Grault bent down, lifting the letter from among all the other scraps with reverence. I hadn't noticed how tall he was, not until he spun back to arch over me. “Why would you throw the letter from your grandmother away? How could you be so cold?”
“Cold?” I repeated, lost by what he was saying. “Wait. I'm sorry, you're upset about the fact that I was going to throw that away? That letter, specifically?” So he wasn't commenting on my pig sty. “I mean, come on. It's clearly a scam, or at best, a joke.” My confidence waned under his intense scrutiny. “I—isn't it?”
With long, elegant fingers, he smoothed the paper against his chest. “This is no joke, Miss Blooms. Your grandmother sent this to you over a week ago, she assumed you'd come see her before she passed on.”
My mouth felt very dry. “I don't have a grandmother. Not one that I knew, anyway.”
Gently, Grault took my wrist. His touch was cool, his skin surprisingly silky. I didn't fight when he turned my palm over, setting the letter on it. “Your grandmother was a lovely woman. An amazing woman. I'm sorry you didn't get to know her, but this is no scam. You're her only living relative, she wanted her possessions to go to you.”
Only living relative. It wasn't a shock, but being reminded of my parents' death fourteen years ago still set my stomach twisting.
Grault's face was stoic, making me wonder if the only other emotion he had was anger. His eyes, swimming black pools, drew me in. That was when I noticed his eyelashes were white as snow. How weird, like an albino, except... “Wait,” I said, looking down at the folded paper. “You mentioned she sent this over a week ago.”
His nod was sharp, his frown more so. “And you ignored it, which is why I've come to fetch you.”
My brows scrunched low. “Excuse me, I'd appreciate if you didn't act like I was a sort of toy to come claim. 'Fetch' as you said. Anyway, I didn't see this letter till last night.” Not that I could say it would have made a difference if I'd found it sooner.
Grault's expression shifted, eyes widening. “Truly? Oh, I... hmn. I'm very sorry, then, Miss Blooms. It's a terrible shame you never got to meet your grandmother, Tessa. She held on for a bit, but she knew her time had come.”
Chewing my lower lip, I looked over the letter again. I felt guilty for assuming it had been fake. But, how could I be expected to believe I'd just been handed a house? She'd written about other things, too, I could see now. Things that no scam artist would have bothered with. If I'd been more thorough, I'd have noticed here... she mentions my mother, Gina. The signs that this isn't just an elaborate scheme are right here. Way to go, Farra. Way to be entirely too cynical.
I wanted to sit down, to read every word now that I knew it was real. I have a grandmother? No, had. Grault said she died. If I'd seen this sooner, would I have been able to meet her? To learn more about a family I didn't know I had?
“Miss Blooms,” he said, ending my train of thought. It was for the best, if I kept on that line of thinking I was bound to start getting emotional in front of this stranger.
I hated crying in front of anyone, it was always very ugly.
“The hour is incredibly late. I really need you to hurry and get ready, otherwise you'll never catch your train.”
Bending the note in my hands, I slid it into my pants pocket. “Sorry? Did you just say I'm getting on a train?”
He wore no watch that I could see, and though my microwave still blinked the time, he glanced towards my window. The blinds were drawn, blocking the night sky. “It's growing close to four, if we want to beat the sunrise—”
“No, wait.” Lifting my hands, I waved them to grab his attention. Amazingly, he did look down at me, but I felt like he wasn't really seeing me. “Wait. Wait wait wait. I'm not ready to just get on some train! I need to... to pack, and that's even assuming I'm going with you in the first place.” I opened my mouth, then shut it while pondering my obvious question. “Where are we—where am I—going exactly?”
Grault scrubbed his fingers over the short, bristly pale hair on his head. Is his hair grey, actually? It must be the lighting in here, he's too young for grey.
“Miss Blooms—”
“Farra.”
“...Miss Blooms,” he went on, ignoring my correction, “we're going to your grandmother's house. We're in dire need of you there, things have gone quite to hell without a caretaker.”
Crinkling my nose, I leaned forward. “You're just giving me more questions. I thought she was giving me her house, what's this about a caretaker?”
Again, there was a flicker of impatience. I wondered what was making him so agitated, it couldn't be just me asking questions. Could it? “Miss Blooms, honestly—how am I not being clear? Your grandmother is gone, she was the caretaker of her home. Now, you're the only heir, and as such... we need you to take her job.”
“So this is about me taking up her... job? Her responsibilities?” His nod was brisk. “And,” I continued, studying his face as if it'd help me read the situation, “you said 'we' so unless I'm not following at all, that means there are... others... involved in this mess?”
Smoothing his jacket, like he couldn't keep still, he nodded. “Yes. Quite a few residents stay in the home, some for years now. They're all genuinely upset over how things have gone down. Tessa's death has left them distraught, as I said we really must be going.”
And like that, it all clicked together. “You're seriously asking me to become the caretaker for my dead grandmother's house. To run it now that she's gone.”
Grault exhaled loudly, relieved by my succinct breakdown. “Exactly, yes.”
Turning away, I sat down heavily on my futon. My elbows draped over my knees, shoulders slumping.
“What are you doing now?” he blurted, not trying to hide his exasperation.
Tucking my hair behind my ears, I looked my visitor up and down like it was the first time I'd seen him. “Trying to take this all in, isn't that obvious?”
“We don't have time for that!” His fingers cut the air, gesturing wildly.
I simply rose my eyebrows an inch higher. “Well, that's too bad. I need a moment to digest this. On the one hand, I love the idea of a house, of money.” I certainly need that right now. I could pay off my landlady, stop worrying about where I'll be living next. After years of bouncing around from the orphanage, the idea of a place to settle is... nice.
He was staring, so I kept talking. “To just go and become a caretaker for someone's home, I don't know anything about that. I'm expected to just up and take over a... what did she do, turn her house into some kind of hotel?”
He dug his fingers into the collar of his jacket, adjusting it violently. “Miss Blooms, please. I need you to gather your things, or we're sure to miss the train. I can answer your questions once we arrive, I promise.”
Slapping my thighs, I didn't budge from the mattress. “Is it really so important for me to leave right now, in the middle of the night?”
“Yes, it really is!”
Frowning, my eyes narrowed on his angular features. “We leave, and what then?”
“If you just would come along—”
“And what then?”
We stared each other down. I was tired, I knew my drawn skin and puffy lids were showing it. But still, Grault was looking on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. If there was such a thing as an advantage here, I thought I had to have it.
“Fine,” he snapped, arms locking together over his chest. “Miss Blooms, you are incredibly difficult. That you of all people would be Tessa's granddaughter.” Breathing through his nose, he looked at the far wall. “We leave here, I'll take you to the station. I'll put you on a train to New Hampshire, and once there, you'll be able to reach your grandmother's house. Then, fingers crossed, you'll begin the role of caretaker and start putting everything back to normal.”
New Hampshire, I thought in wonder. That's pretty far from Georgia. Is that where my mother was from? I know so little about her past.
Ther
e was something going on, something too perfect to not consider the opportunity.
Money, a house, how can I say no?
Looking down at the work-shirt I had fallen asleep in, I tugged at the front. “I have one more question. Well, actually, I have a million... but one more before I decide what I'm going to do.”
He turned his head warily, like what I asked would be the death of him. “Go on.”
“She did leave me money, right?”
Grault relaxed visibly. “Ah. That. Tessa left everything she owned to you, Miss Blooms. That includes more than her house. If you agree to take up the responsibilities that she left, I assure you, you won't want for anything.”
Best case, I've just been handed the literal key to a new home, a new life.
Worst case, I get to this house and decide I don't want it. I could even sell it. Right, if I don't like what I find, all I lost was some time. And it isn't as if staying here is even an option anymore.
Rising, cracking my back, I gave a slow nod. “Alright. Give me a minute, and I'll gather up what I need. It shouldn't take me long.”
He blinked, clearly incredulous over my change of heart. “You mean it? You're ready to just uproot and go after all? Not that I mind, but don't you need to let someone know you're moving out? A note, a quick word?”
Smiling bitterly, I grabbed a backpack off the handle on my closet. “Would you believe I was actually looking for an exit strategy shortly before you arrived?”
Chapter Two.
The night (or was it technically morning?) air was muggy. Even in fall, the South was quick to make you feel like you'd just hopped out of the shower. Which, really, I wished I'd actually done.
I'd thrown on clean jeans and a comfortable green blouse, but my hair still felt like it needed to be scrubbed. With only a few hours of sleep in me, my skin sticky from humidity, I should have been sulking.
Strange, but I'm sort of excited. This situation was out of a movie. Things like this happened to important people, something I'd never considered myself to be.
Strolling beside Grault towards the train station, I tied my messy hair back in a new, tighter ponytail. The sky above was turning the color of ink mixed with blueberries. “I have another question for you.”
“I imagine you still have a few,” he mumbled, his attention fixed on the distance. “Go on, then.”
Adjusting my backpack, I hurried to keep up with the his long strides. He was clearly still in a hurry. “How did you find me?”
“Tessa found you.”
“Well, how did she find me.” And why not years ago, when I needed family the most? “It's not like my address was listed in the yellow pages.”
He didn't slow, those hard eyes flicking down at me. “Your mother really didn't tell you anything.”
The glimmer of remorse that entered his ebony eyes put me off guard. “Ex—excuse me? Hold on, that's really not something you should be allowed to say.” The pulsing in my chest was like an infected wound. “My mother told me many things, none of which should be any of your concern.”
Grault's thin lips turned down at the corners. He went back to staring ahead, guiding us along the silent road towards the station. “You asked the question, Miss Blooms.”
“About my grandmother, not my mother.”
“And my answer has everything to do with your mother.”
Ahead of us, through the hazy blue of early morning, I saw the large station. We both squinted at it, Grault speeding up. I still didn't know why he was so obsessed. “Alright. So she found me because of my mother. What did she do, contact her from beyond the grave to get my mailing address?”
I meant it to be funny. Grault's lack of reaction, his stony glance, chilled me. “Not exactly.”
We were climbing the tall steps to the front doors, everything lit by gentle yellow lamps. Gripping the railing, I stopped. It took Grault a second to notice, or to decide to copy me. “Care to expand on that?” I asked.
“Forgive me, I think that came across wrong. I didn't mean to imply your mother contacted Tessa after death. Or vice versa.”
Sighing loudly, amazed at my rush of relief, I finished climbing up the steps. “Good, because when you say that kind of stuff, you sound a little crazy.”
“Crazy.” Blinking thoughtfully, he continued towards the wide glass doors. I saw movement inside, was surprised the station operated so early. “What I meant was there is, and always has been, a connection between your mother and Tessa. And, of course,” he mused, pushing the door open so I could step through, “that means between you and Tessa.”
I was half-way through, standing beneath his extended arm. There, freezing in the threshold, I rolled my gaze up and sent him an incredulous look. “Grault?”
“Yes?”
“You're not doing a great job at convincing me you aren't crazy. Just a heads up.” Hoisting my backpack, I crossed into the quiet building.
He followed beside me, hands back in his pockets. “I'm not being crazy, Miss Blooms. Your connection to Tessa through your bloodline was well known to her.”
“Mmhm, mmhm,” I mused, slowing as we approached the stairs that led to the train platforms. “Convenient. So why didn't she send me something sooner, reach out, if she always 'knew' where I was?”
My tone seeped with sour distaste, yet Grault eyed me rather... sadly. “Tessa told me she wanted to fulfill your mother's wish.” Standing on the platform, a place empty save for a single wandering guard, Grault looked down on me grimly. “Gina wanted nothing to do with her mother, and she didn't want you to be involved either.”
In the distance, I heard a train rumbling down the tracks. It felt incredibly far away. “What? What are you saying? Why would my mother want to keep me away from her own mother?”
“And that,” he sighed, “is why I commented on her not telling you anything.” Lifting his chin, he peered out at the tracks. We were partially exposed, the building open on one side where the trains would arrive. “It's almost time. Here, take this.” His fingers vanished into a jacket pocket, revealing a paper ticket.
I was having trouble focusing, my mind awash with a sense that I didn't actually understand what was going on. He bought this before visiting me. He really thought I'd come along. “Wait,” I mumbled, taking the train ticket in my numb grip. “Slow down. My mother didn't want me to know my grandmother? I don't—why would she...”
Grault pointed, seconds before the train came shooting down the tracks. The kick-back of air it brought tossed my hair, ignoring that I'd tied it up. “Go, get on. I'll tell you more later.”
“No,” I said, shouting over the creak of metal, the whistle of the engine. But Grault was pushing me, guiding me towards the open doors in the side of the black and red machine. “Wait! I want to know more, will you tell me when we sit down, at least? It's going to be a decently long ride, right?”
His smile was gentle, it was the first time I'd seen him make such a face. “I'll talk with you when you get to the house.”
The back of my neck tingled. “You're not coming with me, are you?” In my palm, the single ticket felt heavy. “Wait, Grault, what the hell is going on?”
“A lot of things. Now, take the train all the way to Barrow Village, from there Tessa's house—your house, I suppose—is walkable. Trust me, Miss Blooms, I'll explain more later.” Pausing, he considered his next words. “We'll have plenty of time to talk once you settle in.”
More people were arriving, though the platform was still sparse. Outside, the rising hour of morning made everything feel mystical, blue light dancing and drawing out shadows. The sun had yet to show. “Grault,” I said, standing firmly in the train entrance. “Tell me why my mother hid Tessa from me, or I'll get off this train right now.”
His jaw firmed, making we wonder if he understood how serious I was. Honestly, even I wasn't sure. We stood there, eyeing each other as the train attendants shouted, encouraging people to hurry as departure would soon begin.
&nbs
p; He inhaled through his nose, then shut his eyes. His white lashes picked up the blue of the sky. “Fine,” he sighed, staring at me, sizing me up all over again. “Fine, Miss Blooms.” He sent a nervous look into the distance, the way he had back in my apartment. Grault saw, or felt, something that I did not. “Your grandmother was many things. Wonderful, kind, strong... but she was also something that your own mother wanted nothing—entirely nothing—to do with.”
My fingers gripped the side of the carriage so hard that the tips ached. “What was she?”
His lips, his words, they both portrayed a gentle wistfulness. “Tessa was a witch.”
My laugh was sharp, it surprised me. “Impossible. You're joking with me. Witches aren't—that's ridiculous.” I heard my tone growing softer, my face hurting from the forced grin. If only Grault would laugh, too; then it would be easier to believe myself.
In the face of his emotionless stare, my sureness was cracking. “I'll see you soon, Miss Blooms.”
“But how,” I asked, unable to decide who the crazy one was anymore. “How will you get there, if not by train?”
He said nothing. Not as the attendants came and ushered me inside to sit, not as I opened the window and leaned out towards him expectantly for some answers.
With the train roaring in my skull as I raced away, he was gone.
Chapter Three.
I'd never taken such a long train ride. When the attendant came by to check my ticket, I asked him when we would arrive.
“Around seven in the evening, ma’am,” he said, flashing me his most charming smile.
I spent the first two hours staring out the window, enjoying the sight of the world flowing by. The air was nice, tickling the hair on my neck as the sun rose.
A woman pushed a cart down the aisle, silverware jingling. The scent of rich coffee and sweet breads filled the tiny carriage. When she came beside me, my mouth was liquid from hunger. “Would you like anything?” she asked.
Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) Page 2
