“Charlotte!” Kate stood with her mouth open and hands shaking. “That was horrible! Don’t ever do that again.”
The girl looked suddenly crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Miss Kate. I was just being funny.”
“Funny gets you shot,” Malcolm muttered.
“Spoken like a Scotsman.” Simon turned to the girl and said with an even tone, “Finish the wulfsyl, Charlotte. And then we’ll have dessert.”
Charlotte took her cup and drank with a joyless slump. Kate watched her with a guilty face, and said, “I’m sorry I snapped, dear. You must understand your condition is serious. You shouldn’t joke about it.”
“I think I know better than almost anyone how serious it is,” Charlotte offered. Imogen shifted almost as if nodding.
Kate and Simon exchanged pained looks. Kate leaned over and kissed Charlotte’s cheek. The girl gave a begrudging half smile.
Kate asked, “So how does it taste?”
Charlotte smacked her lips and thought. “Needs more sugar.”
Chapter 6
The brisk morning air refused to be warmed by the sun overhead. Kate walked with Simon along one of the many lanes that crisscrossed through the immense gardens around Hartley Hall. Despite the cold, they were not heavily bundled, taking advantage of the sunlight. The garden hosted no blooms this time of the year but it didn’t lack stark magnificence. Her father had planted many species with winter color and evergreens, some brought back from his travels around the world, plus he had laid intricate stonework and fascinating statues to make the stroll pleasant whatever the season. Ahead of them, Imogen and Charlotte raced after Aethelred. Charlotte laughed and turned to wave on Imogen, who lagged behind because of her awkward gait. Imogen still wore a veil over her face, but under her open coat she was clad in a lovely flowered dress, one of her old favorites. Kate recognized it as one from Imogen’s first debutante ball. Their father had told Imogen it matched the blue in her eyes. The fact that he had even noticed that she had matured to a lovely young woman had meant so much to her. Imogen hadn’t fit into the dress for years now, but her body shape had changed, withered a bit. Earlier this morning, she had selected it from a trunk of her old clothes that had escaped her ferocious shredding.
Kate squeezed Simon’s hand with a sudden rush of emotion. It was almost a normal morning, the first in a long time. In the days since the initial dose of wulfsyl, Charlotte had showed no signs of being anything other than an energetic thirteen-year-old girl. But more so, Kate was overjoyed at the simple sight of her sister enjoying a moment. Imogen outside the house in the sunshine for the first time in months, dressed in an old frock that reminded her of the sweeter days.
It was miraculous how Imogen had made remarkable progress thanks to Charlotte’s joyous influence. The child’s delightful nature was infectious, and Charlotte was instinctively welcoming. She never blinked or shirked when Imogen touched her. Imogen slowly showed signs of feeling safe around Charlotte despite knowing what she was, or maybe even because of what she was.
They ventured a little farther from the corner of the manor house to stay out of the growing shadow of the uncanny bulk of Hartley Hall. The great mansion was asymmetrically constructed in various architectural styles, deliberately chosen by Sir Roland. Still, Kate always acted as if it was any other home, feeling as if she had grown up in a quaint country cottage rather than a rambling palace with turrets and strange machines and the heads of monsters on the walls.
Kate cocked her head, hearing a familiar sound in the distance. A deep rumbling ripped through the serene morning. She could feel it in her chest. Birds poured from the trees and fled. Charlotte perked up and came back toward them, with Imogen following closely. Aethelred too returned and took up a position by Kate, barking with a deep booming voice. They all turned to the nearest corner of the house and waited. The din paused for a moment, then roared back into life, coming closer.
Within seconds, a metal monster rolled into view through the wide lanes of the garden. Steam poured into the air. Licks of flame were visible from the rear of Penny’s steamcycle, where a massive engine was situated. The sidecarriage was empty. Penny bent low over the handles in front, her bright grin showing beneath goggles and above a heavy scarf. Charlotte squealed with frightened excitement and crowded behind Kate, with her face poking out to watch the machine belch its way across the gravel paths. Imogen’s long fingers curled around Kate’s hand comfortingly.
Penny braked a few yards from the group and kicked at a switch with her heavy boot. The beast continued to rumble, so she kicked harder. This time, the fiery motor coughed into silence. She waved.
“Aethelred, hush! It’s Penny.” Kate touched the dog on the snout and he went silent but remained vigilant.