Changing Nature (The Immortal Descendants Book 3) Page 7

  She winced. “It’s that obvious?”

  “No, you’re gorgeous. But it’s more than just tired.”

  My mom wasn’t vain like some of the women I used to see in L.A. But those women would also have paid good money for skin like hers – smooth and just barely colored by the summer sun. She reached out and adjusted the collar on the coat I’d hastily put back on, and I kissed her cheek. “Thank you for coming with me, Mom.”

  “I love you, darling.” She sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Ugh, if I didn’t think it would shock him, I’d ask Bob for a neck massage.”

  I raised an eyebrow and grinned. “A neck massage would shock him?”

  She smiled. “The request would. Perhaps when he’s no longer on guard duty.” Then she turned to Charlie. “Welcome to Elian Manor, dear. Once this nonsense is over I’ll show you to a room you may call yours as long as you like.”

  Charlie looked wide-eyed with surprise, but my mother was already down the stairs before she opened her mouth to say anything. I continued up to the family wing of the house, and Charlie ran to keep up with me. Her eyes were wide as she took everything in around her. Millicent liked to keep the hall sconces on dimmers, so the effect was a little like candlelight, and, I had to admit, very pretty.

  Charlie didn’t speak until we had closed the door to my bedroom. The room had been my mom’s when she was growing up in this house, and I liked it for the view over the kitchen garden.

  “This is your ‘ouse?” Charlie’s voice was a breathy gasp.

  “Crazy, isn’t it? Technically, it’s my mom’s house, but I didn’t grow up here. We only moved back this year.”

  “It is a … proper manor!”

  I grinned at the awe on her face. “It took me a week to learn my way around. I can show you, or you can just explore it on your own. My favorites are the wardrobes. There are clothes from probably every era since the 1600s in them, and more in the attics. That’s where I found my outfit for tonight.”

  I was peeling off the jacket and shirt as I spoke. Nineteenth-century men’s clothes weren’t too bad, as those things went, but they weren’t jeans and t-shirts either. Charlie watched me strip down to my camisole and underwear with some embarrassment. It didn’t bother me, though. I probably seemed like a freak to her since I was so tall and she was so tiny. I guessed Charlie was about sixteen, but she was about the size of my friend Olivia, who is descended from Picts, the tiny race who had lived on the British Isles before the Romans came. I thought Charlie’s diminutive size probably had more to do with not having enough food when she was growing.

  “I have a t-shirt you can wear, and if you roll them, my sweats will probably fit you if you want to change.”

  “Do I have to?” Charlie’s voice was small again, and I looked at her sharply.

  “Of course not. I just can’t stand all the fabric you guys wear. It gets tangled around my legs when I’m trying to run or if I have to fight. I just thought, since you used to dress like a boy anyway …”

  She exhaled. “I ‘ad to wear trousers so the blokes Mary brought to the room didn’t look twice at me. Wearin’ a dress now reminds me I’m safe.”

  A twinge in my chest was some combination of pain and sympathy. “I get that, actually. I usually dress like a boy because I’m too practical, and maybe too lazy, to get all fancy. And when I’m free-running it’s actually safer to look sort of anonymously male. But I compensate by wearing cute, girly underwear that only I can see. And I do my toes in crazy colors.”

  I wiggled my bare toes to show off my latest, sparkly turquoise pedicure. Turquoise toenails made me absurdly happy. Charlie giggled.

  “It’s very silly to ‘ave blue toes.”

  “I know, right? That’s why I do it. They were hot pink last week.”

  I pulled up a pair of black skinny jeans and grabbed a dark gray t-shirt from a drawer. Charlie smirked when she read the words on it – Dinosaurs didn’t read and look what happened to them.

  “Ringo taught me readin’.”

  I remembered all the books Ringo had stacked on every surface in his flat. “This house is full of books. You’re welcome to read anything you find interesting.” I was lacing my boots so I didn’t see Charlie’s expression at first, but her voice was so tentative I had to look up.

  “Do ye think yer ma might ‘ave work for me? Maybe in the kitchens, or cleanin’? I don’t know anythin’ about workin’ in a big ‘ouse like this, but I’m a fast learner.”

  My surprise must have been visible because the hopeful look on her face shuttered, and she took a step back. “It’s alright if there’s no place fer me ‘ere. I just ‘oped, you know?”

  “Charlie, my mom wasn’t kidding about giving you a bedroom here. A guest bedroom, not one of the maid’s quarters. You’re welcome whether you work or not, though if you get bored and want to help out, I’m sure no one’s going to say no. You don’t have to earn your keep. You’re my friend. You can stay as long as you want to.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears, and I wrapped her up in a hug. “Your life has not been easy in ways I can’t even imagine. This life might not be either, but no matter what, you have a place to stay, okay?”

  I could feel her nodding against my shoulder, and then I had to wipe my own eyes. Some of the wariness on her face had finally cleared, and I wondered if she had ever truly relaxed, even with Ringo.

  I looked out the window to the garden, wondering if the guys were still in view. There was no movement in the walled garden, but directly below me I caught the edge of something. The smallest motion, maybe even Jeeves’ cat, but something in my gut prickled.

  “I think maybe we should work out some hiding places.” I flicked off the lamp next to me, leaving only the one by the bed still lit, then stepped back out of sight of the window. “I’m not sure anyone will ever make it up here, but we should hide now just in case.”

  The wariness was back in Charlie’s face, and she picked up the cast iron frying pan. I pointed behind her. “Wardrobe.”

  She nodded and silently slipped inside.

  I turned off the other lamp and waited a second for my eyesight to adjust. Then I slipped back to the window and stood next to it, peering down at whatever was moving outside.

  There it was again. A flicker of motion. Definitely not feline, but what was it?

  The movement outside the house was gone, but the prickling remained in my guts. Something wasn’t right. Something … was coming.

  I put the kitchen knife on the desk next to me and clutched my daggers in each hand. The prickling didn’t change, and I could feel a Monger coming on like the flu, steadily getting closer and more icky.

  And then the floor creaked. Right outside my door.

  My teeth clenched, and I crouched down next to the desk. Not a proper hiding place, but maybe not obvious unless a lamp was turned on. There were no overhead lights in the bedrooms at Elian Manor, an old-fashioned quirk about which I was suddenly very glad.

  If I hadn’t been watching the door so intently I never would have known it was opening. The movement was glacial and completely silent. Just a centimeter or two at a time. I’d stopped breathing and knew if that door didn’t open all the way soon I would pass out from a lack of oxygen.

  The door finally stopped moving when the opening was just wide enough for a person to pass through. My daggers were out in front of me, ready to be thrown at the first sign of enemy.

  There were no other sounds in the house. Nothing moving in the shadows, nothing creaking down the hall. I wasn’t sure who was outside my door, but I didn’t think any of my friends were stupid enough to sneak into an armed chick’s room. And if it was an enemy, how the hell did he get past my friends?

  My shoulders were starting to lock up from the tension, and I was afraid to blink. There. Something moved near the door handle. Something not … solid.

  The darkness rippled, if such a thing is possible, and if I’d been a cartoon character I would have rubbed my eyes
in disbelief. Nothing solid entered my room, but it got darker anyway. I didn’t move a muscle, even as they were screaming at me to run away. Monger-nausea was roiling, and my heartbeat started tripping over itself in an effort to make me move.

  The rippling darkness came fully into the room, and a sudden yell cut through the night outside the manor. “He’s gone!” It was Mr. Shaw’s voice, and it held an edge of panic. It also sounded very far away.

  “Upstairs! To Saira!” I totally seconded the urgency in Archer’s voice. Yes, please, my mind almost whimpered.

  The darkness moved faster now. It hesitated at the bed, then started toward the wardrobe. Crap! I stood up suddenly, possessed by all things heroic and stupid, and yelled, “Here!”

  Really, it was an impressive yell. I even startled myself with the sheer volume, and I realized I was yelling to the guys outside to get up here and save my terrified booty before I did something idiotic, like draw attention to myself.

  Oh wait, I’d already done that.

  The darkness rushed at me and I started slashing.

  Note to self – daggers are not swords. They aren’t slashing weapons. They’re stabbing ones. I was slashing like I’d just walked through a massive spider web and was doing the get-it-off dance.

  Darkness is pretty hard to cut though, and the only thing I was succeeding at was freaking out. The darkness hadn’t touched me yet – yes, I realized how ridiculous that sounded, but I had the sense that this Monger-darkness had mass somewhere behind all that invisibility.

  I could hear heavy feet pounding up the main staircase and knew it would take someone about five seconds to get to my room. Three, if it was Ringo.

  And then the darkness grabbed me. And I screamed.

  I slashed at the darkness with my free dagger and thought I might have connected with something because the grip convulsed and nearly broke my arm with its force.

  Crap. That hurt.

  And suddenly I had a flash of malice. I didn’t know if I saw it, or just felt it, but it was blinding and seething with nastiness. I almost dropped my dagger.

  And then … THUNK.

  The grip on my arm let go and I dove away from it.

  And then I watched the outline of a man go crashing through my bedroom window.

  My bedroom door slammed open the next instant and Archer yelled, “Saira!”

  “I’m here.”

  Like me, Archer didn’t need more than a sliver of light to see, and the dimmed hall sconces were more than bright enough to find me. A heartbeat later I was in his arms clutched to his chest, and the pounding of his pulse matched mine.

  Charlie stood behind him, just outside the open wardrobe. She had the frying pan raised in her hands and a stunned expression on her face. That explained the THUNK I’d heard, and a smile wobbled onto my lips.

  I struggled to the window. Jagged shards of glass littered my desk, and the gaping hole was definitely big enough to have accommodated a fleeing man. I searched the ground with my newly educated eyes. Neither man nor darkness was visible below, and I shuddered as I turned to face Archer and Charlie.

  “It’s gone.”

  “It?” Archer’s voice was incredulous.

  “It was Other.” Charlie squeaked. Actually squeaked. It would have been cute if what she said hadn’t been so freaking scary.

  “Other, as in from the Otherworld?” I stared at her and she nodded, wide-eyed. I explained to Archer. “Charlie is an Otherworld seer. Not Seer, like Descendant of Fate, but she can literally see things that aren’t from this world. Miss Simpson said she’s known of one other person who could see Others.”

  “My mother could do it, too.”

  “What did you see, Charlotte?”

  “It was cloaking itself in darkness, but that was just a … thing it put on, like a skin. But it wasn’t a pure Other, because Saira could see it, too.”

  “It was Monger, too.”

  Mr. Shaw and Ringo burst into the room. “Rothchild’s gone.”

  Ringo took one look at Charlie and rushed to her side. He unpeeled her grip from the frying pan handle and then wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She leaned back into him, but kept her eyes on the rest of us.

  “So Dodo’s part Otherworlder,” I said. “Isn’t that special. But why didn’t he go dark when he went after me on the bridge?”

  “Maybe he underestimated you before?” Archer’s voice had a smirk under it that made me feel good. As if underestimating me was a mistake people only made once.

  “Maybe there’s an energy expenditure associated with going dark? I like that description, by the way. It explains how he got past all of us outside.” Mr. Shaw managed to sound vaguely professorial no matter what he said. Ringo nodded.

  “That makes sense. Ye said ‘e was a Rothchild. Related to yer old roommate, Saira?”

  “Archer thinks he’s an older brother, but if he’s only half Monger, he’s a half brother.”

  “There are Others that can hide in a body, not just hide as one.” Charlie’s voice was getting stronger, and I guessed she was finding confidence in the fact that everyone in the room took her seriously.

  “You mean, maybe the Darkness just took Dodo over and decided to ride around in him?”

  “Somethin’ like that.” Charlie gave me the ghost of a smile.

  “Fascinating.” Mr. Shaw always sounded like Spock when he said that.

  “Freaking scary. I’m not feeling too confident about my chances against him if he comes back.” I didn’t like the involuntary shudders that kept creeping up my spine.

  “You should go to the keep with your mother. At least to sleep.” Archer’s voice was low in my ear.

  The thought of sleeping in the warded keep of Elian Manor made me shiver, but with chills, not the creeps. “I don’t think I can sleep through the cold of the ward there.”

  “I wish I could tell you to rest with me, but it’ll be dawn soon, and I’m afraid I will become a liability to you if he should find us.”

  Considering I didn’t even know Archer’s daytime resting place at Elian Manor, I thought that was unlikely, but Mr. Shaw saved me from answering. “You should both go to the keep. Get some rest, and I’ll do some more research on 1429 with your mother. When you wake up tonight we will hopefully have a workable plan to keep you away from the Otherworlder.”

  I sighed. I really was exhausted. “Charlie and Ringo, go find rooms in the east wing. I don’t care where, and no one else will either. Just get some rest, okay?” Ringo nodded, and Charlie picked up her frying pan again. It made me smile.

  I looked at Archer. “Go do whatever you need to do to hunt. You’re too cold when you haven’t eaten, and I’m going to need all the body heat I can steal from you.” I was bossy when I was tired - probably other times, too – but Archer nodded quietly. I knew he hunted for deer in the woods surrounding Elian whenever he needed to, so I could keep my squeamishness about his eating habits turned down low. He’d only killed one person that I knew about, and that guy was a Were bent on killing Archer. I tried not to think about it too much, though. I was good at mental hide and seek. If I couldn’t see it, it couldn’t see me.

  I grabbed a pillow and a duvet and dragged myself out of the bedroom. Ringo and Charlie peeled off at the intersection of the east and west wings, and I could tell they were both tripping over the bags under their eyes, too.

  Archer escorted me to the keep and kissed me gently before I went inside. I could hear him talking to Mr. Shaw as they walked away.

  Mom was asleep on the sofa, so I curled up on the soft Persian rug, pulled my duvet over me, and lay thinking about Dodo. I didn’t know if the Monger hierarchy knew their pet soldier wasn’t entirely human, but I imagined he was incredibly effective at snatch and grab.

  Why let a little thing like humanity get in the way?

  History

  The streets teemed with wolves. Their snarls and growls filled the night with a warning of bloodshed, and the scent of beasts was sharp a
nd wild in the air. The stone walls of a castle-like building guarded our backs. We couldn’t be surrounded, but we couldn’t run either.

  One wolf, though maybe not as big as the others, was clearly the leader. It was a tawny, reddish color with a dark tail that made the tail look bobbed, and the others flanked it protectively.

  Tawny stared into my eyes and neither of us blinked. It was a test of dominance, and to blink was to die.

  I gasped awake with heart-pounding disorientation. No wolves. Not the streets. Not my room. Finally, the hand stroking my hair brought me back to full consciousness. Archer. And a vision.

  I turned my face up to his. “Wolves?”

  “Apparently.”

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and sat up. Then immediately dove back under the duvet and snuggled into the warm spot my sleeping body had made next to Archer. “Cold.”

  Archer chuckled and held me close. Even his scent was warm and faintly spiced with cinnamon or cardamom. We rarely slept next to each other because I worked during daylight hours, so it was a luxury to wake up in his arms.

  “Have you had that vision before?”

  Archer shook his head. “It’s new.”

  “Actually, it looked old. The streets were cobbled. And the thing behind us, the castle? That thing had turrets.”

  He smiled grimly. “A lot of turrets are still standing now, but I agree, it didn’t feel modern.”

  I closed my eyes. “Crap. I’m not ready to start Clocking again. The trip back to get Ringo was fine because I kind of know the Victorian rules. And Victorians believe in bathing.” I grimaced and Archer laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. “And don’t even get me started on street-dumping chamber pots. Seriously? Why even bother. Just dangle your business out the window and let fly. It’s the same thing.”

  Archer’s rumble had become full-blown laughter, and it was doing a good job of erasing the bad taste residue from the wolf vision.

  I sat up again, pulling the duvet with me to wrap around my shoulders. Archer’s bare chest was uncovered, and I automatically reached my hand out to trace the line of a scar. He had slept in pajama bottoms, and I had to swallow a giggle at the idea of a Vampire in pajamas.