Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 48
What on earth did Ana mean by giving away such a costly trinket, and to somebody in whose company she had spent very little time? There was an engraving on the small banderole between the leaves of silver that suddenly drew Emma’s notice as she turned the little bottle over. Devil’s Bane, it read in fine cursive. Strange gift indeed, thought Emma. And what was Devil’s Bane exactly? An antidotal elixir of some sort, apparently, but antidotal to what? To venom? To strange dreams? Some preternatural entity? No, likely cat dander, she thought with a chuckle.
Nevertheless, she lifted the stopper and brought the dabber to her nose to sniff at the delicate, little wand. It was rather a strong fragrance, perhaps a little too odd even to suit her taste. She thought she detected a little rosemary in the infusion, but the rest of the blend was a mystery.
She dropped the chain over her head to test the bottle’s weight and found it hung quite comfortably. At least the bottle was pleasing, if not the perfume itself—and what an unfortunate name for a perfume, Devil’s Bane. Thus was she employed, still trying to divine the contents and the name, when Milli came in again.
“I hope you have begun packing, Emma, I should hate to be delayed tomorrow.”
Emma dropped the perfume bottle so that it hung like a pendant. “We have all day to pack, Milli, calm yourself.”
“Victoria has arranged for us to take a private chaise as far as York. Therefrom, she will have her own coachman collect us to take us the rest of the way to Winterthurse.” Milli moved to stand beside the bed, her brows lowering as she glanced over Ana’s letter. “What a loose fish.” Her eyes skimmed the open box and discarded paper and then settled on the little perfume bottle resting over Emma’s bodice. “That’s very pretty, what is it?”
Well, it could hardly be called perfume. Emma lifted the vial, remarking the way the contents seemed to glow in the sunlight. “Some sort of apotropaic, I think.”
But Milli was no longer listening, her sharp eyes having discovered Vampyris beneath the pillow. “And what is that?”
“Just a book,” said Emma, dragging Vampyris behind her back. “I am to return it to the De Grigoris today.”
“Well, make haste, we leave at cockcrow tomorrow and still have much to do.”
“Yes , Mother.”
“Oh Lord! What is that ghastly odor? Smells like medicine!”
Emma smirked and clutched the vial around her neck. Then, affecting a Romany accent, she said, “What if I told you it was a philter that would make Valko wildly in love with you?”
For a moment Milli’s eyes brightened. Then she folded her arms and stuck her tongue out. “Gammon! I’d as soon suspect you of turning me into a toad.”
Emma laughed as her sister withdrew with one last peremptory glance at Emma’s empty trunk. The smile soon faded, however. It was time to return the book; she was deuced tired of being a thief. She only wished she could somehow replace it without the offense being remarked by the De Grigoris.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Vitam Aeternam
My Dear Emma,—Tell Milli, in future, she is better off adopting stray dogs, for cats are mistrustful, cunning beasts. Yours faithfully,
Mary.
Daylight, the banisher of all dark things, seemed to have dispossessed number 28 Great Castle of whatever eerie, scowling force had dwelt there before. When Emma had first seen it, the shabbiness of its facade had been somehow attenuated by the grave dignity and watchfulness of the eaves and windows, its old bones creaking as it crouched in its shadowy corner of London. Now, dispossessed of the dark mystère accorded by the night, the meretricious, old bawd stared with lifeless eyes.
Deception, that was all it was—a mask that nowise reflected that which was hidden within. Emma raised her hand to knock, disrelishing the prospect of fessing up to what she’d done, but her conscience demanded she own her guilt or let it fester and eat her from within. The rap of her knuckles made her wince and she turned around to survey the street and the dull foot traffic behind her. No one seemed to take any notice of her. She knocked again, but there came no answer. The third knock, which was really more of a hammering of her fist, also produced no result.
Frustrated, Emma turned and fell back against the door to contemplate the best recourse. She couldn’t very well leave the book on the doorstep, that smacked of cowardice and her damnable conscience would not allow that. Tomorrow was out of the question as they were leaving early, but she loathed delaying the book’s return. What in God’s name had possessed her to take it in the first place? She was no thief! Or hadn’t been till recently. London evidently held some nefarious sway over her and she was eager to leave it behind—no more strange dreams and fancies; no more wicked urges.
Without warning, the door gave way and before she even thought to scream she was on her back amidst a dust cloud. She scrambled to her feet, ready to stammer an apology to whoever had opened the door, but there was nobody there. And behind her not a soul seemed to have noticed her hurtling through the entrance.
“Hello?” she said, inching forward. The hallway yawned around her as she peeked back over her shoulder, uncertain. An impulse to drop the book and flee came strong and fast upon her, but she steeled herself and pressed on. “Ana, are you there? It’s Emma. I don’t mean to intrude, but the door…” What about the door? Had it just unlocked itself and welcomed her in? Nonsense.
Well, if there was nobody hereabout, she would just have to find that chamber of occult on her own, slip Vampyris back onto a shelf, and leave a note. Yes, that was exactly what she’d do. Resolved, Emma hurried down the