House of Sand and Secrets (27 page)

I glance down at the boy vampire. His nails are ragged and sharp like an animal’s.

“He belongs to Garret,” Jannik says, the words bitten out between small gasps. “He’s had it – him – for years. We’re not certain how many.”

“Too long,” says Isidro. “The thing is mad. You can’t save it.”

We’re all thrown across the carriage as the unicorns veer around a bend.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Isidro says. “It’s waking up.” He slams his foot down on the vampire’s face. There’s a crackle of bone and a wet meaty sound as the boy’s nose crumples.

“Will you stop!” I scream at him. “We’re almost there, and then we can sort out what we’re going to do with him – but not if he’s in pieces by the time we get there.”

“One less problem to deal with,” Isidro says.

“You’re scared of him?” I am incredulous “He’s barely more than a child.”

“I watched it chew on the hands of the last one of us who had the pleasure of being down there.” Isidro’s still yelling at me, his voice hoarse and frightened.

“What–” I draw back and look down at the bloodied face.

“Yes,” Isidro says. “Exactly.”

The carriage is slowing, the unicorns cantering then jolting into a trot and finally the slow amble before we stop. “We’re here.” I breathe properly, finally freed from a little of my fear.

The door opens and Master Sallow’s broad face looks in on us.

“Jannik,” I say. “You’ve bought nillies for blood-letting?” It has only occurred to me now that if he hasn’t replaced the lost stock, I’ll have to pay a servant to stand in as food. And I do not want to do that. Were it not for the scriv in my blood I could offer myself to Jannik, but I would not have Isidro touch me either way.

“There are,” he says.

I tilt my face up and close my eyes briefly. That’s one good thing. “Right.” I take charge. “You and Isidro do what you must. Master Sallow, if you could help me move this.” I indicate the body.

Sallow raises his eyebrows but kneels down to grab the boy under his arms and haul him free.

“I’d stay clear of the teeth, were I you.” I follow him down and into the apartments. “Take him up to the lavender suite.” I instruct a serving maid to bring me a spare shirt and trousers from the servants’ uniforms, and another to arrange hot water and new clothes for Jannik and Isidro.

Sallow watches me as I carefully unravel the stinking filthy cloths from the boy’s body. “The first sign that he moves,” I say. “Hit him.” The boy is pinch-thin, but now that I’m looking properly at him under the lights of several fat-candles, I can see my earlier guess was wrong. He’s not really a child, perhaps a few years younger than me, emaciated, and every rib showing like a starving dog’s.

I send for another bowl of warmed water and set to washing the filth and blood away. His skin is bruised, slack, the dark hair a matted snarl. Around his neck is still a thin iron collar with tiny leaves stamped into it. “We’ll need this off.”

Master Sallow leaves to find our head gardener, Master Bermond, who comes with his hands bound in leather gloves and carrying a wicked-looking tool with pincer-blades. He snaps the iron collar with single powerful twist. The metal clatters on the floor, and Bermond leans forward to hold it up in his gloved hands. “Nasty thing,” he says.

“You’ll need to dispose of that,” I say. “It must never be found.”

“As you say.”

I shiver to look at the damage it’s done to the vampire’s throat. Years of burns on burns. The skin is rotted, filled with pus and charred flesh. I have no idea where to begin.

“Maggots,” says Bermond.

“I beg your pardon?” I look over at his dark face. “How so?”

“They eat at the dead meat.” He shrugs. “Everyone learns it sooner or later.”

“Consider me instructed – you know how to do this?”

He nods once. “I’ve maggots for feeding the hens,” he says. “I can bring some.”

I take another glance at the filthy wound. “Good, yes. Please do.” I’ll leave that for now and work on cleaning the rest of him. The fresh blood washes easily from his face, but his nose is a mess of tender bruising, swollen and disfigured. I do the best I can, and work his limp arms through the sleeves of the clean shirt, and his legs into the trousers. The nakedness does nothing for me; it is rather like putting the skin and fur back on a dead animal – a bizarre and hideous task.

When he’s dressed I rebind his wrists and ankles with the strong rope Bermond left for me.

Jannik enters the room just as I’m tying the final knot. He is still pale, as always, but without that sweaty, hungry look. His wounds are hidden. I stand, reach out and lay one hand softly against his chest, just lightly feeling the bandages beneath the silk. He winces.

“Scriv?” I draw back. “I thought it would all be gone by now?” Certainly, I can feel no trace of magic in my system; all that I’m left with is a pounding vicious headache behind my eyes, and a sour taste I cannot swallow away.

“A little,” he murmurs. “You’ve cleaned him.”

“Except for the burn. Bermond is going to come deal with that – maggots – don’t ask, and the hair.” I eye the mess. “I think I’m just going to cut it all off.”

“He’s not a pet for you to groom,” Jannik says.

“I know that. All I gave him was a little decency.”

Isidro slips through the doorway. “I want to go home.” He is cleaned, dressed, his hair combed back into place. Even the bruises look better now that the cellar’s grime is washed away. Despite this, Isidro has lost something of himself. Whether he lost it in Eline’s house, or in Harun’s treatment of him, or his own mother’s betrayal, I don’t know.

“I can’t stay here,” he says.

“It was a pleasure,” I snap back at him. “The next time you decide to run away and get yourself sold to a madman, I’ll leave you to rot.”

He glares at me. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“Oh sweet Gris, never mind.” I raise my hands in exaggerated despair.

A groan sounds from the boy, and we all of us fall silent and stare at the shifting body. The cloth they gagged him with is lying next to his cheek. I wonder if I should have stuffed it back in his mouth. Too late now.

A pale tongue tip darts out of his mouth, licks at his dry lips. His eyelids flutter.

“I’m not staying,” says Isidro. “Get me back to Harun.” Panic colours. his voice.

“Hush.” Jannik catches his arm gently, but his gaze never leaves the boy lying at their feet. They both take a few paces back, leaving him a wide berth.

He wakes shrieking. Loud enough that all I want to do is press my hands over my ears and let Isidro lay into him again. “Gris.” We’ll need to knock him unconscious. Maybe Isidro was right and I should have just snuffed him out like a fatcandle

He falls silent as suddenly as he began, and curls up, bound wrists resting just below his knees. He flicks nervous glances back and forth at us, at the room, down at the clothes I’ve dressed him in. He scrapes his arms up and down against his legs.

“Can you speak?” Jannik asks him softly.

The only response he gives is a baring of teeth so feral that the boy might as well be a cur in the Lam heaps. He hisses, pulling himself smaller.

“Have you a name?” I say.

His eyes are indigo like Jannik’s but without a flicker of intelligence or comprehension. I might as well be trying to have a conversation with a rock. I try again, keeping my voice soft. “Felicita,” I say, and press one hand to my chest. I point at Jannik, name him.

“Leave me out of this,” snaps Isidro.

I shake my head and huff. “Fine.” I repeat our names, then point to the boy, and wait.

A knock at the door sets him off screeching again. Bermond the gardener enters carrying a small wooden pail and a handful of thin rolled bandages. He appears slightly alarmed, until he sees the boy. “Eh,” he says, looking at the figure writhing on the floor. “Hold this.” He passes the pail to Jannik who takes it, peers in, and then raises his eyebrows without comment.

Bermond snaps forward and grabs the boy by the nape then backhands him in a rushed blur. The boy’s head snaps forward and back, and he goes quiet. “You hush now,” Bermond informs him. The boy goes still, fingers curling. He seems almost content. Bermond works fast, setting thin bandages against the mess of the wound then waving his hand for Jannik to pass the maggots over.

The grubs are covered with another layer of bandage. “There,” says Bermond. “You’ll want to keep an eye on that, you want them eating the dead bits, not fresh meat, if you get me.”

A faint dizziness washes over me. “That’s – wonderful,” I manage, even though I am now regretting my earlier decision to bring the thing with. We all know I have it in me to kill if necessary.

The Lark is a problem. And I don’t think I have the time to deal with one this complicated.

PITY’S SWORD

Another hour passes
before Master Gillcrook sends us a messenger form the Guyin house. The Hob is crimson-faced and breathless when he arrives. I send for cider and bread for him while I read the note. It does not reveal much, merely that the meeting with Eline is over, and the house is safe to return to. I raise one eyebrow. For how long? Garret will have realized by now, surely. He will make a move soon – open or hidden.

We need to be prepared for either. I pull the bell to summon Master Twissel from his rooms. He arrives, smooth and unflustered even though it is the middle of the night. “The servants need to be moved,” I tell him. Even though we have just brought them all here and attempted to settle in. They’re going to be put out, but better that than caught in another fire.

“All?”

“Yes. I’ll need Cornelia to stay with me, but the rest must effectively disappear.” Gris knows what lows Garret will stoop to in revenge.

“Certainly, ma’am. Is there any place in particular which you have in mind that they should go to?”

I shake my head. “Scatter them, tell them to go home. Consider it a paid leave. As soon as I have arranged new permanent quarters they can return to work.”
If
that time comes. I wish I knew what Garret will do once he finds that we have taken not only Isidro and Jannik, but his little lark too. “You will also need to move all the warehouse stock into new premises, under a different name.”

Jannik stares at me “You’re serious? That’s an immense undertaking.”

“Eline will thrust the sword where it will cripple us. We need to stay ahead of them.” I catch my lower lip in my teeth, biting into the inner flesh. “They thought nothing of burning our home, what will stop them taking out the warehouses?”

Jannik’s mouth thins but he inclines his head slightly. I’m right, and he is well aware of that. “And where are we to go?”

“House Guyin.” There will be safety in numbers, although I can tell from the quick look that passes between Jannik and Isidro that neither likes the idea. Perhaps we will be nothing more than mice crowded under a hay bale, and all Garret has to do is stamp on us to break our backs. I do not know where else we can go, and we need each other. We are all we have.

“What of that?” Isidro points at the Lark. “It’s not coming with.”

“I’ll make certain you do not see it again, but it – he – may have uses as leverage.”

Isidro blinks.

“Garret will want his toy back.”

A distant smile passes over Isidro’s face and he stares at me with a new light in his eyes. “I had no idea you were so callous.”

Neither did I – I thought I was going to be a better person here; that running from Pelimburg would wipe clean all the marks on the slate of my life. But it seems the rock is scarred, and that I will merely add to the list of my crimes. “Someone help me move him into the carriage,” I say. I want this night to end. My head is a boiling mass of pain and I can see no moment of rest or respite.

* * *

House Guyin stands
in watchful silence. All the servants have been warned to be alert, and we have decided to alternate a watch.

Harun has claimed the first shift. He’s had servants clear out rooms for us, and I am lying on the deep golden covers of a large four-poster bed. Cornelia has undressed me, and I’m in a clean nightgown, slightly rumpled from speedy packing. Jannik sits on the edge of the bed, his hand curled against his stomach.

I reach out to touch his knee. “Do you want me to call for willow-bark and lady’s gown?”

He shakes his head then reconsiders. “Just willow, I think. I want to be able to wake with a clear head.”

“Lady’s gown will help you sleep.”

“Then order it, Felicita. Do whatever you want.” He is angry, not with me, but with himself, for reasons I cannot fathom.

The scriv has cleared from my body, leaving not even the faintest twinge of magic. My head aches and, deeper than that, is a painful clenching loss. I have given this up, for him.

And Jannik’s house of the imagination is already closing against me. I pull away from him with an effort, and ring for a servant. “How did the portrait turn out?”

I surprise a laugh from him. “I didn’t even get a chance to sit.”

“So she’s part of it, then.”

Jannik shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was meant to start in the morning, when the light was good. I had a little wine – and then.” He turns one hand up, showing nothing.

“You were drugged.”

“I assume as much. I woke groggy and in that – that room.”

It’s still possible that Carien had nothing to do with this. That Garret merely took the chance when he saw it and concocted some excuse for Jannik’s disappearance. And extremely unlikely. Damn. I had wanted to like her, I realize. Instead they thought so little of me and my husband that they were certain they could simply take Jannik from me and that I would be too scared and helpless to do anything. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Jannik closes his eyes. “What will it help you to know?”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the floor.

I grit my teeth and lie back on the bed.

“Did you really have to bring it here?” Jannik says as the laughter grows louder, more manic.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on him,” I point out.

“Why does it have to be us?”