Page 13 of The Unseen Hour (The Unseen Hour Duology #1)
NEW YEAR’S EVE
“ S tay safe, Tilly. May both gods see you and save you,” I said to the housemaid as she began to close the double doors of my room.
“And you, Miss,” Tilly responded, voice shaky as she pulled the doors closed.
It was the customary exchange for anyone you saw on December thirty-first, no matter how familiar you were or weren’t. Everyone clung to the same phrases, as if the words alone might keep them safe, instead of their windows and doors firmly shut and locked.
There were two hours remaining until midnight.
I was antsy, my muscles tight and jumpy with the desire to spring from my bed, lest I miss my opportunity, but I willed myself to wait. I focused on my breathing. One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. Over and over .
I checked my small shoulder satchel for a third, and then a fourth, and then a fifth time.
I had four vials of the antidote nestled within, along with the journal and Father’s notes.
It was probably far too late to glean any helpful information if I wasn’t on the right path with my plan, but I felt some comfort at having the two men with me in some way.
I’d also tucked in a bit of food from the kitchens, and a few pieces of jewelry—a last-minute decision when I was restless.
For all I knew, I’d have to bribe our way out of wherever Father was.
After what felt like the longest wait I’d ever endured, I heard blessed silence.
No more squeaks in the floorboards, no more slams or bangs as windows and doors were shut.
No more soft footsteps as Mrs. Fig and Shrewsbury checked each one for the fifteenth time, ensuring not even a mouse would be able to sneak into the manor unannounced.
Even then, I made myself count my breaths for several more minutes, creeping to my wardrobe to change.
I flung the doors wide. At the base, under a pile of folded shifts, sat my disguise.
Temple wouldn’t be thrilled that I’d stolen his favorite riding outfit, but it couldn’t be helped.
I’d always been closest to my middle brother in height; not surprising, given we were only a year apart in age.
He was hardly my senior, whereas Ambrose had five years on me, and Bram was younger by three.
Growing up, I’d been allowed to be tutored alongside Temple.
Over the years I’d been forced to dedicate more of my time to acceptable pursuits such as music and sewing, but I’d spent plenty of time with him.
He’d been a competitive classmate, each of us challenging the other to improve.
Once we’d reached adulthood, the distance between us had grown of its own accord.
After all, what was the point in competition when his gender alone granted him freedoms I was doomed to be forever denied?
He’d spent a fair portion of this past year traveling throughout Emrys as an official of the crown.
I scowled down at the clothing, torn between compassion for my brother and ugly, twisted jealousy as I pulled on Temple’s riding breeches.
The tailcoat was a striking blue. Since his eyes matched our mother’s, he hadn’t been forced into nearly the number of shocking pink outfits that I had.
Ambrose and Bram had garishly pink neck scarves and even socks, but Temple had the most muted wardrobe of us all.
I did up the silver buttons of his riding coat before pulling my own brown boots on over the breeches. I wasn’t risking ill-fitting shoes this year, and Temple’s feet were several sizes larger than my own. I needed to be able to move quickly.
I pinned my curls up carefully and shoved them under a felt top hat, borrowed from Bram. If I did happen to be spotted, better someone think I was a local lord rushing back home than a lone woman out in the dark.
If they were real, then both gods must have approved of my plan, because I managed to make it out of the house without anyone stopping me.
I imagine I had paranoia to thank for that.
On this night of all nights, no one wanted to stir from their beds, regardless of what creaks or moans they might hear.
Too terrified of being Taken, of chancing a meeting with Death.
I shivered, then shook myself. It wouldn’t do to get nerves now. What was done, was done.
Once I’d made my way out the doors and down towards the stables, I met Pellix, who was brushed and waiting.
I’d insisted on an afternoon ride, claiming it calmed my nerves.
Ambrose had relented, knowing as well as the rest of us the shadow that fell over the household on the days leading up to the anniversary of Father’s disappearance.
Mother haunted the halls like a ghost for a good week prior, eyes red-rimmed and constantly dabbing at her face with a handkerchief, refusing to manage anything as she did the rest of the year.
Mrs. Fig took over all household duties for that week.
Now all I had to do was put a bridle on Pellix, and I’d be off. No saddle for this; I was keeping things quick and simple.
Pellix whinnied, nudging me as though urging me to hurry up. Once I was astride I leaned down and patted his side.
“Don’t worry, friend, I would never risk you.”
I would remove the bridle from my equine friend before I enacted my plan. He’d be free to wander the grounds. The only worry I had was causing him distress, but I couldn’t avoid it, any more than I could avoid worrying my family with my absence.
I could only hope my plan worked and that I could retrieve Father and return quickly.
Pellix and I reached the old ruins near the edge of our property without incident.
I guided him around the cemetery and stopped at what had once been the front of the structure.
I’d chosen the spot partly for practical reasons; it was close enough to the house to reach before the hour, and far enough that I wasn’t worried I’d bring danger to my family’s door.
I couldn’t deny, though, that some of my reasoning was sentimental. The ruins were still on our land, which made it feel tied to Father, but it had once been Holmes property. I reached into my satchel, clutching the journal in one hand.
“For my father and everyone, like you, who was taken by surprise when this wretched hour began.”
If there was a way to get Taken at will and then bring missing people back, that could be revolutionary. And if my father was still waiting, as I hoped, he surely knew even more about the hour.
I left Pellix grazing outside the ruins, making my way into what might have been a sanctuary, years and years ago. At the very least it was the largest portion of the partially collapsed structure. Open to the sky, so I had no worry of missing my chance.
The clock tower sounded. Eleven-thirty. I’d made it with time to spare.
Last year I’d needed more of a buffer. I’d broken into the library using a lock-pick set I’d given to Bram to mark a previous birthday.
He was always in motion, and it kept his hands busy while doing tedious things like conversing with Ambrose about the manor’s affairs.
He’d readily offered to teach me once he’d figured it out for himself.
This night I had no locks, and no Fox Haven watch at the gates. I just had Pellix’s snuffling, and the occasional rip as grass was torn from the ground. I could see his withers if I craned my neck over some of the crumbling stones.
I wasn’t worried about anyone finding me here. No one else was fool enough to risk being out after eleven on this night. Now I was simply waiting on the clock.
When I read the file on Thipp’s at the apothecary, I learned it rendered you not only unconscious but unreactive to painful stimuli during a surgical procedure.
Breathing and heart rate slowed down so much that they could become undetectable.
Take too much, and your heart and lungs simply shut down.
Like so many parts of my plan, my dosing required hope and faith that I’d read the physician’s notes correctly, and Father’s, and Holmes’s.
R. had grown suspicious of the substance he was being given nearly a hundred years ago and had tracked his symptoms and amounts.
For a moment I wished he were with me. He would have understood the significance of the root and the nervous chill that ran through me at the idea of ingesting such a dangerous substance.
But that was ridiculous.
I didn’t know him, no matter how much I felt that I did.
The clock rendered its next warning. Fifteen minutes until midnight. It was nearly time.
I checked my satchel a final time for the antidote and decided to tuck two of the vials in my pocket.
Somewhere in the dark, a wolf howled and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Bloody ghosts!”
Pellix’s head appeared, looking over the stones at me.
“It’s all right. I’m just nervous. I’ll be fine,” I reassured the stallion.
With a snort, he went back to grazing. I took a few deep breaths, then reached into the satchel and took out the container with the Thipp’s.
As the first gong of the Unseen Hour sounded, I said a small prayer to the gods I wasn’t even certain existed.
“Please let this work. Please let me find my father.”
I tipped the container back, sending the minced Thipp’s to the back of my throat. It tasted a bit like bitter ginger as I swallowed it down.
My racing heart began to slow, and the edges of my vision went hazy within moments. I couldn’t run from my decision now, but I still took a few steps forward, my body responding to what it perceived as a threat.
I stumbled against a wall, sliding down to a resting position.
“At least it’s warm for a winter night,” I mumbled, staring at the sky and the fog beginning to descend.
I started to send a final prayer up to the gods, that my family wouldn’t find me frozen in the morning. Maybe they were finally answering, or maybe I was dying and my mind was playing tricks on me.
I could hear singing—the most beautiful voices calling me home.
My thoughts went black as the twelfth gong sounded.