Page 90 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
After a long, long moment, broken only by the surly mutterings of geese, Imogene lowered her vase. “Is it gone?” she whispered.
“What the hell is going on?” Mary demanded.
And finally, finally, someone answered the bell.
“Get Richard,” Hester gasped to the shocked footman who burst into the room. “Tell him it’s come back.”
Cordelia lay in bed, her mind stuffed full of horrors. Falada wasn’t dead. Or rather, he was dead, but it hadn’t stopped him. He had dragged himself out of the earth and God only knew where it would end.
Can Mother raise the dead? Or is it because he’s something else? A spirit, like Hester said. She closed her eyes. Please, god, let it be because he’s a spirit. Because if Mother can make the dead walk…
She could hear Evangeline’s voice saying I made you, just like I made Falada and imagined being dead but still obedient, her body still walking and talking and simpering. Would she know? Would she still be trapped inside, screaming, while her mother wielded her dead flesh like a puppet?
Cordelia shuddered.
By the time that Lord Evermore had organized any kind of response, Falada had vanished into the woods again. Cordelia had thought to offer her help—not that she knew where he was going, but at least he wouldn’t hurt her. She had seen Evermore holding Hester tightly, though, and Hester looked so gray and worried, and for once wasn’t pushing him away, so Cordelia slunk off, unwilling to interrupt them.
The whole house was locked down. The doors were barred, the windows bolted, and no one was allowed outside. The word put around was rabies, even though no one had ever heard of a rabid horse attacking people. It was easier than trying to explain the truth.
Sleep seemed impossible, and when it finally came, there was no relief from the dread that crawled along her spine and soaked her skin with sweat. Instead she dreamed of a blackened horse skull looking down at her, its mouth opening and closing in a mockery of speech.
Hello, Cordelia, said Falada silently.
The surface of the skull was charred and pitted, and as she watched, bits of ash flaked off and tumbled away, leaving discolored bone beneath.
If only your mother could see you now, the skull said.
No, no, it’s not real, this is a nightmare, he doesn’t talk, he never talked—
Not to you. Your mother and I talk all the time. More ash flaked away and the jaw gaped open in a horrible approximation of a smile. I tell her everything, remember?
Shut up, shut up! Cordelia tried to put her hands over her ears but it didn’t help because the skull was talking without sound, just as Penelope did, except that Penelope’s voice was different—
Is it? asked the skull. Are you sure? Perhaps I’m the one who’s been talking to you all this time. The jaw gaped wider, the long row of molars rising from charred gums. You know that you always tell me all your secrets in the end.
“Shut up!” screamed Cordelia, sitting up in bed.
“Miss?!” The door to her room was flung open, and she heard Alice blunder through, run into a piece of furniture, and curse. “Miss, what’s wrong?”
She took a shuddering breath. Hands came out of the dark as Alice found her and gripped her shoulders. “You’re having a night terror,” she said, practical as ever.
“It was a dream,” rasped Cordelia. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.”
“That’s right. Do you need some tea?”
Cordelia took another breath and let it out. Her hands were cold with sweat where they gripped Alice’s. “No,” she said. “No, I’m… I’m fine. It wasn’t real. I just needed to wake up, that’s all.”
“No wonder you’re having nightmares, with monsters gadding about in the woods,” said Alice. “Everybody belowstairs is in a tizzy about it.”
“Oh dear. What are they saying?”
The maid snorted. “All sorts of nonsense. That the lord killed it and now it’s a ghost horse back for vengeance, or that it’s got the hydrophobia and Old Bernard’s next.” She rolled her eyes. “And one of the scullery boys says he saw it and it’s got eight hooves and no head, like a big old spider. I don’t believe a word of it.”
“No, of course not,” said Cordelia faintly.
“Do you want me to stay up with you, miss?”
She was tempted to say yes. If she was talking to Alice then she wasn’t thinking about the skull’s words. It isn’t true. It was a dream. He’s not Penelope. That’s just the nightmare talking. But Alice had to get up very early, and it wasn’t fair to keep her here half the night, just because the last few days had spilled over into Cordelia’s nightmares.
