Page 9 of The Secret of the Three Fates
Verbena—of course!
Thatwas the scent I’d noticed in Mr. Owen’s room earlier this evening. With everything going on at the time the name escaped me—but in the quiet of Lucy’s bedchamber I could place it. He must have been meeting with this medium in there. But why would he have keptthata secret when he’d already told me that she’d sent for him?
An oversize carpetbag sat on the dresser, stuffed to burst with all of her earthly possessions. Miss Lucy Campbell was preparing to leave. This did not bode well for Captain Lennox’s supposition that the séance had been a sham—for why would one flee after pulling off such a spectacular ruse?
I blew out a weary breath and walked around the room, taking silent inventory of every surface and windowsill in the vain hope a plausible alternative would spring from the ether. Some bells. Scarves. Anything at all that could explain away what I’d seen with my own eyes. Perhaps it had been one large group hallucination?
There were intoxicants that could do that… weren’t there? Goodness knew I’d sampled my share of the things. Perhaps there was some form of opiate in the incense? Nowthatwas an idea.
I was grasping at straws and I knew it. Turning to leave, I noticed something curious carved on the back of the heavy wooden door. It was a flower of sorts—carved in a single unending line, creating six even petals. I ran my finger along the outline, then gave my head a good shake before leaving and closing the door.
“What are you doing here?”
The hair on the back of my neck rose as I turned to find the White Witch standing behind me. I didn’t even have to see her to know it was her, as I’d heard her voice in my ever-increasing nightmares. Dreams I scarcely recalled, save for the notion of blood and water. Betterthosedreams, I supposed, than the ones from my girlhood—the walking dreams that my mother fearedthe most. The ones where she’d find me staring into water, with no recollection of where I was or how I’d gotten there. As a little girl I’d wander sometimes a mile or more from home, though somehow she’d always known where to find me.
The White Witch wore the same simple mourning garb that she had worn in Cornwall. Her raven’s-wing hair lay in a thick braid over her shoulder.
“I could ask you the same thing. You’re a long way from Cornwall.” I didn’t know what to make of her presence here, but I certainly didn’t believe she was who, or what, she purported to be.
“You should heed the spirits and go home.”
I gritted my teeth. First the ghost, then Malachi, now the White Witch.Did everyone want me to leave?
“Mariah’s spirit was clear on the matter. You seek answers to dangerous questions.” She leaned closer to me, her breath cool against my ear. Her voice almost… concerned. “Listen to the spirits, child.”
“Then the séance was real…” I said more to myself than to her.
The White Witch nodded. “Yes, Morvoren. More real than you could know.”
There was that name again.Morvoren.She said it like a curse, the word bitter on her tongue. The air between us grew crisp, stinging my nose with that strange electric scent that seemed to surround Ruan as well. It was the scent of power. I straightened my spine, looking up at the witch. “I do not understand why you are here, nor do I understand whatIhave to do with any of this.”
“It is better you not understand—at least not yet. It is not safe here. You must go quickly. He will die if you do not leave this place.”
My throat tightened at the thought. “Mr. Owen?”
“No. I care not for your mortal bookseller. I care forhim. I warned you both before, you will destroy him. I have seen it.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. Ruan.Of courseit had to dowith Ruan. She’d delivered the same warning at that crossroads weeks before. Nonsense. That’s all it was. I was not going to harm Ruan any more than I’d cut off my own hand. I slammed my palm into the doorframe beside her head with an audible thump. “In case you didn’t notice, he’s not evenhere.”
For half a second her expression softened as she looked into my eyes. “You care for him… that, I did not foresee.”
I shook my head angrily but she continued to look through me. Into me.
“Did he tell you, Morvoren, of what he is? Did he tell you what I saw?”
My eyes burnt from the growing scent of electricity in the room. I ought to be afraid of her, but for the briefest of moments I thought that perhaps it was me the White Witch feared. “He told me the story of the first Pellar.” I repeated the same tale he’d woven, how an old man stumbled across a mermaid stranded on the shore and returned her to the sea. How as reward she bestowed upon him three gifts. When Ruan told me the story weeks ago, I’d been charmed by it—and truthfully charmed by him.
The witch let out a bitter laugh. “Is that all? Did he not tell you the rest?”
The skin pricked on the back of my neck as I shook my head. I wasn’t sure I trusted her, nor was I certain I wanted to hear his tale from her lips.
“He died, Morvoren. Nine years after the first Pellar fell beneath the sea-bitch’s spell, the water claimed him. And thus every nine years another of his line will share that fate. It was her price for thosegifts. One must never trust the sea-folk.”
My nostrils flared as I recalled what my housekeeper, Mrs. Penrose, told me of Ruan’s past.The seventh son, born from a family of charmers.It was on the tip of my tongue to ask the witchhow long it had been since the last of his line died, but I sensed I already knew. “He is descended from the first Pellar…”
The White Witch nodded gently. “You understand then.”
Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed it down, tapping on the wall with my palm. “It’s a terrible story, but that’s all it is. I don’t see how I can harm him when he isn’t even here… Now what I need is for you to tell me what those two mediums want with Mr. Owen.”
