Page 73 of Grotesque
“Sometimes,” I finally answered. “I love her, but she can be…difficult. She’s been pressing me to sell off pieces of Glamis.” I watched him carefully for any sort of reaction. A jump in the corner of his jaw was there, then gone. “I told her she can never have any part of Glamis, but she’s greedy.”
“Most humans are,” he said. “Tell me, did you want Glamis before or after me?”
I met the challenge in his gaze. “I uprooted my entire life to come here. What do you think?”
He gave me a long look before turning his head to look out over the property. His eyes slid over the woods and then to the long drive that ended at the iron gate. “Perhaps you should give her a piece of it. Something that will satisfy her appetite.”
I scoffed. “The will states–”
“I wrote the will, Sorcha.” His eyes snapped to me momentarily before darting off again. “The part about the money at least. I was desperate, and I needed you.”
I shut my mouth, which had dropped open. “Was any of it real?”
He held out his hand. I looked from his closed fist to his face before extending mine in turn. Gold coins spilled out of his palm, landing in mine. They bounced off each other and dropped to the ground. The moment he shut his hand the coins stopped flowing. I clutched what was left in my fist, looking about the ground which was now littered in gold.
A thistle topped with a pointed crown was carved into each piece. Script in a language I didn’t recognize framed the image. The edges of the coin had a dull red coating.
“All of it was real. I had to make sure that whoever came to me would be willing to stay.”
I didn’t know whether to be offended by Corban’s original treachery or grateful that he was finally opening up to me.
“You’ve been bribing me.” I said thinly.
Corban purred, the sound sending a thrill through me. “I’ve been seeing to your comfort and needs.” The clack of his claws came to a stop as he made a sharp swipe against the granite, knocking one of the horns off the gargoyle. It hit the top of the banister before disappearing somewhere into the gathering darkness below. “Enjoy the spoils, Sorcha.” He kissed the top of my head.
I caught his hand as he eased back. The faint light of the sun dipping behind the trees highlighted his sharp features. The shadows of night’s arrival slithered over the banister all the way to his feet. He turned out his hand, palming one like you would a snake.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
He flicked his wrist, sending the shadow scurrying up his arm before tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “I have a surprise for you. I need to finish preparing it.”
I scrutinized him. Corban had been softer, but he wasn’t exactly sweet. On instinct my hackles rose.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled. “You’ll like it.”
“Another game,” I tested.
At that he grinned. It was broad and feline.“Would you rather have dinner with me in my home or take a walk through moonlight?”
“Care to elaborate?”
Corban shook his head.
I chewed on the inside of my lower lip. There wouldn’t be a full moon for almost a month, which meant this option had something to do with magic. I was hungry, but I was far hungrier to understand just how powerful Corban was.
“A walk in the moonlight sounds nice.” I said carefully.
I wasn’t ready to go to Underland. I was only just starting to accept what Corban was, and then there was the bomb he had dropped on me about the will being crafted by his own hand. I needed time to process everything. And to figure out exactly what he was up to.
A dark glint sparkled in his beautiful eyes. “And so we shall.” He ducked his head, brushing a kiss across my temple, before turning on his heel to leave me with the turmoil of my thoughts. “I’ll return for you later this evening,” he said over his shoulder.
I leaned back in the rocking chair, thinking. Whatever Corban was up to, I needed answers first. I grabbed hold of the balustrade as I lurched forward, to keep the curved legs from knocking into the ground.Later this eveningcould mean anything, I had to movenow.
In the post-coital bliss that had followed Corban and my escapades in the library last week, I’d almost forgotten about the small object that had fallen from Macky’s sketchbook. I’d only found it again the following afternoon, when finally trying to create a little order in the chaos of my bedroom by putting some clothes away.
A key.
A key that had been burning a hole in my pocket ever since. I’d been too afraid to pull it out lest it be one more thing Corban didn’t want me to have. With the way he had reacted to the diary and the sketchbook, I suspected the key would be the same – or worse.And with him being stuck to me like glue, I hadn’t been able to test my theory.
