The Rose Master

by Valentina Cano

  For long seconds, I waited for the intake of breath that would bring relief to Lord Grey’s body.

  I went back to the kitchen and put water to boil. My movements were automatic, my thoughts not interfering with what my body was doing. I rummaged through the pantry and found what I needed: a thick ginger root. I chopped it up, adding it to the pot of water and letting it simmer until it filled the kitchen with its sharp scent.

  I poured the ginger water over tea leaves, and strained the concoction into a cup. I mixed in a strong dose of honey and stirred it all into a golden brew.

  Tea cup and saucer in hand, I went back to the main hall and up the stairs. The second story was in complete darkness except for one sliver of light. Coughs punctuated my steps until I found myself before Lord Grey’s door. I took a breath and knocked.

  His face showed surprise as he opened the door, although he brought his features under control an instant later.

  “Sir, I heard you coughing, and I thought tea would help ease the spasms. It has no magical properties that I know of, but it does provide some relief.”

  He took the cup from me and moved aside to allow me in. An image of Dora’s face flashed in front of me. I hesitated.

  “Come in, Anne. I won’t bite, you know.”

  With a thin smile, I stepped into his antechamber again.

  “Take a seat. And don’t tell me ‘no,’” he said, just as my mouth was opening. “What is it with you and chairs?”

  I smiled and took the seat I’d used the previous night. Lord Grey sat down and took a sip of tea.

  “Ginger,” he said. “Interesting concoction.”

  “It is, sir. The woman who raised me always prepared it for me when I was ill.”

  “The woman who raised you?”

  “Well, sir, my mother died when I was young, so the cook at Caldwell House took me in.”

  “I see.” His voice was soft, his eyes locked on me. He had a slight flush to his skin.

  “Sir, it looks as if you might have a fever.”

  “It’s nothing, Anne. If you recall, I mentioned the demon feeds off my energy. It sometimes places a strain on my body.”

  I looked down at my hands. “Sir, I’m concerned about the name we need for the banishment. How will we ever learn it? The creature will never reveal it.”

  He sighed. “I have thought long on that, and I’ve come upon only one way. You will have to provoke it, Anne.”

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “Wraiths toy with their prey, with what they are about to destroy. This one is no different. It won’t be able to help itself from taunting you with the truth before attempting to take your life.”

  My face must have betrayed my shock.

  “I would do it myself, but the creature would never tell me because it does not want to kill me. I could never provoke it enough.” He clutched the tea cup tighter in his hands. “We wouldn’t even consider attempting anything like that until you were ready to defend yourself, though. And you would not be alone. Do you understand, Anne?” His flushed face lifted to meet my eyes as he said softly, “I would be right there to help you. I wouldn’t allow it to harm you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. My mind reared back at putting my life in such danger. I couldn’t turn myself into bait!

  A stab went through my chest. But . . . but it could mean everyone in the manor would be free once again. Could I deny them that, after all they’d been through?

  I could think of no other way of extracting the name we needed. I closed my eyes. “When, sir?”

  “I don’t know. When you’re ready. When we’re both ready.”

  I nodded and attempted to smile as my stomach churned with nerves. “Um, sir, I was also wondering why you asked me a few days ago if I was religious? Would it have helped defeat this creature?”

  “No. On the contrary, it would have made it more difficult to bring your powers to the surface.”

  “Why, sir?”

  “For one thing, that particular group of people doesn’t take too kindly to magicians. I rather think you would have ‘aided’ me by burning me at the stake.”

  I did smile that time, despite my new worries.

  Silence descended on us as he sipped his tea. At least his coughing had stopped.

  As I watched the pain relax its hold on his face, I could picture him as he must have been before all of this had happened. Full of energy and laughter. Full of smiles for the people he loved . . . perhaps even for Miss Bellingham.

  Suddenly, I began to feel uncomfortable.

  “If you’re done, sir, I’ll take the cup back to the kitchen and let you rest.”

  “Yes, of course.” He handed me the cup. “You should get some sleep also, Anne. We have more training to do tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Goodnight, sir.”

  “Goodnight, Anne.”

  With a healthy dose of nerves in my veins, I marched back to my room, head held as high as I could manage without spraining anything.

  As I was about to open my door, I heard another one opening behind me. I turned and saw Ms. Simple hovering on her room’s threshold.

  “Ms. Simple, are you all right?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing, Anne.”

  “Yes, I am.” I gave her my most reassuring smile, even as Lord Grey’s plan swirled in my head.

  There was a moment of silence as she looked at me. “I knew there was something different about you when you arrived, and it seems I was right.” She moved the few steps toward me. Her hair was down, released from her usual severe bun, and its length surprised me. The dim light played over the white streaks that snaked through it.

  “Here,” she said, holding out her right hand.

  I took what she held: a small, silver cross.

  “I don’t know if it’ll help any with what you and the master are doing, but I always feel safer when there’s a cross nearby.”

  The metal was warm in my palm, warmed by Ms. Simple’s hand. I smiled.

  “Thank you. I’ve never had one of my own before.”

  A growl passed by me, low but resonant in the small hall. The cold had returned and with it, the fear.

  “Go back to bed, Ms. Simple. It’s safer.”

  She hesitated. Even in the shadows, I could see the bruises on her cheek, displaying the creature’s hate.

  “I’ll be all right. It’s best if we don’t anger it.” Not yet, at least.

  She nodded and turned back to her room. The growling followed her until she closed the door behind her.

  eighteen

  I made sure I was awake before the rest of the household the following morning. Another day of Dora’s sneering was more than I could handle with everything else that was occurring. As I entered the kitchen, I touched the cross, which I’d placed in my gown’s pocket, and smiled. It might have been my imagination, but it still felt warm.

  It wasn’t long before I heard steps nearing, and I turned from scrubbing the kitchen table to see Dora enter, her eyes passing me by as if I were as invisible as the creature haunting us.

  “Good morning, Dora.”

  She nodded vaguely in my direction.

  “Dora, listen, I didn’t mean to sound harsh yesterday. It’s just been a difficult few weeks. Lord Grey thinks I can help him with this situation, that’s why I have to spend time with him. That’s all, honestly.”

  She paused slicing the bread that would be our breakfast. “So, you will be our savior. Anne the savior.”

  Bugger. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. Dora, could you please turn around? Please?”

  With a sigh, she did. “What else do you want to ‘explain’ to me, Anne?”

  “I know I’m new here and that you see me as some sort of threat to your position in the manor, even more now that I have contact with Lord Grey, but I wanted to be friends, Dora. We are all in this manor, facing whatever roams inside it, together.”

  “I don’t care one bit if you spend ti
me with the master, but just know that whatever it is you’re thinking will happen with him—”

  “But I’m not—”

  “Don’t interrupt! Whatever you think could happen between the two of you, won’t. He loves her, Miss Bellingham. He always has. He could never care for a servant.”

  Her words shook me, the anger behind them chilling me more than anything the wraith could fashion. I could not find my voice.

  She continued. “You know, if it weren’t for you, nothing would have gotten as terrible as it has. I’ve realized that. You are the cause of all these horrid things. Of getting the cook attacked badly enough to make her lose an eye. She was my aunt, you know, and now, no one will hire her. She’s practically destitute.”

  “I’m sorry, Dora. I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “No, of course you weren’t. You’re as innocent as a lamb, and yet, you’ve angered this creature. You’ve put us all in danger.”

  As if to accent her words, there was a hiss of air that flew by me, strong enough to push Dora back against the sink. She gasped as the knife she’d been wielding was thrown across the room to clatter on the stone floor.

  Dora looked at me. “Am I supposed to be thankful you’re here, Anne, when this is what it means?”

  She was right. “No, Dora, you’re not.”

  After that rather rough beginning to the morning, I wasn’t in the most forgiving mood to deal with the candle in front of me.

  There was no luck in that section either. No matter how hard I tried, how much I concentrated, the flame was still glowing with a stubbornness that was unseemly. Lord Grey was becoming as frustrated as I was, I could tell.

  “I’d rather thought you would have gotten this by now, Anne.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Well, your powers have been dormant for far too long. I should have taken that into account. Let’s try something else.”

  Although I nodded, I could have thought of about a thousand other things I’d prefer to do, including sewing.

  He stood and I followed him.

  “Now, when we get ready to do what we have to do to destroy this creature, you will need to speak a certain few magic words. A chant, if you will.”

  “But sir, you didn’t need a chant that first time with the Brothers.”

  “True, but that was a wild creature. This one we face now requires the additional power that these particular words bring. I assume you’ve never done such a thing as chanting before?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I will teach you, then, how to properly use your voice in magic. First, you must understand that all the words we speak have power behind them, even commonplace words. Your name, for example, defines part of who you are. As you are now well aware, for someone to know your name is a powerful thing, to be used for good or ill. For chanting, all that is required is for you to know, to understand, that the words you speak are weapons as powerful as a dagger or a pistol, and then to add a little air beneath them. Watch.”

  He stood still, opened his mouth and spoke a word that meant nothing to me. I assumed it was one of the magical ones he’d spoken about.

  “What did you feel?” he asked.

  “Nothing, sir, I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing, Anne. You weren’t supposed to feel anything because I put no strength behind the word. Now, hear this.”

  He repeated the word. It was just as quiet as the first time, and yet his voice echoed in the hall, vibrating against my very skin.

  “Did you feel the difference?”

  “Yes, sir, but how did you do it?”

  He walked toward me, standing so close I could feel his warmth pushing against me. He raised one hand and brought it up to my chest, a little above where my rib bones ended. He didn’t touch me, but I felt his hand nonetheless.

  “You speak the word from there. From your center. That’s where your power comes from. In the chant you will use, there is a word ‘athana,’ which means ‘help.’ I want you to practice with that one.”

  He stepped back and allowed me more room. The word filled my mouth as I breathed, contemplating what Lord Grey had just told me.

  “Athana,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Try again. Concentrate.”

  I thought of the way he’d said it, a caress of syllables. I felt the warmth of his hand in my very center, my heartbeat meeting it in an orb of energy. “Athana.”

  My voice leapt out of my body like water from a fountain and hovered in mid-air. I blinked in surprise.

  “Very nice, Anne. At least you have that figured out. Now, back to the candle.”

  By the time I found myself in the kitchen for supper, I’d had just about enough of candles and Lords, and only wanted my bed to materialize in front of me. Ms. Simple poured more food on my plate with a murmur of keeping my strength up, but I could have fallen asleep right there, my head in the stew.

  I did notice, though, that Mr. Keery was not present.

  “He’s been feeling a bit ill,” Dora said, the only words she addressed to me the entire evening.

  “We’ve taken him a dish to the stables, so that he can remain in bed.”

  If I’d been less tired, perhaps I would have felt the warning in the air. But I didn’t. I just finished my duties and plunged into bed. I did not even bother taking my shoes off. A blessing, that.

  I groaned as the sound woke me. Really, this was too much. As I rose to full consciousness, I realized it was not the usual scratching at my door I was hearing, but a loud pounding.

  “Anne! Anne!”

  Leaping off the bed, I rushed to the bolted door while my heart beat out a warning. Dora’s face pierced through the darkness, as white as her gown, her eyes raw with crying.

  “I don’t know what to do, Anne! Help me!” Her hands grabbed at me, yanking me into the hallway.

  “What’s the matter? Dora, what’s wrong?”

  “Ms. Simple, Mr. Keery.”

  “What? What about them? Dora!”

  I chased after her as she sprinted off to the kitchen. Voices leapt up like flames: Ms. Simple’s taut and thin, and another, that other one—the wraith’s voice. I slammed into Dora’s back as she froze in front of the kitchen door.

  “And what exactly do you plan to do, Ms. Simple? Simple, mimple, wimple. Huh? What does your little brain tell you to do?”

  I flinched as I realized the voice coming out of Mr. Keery’s throat was not his own. It was not the usual quiet murmur, but the cold chuckling that had been trailing us.

  “Mr. Keery, please.” Ms. Simple moved to the left, revealing the scene’s full madness. Mr. Keery, soaked and covered in hay, brandishing a make-shift torch. A bitter smell reached my nose and I knew he was not dripping water, but oil, the drops crashing to the floor with each twitch of his body.

  “Mr. Keery, Peter, please. Give me the torch.” Ms. Simple’s shaking hands extended, but a low growl and a strike forward from the coachman pushed her away.

  “Peter.”

  “Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter.” The voice rose in a slithering cackle, upwards until it cracked into a laugh. “You still think this is Peter Keery. Idiotic woman.”

  I shook off the paralysis that bound me and stepped into the swaying light from the torch. The coachman’s eyes rotated to me. His smile widened.

  “You’re just who I wanted to see, pretty Anne.” He limped to me, one of his ankles twisted into a grotesque split of skin and bone. My first thought was to run backward, away from the creature’s presence, but I grit my teeth against the fear and held my ground.

  A wave of fragrant air brushed my back and a high voice spoke from over my shoulder.

  “That’s enough,” Lord Grey said.

  “You think so, August? Hmm? It’s not been nearly enough.” Mr. Keery’s body swayed. “I see you are getting closer to this pretty lass. She’s going to help you unravel a few ‘issues.’” He barked a laugh.

  My cheeks burned at the insinuations, but I fe
lt Lord Grey’s hands grasp my arms firmly, moving me sideways and away from the coachman’s eyes.

  “She’s just a maid, and you know it.” Lord Grey’s profile was sharp against the night.

  “Oh ho, no. I don’t think that’s all she is. Much more than that, August, you silly boy.”

  Lord Grey lifted one hand and spoke a couplet of words under his breath.

  Mr. Keery smiled. “I think it’s time to be rid of the rest of the cast, don’t you, Anne? Let’s make it a little cozier for the three of us.”

  In a second, the flames had trailed up the coachman’s arms, up to his head and down to his legs. A scream like breaking glass filled the kitchen, and the voice spoke again from above us.

  “I’ll be seeing you, sweet girl.”

  Dora began to whimper behind me, a swallowed squeal trapped inside her body, while Ms. Simple pressed herself flat against the farthest wall.

  “Anne!” One look from Lord Grey was all it took to break my paralysis and set me running to the main hall. I yanked the first curtain I came upon, pulling its heavy weight down, pole and all, and ripped the fabric off. I ran back to the kitchen trailing dark cloth.

  Lord Grey grasped one end and together we smothered Mr. Keery’s body, throwing him to the floor as his screams dug into our heads.

  “We need to turn him!” I screamed at Lord Grey, who nodded and did as I said.

  All sound except for our shifting clothes stopped. When I could see no smoke or fire trailing out of the curtain, I relaxed my grip.

  “Is he alive, sir?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” He pulled back a corner of fabric, revealing peels of black skin and bubbling flesh that gurgled with every breath. Oh, thank God, he was breathing.

  I had seen my share of burns working in a fully-functioning, hectic kitchen, but nothing could have prepared me for the pulsing boil Mr. Keery had become.

  “Sir, we need to get him to a doctor.”

  Lord Grey looked at me, a flash of fear smothered by reason. “Of course.”