Page 20 of Wolfsbane Hall
She read to him for what seemed like hours, time blurring together like a Picasso painting, lines swirling with the abstract art.
Eventually, her eyes fluttered shut, too weary to read anymore, and as sleep nearly claimed her, she whispered, “One day, I would like to know all of you.” Celestine’s eyes closed, and she barely heard his final response as sleep claimed her.
“Perhaps someday soon you will.”
7
Eight days later
Saturday, November 11, 1939
Green Room
Celestine was late.
One hour before the show, the cast drank the Specter’s elixir. On the hour, on time…always. For the Specter, timeliness was truly next to godliness; which, of course, meant Celestine was highly ungodly. For her, time was a blur that tangled into itself like an unwindable ball of yarn.
Impossible to track.
The cast was supposed to be in the Green Parlor ten minutes before six. But it was at three minutes till the hour when Celestine burst in, her damp blonde locks spilling over her shoulders in clumps.
Everyone else was on time, and they were lounging on the couches, waiting for her. Embarrassment stroked across her cheeks.
“Apologies, apologies,” Celestine whispered, averting her gaze and taking her place around the center table.
The Green Parlor was the “backstage” and the only room outside of the North Wing, where patrons couldn’t enter duringthe show—named the Green Parlor because it was a confection of green. Everything was coated in a spectrum of seafoam, evergreen, and even salamander, from the velvet curtains to the couches and wallpaper. Like St. Patrick’s Day had spewed all over the place.
“Thanks for showing up,” Babette said sarcastically from Everett’s lap, playing with his green dress shirt—apparently, he wanted to match the room. Babette desperately wanted to be one ofhisgirls, and Everett was more than happy to oblige by running his fingers through her long brunette curls. “At least we can start now, since the Specter would’ve never let us without you.”
Celestine swallowed, and instead of getting upset at the other woman’s ungracious words, her stomach twisted. As much as she hated the brunette, she felt for her. Babette was rude, but her heart was in store for a heartbreak. Everett would eat her up and toss her out. She was like willow branches swaying in the wind, trying to capture a butterfly. The butterfly might grace it with its presence for a while, but it would always fly off.
Everett could make a girl’s heart soar with the weight of his attention, but his love and affection were as fleeting as the butterfly.
The Ashbrook men were uncatchable. It was a rule every woman understood, yet time and time again, they all tried to tame them.
Even Celestine was no exception. But at least she knew she wasn’t a monster trainer.
She knew better than to get attached to an Ashbrook. Precisely why, while she fucked James, she vowed never to love him. He wasn’t capable of loving her back. Sex was a fun distraction—that was it. Despite the fact that it sometimes made her heart sick. Because deep down, as much as shepromised herself she wouldn’t fall for an Ashbrook, she knew she had already fallen for all three of them in different ways.
And they would one day destroy her, just like they would Babette.
The difference was that Celestine knew it.
Because wealthy men weren’t for keeping.
Nor was Celestine. She was for breaking.
“Well, I am glad you’re here.” James’s arms circled Celestine’s waist as his lips stroked her neck, tickling her.
“James.” Celestine giggled. It was impossible not to love the man’s ministrations. He was just as much a butterfly as Everett, but Celestine tried not to care. She’d adore every moment she got with him and let him fly away when the time came.
Even though it would break her already fragile heart.
Dean cleared his throat, unapproving glare fixed on his cousin’s lips as they slid along Celestine’s flesh. “It’s time.”
Dean strolled over to the round table at the center of the room. Six character envelopes graced its edges, along with twelve bottles of elixir—the supplies the cast needed for the night’s private dinner party.
Two bottles of elixir each, because one wasn’t always enough.
