Page 82 of Grotesque
The house seemed to waver with each step he took. I looked on, dazed, as the walls splintered; the fine wallpaper seeming to tear off in strips as mold bloomed across it. The marble of the columns dulling, cracking. Tilted, empty frames decorated what had just minutes before been the glowing, lush entryway. The whole wretched scene flickered beneath dusty lights.
Another step. The manor snapped into pristine focus, all order restored, before the illusion faltered again, shuddering into an image of ruin.
Bright crimson splashed the crumbling ceiling and walls of the top floor. The scene seemed to pulse: perfect, broken, gilded, decrepit. In both versions, the red stains remained.
Red footprints leading in the opposite direction we had come stained the rug and floor. Corban reaffirmed the pressure on my neck, forcing my head tighter against his chest. He must have come through here before. But that couldn’t be right. Those footprints weren’t from a pair of boots, they were clawed, and there wereso many.
“Gods,” Corban whispered. “I’ll forgive the centuries you have forsaken me if youdo not fail me now.”
How strange, Corban waspraying.
I’d never seen him like this. Fierce determination and desperation were carved into the striking grey lines of his face. I was the one that was supposed to be frightened, not him.
Shadows flickered in my peripheral and there at the top of the stairs stood the grand gilded mirror. Or it had once been a mirror. There was only a subtle reflection of me and the winged grotesque against a snow-covered landscape, white-blanketed trees, and darkness.
Corban’s grip on me tightened as he lengthened his stride. I braced for impact with the glass but was met instead with an all-consuming, soul-fraying cold.
And then there was nothing at all.
The steady drum of rain pulled me from oblivion. The sound of it grounded me, slowly reeling me back to the waking world. I inhaled crisp, cool air. The sudden blast of it in my lungs made me realize how very cold it was.
I burrowed farther into the covers that were tucked around my body, cocooning me in a warm embrace. Somewhere down the hall I heard dishes clinking.
I didn’t remember Mom popping over, but I wasn’t surprised that she had let herself in. It would explain the drop in the thermostat.
I took a deep breath and stretched, finding the courage to open my eyes and face the day.
There were no pristine white walls of my old bedroom in Miami. Nor was there the terracotta sheets and old antique furniture of Glamis. I lurched upright, the movement bringingsuch a sharp, stabbing pain to my throat that immediately my hand went flying to it.
The room was a soft dove grey, save for the black vaulted ceiling, which glistened like starlight. From it hung the most magnificent chandeliers I had ever seen, their strands woven together like spiderwebs. Little diamonds of light dotted each thread like droplets of glowing dew. Fur rugs covered the midnight stone of the floor, which shone with the same luster as the ceiling.
Three arched cathedral windows graced one of the walls. Their iron framing was set with countless red jewels, simmering like coals.
I pulled my knees up to my chest in the center of the bed. A bed that was larger than any I’d ever seen. With black sheets, black furs, black throws. Black everything. Everything glowed with subtle magic. It was perfect. Ominously perfect. A gorgeous, harmonious haven all cast in pale, gentle light.
Moonlight.
That’s when it all came rushing back.
I ran my fingers over my neck, blindly feeling for the tear in my throat Quint had made.
A dread weight settled over my shoulders. I clutched the sheets against my chest and followed that thread of fear to the far corner of the room where a stone-colored beast hunched in shadow.
Glowing red eyes gazed back at me.
I held my breath as the hulking shadow moved. Its body and legs were long, with bulging muscles. Giant leathered wings flexed, and the grey scales covering its flesh rippled and sparkled in the chandelier’s light. It unwound a great deal, revealing just how massive the monster really was. It wasn’t a dragon, but it favored one. If dragons had ghastly faces and crooked,stalking movements. It was grotesque. With each step forward, something about it changed.
I pressed my back against the headboard as all sense fled me. I was frozen. My heart slammed against my ribcage, threatening to burst free the closer the thing prowled.
The beast shifted again and this time it looked a bit more like a man. Not quite human, with its grey skin and spiraling horns, but enough like one that I recognized him.
I let out a startled gasp when he stopped at the edge of the bed. He looked more beautiful than I had ever believed he could be, a stark contrast from the horror he had been seconds before. His hollow cheeks were fuller, his hair sleek and shining. He was larger, his torso thicker and shoulders prouder. Even the red of his eyes shone a little brighter. He was magnificent.
I already knew but still I asked, “What have you done?”
“I brought you home,” he breathed. He smiled softly, something like relief flashing in his eyes when he sat at the end of the bed and I didn’t move away. “I brought you to Underland.”
I looked at his very normal hand resting on top of the covers. How easy it was for him to change faces. How incredibly foolish I had been to trust anything about him.
