Page 30 of Stalk the Dark
“Orina?”Edwin tapped me on the shoulder.
When had he come into the room? “Hey.” I rubbed at my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Late. Haiden’s dishing up dinner.”
I glanced at my watch. How was it six already? “Shit, I lost track of time.”
“Yeah, this room can do that to you. No windows.”
“Good point.”
“Learn anything?”
“Confirmation of my own assessment and something that Godor, Ezekiel’s minion, let slip. Ezekiel likes to play games. He likes to prod and probeat people.” I picked up the most recent journal. “Barnaby survived by keeping a low profile. He observed from afar, and by his count fifty-two people were drained that year. He says letting go of the reins is all that worked. Interference seems to fuel Ezekiel’s bloodlust. He lived here at the chapter house.”
“Fifty-two people…”
“Yeah, fifty-two too many in my opinion.” I sat back in my seat. “But his fourth rising, there were only eight recorded deaths by his hand. The lowest.”
“I know that one,” Edwin said. “That was Isiah Juniper, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, and he lived at the castle.”
“You think that has something to do with it?”
“It must. Everyone else stayed here, stayed away. Some tried to work with him, but most gave up and rode out the year. I’m pretty sure the death toll has been manipulated too.” I tapped one of the journals with my fingertips. “This one was insightful, filled with observations about his personality.” I flipped it open to the relevant page. “It says,pride will be his downfall. I can use this stuff. I can keep him in check if I’m close by.”
Edwin’s eyes flared. “You’re not seriously thinking of moving into the castle with him, are you?”
The thought had crossed my mind, and now that he said it… “I think I have to. The data is in favor of that.”
“But you can’t know for sure. That’s one account.”
“One account from an operative who survivedandwho managed to save the most lives. I think that matters.”
Edwin gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don’t like the idea of you alone up there with…him.”
“I’m not exactly overjoyed myself, but I came here to do a job, and I plan to do it thoroughly. And I won’t be alone with him. I’ll make sure of that.”
Chapter 11
The Singer brothers didn’t join us for dinner, and neither did Padma or Merry. Edwin was subdued and Haiden distracted, and the pending trip to the castle and the revelation that I’d have to live there had successfully killed my appetite.
Ezekiel had invited me to dinner at midnight, but I doubted he’d have actual food. He probably planned to show me his skull collection or something. The fact that Ordell and Hemlock were coming with me was the only thing stopping me from freaking out.
By the time supper was over, my stomach was in knots. There was only one thing that could help me.
The grounds behind the mansion were unkempt and wild—grasses too long, swaying in the cold breeze, dead spindly trees reaching for the sky as if beseeching the heavens for help, and smack bang in the middle of the chaos was the chapel tower. My chest tight, Ipushed open the door and entered the sanctuary. Candles burned low, flickering in invitation. White stone wings flared up from an alter in the center of the tower, and purple cushioned kneeling pads surrounded the base of the altar. The remnants of incense told me that someone had been here recently. Probably Padma. Hopefully Padma. She needed this, and now so did I.
I took an unlit candle from a box by the door and carried it to the altar, lighting it on the thicker candle burning defiantly beneath the wings. I set mine in the holder at the base of the altar and then knelt, lifting my chin to the heavens and closing my eyes.
“Blessed be the wings that shield us. Blessed be the wings that lift us up. Blessed be the wings that guide us. Give me peace. Give me strength of body and mind so that I may complete the task ahead of me. Fuel my conviction and temper my desires. Blessed wings, keep me forever in your embrace.”
The markings up my arm tingled, and a pressure settled on my head—the gentle caress of an otherworldly hand—a promise that I would not be alone. The tangle of knots in my belly subsided. “Thank you.”
I was not, and would never be, alone.
It was almosteleven when a knock sounded on my bedroom door. I tugged on my jacket and yanked it open, expecting to see Ordell, but it was Hemlock that stood in the corridor.
