Page 18 of The Rat King
I replaced them and closed the drawer, moving onto the next which held bobbles, dried up pens, chalk and blank notepads. Moving on, I studied the objects on the shelves. Nothing worth breaking into this room for, so I went toward the bedroom. Heavy footfalls sounded behind me as I left Link searching the sitting room and for a moment I wondered if he’d found something interesting. Then as I heard the door click shut, the lights went out. Oh well. I didn’t need his help now that I’d got the door open, but he didn’t have to turn off the light on me. This place was creepy enough as it was.
I stepped through the French doors to see the gold curtains were pulled open and a sliver of sunlight warmed the center of the room. Reaching over I flipped a switch on the wall and the light from the top of the bed flickered to life. The painting it highlighted above the headboard immediately struck me. A chestnut-haired woman was depicted in a John Singer Sargent style which highlighted her glowing pale skin. That one feature made her look so much like Nighval had in the moonlight that night in the library it was uncanny. Her features were refined and delicate, and her clear blue eyes stared directly at the viewer.
“Don’t let her beauty deceive you,” Nighval said, and I jumped.
I turned to see him flick the light back off before tucking himself into the shadow of a large armoire adjacent to the door. “Where did Link go?”
“He left when I came in,” he said.
Okay… that much was obvious. Let me try a different angle.“This is your mother, isn’t it?” It had to be. The woman was beautiful in an austere sort of way like a praying mantis or the king cobra, much like her son who stood before me.
“Yes,” he said and when he didn’t elaborate, agitation gurgled to the surface.
Surely this painting wasn’t the reason he led me here. Could no one here shoot me straight without me having to wrestle the information out of them? “Why am I here, Nighval?”
He tapped her armoire three times and my breathing picked up. He didn’t move as I made my way over to it and pulled the knob simultaneously nervous and excited about what I’d find.
“Oh my god. Are these her spellbooks?” I asked, slapping my hand over my mouth. At least a dozen leatherbound journals were neatly lined up on the bottom shelf beneath a hanging row of gaudy clothing, and I bent down to pick one up.
A key in the locked entry door rattled. My heart lodged itself in my throat. I could only imagine Xavier and Nighval had keys and my instinct told me I didn’t want the former to catch me in here, much less catch me alone again with his brother. I pushed the armoire door shut and clutched the book to my chest as Nighval’s hands shot out and he tugged me to him as if he had the same thought.
“My brother. Shh…” he whispered as he gripped my hips, pulling me into the shadows with him. His hands slid up to my waist to hold me in place, and I could feel the heat of him as we stood there barely breathing. If it weren’t for my arm wrapped around the spellbook which was pressed into his firm stomach between us, the length of my body would be squished against his. Having his metal-capped fingers searing into my sides was nerve-wracking enough. I didn’t dare look up.
In the sitting room, the sound of wood scraping against wood suggested Xavier was in the desk I’d opened minutes earlier. He carried on in the other room for what felt like an eternity. With each second that ticked on, a guilty niggle bit at my conscience. I shouldn’t be hiding in here like this with my husband’s brother. But we hadn’t been doing anything improper, so I didn’t know why it felt so wrong. The wood scraped again, closing, then footsteps retreated, and the door clicked shut.
When I was sure we were alone once again, I pushed on Nighval’s chest with my free hand. His fingers dragged against the fabric of my dress as his grip loosened. “Nighval,” I warned under my breath.
His fingers sprang open to release me like he surprised himself by holding on too long. I stepped back, sucking in a deep breath as I did. The same scent from his note crashed into my senses, and I almost stumbled back. Whoa. I took a few more steps back into the sunlight streaming in through the window.
My mouth opened and closed as I struggled for something to say. Since I’d gotten to this plane, my reactions were on tilt, hitting me so strong and out of nowhere.
“What?” he asked, frowning as I gathered my composure. The way his dark eyes took me in made me think he had his own thoughts about our proximity. He probably hated my kind and projected his resentment of past witches onto me which totally wasn’t fair.
“You know it would have been a lot simpler for you to bring me here instead of sending me on a wild goose chase,” I said, opening the armoire again and moving a stack of spellbooks onto the bed.
“I wanted to see how curious you actually are. And to answer your earlier question, I thought about what you’d said before. You’re right. I’ve been through these volumes over a dozen times, and I can’t put anything useful together related to the curse. Now that you know about it, it wouldn’t hurt for you to take a look from your perspective.”
I kept my attention trained on the volume I’d flipped open to hide my grin. The warlock heard what I said and wanted to give me a chance to solve this. Right as pride began to swell in my chest, he said, “Not that I think you’ll discover anything.”
Deflated, I turned to him. He had to be taunting me. Otherwise, why would he have suggested I come here? Sure enough, the corner of his mouth lifted which I could barely make out as he stood in a shadowed corner. That must be his thing—shadows. He probably thought they made him seem more intimidating as Xavier suggested he got off on. The smirk seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face now.
Fine. I’d taunt him back. “And why are you always lurking in the shadows, Nighval?” I asked.
“Why do you care?” he said, not budging.
I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. Are you going to help me carry these spellbooks down to my room, or are you just going to stand there, all ominous like?”
“What if Xavier sees them in your room? Then he’ll know you’ve been naughty and are trying to find a way to get out of the curse without falling for him.” He tapped his lips. “What do you think he was doing at that desk?”
“Good question,” I said. “I looked there first. All that’s in there is stacks of letters between your parents.” No way. I left the book I’d been studying and rushed to the desk. I yanked the drawer open and pulled out the bound stack of papers. They weren’t the ones I’d thumbed through earlier.
“Oh my god, he’s been getting the poems from your parent’s letters.” I leaned against the desk as I flipped through them recognizing the words. A giggle burst from my lips as I scanned another page. Then I was full-on laughing. When I finally contained myself, I noticed Nighval had stepped out of the shadows and was leaning against the doorframe between the rooms to watch me. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the scar which ran through the fur at the corner of his mouth seemed to deepen as he repressed a grin.
“Your father was a terrible poet. But I guess it worked on your mother.”
“I should remind you that she is more than a little unhinged,” he said.
This time when our eyes met, warmth and humor was exchanged, and my stomach did a weird dropping thing. What was wrong with me? Like he sensed it, his features glazed over and any hint of connection was gone, almost making me think I’d imagined it. But, of course, I had. This was the scared rat-man who’d run seventeen women off. He was incapable of warmth and connection. I should know better than to try to be friendly with him.
