Page 89 of Mortdale

“Hell hath no fury like an Ethel scorned.”

I lifted my hand to push some hair behind her ear, and revelled in the fact that she didn’t flinch away a little too pridefully. “What did Agnes do to deserve Ethel’s wrath?”

“Ethel has some…strong opinions on Agnes. She resents our Holy Mother for buying us like some left over cattle from the orphanage. She paid twenty-five sterlings for me, and wouldn’t offer more than ten for her. We almost got split up. We were only seven at the time, and I would have probably never seen her again if I’d not—” She stopped herself, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “An orphan witch is still an orphan. Good for working. At least until they point a finger at the wrong person.”

I let my hand fall down her jaw, watching her tremble. “You don’t share the same sentiment about Agnes?”

She shrugged, her fingers pinching the edges of her nightgown for relief. “I always did what she asked of me. I was good. I worked hard. All so she wouldn’t find a reason to separate us. As long as Ethel and I were together, I didn’t care for much. I’d do anything to keep it that way even if it meant doing whatever Agnes wanted me to do.”

“You miss her?”

Her thumb ran back and forth across a long scar on her palm. “She’s the only thing close to a family I’ve ever had. And she is wonderful. In every way a person could be.” Her smile trembled. “Ethel was the most pure thing I’ve met in this lifetime. A draw with Piper now.”

She drew in a slow breath when I reached for her pendant. “Did you ever look for your parents?”

“Never.”

“Why not?”

Her shoulder rose in a shrug when wind blew across the garden. “I just…never. There had to be a reason why they surrendered me. Why should I attempt to go back where I am not wanted? I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I don’t want to leave this earth the way I came into it.”

If she only knew how alike we were. If only she knew how much that pained me to know. To know we shared a similar wound that had nearly killed me. It made me wonder if it had ever tried to kill her. And that made me feel sick.

“What about Ronnie?” I asked.

Her eyes went wide, and they finally met mine for the first time since that day in the carriage—at least for longer than a few unbearable seconds. “How do you know about Ronnie?”

From the way she reacted, I wished I’d never even heard of his name. “You mentioned him after the ceremony. Were you two together for long?”

She blinked slowly. “What do you mean together?”

“Was it just sex?”

She snorted, then threw her head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. Shaking her feet and everything. She was pure joy. Not only at that moment, but especially at that moment. And so close to me. Nothing that happy had ever gotten so close to me. “Ronnie’s the old orangery celebrity,” she said, wiping her amused eyes. “A spectre who would frighten everyone who tried to come down there. He was good company. I wonder how he’s doing. If Ethel has kept her promise to light him a candle once in a while.”

I was the most ridiculous vampire in the entire three continents. And glad for it.

“Why white peonies?”

She stared at me for a while, so I slid my tie off, handing it to her.

I wondered what part about me made her so nervous. But part of me was too nauseated to want to know.

“It seemed like a reasonable flower,” she said, folding and unfolding my tie between her fingers and looking away from me. “I never had much interest in anything besides my work. Flowers, food, clothes, games, all those were meaningless to me. I did what others did. Ate what others ate. Dressed how others dressed.”

A reasonable flower. “You weren’t uninterested, Willow. You have the power to give everything meaning. You just wanted to vanish in the masses. But you’re not ordinary enough to blend in, are you?”

“You mean, normal?”

“Why strive to be normal when you’re so extraordinary?”

Her soft lips parted, struggling to find words as her dark eyes paced between mine. “I am not.”

“You’re the most remarkable person I know. Seeing you that day in Alfred’s laboratory was like witnessing the Basilica being painted by the old Gods.”

I couldn’t tell her how much I hated when she shrunk back, trying to make herself invisible.

She took the cigarette from my fingers when I offered it to her, her soft lips wrapping where mine had just been. “Did you take my memorial portrait, by the way? I am sure I put it in the bag with the rest of the things, but I can’t find it.”