A Grave Inheritance (21 page)

Great. So, my mortal enemy was also a deranged lunatic. “How do we stop her?”

“We have to find her first. The girl strikes fast and then disappears even faster. But don’t worry, she won’t attempt to attack you outright. As she discovered at the docks, you each have an immunity of sorts to the other’s power.”

“How lucky of me,” I huffed. “Rather than infect me directly with the pox, she’ll use a pack of hounds to do her dirty work.”

Cate shook her head, her face tight with thought. “To be honest, I don’t think the two events are related. Cailleach has been known to send her hounds after some of Brigid’s stronger descendants if she feels the balance is at risk between our kind. But I’ve never known her to work directly with one of her own offspring to meddle in human affairs. After tonight, there’s little question she wishes you dead, but I’ve no reason to suspect she is working in tandem with Deri.”

Mr. Chubais flashed again in my mind, his pale skin and pink eyes, the ragged teeth when he lunged for my neck. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been attacked by one of those creatures.”

Cate’s eyes lit with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“The day before I left the Colonies, a man came to Brighmor asking about my grandmother. He returned later that night in the form of a hound and attacked me.” My chest tightened from the memories and I started to twist one of my rings. “I thought I was going to die, but then he laughed at me and I got so mad that I wanted to tear his heart out. I killed him with Brigid’s knife.”

My voice trailed to silence. The story sounded even worse when spoken aloud, and I stared at Cate, desperate for some sort of reassurance of my sanity. She said nothing at first as her gaze slipped past mine to settle on the cushion behind me.

“So the hounds finally found Sarah,” she said softly. “But they were thirty years too late.”

It took a moment for my brain to catch up. “How do you know about my grandmother?”

Cate’s eyes snapped back to mine. “Henry told me how that hateful man drowned both your mother and grandmother. And then tried to burn you alive in your own bed.”

The scars on my foot prickled from the memory. “He...he thought we were cursed.”

“Mr. Sweeney was a madman who killed innocent women for the sole crime of helping others.” She snorted her disgust. “This other man though explains why the hounds started sniffing about the very day your ship arrived. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why Cailleach was so quick to release her pets. Even if Deri had shared the local gossip, the name Selah Kilbrid would warrant little notice from the goddess. But Selah Kilbrid, descendant of Sarah McBres, would mean everything in the world. It must have been the hound you killed who told her once he returned to the Otherworld. Did he happen to give you a name? Not that it matters, since those creatures are so fond of lying.”

“He said his name was Mr. Chubais.”

Cate gave a sudden burst of laughter. “Oh, how original. Mr. Death’s hound. Certainly he could have created a better alias than that.”

The words raced through my head. Hound...death...
cú...báis.
I nearly groaned out loud from the obvious play on words. “I should have known.”

She flicked her wrist. “Well, what he lacked in imagination, he made up for in strength. Not every hound can take human form. That trick is reserved for the oldest and most powerful of Cailleach’s pets, and I can imagine her disappointment when only his spirit returned home. You’re fortunate he won’t be strong enough to venture out again for several hundred years. Those hounds do hold a grudge.”

“How old are you?” I asked, inadvertently giving voice to my thoughts. The words hung in the air for a split second before I realized the mistake. “Pray forgive me. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

She only laughed. “Five and twenty if the family bible is to be believed. Though I confess no personal memory of the day.”

“Of course not. I should never have asked.”

“Quite the contrary. You should feel at liberty to ask any question as there’s much to learn after such an isolated upbringing.” She fell silent for a moment. “For starters, I’ll need to teach you how to deal with Cailleach’s hounds on your own, in case you’re ever caught without Brigid’s knife. A lower stance often works best as it keeps them from lunging and knocking you off balance.”

Or slamming my head into a wall.
I would never forget the feel of Brigid’s knife and how easily it had slid into Mr. Chubais’s heart. Nor the searing anger that erupted out of nowhere. Tonight though, there had been no weapon, no blood, not even a fight. Just a single yelp and the creature lay dead. “How did you kill that hound?”

Her smile returned, a little more devious than usual. “I’ve learned that it’s as easy to stop a heart as it is to heal one. Easier in fact.” She held her hand up, palm toward me. Moving her fingers playfully, she swiped it quick as lightening into her lap. “But you’ve got to be fast or they’ll have your throat out in a thrice.”

I stared at her, aghast. “You...you used power from the Otherworld?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“But that’s forbidden. You could lose your birthright.”

Cate offered nothing in her own defense, just raised a brow and gave me a knowing look.
Who is the pot to call the kettle black?

The truth came crashing down around me, knocking me right off the moral high ground. My sins were greater. She may have harmed one of Cailleach’s hounds, but I had harmed another person
.
Dropping my eyes, I continued to twist my ring. “Did your spies tell you what I did to Julian in the garden?”
How I used my power against him.

The carriage had slowed to a more reasonable pace. From the sound of cobblestones beneath the wheels, we were back in the city, each minute bringing me closer to home and the sweet escape of sleep. The guilt was too much, and I kept my eyes down to avoid Cate’s gaze.

“Now that you mention it,” she said off-handedly. “I did hear something about an argument.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I wanted to sink into the carriage seat, away from her penetrating gaze. “He grabbed my arm and I used my power to make him let go.”

“I see,” Cate said. “So you used your power in self-defense.”

“The reason doesn’t matter. My temper got the best of me and I misused my gift.” That was the truth, plain and simple. I sniffed and brushed away an errant tear.

Cate watched me, her head cocked slightly to one side. “My spy must have spoken in error,” she said after a moment. “From what I heard, Julian kissed you and then refused to release your arm after repeated requests. Did he also ask for help?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing,” Cate said, cutting me off. “He was holding you against your will, not asking to be healed. Do you understand the difference? Brigid would never punish you for protecting yourself.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. My world felt oddly tilted, and I blinked several times trying to orient up from down, right from wrong. The very idea that my actions could be justified sent my moral compass spinning. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Cate reached over and patted my hand reassuringly. “Put your mind at ease, Selah. Your oath remains unblemished. Brigid shall have no complaint against your behavior tonight.”

My hand grew warm and tingly as an image of Brigid’s garden came into my head. I saw Brigid sitting beside the sacred spring, a long finger trailing along the water’s surface. She looked up and smiled at me, beckoning me forward to partake of her power. Enthralled by such pleasant musings, I nearly missed the subtle movement on the bench beside me. Releasing a startled cry, I jerked my head around to peer into the far corner. Darkness filled the space, with one shadow heavier than the others.

Cate held up the lantern, illuminating a young boy, his knees pulled up tightly against his chest. We were not alone, had not been alone since first getting into the carriage.

“Most adults overlook children,” Cate said, “but I’ve found them to be a tremendous asset, so small and quiet as mice when they want to be. Do you remember Johnny from the dressmaker’s shop?”

I stared at the child, astounded that I had missed him earlier. “Yes, of course I do. Was he the spy in the garden tonight?”

“That particular spy is a boy of mine who recently got a position in the palace as a pageboy. He is one of many who keeps me well informed of the goings on at court.” She smiled. “Johnny came here tonight to tell me that Deri has been spotted loitering around my bakehouse. Chances are she’s gone by now, but I thought it best to have a look before returning home.” Her expression turned wistful. “My bath will have to wait for another hour or so.”

My mouth fell open in surprise as I looked back to Cate. “You own a bakehouse?”

Cate laughed, and I was instantly reminded of a hundred little silver bells. “We may heal them,” she said, “but unless they are fed and taught a trade, all of our work will be for naught.”

I stared at her in disbelief. Noblewomen did not own trade shops of any variety.
Did they?

The carriage slowed to a stop. The door swung open, and Johnny scurried out before I had a chance to move. Cate got out next, assisted by the driver, who then turned to help me.

“Good evening, Miss Kilbrid,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

Glancing up, I recognized the smithy. “Mr. Faber!” I said, surprised by his presence. “What are you doing here? Where is the other driver?” Mr. Faber’s long hair fell unbound past his shoulders and appeared even more unruly than I remembered, leaving me to guess that he had come straight from bed.

“I rode over to the palace with Johnny to find Lady Dinley. The other driver brought my horse back into town.” He turned to speak with Cate and I noticed the sword at his side. “I’ll do a quick walk around to see if anyone is about.”

“Thank you, Tom.” Cate took my hand. “Come, Selah, let’s see who’s still awake inside.”

With the lantern in one hand, she led the way across the narrow lane. Our full silk skirts swished from side to side and our heels clicked nosily against the stone pathway. She stopped at a shallow recess about midway down the side of a brick building and knocked on a large wooden door.

“The children were surely put to bed hours ago as they have to be up before the sun.” The door opened, and our light grew two-fold from another lantern held up by an older man. “Good evening, Mr. Larken,” Cate said. “Johnny told me you had a visitor tonight.”

The man moved aside, opening the door wider. “Thank ye for coming, milady. We’ve had quite a fright this evening. One of the children claimed a sighting, though I never did lay eyes on the lass myself.”

Stepping into a hallway, I saw an old woman standing behind Mr. Larken. “’Tis a relief yer here, milady,” the old woman said to Cate. “All of the little ones are put to bed except for Molly Evans. She won’t stop crying for fear of dying from the pox like poor Hannah. I’ve tried warm milk and soothing words, but she won’t be having none of it.”

Cate sighed. “Bring me to her, Mrs. Larken. I’ll see what can be done.”

We followed after the old man and woman, passing first through what appeared to be an oversized kitchen with the remnants of a fire in an open hearth on one wall. I had time to take in the massive wooden table and stacks of mixing bowls and cooking pots before entering the adjoining room.

The air was pleasantly warm and smelled of sweetness and bread. This second room was as large as the kitchen with two enormous bake ovens flanking the outer wall. Hot coals glowed red from beneath a pile of ash, banked for the night and waiting to be relit in the morning.

Mrs. Larken stopped near the first oven and pointed to a door on the far side of the room. “She’s hiding in the pantry, milady, under a pile of flour sacks.”

Cate looked at me. “Molly doesn’t take well to strangers. Why don’t you stay out here with Mr. Larken? I should only be a few minutes.”

I nodded and Cate began to weave her way across the floor with Mrs. Larken in tow. The light from her lantern illuminated numerous dark bundles as she passed by, lying helter-skelter across the stone floor on top of thin straw mattresses. I counted twenty-seven forms in all, their heads just visible from beneath gray wool blankets. The door opened and the faint sound of crying drifted across the room before the two women stepped into the pantry, closing the door behind them.

“Poor lamb,” Mr. Larken said, his voice thick with kindness. “Little Molly is our newest girl. Come a few weeks back when her mam died of the bloody flux. We do all we can for her, but some take more time to adjust than others.”

I looked again at all the sleeping bodies, not sure what to make of the scene. “Where did they all come from?”

Mr. Larken laughed softly. “Lady Dinley collects them like other ladies collect hairpins. From all over London, I warrant, though she finds most of them in the rookeries. Orphans, the lot of them, and destined for beggary or worse if not for her ladyship’s charity.”

“Like Liza at the dressmakers,” I said, recalling the girl from earlier.

“Aye, but Liza Boote weren’t one of ours. If my memory serves, she was brought up in one of the sewing shops.”

“Sewing shops?” I said, surprised by the revelation. “She owns sewing shops too?”

Mr. Larken scratched at a patch of dry skin beneath his thinning gray hair. “Bakeshops and sewing shops is just the beginning. Lady Dinley has children placed from one end of London to the other in all sorts of occupations. I’ve heard it said that there ain’t a trade in London that don’t have her finger in it.”

The child nearest my feet rolled over and then nestled back into the mattress.

“When it’s cold out, we put their beds in the bake room to keep warm. The king himself don’t sleep so snugly as these little ones do here. Lady Dinley sees to it that all the children are properly taken care of. Not one in her care will spend a night on the street or with an empty stomach. And even those who still got their parents always find a hot meal at her door.”

My impression of Cate exploded into new proportions.
Goddess Born...Good Samaritan...
”How long has she been doing this?”