A Lady of Rooksgrave Manor (Tempting Monsters Book 1)

by Kathryn Moon

"Three ifrits appeared this morning. They had Siobhan's invitation," Magdalena gasped, eyes wild, unable to settle on us or the house or the lost wandering girls who gaped at the destruction in front of us.

  "Amon, the others, Auguste," I cried, giving up fighting Mr. Tanner and letting him simply trap me to his chest.

  "Amon is at the lake, trying to help put the blaze out. The vampires are…" Magdalena blinked and shook her head. "I couldn't even reach all the girls in the wings, although some of the men have brought them out safely. Booker won't be hurt, Esther."

  Booker wouldn’t, but Ezra might. And Auguste was somewhere in there, lying helplessly underground without any idea of what was happening.

  "You have to go in," I whispered, blinking and finding Mr. Tanner's face, the dense angles and the tight focus on me. "Jonathon said he couldn't hurt you. You have to go in and get Auguste out."

  "It's daylight, little one," Mr. Tanner said softly in my ear, shaking around me. "Bringing Auguste out would kill him."

  I blinked between Magdalena and Mr. Tanner, studying them both, and shook my head. At the manor, a window on one of the upper stories broke up with a sudden burst of glass, a great blue incubus flying down with two girls in his arms.

  "No," I whispered, watching the manor girls and their monsters trickling out of the fire one by one, none of them my men.

  "Fire is one of the ways to kill a vampire," Mr. Tanner continued. "If he's somewhere secure and I let the fire in, that would do it too."

  "No!" I screamed, my fist suddenly flying out, connecting hard to his chest, the pain reverberating up my elbow.

  “I’m immortal, not invincible.”

  I drummed against Mr. Tanner, my hands bruising as I struck him, the scene of monstrous men and girls in their nightgowns and the endlessly smoking manor blurring in my vision.

  "No! No, no, no! Let me go! Let me go, you—you—" But I couldn't say it. Mr. Tanner was right. Auguste was trapped, maybe gone already, and there was nothing we could do to bring him out.

  "The village men are coming," Magdalena whispered, and Mr. Tanner flinched around me.

  "Booker," I whispered. "Booker and Ezra."

  The tether. I had Booker's tether, I controlled his will. It took me a moment to hunt it down, my head too chaotic—everything had just gone wrong, so disastrously and irreparably wrong—to find the thread.

  It was cool, quiet, calm in the chaos, and I let the manor and the fire and even Magdalena and Mr. Tanner vanish around me, sinking into the relief of Booker. I tugged, and Booker tugged back, refusing my call. I pretended the tether was a cord I could wrap around my fist, winding it once, twice, three times, and then yanking. There was give and then sudden tension again, Booker's refusal.

  I whimpered and Mr. Tanner called to me, more voices rising outside the manor, the men from the village coming to fight the fire. What would they see, the strange faces, and men with wings and scales? We certainly didn't look like a finishing school now.

  I pushed it all away, taking hold of Booker's tether with my entire body, all my concentration. It was like dragging him by the hand, all his weight and strength refusing against me, but inch by inch, I knew I had him.

  Amon's voice murmured nearby and that almost broke my focus until I shut him out too. Booker. I wanted Booker out of that fire. I wanted him and Ezra and Auguste somehow safely packed up, reappearing on Rooksgrave's doorstep.

  The tether finally went soft and slack, Booker giving up his fight against me.

  I woke with a gasp, brushing away Amon and Mr. Tanner's hands, fighting my way down to the ground, running for the door as Booker appeared. His clothes were singed and he had a body in his arms, but Magdalena was right—he was unharmed.

  The body wasn't Ezra or Auguste.

  A glimpse of red, a round pink hand hanging limply out of Booker's embrace. It was Cassie, small and soft, wrapped in a burnt sheet with her hair trimmed by fire, skin puckered and discolored in patches. She wasn't moving, she wasn't breathing.

  "Downstairs," Booker said. "Trying to get to George."

  Trying to get to her vampire.

  I let out a sob that ought to have been for Cassie but was really for Auguste, and this time as Mr. Tanner lifted me from the ground, I didn't fight. Someone took Cassie's body from Booker's arms, and he followed me with slow obedience, glancing back over his shoulder.

  My hand snapped out and I grabbed onto his wrist, ignoring the way it burned my palm.

  "We have to get back, out of the smoke. Away from the eyes," Amon said.

  "Ezra is stuck underground," Booker said and I stiffened, not sure if I was breathing or not, not sure of anything but waiting for the sound of his next words. "The cavern to Auguste caved in."

  I choked on a sob and Mr. Tanner tucked my face in his shoulder shushing me. "Caved in isn't burnt, little one."

  Caved in might be crushed. Or trapped in a tomb. I wept in Mr. Tanner's hold until I couldn't breathe, and the cost of being so close to the burning manor struck, wracking coughs tearing out from my chest.

  The manor girls and guests were huddling together under the shadows of trees, but there was no good disguise to some of the men and the villagers were staring, eyes wide and watching, studying the eerie faces trying to hide. Even Mr. Tanner and Booker were curious to them, and I watched blankly as one man looked between the manor and the group of us, and then turned away to head back to the village, willing to let us burn.

  "We have to get everyone somewhere safe," Magdalena murmured. "Somewhere secret. Before they start to believe what they're seeing."

  "My home is open to you all," Amon answered.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A Chorus of Grief

  By night, I was numb.

  Rooksgrave's occupants had settled easily into Amon's home. There was plenty of space, and the brownies appeared almost gleeful as they whipped through the halls, drawing baths and delivering meals. But the sound of the house was that of tragedy—coughing, the hiss of pain as a burn was treated, the chorus of weeping.

  I was untouched, and yet if Jonathon had asked, I could've pointed to my chest and sworn to him that something had been carved out. I must've been bleeding, infected, a wound festering.

  "We will be back before dawn, my star," Amon murmured, frowning at the plate of food I'd ignored.

  "No, I'm coming," I said, drawing the warm coat he'd placed on me hours ago tighter around my middle.

  "You cannot," Amon answered.

  "I wasn't asking."

  "I'm not—"

  "Amon, enough," Jonathon whispered.

  We were back in the bedroom I'd woken in, the light all wrong by evening. The whole day wrong. It had been unsettling to wake without Auguste after the amazing night, but this was…

  This can't be real. If it is, then I…

  "Esther, the fire won't have burnt the manor down, but it will have done damage. It will be dangerous and probably impossible for you to move through since you're—"

  "Only human," I said, frowning. I hadn't lifted my gaze from my lap in what I thought must've been hours. I didn't want to see the room around me. See three faces instead of five.

  Jonathon crouched in front of me, forcing himself into my periphery.

  "If you come, you'll have to remain outside, and then someone will need to be with you to be sure you're safe. We don't know that Birsha won't attack again. Magdalena and the brownies only just got wards up here." Jonathon let out a long sigh, one hand rising slowly toward my face. I didn't move until he touched me, electrified by the sudden connection. Tears rose up, my throat closed, my heart was collapsing in my chest. "Oh, Esther, I know. I know."

  My whole body hurt from fighting Mr. Tanner, from crying until I couldn't breathe, and it was all going to start again if Jonathon kept touching me like that.

  "I can stay here, or Mr. Tanner will wait with you outside—"

  "No. No, you're right. I can't do anything, and Mr. Tanner is strong, he might be able to…" To
find them. For better or worse.

  "Auguste is strong too," Jonathon whispered, and some of the horrible tension in me unraveled as he pulled me against his chest. We both still stank of smoke, an especially deep and earthy scent, something to do with the ifrit fire demons that had attacked.

  "Mr. MacKenna is slippery," Amon added.

  "He can't be caught," I said, nodding against Jonathon's throat.

  "We will search all night, my love," Jonathon whispered against my forehead.

  The answer was caught in my throat, pinched between anger with myself for being useless and the knowledge that what I wanted to say to Jonathon, I'd missed the chance to say to Auguste and Ezra, perhaps for—

  "Hope, Esther," Booker said, cutting off my thought.

  I nodded and straightened, at least to pretend so that they didn't try to make my burdens theirs. Jonathon was Auguste's friend and something a little more maybe. Ezra was Booker's. And Amon would bear any pain of mine as his responsibility.

  "Just be safe," I whispered, blinking at the three of them. "Please. I can't—You can't—"

  "We'll be back before the morning," Jonathon repeated.

  I nodded again, the movement puppet-like, and not one of them appeared reassured, but they headed for the door. I slumped as they left, one knowing glance from Booker in parting.

  The sight of the food on the plate waiting for me still made me queasy, but the idea of remaining here doing nothing until they returned was so much worse. I forced myself to eat, tasting nothing and chewing only enough to swallow, picking up the plate and rushing the meal as I headed for the door.

  There was a brownie hustling down the hall as I opened the door, arms full of linens.

  "What can I do?" I asked. I thought it might ignore me, too busy in its own task, but the small woman just turned on her heel, brown eyes glinting with almost manic excitement.

  "Much. Come."

  Just like Cork, I thought, with a pang that almost dropped me to my knees, but instead, I set the half-eaten plate on a chair and hurried after the brownie. Movement, orders, directions. It would keep me from going mad, at least.

  Rooksgrave was in mourning. Of the girls, only Cassie had been lost, inhaling too much smoke on her trek to rescue her gentleman. Plenty of others had burns that needed tending or men who were missing somewhere in the bowels of the manor, buried by the fire.

  No one seemed to notice me moving in and out of their rooms, building up fires, delivering broth with herbs floating on the surface, changing the water in baths gone stale. The brownies didn't care that I wasn't one of them or that I was their employer's lover. They had work that needed doing and I was managing it.

  I had never given much thought to my role in service. It had been my only option, at least in polite society. It was almost reassuring now to return to the role of the maid, to forget that I was one of the manor ladies. That I had possibly lost two of my men in the attack.

  "Esther. Esther? What are you doing?"

  I'd been dressing a small bed one of the brownies had fashioned with clean linens, my hair braided back and the sleeves of my dress rolled up. I blinked as I straightened, crashing back to the present moment as I found Magdalena in front of me. She was still in her dirty robe, slightly less smudged with soot, but her eyes and nose were red, and the cut on her collarbone looked untended.

  "Helping."

  "You should rest."

  I don't know which of the two of us looked worse, it might've been a tie, but I just shook my head, searching the small room I was in until I found the pitcher of warm water I'd brought up.

  "Sit, I'll clean your cut."

  "Esther," Magdalena repeated softly, my shoulders rising toward my ears. She sighed and then moved to sit on the trunk at the foot of the small bed.

  The room was up on the highest story of the house, and I thought it might've been a child's nursery at one point, the walls dressed in cheery yellow paper with little pink blossoms.

  "What a disappointment I've proven to be, hmm?"

  The bowl and pitcher in my hands rattled, a little splashing out over the lip. My eyes widened on Magdalena, her slouched form, the sheepish smile that trembled in place.

  "You?" I asked, kneeling on the rug in front of her, grabbing a clean rag from my pocket and pouring out the water into the bowl.

  "I promised you girls safety. I promised my clients privacy."

  "It isn't your fault that Birsha attacked, Magdalena."

  "It was my responsibility to protect the house. I don't know if Siobhan was forced to give up the invitation that let those ifrit in or if she did so willingly…" Magdalena's lips pursed, eyes flinching as I started to clean the wound. It was shallow, a bad scratch more than anything. "I'm just a witch. I read auras and find happy pairs. I'm not—"

  "Then maybe you need more help," I said, shrugging.

  "I think it might be a little late for that, darling girl," Magdalena whispered, eyes welling with tears. "We lost one of our girls. Gentlemen will try and talk theirs away, find somewhere better to hide them from Birsha. That's what he wants anyway. My tools and notes and collections of letters are all burned up now. A lifetime's work."

  "I think a monster who wants a nice boy or girl who will appreciate them deserves to have a witch like you help find that person," I said, back straightening. "You aren't useless. If you were, Birsha wouldn't have bothered attacking. How do you think us girls feel? I'm just human, Magdalena, I can't even go back to the manor to search for Aug—" My breath hiccuped and I squeezed my eyes shut, hands fisting at my side and water dripping down to the floor.

  "I'm sorry, Esther. I am. I'm sorry, you're right," Magdalena hushed, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "You're right. The vampire wing below ground is secure, it might be fine, you know? And Mr. MacKenna is an extremely resourceful young man. You shouldn't give up hope."

  I wiggled away from Magdalena's embrace, trying to bury more of the sobs that wanted to swallow me up, rubbing any stray tears off on the shoulders of my dress. I blinked at her, my friend or my employer, the pair of us haggard and hopeless and miserable together.

  "If I shouldn't, neither should you," I said, falling back to sit on the floor. "So you have a specialty in your magic, you don't need to be ashamed of that. You just need to find someone else to worry about the protection, right? Why should Birsha win?"

  Magdalena straightened, eyes glaring over my head. "He shouldn't. Of course not." Her lips curled, eyes dropping to mine. "You're right. As usual, darling."

  Something like a laugh fell out of me at the praise.

  "Magdalena!" a tight voice called from the hall, a familiar one too.

  I rose on weak legs as Jonathon appeared in the doorway, whole body heaving with a great sigh as he found me.

  "You're back already?" I asked.

  His eyebrows bounced. "It's nearly dawn, love. Why weren't you resting? No, silly question."

  "What did you find?" I pressed, staring over his shoulder as if I might see—

  "The tunnels to the vampires did cave in, but Booker thinks Ezra made it much farther. And there was another path nearby, so it's possible—"

  "But not them," I said softly.

  Jonathon slumped and I shook my head, running for him and swinging my arms around his shoulders, the room and the hall blurring.

  "But it's good news," I said, nodding against his shoulder. It wasn't what I wanted, but Jonathon and the others had spent the whole night searching. They wanted to find Ezra and Auguste as badly as I did.

  "I don't know. I want it to be," Jonathon whispered, arms finally circling my waist and squeezing tight. "There is good news for you if you want it, Magda. Downstairs."

  Magda swayed in her seat on the trunk, looking as though good news might have to wait for her to get a few hours of sleep. Then she lurched to her feet and nodded, tidying the robe around her with incredible dignity, even when the hem was singed and frayed. All her pretty silks, her jewelry, that was gone too.


  So was mine for that matter, although they had only been presents and I'd barely grown used to them. They were nothing next to what else I was missing after the fire.

  Jonathon's forehead rested against mine as Magdalena passed us, heading back for the stairs, "I'm sorry we didn't find—"

  I turned my face to his, pressing my mouth there in a firm closed kiss, my arms squeezing a little tighter around him. He answered in kind, leaning into me until my shoulders were against the hall wall.

  "I don't think he's gone, Esther. I really don't," Jonathon whispered.

  I nodded again, simply because if he believed that, then I would too. I didn't know if Auguste was gone or not. If Ezra was. I just wanted them to be here. It was the prickling wrongness of one of them being away amplified to a wound.

  "Come on. I told Amon and Booker I would find you. They'll start to worry," Jonathon said, but he didn't move away from me for several more moments and I wasn't in any rush to move.

  I wasn't quite anything at all it seemed, just trapped in a strange horrible day. One that I wanted to end and reset back to the night when I'd had them all together.

  Jonathon moved and I followed like an echo, down the hall to the stairs, around and around until we were back in the bright open entrance of Amon's home. The orchids in pots were as vivid and fragrant as they had been a little more than a day ago, and I had a funny violent impulse to knock one over, spoil the perfection of the room as much as my pretty perfect world had been marred.

  Amon doesn't deserve that. Neither do the orchids, I thought, holding my breath and looking away.

  Booker stepped into my side, his arm heavy and reassuring over my shoulder, too much of the smoke smell on his ruined clothing but not enough to make me want to turn away.

  In the doorway, Amon stood with an unfamiliar woman. She was tall with golden skin and glossy black hair like Amon's. In fact, she looked a lot like Amon, from the color and tilt of her eyes to the slight shimmer on her skin.

  "Magdalena Mortimer, my sister-kind, Khepri," Amon said, bowing to both women.