Page 35 of Blackwicket (Dark Hall #1)

A wave of shame gave me the strength to wrest myself from him, and he released me, but my humiliation was just beginning, because standing at the mouth of the alleyway, having come from the car waiting in the distance to ferry me to Blackwicket house was Thea, my coat draped in her arm.

“Well, Inspector Harrow, I see you’re making a nuisance of yourself as always,” she said, but she was glaring at me, dark eyes accusing.

“Just enjoying High Tide, like any other decent member of the Authority,” he replied, and as with all of Harrow’s words, the careless delivery had a hidden sharpness that sought the softest point of its mark and pierced.

Thea’s nostrils flared with insult.

“Get the fuck out of my alley, Victor,” Thea barked.

“Oh, I think I’ll hang around a little longer. The night is young,” he rejoined, wasting an indifferent glance at me before taking himself to the staff door, unabashed by the blood speckling his coat. He disappeared inside.

Thea stalked to me and threw the coat in my arms, taking a moment to observe the wreckage Harrow created. All three men were groaning, more aware of their surroundings. Tonight, Harrow had crossed every line imaginable, but at least no one was dead.

“You definitely have your sister’s passion for men with the power to reduce you to two dates and a dash,” she said callously.

“Harrow and I…”

“I don’t care. Get in the car. I’m tired of tonight.”

I wasn’t surprised to find Thea’s driver to be the same man who’d resentfully driven my father and me, then pointed me out to Thea that same day. He caught my eye in the mirror.

“You get around,” I said, tone corrosive.

“It’s my job,” he grunted in response as Thea climbed in and directed him to Blackwicket House.

The ride was quiet, Thea and I both angry with each other.

I at her for trying to manipulate my conscience into doing all the wrong things for reasons she framed as justified, and she at me for refusing to help when I was able.

Also, likely, for catching me in the arms of a possibly corrupt Authority inspector who I now suspected had spent the past few evenings beating the Brom to near death and stealing their magic on her doorstep.

The monstrous image of Inspector Harrow’s unnatural face, as he drew in magic that didn’t belong to him, chilled me.

I’d only ever witnessed one other person’s body alter itself to accommodate a glut of power: my mother.

But she hadn’t been stealing magic. She’d been vomiting Drudge into the house, all the horrible things she’d taken from Grigori Nightglass in the name of keeping us safe.

“If you’re using make-shift Curse Eaters to provide your black-market magic - how are you dealing with the Drudge?” I asked at last, interrupting the silence, knowing there must be some method or means of keeping the creatures at bay with what was going on here in this town.

“There aren’t any.”

“What?”

“No Drudge. Haven’t been for years. Least, not that I’ve noticed. William and Fiona kept the place pretty clean, never let the curses get out of hand.”

“But Fiona hadn’t been Curse Eating,” I repeated the information she’d given me, wondering if I’d caught her in a lie.

“Like I said, when Grigori died, she withdrew.”

I didn’t push further. Thea wouldn’t give me what I needed, and I didn’t blame her. But when healed magic was being abused, as the Brom was abusing it, Drudge were undoubtably close by.

“You’d be safer giving in to William than aligning with the Authority,” Thea said suddenly.

“I refuse to align with either . There’s nothing they can do to twist my arm. My life’s all I have to lose, and I’m not sure how attached I am to it.”

“Look death in the eye, you’ll change your mind.”

“One of William’s men in the alley tonight, Patrick, he tried to gut me in the street.”

“You mean the man Harrow almost turned inside out? Patrick isn’t Brom,” Thea said, measured, unsure of the waters she was wading into. “He’s always causing trouble for us. Hates us much as his grandfather does.”

“Grandfather?”

“God, you’re as clueless as a newborn. Horatio Farvem,” Thea replied testily. “The undertaker.”

We pulled to a stop. I hadn’t noticed we’d passed the gate, let alone the top of the hill.

“If he’s not Brom, why would Mr. Farvem’s grandson be harboring a curse?”

“With the amount of loathing that family carries in their souls, I imagine it’s natural.” This image of Farvem didn’t match with my experience of him. “If Patrick’s being a menace, he thinks you’ve joined our ranks, which means William’s already talking you up. You’re good as got, Blackwicket.”

“Not if I don’t want to be.” I rejected her prediction, my vehemence making her laugh.

“The power of apathy must be nice, but some of us like to be alive, Eleanora,” she said. “We still have people we love, lives we want, futures we hope for, and all of it can be taken away, as slowly and horribly as watching your own skin being baked off the bone.”

She was right, I’d said something stupid and unfeeling, and Thea’s admonishment humbled me.

“I’m sorry,” I replied at length. “I’m sorry you’re trapped here.”

“And so are you. I guess it remains to be seen what you’ll make of it.”

I exited but couldn’t stand to end our exchange here.

“Fiona’s funeral is tomorrow at noon. Despite everything, I believe you were a genuine friend to her, Thea, and I’d welcome you.”

Thea’s smile lacked showmanship and looked only unbearably sad .

“No,” Thea said. “I can’t bring myself to say goodbye. I’d rather keep pretending she finally got out.”

“She did,” I replied, gently.

Thea’s eyes filled with tears, which spilled over her cheek as I closed the car door.