Page 69 of Nightshade

Yawning and stretching, I let my mind rewind to the night before and Van Croix. Everything about the man intrigued me, drawing a number of questions in my mind, from his shady reputation, down to the patch at his eye. The fact that I’d found the cathedral and Van Croix so quickly still struck me as odd, but I’d chalked it up to Xhiphias having had something to do with that. I just knew I needed to know more about the man I’d seen outside my room the night before. How my father might’ve known him and why he’d sought him out. Perhaps he could help me find my father, assuming Papa had ended up in Nightshade after his death. Given what I’d learned about the way humans were preyed upon here, though, my hopes didn’t remain high.

Still, I was determined, nonetheless.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and steeling my muscles, I scrambled for the sheets to cover myself, just as the door clicked open.

Anya walked in, carrying a tray with a silver teapot. “Good morning.” She spoke low and, after setting the tray down on a nearby table, hurried to close the door again. “Thought you might be hungry again.” Tray in hand once more, she crossed the room and placed it on the expansive stretch of bed beside me, and when she took a seat there, I inched backward in discomfort.

Smiling and wordless, she poured what I guessed to be tea into the two cups that were set beside toast with jam. The grace and care with which she handled the cups almost felt cartoonish and overexaggerated.

“About last night, Anya. I didn’t mean to--”

“Nonsense. How could you possibly sleep with all that racket going on?”

“Racket?”

“Oh, yes. The pipes in this place can sometimes make such a clamor! Also, do not be alarmed if the candles flicker on occasion. It can be so drafty. The chill just sticks to your bones.” Clutching her arms, she pretended to shiver.

The pipes. It definitely wasn’t the pipes that’d woken me.

“I’ll let you get dressed, and we’ll take you wherever it is you’d like to be dropped off.”

I knew nothing of this place, and had never anticipated the vastness of it. Finding my father, if he were here, at all, would likely be impossible. My questions regarding Van Croix, coupled to the fact that I may have stumbled upon the flowers necessary for returning to my world, left me hesitant to leave. I wasn’t ready to go back to my old life of little answers and bigger curiosities that grew every day. What I needed to know lay buried in this strange place. In Van Croix, himself.

“Anya … I don’t want to impose, but ... do you think it’d be possible for me to stay a few days more? Not long, I promise.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The master is very particular about guests.”

“Yes, you’ve said that. But what if I helped with something? I can clean, or help cook?” I wasn’t the best cook, but the couple of meals I’d been served hadn’t been the fanciest. I could at least handle toast and tea.

“We’re pretty contented, staffing-wise.”

“There must be something I can do. Help in the stables? Laundry? Dishes?”

Staring thoughtfully for a moment, she tapped a long-nailed finger against the edge of the tray still on the bed between us. “How are you with flowers?”

“Flowers?”

“The gardens could use some help. Everything in this place has withered to death. I fear the oncoming winter will only ensure nothing grows next spring. Perhaps a few bulbs might spruce things up.”

“I can help. I’m happy to help.” Every day, I would have to recite memories from my home. Distinct memories of Camael, Aunt Nelle, and my father. Ones that would test whether, or not, my memories had begun to fade, and the moment I could no longer recall one of them in practice, I would leave. Abandon my search and escape while I had the wits to do so.

“I’ll need to run it by Master Van Croix.”

“You mentioned there might be a possibility of a meeting with him?”

Pressing a finger to her lips, she stared off for a moment. “I did, didn’t I? I don’t know, miss. Master Van Croix is quite busy and rarely takes meetings.”

“I wouldn’t take up much of his time. I only need to ask a few questions. About my father.”

“Yes, I remember you mentioned. You see, if he knows you’re already here, he’ll be angry. The man is exceptionally demanding of his privacy. I’ll need to grease the skids, so to speak.”

“Sure. I’ll wait here, then?”

“Yes. Wait here,” she said over her shoulder, as she made her way toward an armoire against the opposite wall. “If he finds you first, things will not work in your favor. And if you do speak with him, I’ll advise you not make much eye contact. He finds that rather threatening. Best to keep your head down. Particularly if he’s upset.” She pulled a dress from inside and handed it off to me. Thick, white fur lined the hood and cuffs of the gray dress, which I estimated reached to about mid-calf. The same uniform I’d seen the others wear. The heavy fabric promised warmth, even in the unforgiving cold of this place, but I never wore dresses. Especially those with laces at the bodice. Ever.

“Is it possible to have my clothing returned to me?”

“I’m sorry, dear. No. This is the uniform all those who work at the estate are issued.”