“It’s nothing that a quick sip of something can’t fix.”
“So, are we off to the bar after breakfast, then?”
“We aren’t going anywhere.”
“I don’t wish to be presumptuous, but I don’t think you’ll make it very far, if your entrance to the dining room was any indication.”
“I’ll be quite fine after I eat—and have more coffee.”
Those dark eyes narrowed as if trying to peer into my mind and pull out the subtext of my words. “I’d be happy to escort you.”
“That won’t be necessary—”
“Miss Nightshade!” Mrs. Whittle cried from the kitchen, as if I’d just thrown my coffee at Zen. “The gentleman is trying to be considerate of your state—a noble gesture which, I must say, seems to be falling out of favor these days. You should let him take you.”
I knew I was in trouble the second she entered the room and laid the food out on the table before settling in next to Zen—or Mr. Henderson, as the case seemed to be.
“Precisely, Mrs. Whittle,” Zen all but cooed in her ear. “I know our beloved Miss Nightshade is quite the progressive lady, but it is not a shortcoming to rely on a man from time to time, provided he proves himself useful.”
“Yes, yes! I’ve been telling her that since the day she arrived here, but she’ll hear none of it. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her before she ends up old and alone, like me.”
“But you were married once, Mrs. Whittle,” I pointed out.
“Yes, and then he and our beloved son died. Now this house and those who stay here are all I have.” I cringed at her reply. My addled mind hadn’t thought through my argument very well. Instead of making my point, I’d poked at a wound that remained unhealed. She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes as Zen wrapped his arm around her in a friendly, soothing gesture. “I only wish for you to know love, dear. That’s all.” With that, she shrugged off Zen and got up from the table, no longer interested in sharing breakfast with us—or, more specifically, me.
I wasn’t sure there was an apology big enough to make up for my poor form.
I groaned aloud, much to the delight of the demon across from me. Ignoring his amusement, I scooped some porridge into a bowl and tried to force it down, though it was thicker than usual and stuck in my throat as I swallowed.
“And I bet you think I’m the heartless one,” he said under his breath.
“Well, I am soulless, remember?” I countered before taking another bite.
“Not entirely, and I would prefer to keep you that way, if it’s all the same to you,” he said in a hushed voice that seemed to skim along my body and light every nerve, “which is why I will be accompanying you this morning. The last thing either of us needs is for you to encounter a certain individual while you’re in this state.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. Though I was loath to admit it, the demon spoke the truth. “Fine,” I replied, mouth full of porridge destined to sit in my stomach like a brick for days.
“Excellent!” He pushed his chair back and stood, looking at me expectantly. When I didn’t move in return, he let out a put-upon sigh and rounded the table. With an elegant tug, he slid my chair back from the table as I took what appeared to be my final bite of food, then tucked his arm under mine, helping me to my feet like an invalid. I swatted at him and lost my balance in the process. His grip tightened, and his hand grabbed my ribs dangerously close to my breast.
“If you’d like to keep that hand, I’ll kindly thank you for moving it. Now.”
It slid around to my back just as Mrs. Whittle entered the room. “Oh my, is everything all right?”
“Just fine, Mrs. Whittle,” Zen assured her. “Our dear Miss Nightshade seems to be a bit unsteady on her feet but is determined to get to an appointment on time. Thankfully, she’s seen reason and allowed me to escort her there.”
“Escort her? It looks like you might have to carry her. And I hope her appointment is with the doctor, because that’s where she needs to be headed.”
“I could not agree more,” he replied, ushering me past the dowdy woman. “Perhaps I can convince her along the way.”
“No,” I argued just to keep up the pretense, “you can’t.”
Mrs. Whittle let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a saint, Mr. Henderson. Please send word that she’s all right.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” He donned his hat, then tipped it as we walked into the foyer and he reached for the doorknob. He held me up and swung the door open, and the ripe smell of the city hit me like a wave; the brick-like porridge I was worried would reside in my stomach for eternity nearly came back up. “Easy, Andy,” he whispered in my ear as he guided me to the steps. When my ankle buckled on the third one, he seemed to decide that a change of plan was in order. “All right, then.” Without further explanation, he scooped me into his arms and headed in the direction of the nunnery.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, trying futilely to wriggle loose. I would have loved to say it was because his grip was like a vise, but it wasn’t. My weakness had not improved with food or drink. My state was deteriorating rapidly, and it seemed that the demon could see what I refused to admit. The end would be upon me if I did not get to the Lilies soon.
“Care to tell me what’s going on, or shall I barge into your not-so-secret guild and demand answers from them?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I most certainly would, and I shall if you don’t start explaining.”
For the second time that morning, I found myself catching my tongue before it could get me into more trouble than necessary. I had no doubt that he’d do what he threatened if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, and that would certainly create more problems than solutions. Though my thoughts concerning Zen were riddled with doubts, I didn’t question his interest in keeping me alive and out of Xandros’ grasp—at least until I’d served my purpose. Telling him about the potions would not give him the upper hand for many reasons, not the least of which being that he already had it. So I told him the truth and hoped he wouldn’t find a way to make me regret it later.
“I have required…medicine to keep me alive and functioning since my return from your world. Last night, I spilled some while trying to drink it, thanks to your fiery stare outside my window.” I pinned a scathing glare on him, but he did not respond. “We weren’t certain before, but apparently, the amount I ingest is crucial to its overall effectiveness.”
Zen’s brow furrowed with concern or questions—I couldn’t be sure which—and his pace quickened to the limit of what a man carrying a grown woman through the streets should be capable of. “You should have told me this sooner—”
“Should I have informed Mrs. Whittle, as well? Because the woman has hearing like a bat when it suits her purposes, which is any time I am in the presence of or speaking about a man.”
He cursed under his breath as he rounded the block and nearly slammed into a gentleman walking the other way. Not exhibiting an ounce of his usual public charm, Zen continued without so much as a word to the man sputtering on the corner. “You should have sent word to them last night.”
“How? I seem to be without a personal page at the moment, and sending my familiars would have only summoned Ivy over in a dither. The backlash wouldn’t have been worth it.”
His expression soured. “You could have summoned me.”
“Well, now that I know that you’ll be living across the hall, perhaps I can try that next time.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean? Because I cannot read your mind, though believe me, I wish I had that ability.”
“You might rethink that were you to possess it.”
I paused to absorb the implications of his reply. “Perhaps, but it would prove helpful in navigating this relationship that seems to be based around your desires and not mine.”
“If you do as I say, you should g
et everything you want in the end.”
“And lose what in the process, I wonder?”
He frowned for a moment, then changed his strategy. “Is me carrying you to your sisters about me, then?” The notable tinge of hostility in his words was not lost on me. Neither was the way his fingers dug into me as his anger rose.
“It most certainly is. A dead Oleander means no Daughter of Fire, which you said is necessary to execute our mutually shared goal.”
A low rumble escaped his mouth and shook my body where he held it to his chest. “If you need me, there is a way for you to call, and I will come directly to you. From anywhere.”
“Excellent. This is information that might actually prove useful—”
“Unless I’m lying.” He shot me a sharp downward glance.
“You aren’t—not about this—because, once again, it’s in your best interest not to.”
Another garbled curse. “This is not to be taken lightly,” he said as we neared the nunnery.
“I’m sure it isn’t—”
“Andy!” he snapped as he ducked into the alley two buildings down from our destination. “I’m serious.” He set me on my feet, the brick wall at my back for stability, and held my shoulders to keep me from keeling over sideways. Even with all that support, I could feel my knees weakening under my weight. “Look at me,” he said, his tone demanding. My head slowly lifted and found his face only inches away. “You must say my name—”
“I say your name all the time.”
“Actually, you never do—”
“I must just curse it under my breath, then—”
“As I was saying, you must state my full name, but you can never do it around another earthbound being, do you understand?”
“What about demons?”
“They don’t matter.”
“Fine. What is it, then?”
He leaned forward until his breath tickled my neck and his nose brushed my hair aside. “Zenophrotesian Nexus.” I opened my mouth to repeat the words, but his hand clamped over it, muffling them. “Repeat it in your mind five times.” I did as he asked. “Are you finished?” I nodded. “Good. Now, shall we continue?”
“No,” I said, trying to avoid the weight of his stare and the feeling of heat emanating from his body. “I should go alone.”
That wicked smile crept across his face. “Not ready to introduce me to your friends yet?”
The thought pulled me from my weariness, if only for a second. “They can never know about you, or any of this.”
He assessed me for a moment, then caught a stray hair blowing in the wind and tucked it behind my ear. “My dear Andy is so strong, but I wonder when she will crumble under the weight of all she carries to avenge the past she cannot change…”
A long moment stretched out between us, standing close—so intimately close—together, something brewing in the depths of his eyes. And for a mere fraction of time, I forgot who and what he was, and why we were there. My pain and exhaustion disappeared, replaced by something warm and welcome. Then, with a gust of cold air down the alley, it was carried away, leaving me fading with a demon pinning me to the wall.
“That’s my problem to worry about, not yours.” I tried to push him away, but I lacked the strength altogether. Thankfully, he took a step back and offered his arm. “No,” I argued, voice nearly breathless, “I can do it.”
Without further argument, I pressed my hand against the brick façade and edged toward the main road. With deep, steadying breaths, I was sure I could make it to the building; from there, I’d let the girls worry about it. Surely, it wouldn’t be hard for them to realize what was wrong, even if I was too weak to tell them. But with only one building left to pass, my knees, which had been threatening to betray me all morning, finally did. I crashed down on them, my torso hurtling toward the ground. But it never hit. Instead, strong arms caught me and dragged me to my feet.
“I must say, Andy, while I do love your fierce independence, I’m finding it a bit taxing this morning.” Arm wrapped around my waist, tucking me into his side, Zen marched me the rest of the way to the nunnery. My arguments fell dead on my tongue until we reached the alcove and he grabbed the brass knocker on the door. With three crisp bangs, he summoned the occupants.
“No,” I said, trying to push him away, to no avail, “they can’t—”
“Good morning,” he said, cutting me off as the door swung open. Panicked, I looked over to find young Agnes staring at the pair of us. The second her eyes met Zen’s, she reached for her rosary, her fingers rolling the cross between them over and over again. “I was walking by when this young lady tripped and hurt herself. She said she was headed here. Shall I help her inside?”
A flicker of fear flashed in Agnes’ eyes. “I’m afraid no men are allowed in the building. But I can take her.” The demon assessed the tiny novitiate, and I had no illusions about the expression he wore as he did. “Please pass her to me.”
“She’s quite incapacitated—”
“I can see that, but men are not allowed on the premises. We’ll be fine, I assure you. Thank you so much for coming to her aid. I will be sure to let her know to find and thank you, Mr.…?”
“Henderson,” he offered. Agnes reached for me, careful not to set foot outside the holy building, and Zen relented his grip. The poor girl buckled under my weight but steadied herself, then gave Zen a nod before pulling me inside and closing the door. The final thing I saw was his strained expression, quickly hidden by a smug smile.
“Are you all right, Oleander?” she asked as she struggled to help me to the library.
“I’ll be fine. I just need Hazel.”
“She’s upstairs. Shall I leave you to go get her?”
“No, just keep moving. It’s better if I stay in motion.”
“Newtonian physics states that—”
“Not the time, Agnes,” I said, cutting off her explanation.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
We continued in silence (with quite an effort) up the spiral stairs to the hidden door. When we arrived, she sat me down next to it so she could pull the book to initiate the opening spell from outside. It swung open to a flurry of excited voices. They all stopped the moment they saw us.
“She’s unwell,” Agnes explained as they rushed to my side. One look from Ivy and she hauled me to my feet and over to Hazel’s workbench.
“Get her potion,” she barked before turning back to Agnes. “Thank you for your help. That will be all, Agnes.” The young girl backed through the door, concern etched in her brow, as the others rushed about.
“Did you forget to take it?” Hazel asked. “Because—”
“I spilled part of it, and this is the result.” A collective gasp tore through the Lilies. “What? What’s the problem?”
“How much did you waste?” Hazel asked, sounding far too serious for my liking.
“Maybe half? A bit more?”
They shared a look, then disappeared to the corner to whisper amongst themselves. As they did, Petal stooped down before me with a vial in her hand. “Here, drink this.” She put it to my lips and tipped it up. “You’ll be fine in a few hours, I promise.”
As if her soft voice and sweet words lulled me, I slid onto my side and rested my head on my arm. Sleep called to me in a way she never had before. And who was I to resist her?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I awoke to the sound of women murmuring somewhere in the distance, and I forced my eyes open to see who the voices belonged to. Ivy stood with Hazel, poring over what looked to be the grimoire, though my sleep-filled gaze couldn’t seem to focus. I sat up on the chaise and rubbed my eyes until the haze lifted. Ivy smiled at me, but I could see the wrinkle of concern marring her otherwise perfect face.
“How do you feel now?” she asked.
“As I should.”
“Good. I spoke to Agnes while you were sleeping.”
I tried to keep the panic I felt from my expression. “Oh? What d
id she have to say?”
“Not much. She just came to ask about your condition.”
I narrowed my eyes to feign irritation. “She worries too much.”
“You didn’t see yourself when she dragged you in here. She had every right to be concerned.”
“Well, I’m fine now.”
“Yes. I hear that’s due in part to a helpful stranger? A man that came to your aid after you collapsed in the road?”
I braced myself for where the conversation was going, a series of lies already forming in my brain. “I don’t remember that well. My mind was cloudy and weak.”
“Agnes said something about the man set her on edge.”
“All men set Agnes on edge,” I replied, not only because it suited my purpose, but also because it was true. According to Ivy, Agnes had been saved by the Lilies long ago and brought to the safety of the nuns. I was never told the circumstances surrounding her arrival, but given how she reacted on the rare occasions Grisholm was near, I was certain it had to do with the opposite sex.
“True, but she said it was different somehow. He was different.”
“Ivy, I just woke up, and I’ve already had a rough day. If you could keep the allusive talk to a minimum and just say what you wish to say, that would be a mercy.”
“Fine. She said he felt…wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Wrong.”
“I have no idea what to say about that.”
“So, you didn’t feel anything from this man?”
“In fairness, I was half dead at the time, but no. I felt nothing at all.”
Lies. How easily they fled my tongue and took refuge in Ivy’s ears.
“Nothing at all? You’re certain?”
“Ivy, precisely what do you think this man was? A demon?” I let my incredulous tone speak for itself and highlight the flaws in her speculation. Because it would have been outlandish under any other circumstances—if I hadn’t actually been aided by the demon attempting to collude with me. She didn’t know about Zen, and I wasn’t about to tell her.
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 9
