Grayson cleared his throat, well aware that the demon hadn’t said a single word, which was difficult at best, his aunt Sinjun had told him, when the vicar was around. She looked quite complacent, sitting upright, her beautiful green skirts spread around her. Millicent looked somehow dimmed beside her, somehow overshadowed by her . . . what—her mother? In the next moment, he finally saw their faces clearly; one was older, one younger. Mother and daughter. They seemed to be exactly what they appeared to be. Only they weren’t.
When everyone had been served tea, the vicar continued with his monologue. Lady Blackthorn took a sip of her tea, looked at the vicar, gave him a nod, and in the next moment, he leaned his head back against the settee and was snoring lightly.
She smiled at them all. “Ah, he has talked himself out, I see.”
The power, Grayson thought, the absolute power. At least she hadn’t killed the vicar. He smiled at her. “Lady Blackthorn, I have wondered why your daughter’s last name is also Blackthorn. Has she not been married before?”
“Ah, as to that, it was her father’s name. A fine man, a holy man, a man who was more than a man. Her previous husbands were naught but middling fools. But they were rich, and surely that was something in their favor.”
“I was told Blackthorn was a Scottish prelate’s name from the twelfth century.”
The demon laughed. “Surely there have been many Blackthorns over the centuries, Mr. Sherbrooke, many prelates by that name. And why is that important to you?”
“It is of interest, don’t you think?” Grayson rose, went to the marquetry table, lifted the dome, and saw the large cake with apricot preserves flowing over its sides. He picked up the knife and sliced the French sweet breid.
Grayson saw both heads snap up, watched both noses sniff the air.
“What is that?” The demon was leaning forward, nearly tipping off the settee.
Grayson merely smiled and handed it a large slice of the cake. He looked at the demon daughter—Queen Maeve—yes, he remembered her as the young girl who had come to him in that tower room. But what would this demon have done to him? “Would you care for a slice? I believe it’s French sweet breid.”
The daughter nodded as well, her eyes never leaving her mother’s slice. Her mother didn’t wait for everyone to be served. She immediately cut a big piece with her fork and crammed it into her mouth.
Grayson handed Queen Maeve a slice and watched her gobble it down.
The two demons sat as human beings in a Scottish drawing room, chewing, swallowing, making sounds of pleasure, ignoring Sinjun, Colin, and Grayson.
They silently watched the demons devour another slice of the French sweet breid.
After a third slice, Lady Blackthorn paused, licked her lips, and nodded. “Excellent. I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed such excellent French sweet breid. Your cook—I fancy I will take her to Blackthorn Manor. Perhaps another slice would suit me,” and held out its plate.
Grayson served each of them a fourth large slice. How many slices would it take before they fell asleep and he could kill them? They both still appeared alert—and hungry. Had cook not known all the ingredients? Was a critical one missing? What would happen if he ran out of the French sweet breid and they wanted more?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Grayson saw Colin staring fixedly at Lady Blackthorn as she stuffed the fourth slice of French sweet breid into her mouth. Was he remembering what had happened, and more importantly, was he accepting it, accepting that she was not a human, rather a demon?
Grayson felt the air change right behind him and knew it was Pearlin’ Jane. She was hidden behind him, watching. Could the demons see her? Perhaps sense her presence?
The demon raised her head and sniffed the air. Grayson didn’t feel Jane now—she’d left. She was fast. The demon turned to smile at Colin. “Your wife is really quite old and ugly, my lord,” she said, even as she forked another bite of cake into her mouth. “I am here to remove her from your sight. I will erase her, as if she never existed to torment you. I shall take her place. You and I will travel to lands you have never imagined, my lord, lands that will thrill your blood.”
Colin felt the pull of her, remembered that same pull last night, and he knew he was in trouble. He felt the derringer in his pocket. He wouldn’t have fed this creature the ridiculous French breid. He’d have shot her –it--between the eyes. Maybe he would still need to.
Sinjun laughed. “Really, ma’am. Me, ugly? Have you not gazed into my beautiful Sherbrooke blue eyes? Admired my beautiful smile, heard my mellow voice, like bells, my husband is always telling me? It is you who are an abomination. Who would want to see other lands in your company? You are an ancient evil. How old are you? Older than the dirt in my garden? At least, I should say—just look at you.”
Millicent said, her voice sharp, vicious, “How dare you speak to her like that? She is a princess, nay, a queen, more than a queen. She is the undisputed sovereign over lands you cannot begin to imagine. For her to select this man, it is a gift, to all of you.” She turned to Grayson, and she was no longer sixteen. Her face was setting into hard lines, older lines.
“And you, sirrah, we tried to stop you. We both recognized what you were, the threat you were to us, and I knew you would fight to come back, and so you did.
“I was your prisoner in Border, in that tower room. Why did you let me go?”
Belzaria said, “We wanted to see you, examine you. My Maeve talked me out of killing you. She felt it would be more amusing to watch you try to best us, you with your reputation for dealing with our kind, and your silly novels about ghosts and beasts of the otherworld. But you are common, withal, despite your hardy spirit, your fine human brain, and your seeming immunity to my power. I will admit that you have a strong will. And here you are, trying to save your precious uncle from me, a beautiful queen of lands he can only begin to imagine.”
Maeve said, “The earl does not need to be saved from my precious mother, do you hear me? He will be a prince, even a king, if he pleases her, and if she becomes convinced he isn’t weak like the others, that he will accept all that is offered to him. He doesn’t need this worthless bitch. He will thrive with my mother.” She eyed the French breid. It seemed to Grayson that she had to force herself to look away, to look at him, and she shrugged. “Yes, I wanted to let you go. I wanted to see what you would do. You’ve done nothing but talk, talk, talk, like all worthless humans.”
Grayson said, “Are you Queen Maeve? And if you are indeed she, how can she be your mother? Wouldn’t that make her the queen of Border? Not you?”
“It is all of a sameness,” Belzaria said, staring at the French breid. “You would not understand. Your minds are too narrow, too feeble, to see anything as it really is. She is Queen Maeve—she is whatever she wishes to be, just as I am Belzaria.”
“More cake?” Grayson asked, even as he cut two more slices of the French sweet breid.
Both demons’ eyes were fastened on those two slices.
Colin said, “Why do you think I wouldn’t be as weak as the others, Lady Blackthorn? Belzaria? Did you marry many other men before you found me? Tell me, how many have preceded me? Did you divorce them all? Did you kill them?”
“Bah,” the demon said even as it let the fork fall to the carpet. It was eating the fat slice Grayson had put on the plate with its fingers, as fast as it could. It chewed, eyes closed in bliss. It was the same with Maeve. Both demons were eating their fifth slice.
There were only two slices left. Would they finally fall asleep? Belzaria took the last bite, but didn’t fall over, it opened its eyes, said to Colin, “You are a handsome man, you are an earl, and you are known even where I live much of the time. Your land, it constricts me. I do not like it here even with the splendid house that languished because I could find no more boy children to kill.”
Grayson said, “What do you mean, Belzaria, you have no boy children to give it to kill? The house?”
Belzaria laugh
ed. “So you know me. Aye, of course the house, you brainless man. Donnan MacKeller, what a fool he was, so greedy, willing to make a bargain with a demon, and then the idiot thought to cheat me. Me! Aye, we’d made a bargain, his life and lands saved from the English soldiers in return for his giving me the ancient Celtic cross he’d hidden, a cross my grandmother gave as a gift to one of his ancestors, a rickety old sot she occasionally bedded. And so I saved him, saved his lands, his family, and what did the deceitful fool do? He told me he could not find the cross, that his father had hidden it again, not showing him the hiding place. I knew he was lying. And so I cursed all the male children who would ever live in that house.” It paused, popped the last piece of cake into its mouth, chewed, swallowed. “I looked and looked but could not find the cross. I do not wish to remain here. I must give up hope, and it sorely tries me. I will leave once I have Colin.” The demon wiped its mouth with the back of its hand. It looked toward Sinjun. “You are a bothersome bitch. You have no worth, no value, and you are old and ugly, as I said. Colin will want to come with me—he’ll beg to come with me. Shall I kill you?”
The demon leaned over and grabbed the rest of the cake slice off Maeve’s plate. Grayson would swear he heard Maeve hiss. He was quick to hand each of them the two final slices, neither of them very big. The demon had killed all those innocent boy children? It chilled him to the bone. But he couldn’t let them see it. He shot his aunt Sinjun a quick look to keep her still, then said, smiling, “Your wit was remarked upon by many of your guests last night, my lady. All thought you vastly amusing. Surely you are jesting now. Surely you would not wish to divide this man and woman. They are devoted to each other. Colin would not be happy without his wife.”
“He will forget her in an instant.” She snapped her fingers. “You saw him last night. He knew he belonged to me.” The demon gave him a frown. “When I let you go, I didn’t realize you were immune to us, and that is bothersome, but in the end it won’t matter. You don’t matter—you’re naught but a garden slug, slow and stupid.”
“But Mama, he is giving us French breid. He is nice now, isn’t he? But this is the last slice. Isn’t there any more? I will be very angry if there isn’t more French breid.”
Grayson felt the knotted string in his pocket, enough to garrote both of them. Why didn’t they fall over? “To prove how nice I am, shall I call for more cake?”
Both demons nodded.
But there was no more cake. Grayson said quickly, “Tell me, what language is spoken in Border?”
Both demons stared at him, momentarily distracted. Finally, Belzaria said, “I must revise my thinking. I have decided that you are not a common garden slug. You are a bright lad. I shall kill you swiftly, not draw out your death as would usually please me. Did you enjoy your brief stay in my lovely Warwick Castle?”
He nodded, why not? Anything to keep it talking. Why didn’t the demons fall over?
“All of you—you are so very tedious, your minds so limited. I have had enough of humans to last me one of your pitiful lifetimes. Save for Colin, who will amuse me for a time. I ask you, who would ever wish to wear a ridiculous corset?” The demon licked its fingers, rose, said to Colin, “Sir, prepare to enjoy my magnificent self. For how long? We shall see. And you, my lady, you have outlived your usefulness.” It raised its hand.
Grayson said quickly, “Wait, there is something I do not understand. When I was in your tower room at Warwick Castle, I remember Queen Maeve told me she wanted to save me from you. She said she was there to rescue me. She said she was the hereditary queen of Border.” He looked from one to the other. “If she is the hereditary queen of Border, then who are you?”
Belzaria threw back her head and laughed, and her thick lustrous wig fell off. She looked dispassionately at the wig on the carpet at her feet. “Ah, that feels better. My Maeve here adores to spin better tales than you write, sirrah. Now, as for you, Colin, it’s time for you to visit my land and learn what it is like to serve me, your queen.”
The cake hadn’t worked. Neither of the demons was asleep.
“As for you, pathetic cow, say good-bye to this benighted earth.”
The air split apart, and Pearlin’ Jane shimmered in front of them. She jerked off her pearls and began hurling them at the demon. Belzaria shrieked when a pearl hit its face and stuck for a moment, burning, leaving a black pockmark. It howled, slapped a hand to its cheek, and disappeared. The expensive green gown lay empty on the floor. But Jane continued to hurl the pearls at the spot where the demon had stood. A flash of bright light appeared, and arms of light slapped away at the pearls, but there was a noise, a moaning, a shriek, low cries, and Jane kept throwing pearls.
Pearls struck the demon Maeve and it too disappeared, the second green gown tumbling to the floor. Jane was still hurling her pearls. She could still see the demons?
They heard the demons shrieking in unison now, an unearthly noise. But Jane was running out of pearls. How had she known her pearls would hurt the demons? A guess? It didn’t matter. They owed her their lives.
Grayson shouted, “Come back, I have more French breid for you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The pearls stopped, the shrieking stopped. The air itself seemed to freeze, and then he saw a hand, only it wasn’t really a human hand, it was withered, three long fingers, a yellowish-brown, and those fingers grabbed his wrist. Then other fingers shot out and grabbed his other wrist, shook it. When would the demons realize there was no more cake? Grayson prayed.
Time froze.
His wrists were released. There were two thumps, as if something substantial had hit the floor. And the demons appeared again, once more dressed in their gowns, but their faces were changing, growing older and older still, and they were making a humming noise, and finally, both were asleep - two ancient women lying on the floor, cake crumbs still on their vein-backed hands, and smeared on their mouths.
Grayson didn’t wait—he pulled the knotted string from his coat and looped it around Belzaria’s ancient wrinkled throat and pulled with all his might. The demon didn’t move. Then its eyes popped open and it whispered in a strange guttural language, and strangely, he understood it. “I am Belzaria, I rule all I wish to rule,” and its eyes closed and the demon was dead. He quickly looped the garrote around Maeve’s neck and jerked tight, held it.
Nothing. Deep heavy breathing, then Maeve’s eyes opened. “You think to kill me, you puling little human?”
“Yes, you ate the cake, and you’re helpless. I am strangling you.”
“I will turn you into filthy muck. I will grind your guts and make you eat them. I will—”
He jerked the garrote tighter, pulled with all his might, his knee against a chest that wasn’t a human chest to gain more leverage. Fingered claws went around his throat, trying to choke him. The demon was stronger than he could imagine. So the daughter was younger and stronger than the demon mother. He knew he was going to lose, and when he did, all of them would die.
The Jane was beside him. She was stuffing pearls down the demon’s throat, a half dozen, a full dozen, and the demon was trying to spit them out, choking, heaving against the garrote around its neck, but Jane kept gathering up the pearls from the carpet, one pearl after the other, shoving them down the demon’s throat.
Finally the demon died, its mouth open, ancient parchment cheeks that weren’t human cheeks, bulging with pearls. Grayson slowly stood, looked down at them, Jane beside him, and he’d swear she was panting with exertion. “Ye kilt them, Grayson, ye kilt them!”
“We kilt them, Jane. Thank you.” He watched as the demons slowly seemed to shrink and fade, and soon there was nothing left, not even the gowns. It was as if they’d never been there.
Except for a rancid smell Grayson knew had once been violets and roses.
He looked at the empty cake plate, at all of Jane’s pearls scattered on the carpet. He heard her say, Me pearls kilt that young demon – ooh what a fine thing it was, a verra fine t
hing. He looked over to see Sinjun and Colin sitting perfectly still, not looking at him, not looking at anything in particular. It was if they weren’t there.
Grayson walked to them, lightly shook their arms.
Sinjun opened her beautiful Sherbrooke eyes. “Grayson, what happened? I simply fell asleep—Colin!” She shook his arm, and he jerked awake. “What happened? Grayson, you are all right? Those demons, what happened?”
“They’re dead.” Having them not aware of what had happened surprised him. He eyed them, said, “What is the last thing you remember?”
Colin said slowly, “Lady Blackthorn—a demon? I can’t believe that, I can’t. But—” He drew a deep breath. “I knew she was, whatever she was, she was going to kill Sinjun, but I couldn’t seem to move, and then—” He shook his head. “Sinjun?”
“No, I don’t remember anything. Where are they, Grayson?”
“They’re gone. Dead, I hope. What the kelpie Barrie told Jane, it worked, but I couldn’t have killed them without Jane’s help. She hurled her pearls at them, stuffed them into the younger demon’s mouth. It finished it off. How, I have no idea.”
Sinjun stared at him blank-faced. “Really? The demons simply disappeared?”
Grayson nodded. “Yes, they’re gone. Maybe Border will change now that they’re gone. However, we have a problem.” And he pointed toward the piles of white pearls scattered all over the floor.
The air shimmered.
Sinjun stilled, and then she smiled. “Jane believes they’re dead. She said she’s going to Loch Ness to see if Barrie would like to drink champagne with her. And she wants to ask him more about how the pearls helped kill them.” Sinjun looked blank a moment, then threw back her head and laughed.
Colin stared at the pearls. “How can a ghost have real pearls? How can a ghost throw something? It is difficult for a man to accept.”
Sinjun patted his arm. “I know. Now it’s up to us to restring them for her.”
The Resident Evil at Blackthorn Manor (Kindle Single) (Grayson Sherbrooke's Otherworldly Adventures Book 2) Page 7
