On the verge of bolting, I watched the man reach up and pull off his eyes. Heavens Above! My knees swayed beneath me and I nearly screamed from the sight. Two thin metal arms appeared on either side of the bulging pupils—much like a pair of spectacles.
My scream turned to a strangled laugh, and I forced a smile to help cover my embarrassment. Only a simpleton would have made such an error, no matter the spectacle’s bizarre shape and color. From what I could tell, the lenses were not made of glass, but precious stones that had been carved to the exact size of his eye sockets.
The man folded down the metal arms and tucked them into his coat pocket. “Good day,” he said politely. “Please forgive the intrusion. I am looking for Mrs. Sarah McBres. Do you know where I may find her?”
He had managed to surprise me yet again. “Sarah McBres?” I repeated, thinking I may have misheard him.
“Yes. Are you acquainted with her?” He came farther into the room until only the table stood between us, and I saw at once why he had been wearing the odd spectacles. An albino, his pink irises were no match for the bright summer sun.
“No...I mean yes,” I said, dragging my thoughts back to his question. “Sarah was my grandmother, but she died before I was born.”
He stared at me, his pale brow folded in thought. “We received no word of her death. Nor was there word of any offspring. Tell me, how many children did Sarah beget?”
“Just my mother.” The fire cracked behind me, and I stepped forward to avoid catching my gown on fire.
“Is your mother at home?”
His directness disconcerted me. Or maybe it was the unusual softness of his voice that sent another chill along my spine. “First, I would know your name, sir, and the nature of your business with my family.”
“You may call me Mr. Chubais. I have traveled a great distance to deliver an urgent message to Sarah McBres. Since she no longer lives, I desire to speak with her daughter.”
“Well, I’m afraid that’s impossible. My mother has been dead these past four years. I am Mistress of Brighmor now, and the last of my family in the Colonies. Any message will have to be delivered to me.”
He cocked his head to one side, causing the white hair to fall away from his face just enough to reveal a grossly disfigured ear. Thick scabs covered what looked like a bite mark on the bottom lobe. More blood crusted the tip where a large chunk of cartilage was missing. The inflamed sores stood out in sharp contrast against his pale skin.
“You’ve been hurt,” I said, nodding toward the ear.
“Yes, on the road from Philadelphia. A fellow traveler did not care for my company and set his hound upon me. The attack was limited to my ear.”
His story should have moved me, but for some reason it did little to provoke my sympathy. “You are indeed fortunate,” I said matter-of-factly. “Such creatures have been known to kill men.”
A low growl emanated from deep inside his throat. “The hound took me unaware. Otherwise it would never have survived long enough for even the one bite.”
The man unnerved me, and duty alone forced my next words. “I can tend to your wounds if you wish. An ointment should take care of the infection though there’s not much to be done for the missing cartilage.”
His direct gaze moved over my face, taking each feature in turn. “Your grandmother was a renowned healer in Ireland,” he said after a moment. “You have some of her look about you. Did you inherit her skill as well?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “She died before I was born, as I’ve already told you.”
“Maybe someone more experienced would better serve my needs. Is there a doctor in the village?”
It was an effort not to laugh. Unlike any doctor, I could have grown him a new ear in less time than it took to boil a pot of water. A bit more effort, and I might have been able to restore the color in his skin. Not that I was about to display the full extent of my power when a well-concealed fragment would do. “The closest doctor is in Philadelphia, but those sores will be seeping by the time you make it back to the city.” I shrugged indifferently. “It’s your ear. Do as you please.”
“I see.” The man’s wide lips stretched to a queer smile, revealing sharp white teeth. “What is your name, child?”
“Selah Kilbrid.” I bit my tongue to keep from adding that I was no child.
“How curious,” he said. “How curious, indeed. A Kilbrid and a McBres together in the new world.” He leaned closer and drew in another deep breath. “I should have known sooner—the scent is undeniable.”
My skin turned to gooseflesh. Without thinking, I reached for the knife, curling my fingers around the handle. The movement caught his attention and I watched his pink eyes widen in surprise. “Brigid Buadach,” he said softly. “Brigid Victorious.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, followed by the appearance of Mr. James Roth, Henry’s personal secretary and my least favorite person. For the first time in a month, I was actually glad for his company.