’ll never make it through the courtyard and over the wall,” Lily told her. “Anything has to be better than to be seen running from the scene of a crime.”
She took a deep breath and moved toward the less dense blackness of the hallway just as the man reached her in a spool of amber from the oil lantern he carried. A quick peek around the corner showed a second constable, hat tucked under his arm and notebook out, cornering Armand near the front door.
Lily offered the man an innocent, if somewhat strained, smile. “Good evening, Sergeant.”
“Stay right where you are, young miss.” Bushy brows arrowed beneath his stern gaze as he practically shoved her aside to barge into the room. “And who are you?” he demanded when he came across Ana. Not waiting for any answers, though. “Where is Mr. Winterberry? What is going…?” his voice dropped off to a barely audible, “Blimey.”
Lily went in after him and her eyes bulged at the couple caught in the circle of the lantern’s glow. Mr. Winterberry and his wife, seated quite intimately close on one of the sofas tucked into a reading nook. A glass of port was raised midway to Mr. Winterberry’s mouth, the berry-coloured liquid frozen as solid as the two of them. A thick layer of ice coated the pair, dripping icicles from their extremities.
“Don’t touch anything,” the Sergeant said hoarsely. He advanced on the sofa with much caution, holding the lantern high above the couple as he leaned in.
“Don’t,” Lily yelped. She didn’t trust anything she was seeing. “You—You don’t know what happened to them,” she improvised, her voice as shaky as her nerves.
She half expected the demon to burst from its ice shell to rain hell upon the lot of them.
“Hmm, you may be right.” He straightened, nodding to himself. “But I do know it wasn’t Napoleon.”
The Dark Matters Quartet Page 30