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Ok-ay … maybe she had gone a little mad.
But at least I have Ivy now, she continued.
‘Ivy?’ I asked, looking around the room. The seat of power looked rundown: some of the wooden floorboards were rotten and broken, the window panes were grimy and a few were shattered, letting in a cool breeze. The worst thing, though, was the red stain on the floor. There was no sign of an occupant nor any sign of the dead deer. Despite the breeze, the room reeked of death.
I’ll show you, the house said eagerly. You can meet her before I kill you.
Chapter 30
So things weren’t going as well as I’d hoped because death was apparently still on the cards. It would take more than a few friendly words to warm the house to me but I could do it: I was a pro. One of my main ways of making friends was to start out by finding something I liked about the person and complimenting them on it. It made them feel good, which in turn made me feel good: a positive cycle. The problem was that as I looked around the decrepit space there was absolutely nothing nice that I could think of to say. Not a sausage.
Before I could come up with a piss-poor compliment, the floorboards under me disappeared and I plummeted a good eight feet. Luckily, as always, Esme’s reflexes were in fine working order. She took over as we fell, shoving me to the side and ensuring we landed perfectly on our feet with knees safely bent to absorb the impact. As we straightened, she shoved control back to me.
Are you sure you don’t want to take over? I said, only half-joking.
You’re doing good. She shrugged.
She said she was going to kill us!
Yeah, but she hasn’t tried to do so yet. So we are winning.
We need to look at your definition of success, I groused.
I looked around the area as an oil lamp flared and blinked at what the light revealed. In the corner of the room on a bed of straw was a baby unicorn. It blinked sleepy red eyes at me but didn’t try to stand up. ‘Hey, little one,’ I said. ‘Are you okay?’
The unicorn – presumably Ivy – laid her head back down. I released my touch with the house and pulled my piping magic towards her. Are you okay? I asked again, this time with concern lacing my thoughts.
A jumble of thoughts roared back at me. Darkness. Loss. A longing for the lilac sky and the turquoise grass. The desire to run and hunt. Grief at being alone.
Her grief tore at my heart and the last image just about slayed me: it was of her mother, eyes wide and unseeing, her throat ripped out. I knew the line of those claws: they were wolves’. Why on earth would a werewolf kill a unicorn?
I gave a noise of distress and dropped to the floor next to her. Oh honey, I’m so sorry. As I would have with Ares, I reached out a hand for her to snuffle and, when she looked at me without fear, stroked her gleaming coat. It was silken smooth, so much softer than Ares’ coat which had been worn by age and marred by a multitude of scars that puckered his skin.
‘I’m sorry, lovely,’ I said to Ivy aloud. ‘I’m so very sorry. I’ll find out who killed your mama.’
And we’ll kill them right back, Esme promised fiercely.
I grimaced. We’ll find out if the unicorn attacked them first, I pointed out. We can’t just kill anyone out of empathetic grief.
It is wrong to take a pup from its mother.
It is, and we will find who did it and punish them accordingly.
With a spanking? she asked dubiously, because you and Greg—
Do not finish that sentence! I flushed bright red.
What? I’m just saying that I am not sure it is an effective punishment. You never seem to mind it all that much.
Now I wished that the floor I was sitting on would open up and swallow me whole.
The house interrupted us, her voice subdued. Is she okay? I gave her the deer and she ate it, but she hasn’t even stood up.
It felt like the house was gripping my mind too tightly. I hummed a ditty and used my piping magic to connect us, break her iron grasp and replace it with my own, which was smoother – and thankfully, gentler. She misses her mum, I explained.
Well, I didn’t kill her, the house sulked. That was all you.
Not me! I protested.
