Page 33 of Unseen

“Your grandmother was right, I’m sure.”

“Of course she was.” Mary’s face broke into a wide, hopeful smile. “You are young, madam. You have so much life ahead of you. Your mourning is but two years, and after that, you may yet meet a man, and remarry, and with God’s blessing, even bring children into the world.”

My stomach churned. “Yes, God willing.”

“You have a wonderful life ahead of you, madam. I know it.”

“Thank you, Mary. Be that as it may, I must do this alone.” I gazed out at the dark night, a sliver of crescent moon hanging low in the sky. “I need time, in prayer, to unravel all of these thoughts. To try and find some way out of my torment.”

Mary nodded. “Of course, madam. I understand. I shall leave you to your prayers.” She rose to her feet. “I shall make ready for bed, if you need anything, please just call.”

“Of course.”

She closed the door quietly behind her, but she may as well have slammed it home. It had the same echoing crescendo as the trap door giving way under Hendridge. For now, alone in my room, I was not going to turn to God for absolution. Instead, I would be delivering myself into the hands of the devil himself.

I delayed as longas I could, but by 10 o’clock, I knew there was no point lingering.

I made my way silently along the passages of the old, crumbling manor, up the softly creaking stairs to Azriel’s room. I already felt myself slipping away, drifting these rooms and hallways mournfully, seeking escape and yet never finding it.

I lifted my hand and took a deep breath, before knocking softly on Azriel’s door. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my whole body trembled. I bit my lips together, determined to maintain calm, and not let Azriel see just how distressed I was.

The door opened, and there he stood. He wore black trousers and a white shirt, open to the waist. His hair wasdamp, as though he’d recently bathed, and he smelled warm, of bitter orange. The smile on his face was so triumphant, I wanted to slam my fist into his mouth.

“Good evening,” he said languidly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“In a state of undress?”

He laughed. “I think the time for formalities has well and truly passed, don’t you think, beloved?” He stood aside and gestured with a sweeping hand for me to enter.

I stepped over the threshold into his room, which was better lit than it had been last time I entered it. Candles flickered on the mantelpiece, above the crackling fire, and a lamp glowed on the table under the window. A book lay open on the table beside the armchair, and his boots and coat had been discarded on the floor near his bed.

Bile rose in my throat as I looked on that bed, with its rumpled linens, and recalled what he had done to me in that bed just two days ago.

“Drink?” He asked so suddenly, his voice made me jump. He closed the door and crossed the room to a large armoire, retrieving a cut crystal bottle, and pouring himself a generous amount of amber liquid.

“No, thank you, I…” I took another deep breath, hoping it would steady me, then nodded. “Yes, actually. Yes, please.”

“Might help you calm your nerves,” he said, handing me the very full glass with a grin. “You look ready to jump out of your skin.”

“I am not at all nervous.” I took a swig of the brandy, and coughed a little as it burned my throat. “I am angry.”

“At me?”

“Who else?” I glowered at him over the edge of my glass. “You have placed me in an impossible situation.”

“If you came here expecting me to apologise, I won’t.” He grinned at me, eyes sparkling with confidence.

I huffed out a cynical laugh. “I would never expect anything as civil as an apology from you. Not after what you did to me in your bed.”

“When you came to kill me?” He ambled towards me, the glass dangling from his fingertips. “When you held a knife to my throat and could have ended me at any moment, but chose to let me fuck you with my hand instead?”

“I did not choose that,” I spat at him, taking another too-large swig of brandy that made me splutter. “I begged you to stop.”

“Your body betrayed you then, didn’t it?” He ran a finger along his lips. “I can still taste you, beloved.”

“You’re a vile monster.”

“Yes, you said that.” He looked almost bored, tipping the glass back and forth in his hand before sipping his brandy again. “Now, you came here for a reason. Let me hear what you have decided.”

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