Page 59 of Blackwicket (Dark Hall #1)

The streets were hauntingly quiet as we made our way toward Nightglass Estate, a place I’d never once set foot in, and never expected to. Just as Victor had said, the remaining tourists were fearful, barely a handful daring to be out, walking in small clusters, their faces grim.

We were silent, each of us unsettled by the uncertainty of the night ahead. I glanced at Thea, who sat huddled on her side of the car, bracing herself for the impending impact of High Tide. I examined the bruised skin beneath her eye as the light from the street lamps passed by.

“Who hit you?” I asked, delicate with my tone.

“If I tell you, will you murder them like you did that man in Devin?”

“I never meant for that to happen.”

“Are you sure?”

In truth, I seldom thought about my motivations for what I’d done to Brock.

When I’d presented the cursed cufflinks to him with a flirtatious smile, he’d spent the next few minutes listing all the lewd things he intended to do to me behind Wendy’s back, even while the marks of his violence on her body were healing.

I hadn’t worried about him dying. I hadn’t cared if he did.

Though I often reassured myself I’d never intended to cause his death, I’d been aware of the possibility from the beginning. To make it worse, I’d celebrated the results even as Wendy pointed the authority in my direction.

Thea sighed as though she’d thought as much.

“I don’t need that kind of courtesy, Eleanora,” she said. Chastened, I grew silent, aware of the person I was, acknowledging I lacked the remorse to regret my decision. We were nearing the estate when Thea added, with a touch of emotion, “Thank you for offering.”

We pulled up to Nightglass Estate, its circle drive paved with smooth stone, crowded with vehicles, signifying that despite the threat of something lurking in the dark, this High Tide was not one to miss.

Ramsey made a low oath, directing our attention to a woman who waited in the cold, waving for Ramsey to stop.

I recognized her by her silver hair and snowdrop earrings.

She wore the same icy blue dress she had on the day we’d met on the street outside Galton’s, where she’d offered to take the curse and warned me not to let the Brom have their way.

“Who is that?” I exclaimed, leaning forward in alarm.

“My wife,” Ramsey replied as he parked the car and hurried to meet the woman, whose face was contorted in panic.

“But Jack’s meant to be with her,” Thea leaped from the car. As I followed, an urgent exchange began, arms flailing, and Thea dashed down the walkway to the house. Ramsey’s wife regarded me tearfully, making no explanation concerning who she was.

“William has Jack inside,” she said. “He tracked the child’s magic.”

She dissolved into tears, her husband gathering her to him and urging me with a flick of his eyes to follow Thea.

Hundreds of candles in brass candelabras lined the cobbled path leading to the front door.

No one waited outside to greet guests, and there was no life inside the foyer, my heels on the marble tile echoing in the deserted space.

Here, the candles continued, illuminating every surface, including each step of the gallery staircase rising to the dim second floor.

Tonight, the absence of electric lights created a hushed atmosphere, blurring the grand interior in shadow, inviting the eye to follow the glow down the leftmost side hall.

Muffled string music hinted at activity somewhere in the house, but there were no signs of it otherwise.

I followed the flickering candlelight trail into the corridor lined with countless doors, set between gilded, framed portraits and intricate ivory sconces, their lights dark.

In this stillness, a hum of familiar, blighted magic vibrated, and I was overcome by the sensation of walking through my nightmares, running the twisting, endless halls of Blackwicket House, a devil always nipping at my heels.

I had to make two more turns, passing a wall of Palladian windows facing a night that felt too complete. I could see only my silhouette passing over the panes. At last, I heard voices.

“Shouldn’t have tried to hide him.” A man snarled.

“Coppe,” was the reply, a plea, stunted with lack of oxygen.

My hesitancy evaporated, and I quickened my step until I reached a cross hall—one leading further into the house, the other flanked by candles. In the lightless hall stood Thea, pinned to the wall by a belligerent Coppe, his arm pressing across her throat, her fingers tearing at his sleeve.

I no longer needed to guess who’d put their hands on her.

My magic was still gathering strength, but I didn’t need it. The intensity of my anger was sufficient.

“Coppe!” I yelled as I approached, encouraging him to twist his head toward my voice as I drove the heel of my hand into his nose. The crunch was satisfying, a small spray of blood spattering onto my skin from the impact. He roared, clasping his face.

Recovering more quickly than I expected, he lunged for me, but I’d done this before.

I caught him between the legs, crushing his flaccid manhood in a grip as tight as I could manage, twisting.

Thea acted as he grabbed hold of my hair in his agony, and drove the sharp tip of her thumbnail into his left eye, digging deep.

The pain and disorientation brought Coppe to his hands and knees, howling profanities, shattering the otherworldly silence.

Thea clutched me, her breath labored with adrenaline, and I put an arm around her, steadying us both.

As Coppe writhed on the floor, blind in one eye, Thea spat on him, then raised her heel, and aimed a blow to the back of his head, dropping him to the floor where he moaned.

We left him there, returning to the path of lights, united in our mutual hatred.

“He deserves worse,” she rasped as we went, finally finding a steady footing, no longer needing to lean on me.

“He does,” I replied, wishing I could make sure he got it, acknowledging for the first time that I was missing a piece of my moral compass.

The music grew steadily louder as we trekked the last steps to an arching double door.

“That’s the banquet hall,” Thea whispered. “It’s where William is hosting High Tide.”

“Why is this one special?” I asked, quiet in return.

“It must be related to the Authority breathing down William’s neck to show results for his project with Dark Hall children. We need to find Jack.”

“No need.” The smooth voice spoke from behind, startling us, our arms entwining in shock. William had approached from the shadows, standing a few steps away, dressed in a black dinner suit, a white rose pinned to his lapel.

“He’s in his room, Thea. Waiting for you.”

As Thea made to go, William stepped in front of her, and she was forced to stand nearly chest to chest with him, head lowered .

“I’m disappointed I had to go on the hunt for him, you know how much this night means to me.”

“Don’t do anything to him, William. He’s just a boy.” The cautious pleading in Thea’s voice was devastating.

“And I was just a boy,” William replied, “When my father showed me the power we could hold in the palm of our hand if we had enough gall. That’s what I’m doing for Jack.”

He leaned out of her way, “Go tend to him, then bring yourselves to the banquet as planned. Sing your song. I need our guests pliable.”

Thea barely glanced at me as she disappeared down the opposite hall we’d emerged from.

“Regarding you,” William remarked, stepping closer. I flinched, and he halted his pursuit, choosing to hold a hand to me, beckoning, “Don’t be afraid, darling, I won’t hurt you.”

William Nightglass wanted to be in control and intended for me to surrender to the inevitability of his owning me as his father had owned the other women in my family.

Thea had admired my sister for her ability to handle the Nightglass men, and while the thought sickened me, complying seemed the most logical path toward creating an escape route for us all.

I couldn’t simply charm him, not after our confrontations. He wouldn’t be taken in by it. But I could pretend to be afraid.

I placed my hand in his, and he began leading me from the dining hall, relying on his cane, though his gait was much smoother than I recalled.

“We’ve had our differences since you arrived,” he soothed, “but it’s all been a misunderstanding. It’s time to put it to rest.”

William opened a door for me, motioning me to step into relentless darkness. I couldn’t know what was waiting for me.

“Eleanora.”

A disagreeable shiver crept over my skin at his ominous tone, which he used to emphasize my lack of choice .

I entered, standing in the darkness for several moments until a lamp flickered to life, its green glass reminiscent of seaweed-choked waters.

We stood in a compact, windowless study, the herringbone floors giving way to walnut paneling that stretched to the coffered ceiling.

The rear wall was lined with bookshelves, filled to capacity with neatly arranged rows of leather-bound law books and medical volumes.

A cold fireplace had been built in as an afterthought, small and unused, and a partner’s desk hulked in the center, the only furniture.

The space offered little in the way of comfort.

“Did you know this is the very room where I lost my ability to walk without this bastard?” As he neared the desk, he threw his cane into the air, catching it and eyeing the gleaming wood, the gold curve of the handle. My heart skipped a beat.

“Grigori was fashioning Thomas into something great - but it was a difficult transformation. My little brother always kept a stiff upper lip, but I couldn’t handle it. One night the codger plied him with so many curses, I heard his ribs snap.”

I didn’t have to feign being shaken; my hands clenched at my side.