Page 43 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
“You mean like voices?”
He shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“Do you hear anything from him?”
Another shake of his head.
A worrisome thought came to mind, one I dared not voice, but yet I knew the answer as well as my own name. All the signs had been there since the very first moment I met him, and I’d just been too stubborn to see.Can you hear me too?
His eyes met mine and he gave me the grimmest nod.
I should have been upset. Shocked. Angry, that the man had been mucking around in my thoughts for the better part of my time here, and yet a part of me always knew. It explained so much. The other thing I knew—straight to my bones—Ruan Kivell wasn’t going to harm me. Strangely, I felt that the risk went the other way around. “It’s why you knew where to find me tonight.”
He nodded, eyes downcast. The poor man looked as if I’d accused him of the worst perfidy, when I’d simply put in the open what he’d known all along.
“Do you hear everything? Everyone?”
He shook his head, still not speaking. His left hand was jammed into his pocket. “I can’t control it. I just… do.” His shoulders slumped. “It’s different with you. You’re so loud and in the forefront. It startled me at first—how clearly I hear you—I don’t know what it means. Or why.”
I touched his arm. “It’s all right. Truly.” What a strange thing. Here I was consoling him when I was the one who should be upset. “Do you think that it actually means something?”
He blinked. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. It’s never been like this.” He straightened up, pulling away from me, and ran his hands through his hair again. We weren’t to speak of it. I might not be able to hear his thoughts, but I could sense his mood well enough. “I don’t think I’ll learn anything else here. We should probably go before anyone realizes we’ve broken in.”
“Oh, come now, Pellar, where’s your sense of adventure?”
I turned toward Edward’s body, walking around the table.Nose wrinkled. I’d likely never forget the scent of this place. The way the air carried with it a bit of earth along with the stench of death and stillness you find inside a raised cemetery vault. I studied the body. He’d been a reasonably well-formed man in life. Handsome enough. I’d only seen him with his clothes on before, but here laid out to be prepared for burial his body was sunken. Veins visible against his discolored skin. Most of the cuts on his face and chest were superficial. I touched them gently. Some of my own were deeper. These were nothing but scratches.
I leaned closer, glancing over his body. The other wounds, those on his abdomen, were another story. Deep and grotesque, but still I saw no sign of puncture marks. Nothing ripping.
“What are you doing?” Ruan grumbled.
“Looking. I may not be a witch, or able to hearyourthoughts. But I am rather observant. Even if it is crass to admit one’s strengths.”
He snorted and crossed his arms, retreating to the smooth tile wall. “See anything interesting?”
I bit my lower lip, much the way he had a few moments before, and ran a hand through my short hair. “Iseethat we need help.”
“And you’ve only now come to this conclusion?”
“Well, no. But as you don’t have any useful ideas—I think we need a physician. A real one. Someone who can help us narrow down what could have caused these wounds. It’s nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“Have you seen many dead men?”
“Enough.”
Ruan nodded. Not pressing any further and I wondered how much of my thoughts hehadoverheard since we met. A rather unsettling thought.
“Do you suppose we could get someone to look him over? Get a professional opinion?”
He frowned for a moment. “Not before the funeral.”
“Good God, why must everyone in this town be superstitious? I don’t suppose—”
“And before you ask—no, you are not digging him up either.”
“It was worth a try. Could you use your…” I gestured to him, unable to form the word. “Yourself to get them to delay the funeral. At least until we can get someone willing to look at him. I know a surgeon in Exeter, an excellent one—he’s not the superstitious sort—perhaps I could have him come and see what he thinks.”
“He’s dead, Ruby. I think that’s pretty evident.”
