The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2) (23 page)

“Of course!” Yael seemed offended. “It’s not
entirely…unexpected, however.”

It was my turn to stare.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Elijah was on my list, too, Preston,”
Yael said, with an offhanded nonchalance. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

The grade was steeper than I remembered, but the
houses were every bit as old and magnificent. The street smelled of wet hardwood
and confiner needles that we crushed underfoot. Clouds loitered on the
outskirts of the sky, working up the courage for an attack on the broad plain
of faded blue overhead.

“This street makes me nervous.”

Yael looked up at the crown of Prospect Hill, Carver
Heights winding around it like a garland, thousands tons of mud straining
behind retaining walls. The foot traffic around us was brisk, polite, and
affluent. Everyone was intent on getting somewhere in an efficient, but
eminently reasonable manner.

“Really? I would think Leng would be more worrisome.”

“I’m alone in the Empty District,” Yael explained
curtly. “What’s frightening about being alone?”

I passed on that one.

“Prospect Hill seems pleasant enough. Old houses, old
money.”

“Yes.” Yael pursed her lips as we began our ascent.
“That is exactly the problem.”

I remembered Mr. Sothoth, and his shrill insinuations.
I took a stab in the dark, as one does.

“Remind you of home?”

Yael smiled, as if to a private joke.

“What do you know about my home, Preston?”

“Not much,” I admitted. “The lawyers gave me some
basics. Can I trust it?”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Sothoth and Mr. Yog have represented my
family for generations.”

My double take was comedic. It begged a response. It
deserved
a response.

Yael chose not to notice.

“You must be kidding…”

“That’s what everyone says,” Yael complained. “Why is
that? Is it a crime to keep lawyers on retainer?”

“Not usually, but those particular lawyers…”

“My family conducted business with the Visitors.”
Yael’s tone was neutral, but there was unease swimming beneath. “No other form
of representation would have been appropriate.”

“What business did your family do with these Visitors?”

Old pain lurked behind Yael’s carefully rehearsed
smile, the kind of scar one plans a wardrobe around.

“My family was very traditional. Women in the family were
discouraged from involving themselves in business affairs.”

“You know, I can’t help but notice that you keep using
past tense.”

“Yes.” Yael gave me a clear-eyed nod. “I do.”

“Did something happen?”

“You could say that. How much do you know about the Night
Market, Preston?”

Prospect Hill was exposed to the wind off the ocean,
which was sporadic but powerful, and as we progress, I was forced to pull my
jacket back on.

“I was just introduced to it the other night by
Snowball.”

Yael nodded.

“I thought as much. The Night Market, as you may know,
operates on the barter system.”

I did not know, but saw no need to interrupt Yael.

“You would be surprised what can be bought and sold –
no matter how jaded you consider yourself. Not long after I arrived in the Nameless
City, I was brought to the Night Market, in an attempt to resolve certain
personal difficulties. In order to regain something I had lost,” Yael mused, “I
had to give up something else. I gave up my past, Preston; my home, my family,
the city where I grew up. Lost to me forever.”

“Are you saying it blew up, or something? Because you
made a wish?”

She gave me a look of withering contempt. I think that
was the first time I really made Yael mad.

“Don’t be absurd! No! My family is as they always
were. They don’t even miss me, I’m sure. Roanoke is the same. It simply isn’t
mine
anymore.”

We started up the last incline, and the houses on our
right disappeared as the slope steepened. The ocean was quiet, a dark mirror grudgingly
reflecting sunlight. The tide was in, the city in the harbor completely
submerged.

The absence of seagull cries tugged at me in an
obscure and sentimental way. They roosted in a few overlooked crannies at the
Institute, the only free things, as well as living reminders of the existence
of the ocean.

“I think that I understand.”

Yael glanced over at me to see if I was making fun.
She seemed pleased with the results of her survey.

“That’s good. I thought you would say otherwise.”

The last leg of the climb silenced both of us. I was out
of breath by the time we made it to the cul-de-sac up top, the curved shadow of
Constance Diem’s observatory enveloping the plaza below.

“You told me about this.”

“The observatory. Dawes said it belonged to Holly’s older
sister, back when she still lived in the Nameless City…”

“That must be wrong, though,” Yael said, toying with
the zipper on her windbreaker. “How could she leave? No one ever leaves.”

I was going to object on principal, but that’s what
assholes do. I didn’t subscribe to the prevalent notion that there was no exit
to the Nameless City, but had no real counter argument, other than the basic
principles of reality.

“What about a Black Train?”

“I doubt it. Everyone believes Madeleine Diem left the
Nameless City because Holly told them as much.”

“Hold on. That’s…”

“I know. I didn’t – don’t – like it, either. You have
to admit that it is the most likely answer, though. Think about it – if you
believe Holly’s story, Madeleine left the Nameless City after she took revenge
on Constance. Why would Madeleine leave the city, when she had just defeated
her hated rival? She supposedly spent years with the Drowned Empress, serving
as regent and biding her time beneath the waves. Why depart after her triumph
was complete?”

“Maybe she went back to…the Deep, I guess? Maybe she
liked it underwater.”

“You only say that,” Yael countered sourly, “because
you haven’t taken any Cultural Xenoanthropology courses.” This was true. “The
Deep Empire isn’t the sort of place where anyone would prefer to remain.”

“What about the fish-people?”

“The Servants of the Deep? They don’t have much choice
in the matter, I’m afraid.”

“Okay. Assuming you’re right and Madeleine never left.
Why the deception? If Madeleine decides to stay in the city, then who could
possibly stop her?”

That was a dumb question. Unfortunately, I realized
that shortly after I said it aloud. We both took a moment to appreciate fully
my failures of comprehension.

“Her middle sister. Holly Diem,” Yael said, lost in
contemplation of the observatory. “Who else?”

“How, though?”

“I’m not sure, but Holly must have been responsible.”
Yael sounded as if I was tiring her. “Madeleine’s only rival was her older sister,
Constance, right? Unless…”

I don’t need help across the finish line, as long as
I’m in sight of it.

“…she had two rivals.” I felt stupid, and full of
admiration for the beautiful woman who lived on my roof. “Constance
and
Holly.”

“Holly lied by omission,” Yael concluded gravely. “She
never really did say much about how she and Madeleine got on, did she?”

“Holly was the one who told me about the observatory
in the first place, though,” I objected. “She sent me here.”

“Knowing full well that you would be unable to enter.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s a theory, Preston,” Yael said, sighing. “Do you
want to test it?”

My head buzzed and ached, full of needy ideas.

“I still don’t understand why Holly would keep this a
secret.”

“If I’m right, then Madeleine Diem never left the
Nameless City,” Yael explained, pinching the bridge of her nose as if fighting
a headache. “I assume Holly was responsible for that, among other things she’d
rather we not know. Witches are highly concerned with appearances, Preston.”

I joined Yael in weary contemplation of the decrepit observatory.
The stone on the first two stories had developed a healthy coating of vivid
green moss, but the stone above it was free of any such constrictions, and I
idly wondered why. Far away across the water, the rain had started up again,
little more than a blur near the horizon and a scent carried by the wind.

“You think she was here the whole time.” The words, if
they had not been, became true as I said them aloud. At least, it felt that way.
“Holly had Madeleine shut up somewhere in this observatory for years, and
nobody had any idea.”

“Yeah. That’s my guess. Holly couldn’t risk confining
Madeleine in her former home, and I doubt she wanted to store her at the
Estates.”

I turned it over in my head, tried to knock some holes
in it.

“That’s…grim, Yael. Probably right, but…”

“Yes. Grim. The Nameless City doesn’t seem to believe
in pleasant surprises.”

“Holly’s been keeping secrets.”

“Well, she
is
a witch.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know that. Even so…”

“We are going to need to have a talk with her.”

“Not looking forward to that.”

“Me either.”

There was something covert in her hesitation.

“What? Just tell me.”

“Not to make your mood worse…”

She seemed genuinely sorry. Not that it made any
difference.

“What is it?”

“I think Madeleine is in there, right now,” Yael said,
nodding at the observatory, “watching us.”

I followed her gaze, but the weathered stone of the observatory
offered me no clues.

“Why would she come back to her prison?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Yael asked, shoving her hands in
her pockets and looking generally anxious. “Shall we ask her?”

The door was as imposing as I remembered. The sound of
Yael’s knock disappeared into the massive timbers the same as mine had. The
only major difference was the dwindling sunlight, and that the door opened for Yael.

I’m not bitter.

“Neat trick. I’m impressed,” I lied. “How did you…”

“Maybe Madeleine feels like company?”

Yael paused at the doorframe, hesitating like an
uninvited vampire, before turning and whispering something to Dunwich. The cat
received his instructions mutely, along with a quick pat to the top of his
head, and then he trotted swiftly back down Prospect Hill.

“Ready?”

Yael nodded, and I followed her.

The room on the other side was empty and small, with
crude stone walls and exposed electrical wiring. Inactive light fixtures were
crammed into the glass housings of old gas lamps, PVC conduits ran
helter-skelter, and it smelled of dust and dry mold. I ducked my head inside,
and then waited for my eyes to adjust, but there was nothing to see. Whatever
mechanism had opened the door, I couldn’t find it, but there was no sign that
the room had been occupied any time in recent history, either. The dust on the
floor was undisturbed, and centimeters thick.

“Guess nobody uses the front door here.” Yael pulled
her gas mask over her face. The mask was covered with sparkling stickers and
holograms, like a teen girl’s diary, making quite a juxtaposition with the military-issue
olive paint beneath. “I’m going up. Are you coming?”

“I guess.” I followed Yael through the door
cautiously, giving her a sizable lead. “You sure this place is occupied? Looks
like no one has been here forever.”

“A person would use the front door.” Yael flicked on
her flashlight, something I had neglected to bring along, and promptly located
the rickety wooden stairwell. “Not too many people using the observatory these
days, I suspect. They probably have another entrance.”

I tried to remember the exterior of the crumbling observatory.

“You mean a back door or something? I didn’t see
anything like that, when I walked around it the first time.”

I wasn’t sold on the idea, and I let that come through
in my tone.

“No.” On the other side of impervious lenses, I suspected
that Yael rolled her eyes. “That’s not at all what I mean. Come on.”

We emerged from the dusty stairwell into the main
chamber of the observatory. It was an enormous whitewashed dome, with orderly
lines of antiquated machinery and a broken cradle, which should have held a
telescope. It looked as if electricity was added to the building when the
practice was still in its infancy, with wiring crudely attached to the walls,
and ancient filament bulbs humming in the fixtures. There was a faint, but
distinct smell within the dome, recalling desiccated rose petals and crushed
grapes. The only light came from the slot in the concrete dome, left open
presumably for years, allowing a significant accumulation of leaves and debris
around the dormant machinery.