The Touch Of The Outcast

by Amalia Altman

  “Who was she?” he asked.

  “Who?” Elise asked.

  He did smiled, but didn’t laugh. He didn’t answer at all, he just stared at her.

  “She’s someone I know from back home,” Elise said.

  “Why was she here?”

  Elise shrugged. “Apparently to visit the palace.”

  Julian took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Do you think this is funny, Elise?”

  “I don’t know, my lord,” she said. “Is it?”

  “Why were you in my room the other night?” he asked.

  The question caught Elise off -guard. She raised her eyebrows at him.

  “I’ve never been in your room other to change your bandages, my lord,” she said. “You’ve always come to my room in the past.”

  “You were in my room,” he insisted. “You—you destroyed the wall hangings and went up to the third floor. Why?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elise said in confusion.

  Julian’s hands balled up into fists on the desk and he shook his head impatiently.

  “Nikola tells me you attacked her.”

  “I was with you when Nikola was attacked,” Elise said.

  “And the woman you were with says that you killed her daughter.”

  Elise bit her lip. “I didn’t.”

  “So what’s going on, Elise?” Julian asked, peering at her intently, burning her with his eyes.

  “I don’t have to tell you,” Elise said.

  He gritted his teeth.

  “What happens when you touch people?” he asked her, ignoring her defiance.

  She stared up at him, holding his eye. Then she took a deep breath.

  “I’m not a witch,” she said, staring at him. “And I didn’t kill anybody. I would never—I never hurt Nikola.”

  “What happens when you touch people?” he repeated slowly.

  “I—I can see what they’re thinking,” she said, speaking the words aloud for only the second time. “I can read thoughts.”

  He stared at her, no expression behind his eyes.

  “What?”

  “It’s something I’ve always been able to do,” Elise said, trying to explain now that she’d told him. “I—“

  He shook his head, cutting her off.

  “Elise, if you’re just going to sit here and lie to me—“

  “I am not lying, my lord,” Elise said to him.

  He reached his arm over the desk then and she looked at it, then met his eye.

  “Tell me what I’m thinking,” he said. Elise reached forward and touched his hand with her fingertips. She saw nothing, a blank wall, pale white light with a blinding absence of noise. Elise pulled her hand away.

  “You’re thinking about nothing. You’re trying not to think about anything.”

  He stared at her. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Picture something for me,” Elise said.

  “Like what?” he asked. His voice sounded more curious than anything in that moment, and Elise was glad that he didn’t seem as angry as he had been.

  “Anything,” she said to him softly. He closed his eyes and again she touched his hand. In her mind, she saw herself with pale yellow flowers in her hair, smiling warmly. Elise let go of him and looked into his eyes. He only looked at her for a moment before she knew that he’d realized she was telling the truth. She didn’t even have to say anything. As if he’d been burned, Julian snapped his hand away from her, a look of anger on his features.

  “My lord—“ Elise said, but he stood up, cutting her off.

  “You have been able to read my thoughts this whole time,” he said. “Is that right?”

  “Only since we started touching,” Elise said. She hated that look on his face, a look of betrayal, the same one her sister had given her when she’d found out about Elise’s powers. “It’s not my fault—“

  “It’s your fault you hid this,” he said. “It’s your fault that I’ve been showing you everything in my head for weeks now.”

  “Not everything,” Elise said. “You won’t even think about the answers to your secrets. Don’t pretend like I’m the only one holding things back.”

  “Is that why you’ve been touching me?” Julian asked. “All of the kissing, the sex—“

  “We haven’t had sex,” she breathed.

  He grinned at her.

  “Fine. Everything else we did. You were trying to learn my secrets?”

  “You know that’s not true,” Elise said.

  “I don’t know anything other than the fact that you are apparently a witch who has been accused of attacking two women,” Julian said. “At least two.”

  Elise gaped at him. She couldn’t believe that he could even consider the idea that she might be capable of hurting someone, especially given that he himself was no stranger to violence.

  “I didn’t attack anybody,” she said.

  “Who was the woman in the garden?”

  Elise stood up then. She was tired of being towered over by him, tired of his anger. She hadn’t done anything wrong by not telling him about her powers—she had only been trying to protect herself from getting hurt again.

  “Are you letting me go, my lord?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Are you firing me? Are you kicking me out of this mansion?”

  “God damn it, Elise,” he cursed, closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You need to go to bed. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”

  “No,” she said. “I want to know now if you’re going to throw me out.”

  “I don’t want to throw you out, Elise,” he said. “I just want you to get out of this room.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then you will keep your hands to yourself. I have no intention of touching you again. You’re free to stay here as a maid,” he said. “I think you’re a fine addition to the staff.”

  “Thanks,” Elise said sarcastically. She felt a knot forming in her stomach and rising, threatening to choke her. She hated the way he was looking at her then, with coldness and distance in his eyes. Elise found herself reaching for him instinctively, her hand seeking his, but he pulled it back and gave her an icy stare.

  “Good night, Elise,” he said softly, then turned his back to her to stare out the window behind his desk. Elise got up and crept out of the room to her bedroom, her heart feeling torn in her chest.

  Chapter 21

  Julian sat at his desk, staring down at the paper in front of him. The picture on the front was brutal, a girl with her face disfigured by stab wounds, her face swollen and pale and dead. Her name was Annalynn Vaskar from a small down not far from London, and she had been found murdered just a few days ago, the latest in a string of dead women who had been found chopped to pieces. Annalynn was the first one, as far as Julian knew, who hadn’t been a noblewoman. According to the article, she had been some friend of a friend, a nobody who had somehow managed to get herself invited into places she didn’t belong. Julian tossed the paper aside and put his face in his hands. He wasn’t going to get any more information from Elise—that much was certain. She had clammed up about who the woman was in the garden, and the only thing he knew about her was that she was Annalynn’s mother. Julian stared at the paper again, his eyes focusing on the name of the town where Elise had grown up. He shook his head before standing, running his hand through his hair.

  Julian tried to go to bed then, going into his room and undressing, climbing into bed and staring at the ceiling. All he could think about was her—not only the fact that he felt angry and betrayed, but the memory of the feeling he’d had before that, when they’d been dancing with each other in the ballroom. Julian had never felt like that before, and just remembering it made him even angrier—of course Elise knew just how to charm him, exactly h
ow to worm her way into his heart. She could read his mind, his desires, and she’d had no trouble using that knowledge to earn a spot higher than her position as a maid. He wondered if that’s what she had wanted all along, if all of her flirting had been about charming a lord to rise in society. It didn’t seem like Elise to him, not the woman that he knew. But then he thought about how little he actually knew about her and it tormented him, long past the hour he should have fallen asleep.

  Julian had made up his mind to go to her hometown by the morning. He hoped that Annalynn’s mother would be back, but if not, he was willing to find anybody to answer his questions about Elise. The need to know burned within him every time he pictured her face and the way she smiled at him. All that he could think about was that none of it was real, and the thought of that put a lump in his stomach that he hoped would fade if he got more information about her.

  Julian saw Elise in the kitchen that morning, but she didn’t say anything to him, instead continuing to clean as if she hadn’t seen him walk in. He felt a stab of pain at her coldness and had to remind himself again who she was and who she wasn’t. She wasn’t the woman he had danced with at the ball nor the one he had almost taken to bed, but a mystery girl, a stranger living under his own roof.

  He walked past her, deciding not to interrupt her stony silence, and walked to the temporary stables that had been put up while the others were being rebuilt. He saddled King and took off on the long ride, hoping that he could clear his mind on the way. Julian didn’t get to travel as much as he’d have liked to as a lord—most of his work was done for him, as it had been done for his father. He enjoyed going on trips alone but this time he wished that she was with him, sitting next to him in the carriage and teasing him in a way that drove him crazy.

  The trip lasted most of the day, and by the time Julian got to the small town of Longmont, it was starting to grow dark outside. He climbed off his horse once he rode into town and started to walk with King beside him, leading him down the street. There wasn’t much to see in the tiny town—it was mostly farm land, with one strip of shops that ran down the center. Julian was relieved to see that there was a tavern on the corner, bustling with business, the only shop on the street that seemed to be open. He tied up his horse and went inside, glad he hadn’t dressed up in a lord’s clothing. That sort of thing would only get him robbed in this town, something that he didn’t want or need at that moment.

  Julian went inside of the tavern and found a seat at a table, sitting down in the center and looking around. A girl came up to him then, pretty but too young, her wide eyes batting at him flirtatiously.

  “Hi, handsome,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

  “I had a question about a woman who lives in town,” Julian said. He didn’t want to waste time drinking and flirting in order to get his questions answered. The girl didn’t look put off by the fact that he didn’t seem to be interested in her.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Elise Dawson,” Julian told her. He heard the room around him go quiet as everybody stilled when he said the name.

  “Elise?” the girl asked, looking at him cautiously. “Why?”

  “I wanted to speak to her family,” Julian said.

  “Elise Dawson doesn’t have a family,” said a man from near the fire. Julian looked over to see a big man, round, with a long white bear that stretched down over his massive belly.

  “What do you mean? Do you know her?”

  “Everybody knows her,” the man said. “Elise Dawson is—“

  “What do you want with Elise?” a girl asked then.

  Julian looked around but couldn’t see her.

  “I’m her employer,” Julian said, searching the room for whoever was speaking. The girl stepped forward then and he saw that she had red hair, short and cropped around her head in the style of a boy. She wore trousers, too, but the similarity was undeniable.

  “Elise is my sister,” the girl said.

  “Elise is dead,” said the man from the fire.

  Elise’s sister shot him a look.

  “I’ll gut you if you don’t shut your mouth, Tom,” she said harshly, though she looked like she weighed less than a third of the big man. The girl looked up at Julian and gestured for him to follow her. He did, glad to get out of the bar, away from the prying eyes and the hostility that had filled the room the moment he’d mentioned Elise’s name.

  He followed the girl around a corner into an alley, where she pulled a cigarette from behind her ear and lit it with a match.

  “You’re her employer,” the girl said, looking at his face. “And you found out she’s a witch.”

  “Is she?” he asked. “A witch?”

  The girl took a drag of her smoke. “Aye, she is.”

  “What—what exactly does that mean?” Julian asked. “Why?”

  “Nobody knows why. Mum thinks she’s the devil. Burnt all of her things after Elise ran away.”

  “Why did she run away?”

  “Everybody wanted to kill her after what she did,” the girl said. “Father almost did.”

  Julian sighed, high jaw growing tight with impatience. “What did she do?”

  The girl looked at him, giving him a dry smile that reminded him of her sister. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No,” Julian said. “She hasn’t told me anything.”

  “She killed the priest, Father Orton,” the girl said.

  Julian stared at her.

  “What?”

  “It was her fault he died. Elise told everyone that he’d killed that little girl over in Richmond, said she’d seen it in his mind when she touched him. Of course, she was lying,” the girl spat, and for the first real time, he could see how much disdain she had for Elise. “She was always lying. But he killed himself anyway.”

  “Oh,” said Julian, staring at her. “How do you know she was lying?”

  The girl looked at him resentfully, her face almost a snarl. “He was the priest.”

  “Did they ever find who killed the little girl?”

  Elise’s sister sniffed, taking a drag of her cigarette.

  “Don’t know,” she said gruffly. “But it wasn’t Father Orton. We all knew him. All grew up with him. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why would Elise lie?”

  “Elise is a lying whore,” the girl said. “An evil witch.”

  Julian’s teeth gritted. “She’s not—“

  “Whatever you think about her is wrong,” the girl said, looking up into his eyes. Hers were blue instead of green, cold and devoid of life. Just looking at them made Julian shiver.

  He looked away from her.

  “What did you mean when you said that your father almost killed her?” Julian asked.

  The girl actually smiled, something that made disgust writhe in Julian’s stomach given the conversation.

  “He wanted to burn her for a witch. He had everything ready, but she got her slimy hands on me. She found out what we were going to do when she read my mind.”

  Julian’s face twisted in distaste.

  “You were going to burn your sister alive,” he said, his voice filled with bewilderment. He couldn’t even imagine such a thing, no matter what the person had done.

  “She would deserve it. Father Orton is dead because of her.”

  Julian said nothing. He suddenly felt guilty for the way he had behaved toward Elise when he’d found out about her powers—with as much disgust and disdain as her family had. Shame washed over him as he stood there, looking into the eyes of her cold little sister.

  “Elise will never come back here,” Julian said. “You can be sure of that.”

  “Are you going to burn her yourself?” the girl asked, and Julian had to turn around when he heard genuine hope in her voice, otherwise so young and innocent. He walked toward his horse and untied him, climbing on top of his back. Julian’s whole body was tense
as he rode. He had been planning to stay the night in town, but he decided to ride through—he didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep after what he’d learned.

  He was about to take off in a gallop when someone called out to him from behind. He turned around to see a young man jogging toward him, waving at Julian as he ran.

  “Sir,” the man said, and Julian stilled his horse, looking down at the man as he approached him on his horse. He was young, younger than Julian, an average small-town boy in demeanor and complexion.

  “What is it?” Julian asked, impatient to get home.

  “You were asking about Elise. You talked to Lilith.”

  “Her sister?”

  “Yes,” the man said. “I know what Lilith told you. But Father Orton did kill that little girl over in Richmond. Elise wasn’t lying on him.”

  “How do you know?” Julian asked him. The man looked down at his hands.

  “I was there when he did it. I saw him.”

  “You didn’t tell anybody?” Julian asked.

  “I—I told Elise to do it. Said they would believe her more than me.”

  Julian gritted his teeth. “And when they wanted to burn her, did you tell them the truth?”

  The man said nothing, just stared up at Julian, a look of shame on his face.

  “How is she?” the man asked.

  Julian gritted his teeth and shook his head, riding away from the man hard and fast. He didn’t want to hear any more of it, didn’t want to do anything but talk to Elise and listen to what she had to say about the story. He felt guilty and stupid for the way he’d reacted to hearing about what she could do, though he tried to tell himself that anybody would be taken by surprise. And he did feel betrayed that she had been reading his thoughts, finding out the answers to his secrets while she withheld from him everything about herself that was most important.

  Julian arrived back at the estate as the sun was coming up, and by the time he got to the front of the mansion he was nearly falling asleep in his saddle. He climbed out and left King outside, knowing that the horse would stay and graze until somebody led him to the stables. Julian dragged himself inside. He was exhausted and sore from the saddle, plus the skin on his back was stinging after having been without ointment for hours.