Page 24 of Bloody Kingdom

“I already feel like I’ve aged ten years and I’ve been here for just two weeks,” I joke with a playful smile even though it’s the truth. The stress of this situation is going to also make my hair turn gray. “Mr. Laurent has that effect on people I think.”

“Indeed,” Ira wheezes on his next breath. “I’ve spent so many years working in this house. My blood and sweat built this house—or at least I like to think I helped in some way. Laurent will probably disagree with me and take all the credit.” He chuckles. “I wouldn’t change any of it. Sixty years I’ve worked for Mr. Laurent—in this house—but I wouldn’t change it for anything. I will die content with my choices.”

I listen to him ramble incoherent words about his time here, none of it really making sense as the pain meds pull him back under. While I listen, I can’t help but fixate on one thing.Sixty years?Ira said he’s worked for Mr. Laurent for sixty years, meaning he’s been here since he was just slightly younger than fourteen. Silas doesn’t look a day over thirty, which makes Ira’s math completely impossible. Unless Silas’s father was Ira’s original employer?

It’s just the ramblings of a man on copious amounts of pain medication, Quincey, let it go,I silently order myself. The boredom is making my imagination go haywire.

“Roses,” Ira suddenly mutters before his eyes close once more and he falls into a drug-induced sleep. “I really miss my roses.”

“You’re not eating,”Della observes even though her back is to me as she’s busy cleaning up her mess from making dinner.

I glance down at my untouched plate of food and find it’s stillstaringback at me. I mean,literallystaring back at me. On my plate is a whole cooked fish. The skin, little fins, andeyeballsare still attached.

I’m not a squeamish person, by trade I can’t afford to be—I don’t even bat an eye at blood—but the one thing I refuse to eat is seafood. I loathe it. Have since I was a child. Della’s made some other seafood dishes since I’ve been here and I’ve been able to force down a couple of bites of them thus far, masking the actual fish by taking large bites of the sides, followed by drinking copious amounts of water to flush it down. But tonight, I can’t do it. Tonight, my food islookingat me and there is no way in hell I’m putting any of that in my mouth. My throat tightens just at the thought.

“I’m not hungry,” I lie as I make plans to sneak back down to the kitchen when she’s left for the night so I can grab a bowl of cereal or something. I know the logical thing to do would be to just admit to her that I don’t like seafood, but Della’s been nicer, and I don’t want to mess with it. Plus, I can’t muster the courage to return food at a restaurant when my order is wrong, there’s no way I can look Della in the eye and tell her I don’t like her food. “I had a snack this afternoon, remember?”

“Yes, I remember that handful of almonds you squirreled away in your pocket.” She cuts me a look from behind her glasses.

“My hands were full,” I defend my actions. “Where else was I supposed to put them?” I’d been eating them in the kitchen when the new medical supply order came. I had shoved them into my hoodie pocket while I carried the boxes upstairs. “It’s not like I walk around with nuts in my pockets frequently, Della. Don’t make it sound weird.”

“Thank God for small miracles, I suppose.” Della reaches across the counter and scoops up my plate. “I’ll give this to Duke, that boy will eat anything.”

Feeling relieved the food isn’t going to waste, I relax into my seat. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If I say no, will you still ask me anyway?”

I shrug. “Yes, probably.”

“Fine,” she sighs, sounding less than pleased about it. “What’s your question?”

“Ira said earlier today that he missed his roses. Do you know what that means?”

Della pauses in what she’s doing and finally really looks at me for the first time tonight. She’s a busy woman—hardly ever stops moving. “Amongst his other jobs he did for Silas, Ira was also the groundskeeper for the property. He took great pride in keeping the property well-groomed and beautiful. He has quite the green thumb, I swear that man can make anything grow.” She smiles as she talks, like she’s reliving a fond memory. “But the roses he grew in the courtyard out back? Those were his pride and joy. He spent so much time tending to them.”

I peer out the large picture windows that have a view of the courtyard, in the waning light of the sun, I search for the roses, but come up empty. “Where are they?”

“When Ira got sick a year ago, he was too weak to tend to them. The gardener that Silas hired tried his best, but the poor things died without Ira,” Della explains sadly. This is the most emotion I’ve ever seen her show. Much like her boss, she comes off pretty cold and standoffish. “Ira was devastated.”

My heart hurts for Ira. He’s gotten a really bad deal in life lately. Despite all the good years he claims he had. I don’t want him to leave this earth thinking of all the bad. I want to add a little joy back into his life. An idea comes to me. It won’t ease his pain, but it will make him happy and that’s what’s important.

“How willing do you think Mr. Laurent will be to do me a favor?” I ask Della. She knows him better than me—arguably better than anyone in this house. “It won’t actually be for me, it’s for Ira,” I add quickly.

Della hesitates, pursing her lips as she thinks something over. “My gut says he’ll say no, but then again, what do I know? I never thought he’d put up with someone like you, but hey, it’s been two weeks and you’re still breathing. Maybe he’ll surprise me again and say yes.”

I elect to ignore the comment about me still breathing as if I don’t already worry about the fragility of life on a daily basis. “Will you ask him for me?” I plead, giving her my best puppy dog eyes.

“Nice try, but that crap doesn’t work on me, girl. You best go bark up another tree or buck up and ask him yourself.”

Ugh. So much for avoiding him.

“Fine,” I sniff. “I’ll ask him. Is he home? I’ll go ask him now.”

Della looks out the windows once more and shakes her head. “No, he won’t be around for at least another hour or so.”

Confused, I glance between the windows and her. “Did you just use the sun to tell the time? What? He doesn’t appear till after sunset or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Della waves me off with a flick of her wrinkled hand before quickly changing the subject. “Go check on Ira and ask him if he’d like some hot tea before bed.”

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