Page 31 of Grave Devil
I stay with him for the rest of the night. And no one disturbs us. I let him tend to my wounds. He heals me with toxins and salves and gentle kisses. By the time I close my eyes, the pain is gone, and I’m too tired to care about the figure who watches me from the shadows. That ominous part of my psyche will still be there tomorrow. So I’ll deal with it then. Right now, all I want to do is sleep with this beautiful monster’s tail curled around my legs.
Morning is dark circles, cigarettes, and coffee with a splash of gin. I crept out before dawn, careful not to wake anyone in the mansion. I think Nox heard me leave. I doubt he sleeps the way we do. If at all. But he’s extremely observant and decided to pretend to be asleep and play along with the ruse. As if we were an old married couple from the Poison War era.
I dip into Mia’s room to find her tangled up in a mess of heavy limbs. Bones is snoring,though he’ll never admit that he does, while she sleeps peacefully for once. He has a way of calming her in ways that the rest of us do not.
Aries must’ve gotten up early as well. The heady scent of his cologne still lingers in the halls. I let it saturate my senses as I head downstairs. I’m uneasy today. Anxious. My demons have their claws around my throat, taunting me more than ever to see if I’ll snap. No one wants that. If I fall apart, there’s no putting me back together. I’m on the fringes at all times, riding that slivered edge so hard, the wheels of my sanity are barely holding on. All of my punctures, my wounds… I am so close to sayingfuck itand letting them all bleed out.
I loosen the knot in my tie, cursing myself for being so obsessive-compulsive that I keep insisting on wearing these dreadful things. But my father, my mother’s husband, I should say, instilled these old traditional ways in me at an early age.
I wore my first tie when I was merely seven years old. To the opera. Two things that no child should have to endure. I should’ve been playing outside or watching cartoons, but instead, me, Aries, Bones, and every other wealthy brat in Melancholia were forced to play dress-up and made to sit in coldperfume-filled theaters listening to hauntingly tragic music. It’s no wonder I am possessed by this dark disposition.
Whether it was for the opera then, or later for meetings with clients, or even to mundane Sunday night dinners with my grandmother,although, nothing about Penny Blackwell’s dinners was mundane,Father became more insistent that I wear this noose around my neck. Perhaps he believed it would humanize me more. There’s no question that he could never hide the disdain in his eyes when he looked at me.
It wasn’t until I was well into my adolescent years that I learned why. The anger of knowing, burdened with the rage for the way he allowed a little boy to grow up thinking he had done something wrong, well, it was enough to plague even the brightest of souls.
“What’s troubling you, sir?” Rodrick asks through the intercom. If I don’t lower the partition between us, then he won’t either. A sign of respect. In all the years he’s worked for me, he knows when to give me space and when to pull me back from the depths of my own self-loathing.
I light a cigarette and take a few drags before lowering the partition. Rodrick isn’t just my chauffeur or butler. He’s been the only constant male figure in my life since I can remember. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.
“The usual, Rodrick—death, taxes, and existentialism. Who am I? What is the meaning of it all? Will HIM ever get the band back together?” I snicker and take faster drags, desperate to get as much nicotine in my system as fast as possible.
He narrows his eyes at me in the rearview mirror. “You know that you can dismiss me, sir, but you can’tdismissme, right?”
I glare out the window, annoyed that he makes perfect sense.As usual. “I’m fine, Rodrick. Just haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Have you tried the salve Aries made you?”
“The gin works better.”
“What is keeping you up then? Is it Mia or one of the others?”
He wants to fix me so badly, but he can’t. No one can. I’m so beyond fucking damaged… I sigh and stub the cigarette butt into the crystal ashtray that’s tucked inside a middle compartment.
“Nothing to be worried about, Rodrick. I promise,” I lie. “Managing the gin and the poison has proven to be more grueling than it used to be. That’s all.”
He nods, but his gaze lingers imploringly. Curiosity and worry fight within him. “Very well, sir. I am here as always if there is anything else you should ever wish to discuss.”
I nod and send the partition back up. A twinge of guilt stings the back of my throat when I think about all the horrific things that pervade my mind. I know I can confide in Rodrick, but it’s less about my own shame and more about not wanting to burden him. He worries too much…Unlike my own father, who never bothered a day with me.
And so now I do not bother with him. I will continue to feed and shelter Noble Blackwell in his old age as he did for me when I was a child, but that is all. He should be grateful that I even let him reside on our property in one of the guest houses. I should have sent him to the farm as he did my mother before she passed. He never forgave her for fucking another man. And I was just a constant reminder of his own failure to keep my mother satisfied.
I white-knuckle the edge of my seat, my heart racing. In my mind, I am back at the manor, a child, hiding behind my mother’s skirts while my father smashes every glass object within his grasp. It was Rodrick who would finally defuse the situation. He’d sneak in behind him and stab him in the neck with a tranquilizer.
Penny had sent him. My grandmother had no love for my mother or for me, but she absolutely loathed a scandal. And thescenes my father created would echo all the way down to the servants’ quarters.
By the time he came to, he wouldn’t even remember the incident. He’d wake up with a pounding headache and the empty bottle of gin that Rodrick had planted on the bedside table. That’s how we lived. It was a game that we all perpetuated. And the older I got, the better I became at playing it.
The car comes to a stop outside the oddities shop. I wait for Rodrick to open the door for me, not because I’m an entitled brat but because I’m in the center of town, and I need all to see and feel my wealth and power.
I don’t look him in the eye as I tighten the knot in my tie. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“You shouldn’t go in alone, sir. Shall I summon Mr. Crane for you? Or Mr. Thorn?” He means well, but I have no patience for it right now.
“If I want you to summon anyone, I will tell you to. Remember your place.” I stalk toward the shop without waiting for a response. I am rage, chaos, unhinged, and untethered to anything whole. Broken. Damaged.
I can’t breathe.
I fight the urge to loosen my tie again and instead finger the brass knuckles in my pocket, focusing on the coolness of the metal, the snugness of each loop around my fingers. This will make me feel better. It always does. It has to.Please. Fuck.
