by LK Rigel
“How sad.”
“Cammy wants a stylish husband, you see, and I’m far from it. This place isn’t called Bausiney’s End for nothing. It’s in as poor a condition as the rest of Dumnos County. With our atmospheric conditions—”
“The famous atmospheric conditions.”
“Exactly. We’re denied the advantages of the modern age. We don’t draw many businesses when mobiles and wireless are impossible.”
“I thought I’d go crazy being offline,” Lilith said, “but I love it. I feel like I belong to myself, if that makes any sense.”
“Detached from the hive mind.”
“That’s it.”
Her smile was lovely. Everything about her was lovely. At the table, he pulled out a chair for her. Instead of across from her, he sat near her at a corner.
“Speaking of houses with names, I know there some in the United States,” she said, “but I can only think of Fallingwater. The White House, I suppose.”
“You have Mount Vernon,” Cade said. “And Monticello.”
Their knees kept touching.
“And Hill House.” She smiled as if she were joking.
“I don’t know that one.”
“It isn’t real,” she said. “From the Shirley Jackson novel. The movie terrified me when I was little. The original, not the remake. It’s about ghosts who take over a house and possess the people who stay there.”
“Pesky ghosts,” he said. “Always wanting to live the lives they were denied.”
The waiter brought the starter and refilled their glasses.
“I wonder what my ghost wants.”
“That’s a good question. Your ghost is unfamiliar to me. We do have two legendary ghosts in Tintagos, but they always travel together and they’re only seen every few hundred years. Enough to keep the story going. Your ghost seems to be on her own.”
“Yes. I dreamed about her before I came. I…I think she made my reservation at the Tragic Fall.”
“Your ghost made your reservation.”
She put down her fork, her brows knitted together. “You really will think I’m nutso. I can’t explain it any more than I can explain the person inside the tree.”
“You win. I do think you’re nutso, as you put it.” He didn’t care. “But as promised, I like you anyway.”
“Whew!” She laughed and finished her champagne. Her fingernails were freshly painted, an icy pink color. She’d done her fingernails in the time before he picked her up. She did fancy him. “But I went far off the tracks there,” she said. “You were going to tell me why your house is called Bausiney’s End.”
“Ah. Well, Bausiney is the family name. Sounds Italian, but it’s as old as the iron beneath Dumnos. Long before I was born, the people in the village had begun to call the place Bausiney’s End as a joke. It seemed the earl would never marry and produce an heir, and there aren’t any relatives to pick up the slack.”
“So if you hadn’t come along…”
“The title would have come to its end.”
To go with the filet mignon, the steward opened a Paraduxx red from the cellar, the Reflection Cade had brought back from California two years ago. He’d been that close to Lilith and hadn’t known she existed. She was beautiful in the candlelight, drinking the garnet liquid. If he kissed her now, would she object? Would she taste like wine?
“You did come along,” she said, “but the house has kept the name.”
“Yes. The earl found a willing victim in my mother, but Bausiney’s End has stuck. I must have been a disappointment.”
“Not to anyone I’ve met. Marion sings your praises, and your father obviously adores you.”
“You’re too kind. Moo has to sing my praises. She’s my aunt.”
“And your mother, the earl-ess, or whatever a Mrs. Earl is called? She must love you.”
“Countess.”
“Countess Dumnos, of course.” Lilith blushed.
“She died.”
“I gathered that, though Marion didn’t say.”
“She doesn’t like to talk about it. It was during the last Handover. I think my father relives the loss, now it’s been called again. I was very young.”
Lilith touched his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Cade.”
He loved to hear her say his name. “Apparently, she was wonderful, if a little wild. There’s a picture of her at the Tragic Fall.”
“In the fringe jacket and go-go boots with Cupid on her shoulder.”
“That’s her.” Cade swallowed the rest of his wine and refilled their glasses. “But it isn’t Cupid. It was taken at Piccadilly Circus in London. That’s the statue of Anteros, the god of requited love, mature love. Delight, you might say, as opposed to desire.”
This was lovely. Marion couldn’t bear to talk about his mother, and Dad refused to hear her name. It felt good to speak freely.
“Requited love.” Lilith laughed. “You don’t hear many songs about how I can get some satisfaction.”
“I’m not sure what satisfaction either of my parents found. She was more than twenty years younger than Dad. As I said, they married to have me. Continue the line.”
“You think?”
She didn’t judge or try to make him feel better about it. That was nice too. “I believe his desires lay in another direction, though he never had a special friend that I knew about.”
“I suppose it was hard for his generation to be honest about those feelings.”
“Dad swears he and Mother were great friends, had fun together. And then she was gone. You always think there’s time for everything.”
“Time is the one thing I’ve always felt rich in. No intimations of my mortality. I can’t explain it. My mother also died young, but—quite unreasonably—I feel I could live forever. All her life she struggled to care for me. Not successfully. She was…uncomfortable in the world. And when she was finally free of the burden of parenting, she died. I doubt she experienced one day of true happiness.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cade said. “Surely you gave her joy, or your dad did.”
“She loved me. I’m not sure I made her happy. I don’t remember my father. I think he was out of the picture before I was born.”
He couldn’t think what to say. But then he didn’t feel compelled to say anything. Dessert was served, and in companionable silence they ate the perfect chocolate soufflé. When the table was cleared and they were given coffee and cognac, he was glad to see the musicians leave with the catering crew. He hadn’t anticipated just how much he would want to be alone with her.
“What was the other name?” Lilith said. “Of the house. Maybe people just don’t like it as well.”
“Faeview.”
“Oh, but that’s nice.”
“According to legend, when there’s a full moon, from this very roof you can see fairy lights in the woods beyond Glimmer Cottage.”
“Oh, I like that.” Her face lit up. “Let’s blow out the candles and see if they’re out and about tonight.”
“You’re thinking of nice, fairytale fairies. Disney fairies who grant wishes and deliver sugarplums under pillows.”
“And the fairies of Tintagos are not nice?”
“Most assuredly not nice.” It was easier to tell the truth than think of a lie, and she’d believe it was just another story, like the Handover. “The fae are dangerous. They live in a magical world, out of time. It isn’t a good thing to see them in ours. Don’t wish for it.”
“But I do wish for something.” She breathed in the cognac’s aroma but put the snifter down without drinking. “Something different. I think that must be why I came to Tintagos.”
He reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes.
She looked at him—not with reproach. With desire. It was definitely desire in her eyes. It must be the candlelight. Her eyes were deeper blue and sparkled quite like jewels. He leaned forward. She met him halfway. Her lips met his, warm and inviting. Her arms were a
round his neck, and he pulled her closer.
She put her hand on his thigh under the table, and he rose from his chair and brought her close to him. The ache of desire—the ache in his heart—would kill him if he didn’t have her now.
“Diantha.” He moaned. “It’s been too long.” What the hell?
“Galen.” She covered his throat and neck with kisses.
His body responded violently. It wasn’t just his heart that ached for her. She was everything he needed, and he’d been denied love—proper love, with all its physical delights—for too long. He touched her breast—real, soft. She was as exciting as he remembered.
Remembered? This was wrong. Cade pried Lilith’s hands from the back of his neck and pushed her away. She tried to kiss him again. It took all his strength to keep her off. Then he saw the ring on her finger.
Rage welled up from the pit of his gut. Part of him had never seen that ring in his life, but another part knew exactly what it was.
“Lilith? Look at me.”
Her eyes went in and out of focus.
“Say my name!”
“Galen.”
“No. Look at me. My real name.”
She took a sharp breath and looked at him.
“Say it!”
“Cade?”
Cade. Good. I am James Cade Artros Bausiney, Lord Tintagos, the future Earl of Dumnos. Alive and well in the twenty-first century.
“Cade, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just…”
What could he tell her that wouldn’t sound horrible? What you’re feeling isn’t real. You were just possessed by one of the ghosts of Tintagos.
“I need to get you back to the inn. It’s later than I realized.”
She was shaken too. “I think that’s best.” She didn’t say anything as she followed him down the stairs.
He found out how fast the DB5 could make the winding two miles from the End to the Tragic Fall. Seven minutes of unbearable silence between them. How in hell had that happened? What in hell did happen? Galen’s agony was excruciating, and relief had been so near. Cade had looked into Lilith’s eyes and had seen Diantha looking back—at Galen.
Great gods. So many years of longing, so close yet forever separated. But Galen and Diantha were supposed to have limited range. Their haunts were Glimmer Cottage and the castle ruins. And now apparently the road down from the Halt. Galen’s consciousness had already faded, but Cade knew it all had something to do with that ring.
He stole a glance at Lilith. It’s a cruel and bitter world, Bausiney. It had been too good to be true, this attraction between them. At the inn door, just below the horses’ heads, he grabbed her elbow. “Don’t go to Glimmer Cottage tomorrow.”
“Why ever not, Bausiney?”
Bausiney again. Not Cade. “Just don’t go, all right?”
“But tomorrow’s the big day, the actual Handover. I want to see you crown the new wyrding woman. Or whatever it is that you do.”
“Moo is going to handle it. Let’s get away, just the two of us. I’ll come for you early.” He had to keep her away from Elyse. It wasn’t a matter of just in case. He was starting to believe that anything could happen. “We’ll take a drive and get out of Tintagos altogether. We’ll go north and watch the mist roll out to sea.”
“I’d like that.” She relaxed a little. “Maybe we’ll see my ghost.”
Not if I can bloody well help it.
He left her at the door with no hug, no kiss. No reference to the heat that had passed between them. She didn’t seem angry. Just confused. There was nothing he could do about it now.
Back at the End, he headed up to the roof to clear his head. The full moon was crazy bright, and the outline of Glimmer Cottage was easily visible. It was dark, but he had the same feeling as before, that Elyse was watching him. Could hear him.
“Go to bed, you old witch. And forget Lilith. I won’t let you have her.”
When dawn broke he went down to the kitchen to wait for Moo. Somehow she was involved in all this. She had insisted on going to London to make sure Lilith got on the train. She’d given Lilith the hat and gloves, not for warmth but to ensure that no one saw the ring. Hell, maybe Moo gave Lilith the ring.
She came in at her usual time, fussed about, put the kettle on the gas stove, dumped Dad’s breakfast into a bowl and popped it in the microwave, rinsed out her vacuum jar. As she turned away from the sink, she saw him.
“Great gods, Cade, you scared the life out of me!” The kettle began to whistle. “What are you doing sitting in here? You look terrible.”
“I feel terrible.”
“I’ll make you some tea.”
“Moo, why did you give Lilith Evergreen that ring?”
She missed a beat, as if she had to think of an answer. “Why do you assume I gave it to her?”
“Who else would have done?”
Her jaw clenched and unclenched and clenched again. She rummaged in the cupboard, but it seemed she was just creating a delay as she formed a response. Finally she sighed and closed the door. She found a tin in her bag and set about making tea.
“I didn’t give her the ring, Cade. But it was through me that it found her.”
“Why, Moo? She doesn’t want it. Why can’t Elyse choose from the hundreds who do?”
“Why, why, why.” She poured the boiled water over the basket of leaves. “All right then. We’ll have a cup of my special tea, and I’ll tell you everything. Let me fix it for you.”
She found the milk and sugar. Moo had taught him to drink tea that way when he was a boy. He never could get with the lemon crowd. She poured out two cups and worried over the perfect blend of sugar and milk. The picture tugged at his heartstrings. He would have loved to have known his mother, of course, but Moo was the best substitute he could have asked for.
“Delicious, as usual.” He drank half the cup in a gulp.
“About five or six weeks ago when I stopped at Glimmer Cottage, I found Elyse sitting on the roof deck, staring into the woods. She wasn’t well. She asked me to make her a cup of tea, so I did. This very blend, in fact. My specialty.”
She refilled his cup, adding more sugar and milk.
“I had been thinking about my sister Beverly—your mother—and the last Handover. Thirty years, it’s been. She was beautiful, a wonderful person. Full of life. I loved her so much. I swore one day I’d get her back.”
“What are you saying, Moo? Mother died.”
“For thirty years I waited for the right moment. It came that day.”
He felt woozy. The lack of sleep was getting to him; he didn’t understand Marion.
“Elyse drank the tea and fell asleep, just as you will soon.”
What?
“I tried and tried to get that damned ring off her hand. It’s death to the wyrding woman to remove her ring. I’ll bet you didn’t know that. But my sister essentially had been dead those thirty years. I only wanted to see her one more time, talk to her before it was really too late.”
“What are you talking about?”
“For thirty years I catered to that witch living in Beverly’s body. I gave her what she was starved for, what she couldn’t get by means of enchantment: real human contact, companionship. I made her believe I was on her side.”
“Marion, you need help.”
“I finally got it off her hand. I meant to throw it into the fire, but Elyse woke up. Not Beverly. I had failed. And at all events, I’d only managed to pull off half the ring. I hadn’t destroyed her wyrding power, but I had damaged it. We made a bargain. She’d call the Handover. I’d help her find another body, and she’ll let me have Beverly back when the ring was made whole. She put a spell on the half I’d taken and told it to find Lily.”
“Lilith…”
“Now don’t blame me for that, Cade. I have no idea how Elyse knew about Lily or Lilith or whoever. But I’m going to see Beverly again, and I’m not going to let anybody ruin it, not even you.”
“Li
lith.”
“I’m so sorry. I know you like her. But Lilith is the one.”
“I’ll stop her.” Did he say that or only think it?
“You can’t stop anything.”
He was so tired. He should have slept last night. His eyes crossed. Moo looked at him with a madwoman’s pity. He’d lay his head on the table, just for a few minutes, and get some rest. Then he’d go get Lilith.
Why did Moo look at him so strangely? Why hadn’t she touched her tea?
10
Heart of Lourdes
10th century Dumnos.
Elyse took the pipa up to the roof and sat on the chaise chair to tune the strings. She was adrift and lost, untethered to anything or anyone. The pipa’s music was the only thing that gave her comfort. Since that horrible night when Mother died, she and Lourdes could barely stay in the same room together. Lourdes was still furious about the ring, but it was on Elyse’s hand and nothing would change that.
Elyse hadn’t spoken of the wyrd she’d accidentally cast which rendered Lourdes unable to have children. Not that Lourdes would have believed her.
She plucked the pipa strings in no particular pattern, hypersensitive to the vibrations of the notes. She imagined them as random sound drops dancing in the air, like rain drops on a pond. Blunk, blunk, blunk. The dissonance fit her mood.
Cacophony was the best word to describe her new power, haphazard and nonsensical, random elegant success mixed with regular disaster. So far, she’d cast a few wyrds on purpose: made a shoot of new jasmine sprout into a full vine and compounded a pouch’s worth of glamour dust that produced a vivid image. She was especially proud of the glamour dust.
Some activities enhanced her ability while others confounded it. Music was a confounder. Playing the pipa made her feel better, but it messed up her wyrds. Of course, that’s when Lourdes would ask Elyse for a demonstration of her abilities, right after a session with the instrument.
She dampened the strings and listened. Someone was coming up the stairs. Not Lourdes, from the heavy sound.
“Miss, I’ve brought you a bite, and you must finish it all.”
“Must I, Meduyl?”
Upon her mistress’s death, the housemaid had promoted herself to housekeeper and brought a younger sister from home to do the particularly hard and filthy work. Elyse and Lourdes had been too grief-stricken to care, and now the arrangement had become established by routine.
