“It was not I that bit her.” Valko sighed. “But I do feel as responsible as though I had.” He leaned forward and said, with such intensity of feeling that she trembled beneath the force of his pathos, “We never meant to harm her, you must believe that. Milli is a sweet girl, and I will spend every last immortal breath protecting her and ensuring she is treated as a queen the rest of her days.”
Emma turned her head away, her eyes closing against the sudden tears that came. “You cannot mean to follow me all the way to Scotland?”
“Scotland and beyond,” he replied with a gallant flash of teeth. “You shall both be protected as long as William and I have life in our veins.”
“And who is William?”
There was some pause before he said, “My brother.”
How fortunate, a guard dog for each sister. “And where is this brother?”
“He…disrelishes the company of strangers. He shall be along shortly. On foot, of course.”
On all fours, no doubt. Emma gave a shudder, thinking of poor Boudicca. “Does he eat cats?”
Valko chuckled. “He has an aversion to cats…”
That was hardly comforting. “What if I’m averse to being guarded?”
“Your aversion is regrettable, but I am afraid you must suffer the arrangement as best you can.”
To own the truth, it was not the guardianship itself she disdained but that it should be undertaken by wehr-wolves. “So I am to have you and this William at my heels regardless of my wishes?”
Presumably he felt he’d already answered that, for he made no reply.
“For how long is this to continue?”
“As long as the threat of witches exist.”
To say nothing of the threat of wehr-wolves and vampyres, she thought, gritting her teeth. Secretly, she was glad of his presence tonight, now that she wasn’t vibrating with fury. The company of wehr-wolves was infinitely preferable to feeling so utterly forsaken. She had always liked Valko’s ready smile and easy manners, and it was very hard indeed to sustain her enmity in the face of his continued gallantry. However much she wished to remain repulsed and suspicious, Emma felt safe with him.
Valko leaned forward, the movement was so swift that Emma blenched against her seat. He was a large man with a long torso and his sudden nearness crowded her. His gaze swept over the sleeping faces of the other passengers with measured care before his hand disappeared into his coat pocket and reemerged with a weapon. A Horeb blade! “Tuck this into your boot,” he said.
Although she’d had just about enough of those infernal blades, she dared not defy him—not when his eyes blazed with demonic fire. So she observed the command with haste. Only once her skirts were settled over the concealed weapon did Valko relax back into his seat, the shadows banking the fire in his gaze once again. The weight of the weapon nestled against her ankle inflamed her with renewed courage. “Foolish of you to furnish me with the means to bring you to reckoning—a tooth for a tooth, Mr. Valko.”
“I would welcome the bite of that blade if it would secure your sister’s safety, but it is not I who poses the threat.” He lowered his brim over his eyes and settled back. “And you should not be without a means to protect yourself. I only hope you shan’t be moved to slay a man in his sleep.”
“You must know I will never forgive what was done to Milli.” This was said as much to remind herself to stay guarded and aloof as it was to warn him.
Valko lifted his brim with an elegant finger and considered her, sober in his cloak of shadows. “Such leaden shadows weigh heavy on the heart, Miss Rose; forgiveness lightens.” When she made no answer, he shrugged. “At any rate, what was done to Milli is for Milli to forgive.” Down came the brim again.
Emma turned away to pore over his words, the brim of her bonnet offering a little relief from that preternatural glare.
“Would that she had not been wearing Devil’s Bane that night,” he continued, his voice almost too low to hear. “It confuses the nose. How was she to know that wehr-wolves abhor the reek of witchcraft; he might have withstood the call of blood, but not the Devil’s Bane that masked her scent.”
Emma felt the blood drain from her face, but she kept it hidden and shrank back deeper into her shawl, her nose suddenly filling with the Devil’s Bane still clinging to her clothes. How was she to forgive herself for having forced her sister to wear it in the first place? It was apparent that she was as much to blame for her sister’s predicament. And Ana too for giving her the wretched stuff in the first place. It also meant that she, Emma, was the author of the vicious mark upon Milli’s neck—the Bane had been reacting to Milli’s altered flesh.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Hobkirk Priory
Emma and Valko were soon settled at The Hob’s Inn and, after the journey’s dust had been washed from Emma’s face, the pair set off on foot for Hobkirk Priory. In little more than a quarter of an hour, a steeple soared into view above the trees.
The priory was discovered to be a large but unimposing brick cruciform with a crossing tower, bells and all, jutting from the nave and transepts, the top of which was swallowed by low clouds. Beyond the little copse on the north side, Emma could see what looked to be a rectangular dormitory. The whole of the property—the church, chapels, and outbuildings—stood hemmed behind a low stone wall with a rudimentary wooden gate. It was through that little gate that they entered the premises.
Along the path, they passed by a willow, its tresses hanging low in the fishpond nearby, its leaves falling like tears upon the ripples of preceding drops. It seemed to be considering its own reflection in the pool and lamenting what it saw. Emma fancied she saw something of herself in its listless repose by the watery mirror, and could almost hear the soft elegies it sang beside the pool. Distracted, Emma approached the modest west front without being in the least bit charmed by the thick vines mantling its facade with vibrant blue flowers. They peeped out from the green foliage like shy little church bells.
“Our arrival has been noted,” said Valko, recalling her attention abruptly. With a nod of his head, he steered her gaze up to the nave entrance.
Observing their progress from her post at the hallowed doors was a plump little nun with a welcoming smile. The smile brightened when Emma introduced herself as Mary’s cousin. After Valko’s devoirs were paid, Sister Margret directed them to a parlor where she bade them wait, promising to return with Milli and Sister Mary.
Nothing of import had been uttered between Emma and Valko since the carriage ride; in fact, hardly two words strung together. “It was I that forced Milli to wear the Devil’s Bane,” she said suddenly.
There was no surprise etched in his countenance as he considered her. “And did you force her out of the castle that night.”
“Of course not.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Then it seems that even Milli must own some responsibility.”
“Milli is a green girl!”
“Well, it is high time she grew up, wouldn’t you say? She is no victim; and until she is dead, she may command her own destiny as she wishes, and learn from the past.”
Emma bristled, for she knew he was right, but it irked her to admit it. She pressed a handkerchief to her wet lashes, ruing the loss of momentary warmth her ire had afforded; it was so much easier to cast blame than it was to accept her share of it, or acknowledge that no one was truly innocent. Not even dear Milli. Nothing was ever simply black or white.
It was almost comical that she should find herself swallowing the pricklish wisdoms of a wehr-wolf lector, and in a church no less. A creature apparently far too much at his ease beneath this hallowed roof. Far too confident for her liking.
When he finally noticed that he was the subject of her weighty regard, he looked a question back at her.
“Should you not have burst into flames by now, Mr. Valko?” She was not entirely in jest. In fact, she almost wished he would.
He gave a bark of laughter. Above him loomed a crucifix with a s
hrunken-bellied Christ hanging from iron nails, his head bowed as if in lorn contemplation of the beast below him.
Valko followed her gaze up to the crucifix. “So you think me a hellhound, do you?”
She glanced away. “I do not know what to think anymore.”
“I think you think too much,” he said.
She almost laughed at that, but it was not altogether a happy impulse—Milli was always telling her she thought too much and relied too little on her feelings. But feelings were dangerous, weren’t they? Sentiment was like to blind one’s logic in nebulous fog.
“Here,” said Valko. In a shockingly audacious move, he took possession of her bare hand and placed something warm onto her palm. “Mrs. Skinner found this in the ashes,” he said. His gaze was penetrating as he watched her brow furrow over a bloodstone ring. Markus Winterly’s signet ring. “Do you wish to know what I think, Miss Rose?”
Emma glanced up at him, bemused.
“I think forgiveness sets the heart free. I think we all deserve a second chance at hope; and at love.”
Before Emma could utter a single intelligible response, the door swung open. Cousin Mary entered in a coif and dark veil, and behind her was Milli. Her hair sat on her nape in a tight chignon and she was dressed in a very austere black overdress. Save the for dragon necklace hanging from Milli’s neck like a crucifix—the head, wings and tail all emulating the four points of the cross—the undergarment was without ornament and covered her from throat to wrist in white linen.
Emma had only a moment to stow the ring in her pocket before her sister was rushing headlong into her arms.
“Tell me this is all just some mad dream,” Milli whispered.
“It’s all just a mad dream.”
Milli leaned back with a tremulous smile. “You’ve always been a dreadful liar.”
Other than the drab uniform, Emma could see nothing the matter with her sister. No visible wehr-wolf bite and no sinister whisker growth to mar her healthful complexion. “Are you all right, Milli?”
“I am well, only…I am still unsure if what I saw was real?”
Emma hugged her sister again, her embrace almost punitive. “Where were you bitten? Why did you not tell me?”
“Why did you not tell me about…them sooner?” Milli’s hands tightened on Emma. “Had I known…”
“You’d not have believed me if I had. You didn’t believe me until you saw for yourself.”
Milli’s lips tightened a moment before she nodded guiltily. She then fastened her eyes to Emma’s throat as though she could sense the bruise and fang marks masked beneath Emma’s shawl. “Are you all right?”
“I am unharmed,” said Emma, though she could not stave off the tremor that struck her lower lip. She knew she did not look half so hale as her sister; all was far from right with her, the shadows beneath her eyes were proof of that.
At length Milli was forced to disengage herself from Emma’s arms so that Sister Mary could be greeted.
Milli’s glance fell with manifest surprise and suspicion upon Valko when Emma introduced him to Mary. It was apparent that Milli’s attention had been solely focused upon Emma until now. She stood gaping as though waiting for him to sprout wings or fangs. “Mr. Valko,” she finally said with a sedate nod when he did neither.
“Upon my word,”—his eyes glittered with humor as he examined her severe attire—“you look positively divine.”
Milli lifted her chin. “You find me now a humble postulant.”
“A nun, Milli?” Emma’s gaze flickered rapidly between her cousin and her sister. “That’s a prodigious change of heart! You’ve only been here a week!” Then, in a low whisper, she said, “Are you out of your senses, you wet goose? You know very well you cannot hear a sermon without falling asleep in the midst of it.”
Milli colored.
Sister Mary gave Emma’s arm a firm but loving pat. “The weather is so fine today, why do we not all take a stroll about the gardens.”
Mr. Valko, catching Sister Mary’s eye with a conspiratorial nod, engaged Milli in conversation, distracting the girl from the sharp looks she was throwing her sister. He needn’t have worried, though, the sisters were hardly in the habit of pulling caps. Emma and Mary preceded from the parlor, followed by her sister and Valko. Valko, however, appeared in no hurry to keep up with Mary’s brisk pace. Emma shot the wehr-wolf a hard look as the distance between she and her sister grew.
“You are not well, Emma,” said Mary with another pat. “Vampyre troubles, I suppose?”
Emma stumbled, nearly catching a willow branch in her gaping mouth.
Steadying her, Mary continued on as though she was merely discussing the weather. “You mustn’t be surprised, my dear, Milli has been confiding in me, you see.” The nun planted herself on the bench beneath the weeping tree. She gave the spot beside her a peremptory pat, gesturing for Emma to join her there. “But I thought I might suspend my belief until I had heard the words confirmed by you. Have you found the words yet, Emma?”
“I hardly know what she’s been telling you,” said Emma, prevaricating.
“I was given to believe that you and Milli have lately been the guests of a certain viscount who, as it happens, has turned out to be a vampyre. Your sister claims he has shown a great interest in you. Is all that true?”
Emma searched her cousin’s face, but found no derision or judgment there. Only patient concern. “Would you believe such a thing even possible?”
“I believe in angels and demons; I believe there are a great many things beyond our ken…” She let her thoughts trail off with a knowing look.
“And would you believe that I was foolish enough to fall in love with him.” In a maundering rush, Emma expounded all, concluding her tale of woe with the cold farewell of his letter. “And now my sister, who might sprout a pelt at any moment—” her laughter fell between them like broken glass “—imagines herself a postulant. A wehr-wolf nun, of all things!” Emma threw a hard look over to where Valko and Milli were strolling, by all appearances carefree. “I never saw a novice so flirtatious,” she said.
“We must all make sense of our world as best we can, you must not begrudge Milli this small moment of normalcy; she is young.”
“And silly besides.” Emma turned away from the couple with a sigh. Only then did she notice the queer bird spying from a branch nearby. A watchful raven. “I ought to have protected her better.”
“You have ever been a diligent protector, Emma. Really, you are too hard on yourself.”
“No, if I’d been more vigilant, guarded my virtue better—”
“You would not be human, my dear. All we can do is strive to find our way again when we misstep, and to do so with grace and kindness, and, God willing, to help others along the way.” They were silent for some time before Mary spoke again. “You still weep for this creature?”
Emma nodded, her watery gaze fixed to the pond. “Wasted tears from a wasted heart.”
“No, Cousin, I do not believe that love can be wasted. A heart must be freely given, even if there is no hope of reciprocity.” Mary appeared thoughtful. “However, you gave me to understand your vampyre returned your love.”
“Only words spoken,” said Emma. “Words that have already flown away; what he wrote is now etched forever in memory.”
“It seems to me he set you free. That is selfless, is it not?”
“A nun in defense of a devil?” Emma shook her head. “I thought you might hate him for what he is; I thought you might judge me for what I still feel for him.”
“Never, Cousin, it is not my place to judge others—I leave that to our Father; I aim only to understand. You’ve as fine and true a heart as ever beat and I trust its partiality to this vampyre of yours. Moreover, he seemed perfectly amiable to me.”
“Is it not enough that he is a vampyre?” Surely such a creature, in the eyes of the church—hostis humani generis, as it were—was as far from redemption as hell was from heaven.
Emma stilled. “What do you mean by ‘all these nights’?”
“When Milli was brought to us she was most unwell, as I believe you know. Strangely, her malady seemed to worsen towards the close of day, and the physician’s leeching appeared only to aggravate matters all the more. Frankly, I am most suspicious of leeching.”
Ironic, thought Emma, for she was defending the ultimate sanguisuge.
“But,” Mary went on, “Lord Winterly has come to call every night this week, and in his company, under my supervision, your sister has received from him some palliative tonic—his best claret, I was told. Indeed, it must be, for Milli appears to recover instantly after each serving. It was by your leave that he brought her here in the first place, thus did I not question his assiduities, nor did I discourage the wine—such as it was—that he administered, for the poor girl’s relief was quite manifest.”
Markus had mentioned not a hint of these nightly visits. What was she to think? There was no question as to the nature of the ‘palliative’ disguised by the claret. But from his blood memories she knew he had spoken the truth about vampyres guarding their blood jealously, so if he was sharing it with Milli, then Emma had to assume it was a selfless act—it was for Emma that he did so, for she knew he harbored little love for Milli.
She considered her cousin’s staid and practical features a long moment. Mary had been right to admit Markus and allow him to continue healing her sister.
“What sort of Christian would I be,” said Mary, “if I allowed myself to be ruled by prejudice? If I allowed my beliefs to be colored black or white by the opinions of others?”
Emma snorted. “Are you sure it wasn’t his fine claret that colored your beliefs?”
“No, I much prefer sherry.” Mary leaned back with a chuckle. “I partook of none of what was offered to Milli. What’s that German proverb—I know how you love your proverbs—about the dove and the crows?” She tapped her bottom lip, thoughtful. “A dove that nests with crows will come away with black feathers?”
Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1) Page 41
