Kate knocked on her sister’s closed door. Only silence greeted the action. She heard no movement beyond. She prayed Imogen hadn’t locked it but waited another minute before she laid her hand on the handle. It clicked open and she entered.
The faint winter light barely penetrated the room through drawn velvet drapes. Kate searched the gloom for Imogen while her eyes adjusted. She knew better than to open the curtains to the outside world.
“Imogen,” Kate called out softly.
A familiar tinny voice echoed from her left as the homunculus skull once again spoke its bitter words. Kate turned to see Imogen crouched on the floor in the corner, huddled over the meager flame of a candle to ward off the deepening shadows. The same corner she had occupied for a month after her return from Bedlam. The dark veil covered Imogen’s porcelain face, but her once-pretty dress was shredded, revealing patches of pale skin beneath. Kate’s heart fell, but she kept her despair from showing.
“There you are,” Kate announced, coming closer and settling herself on the floor beside her sister, unmindful of the dirt and clutter. Imogen had made a new nest of blankets and clothes. Kate sat near enough that their shoulders were close without touching.
She didn’t know where to start in reassuring Imogen, but she was desperate to silence the grating recording, which set her nerves on edge. “It was a good thing Mr. Romley was here today. You remember Mr. Romley? He is a good friend of Father’s. He guarded all of our secrets.”
The skull’s voice faltered a bit.
Kate continued. “He’ll set his son, William, straight. Of that I have no doubt. Remember when he caught us stealing apples from his orchard?” Kate laughed at the memory. “We got in so much trouble.”
From the jacket of Imogen’s torn coat, which she still wore, popped the little hedgehog, who proceeded to crawl onto her lap and wash himself. Now the talking skull quieted. Imogen brought up her fingers to stroke the hedgehog.
Kate took a deep breath. “I almost feel bad for poor William. It can be a bit of a shock to visit the Anstruther girls. You never know what you’ll find.” She laughed sadly.
Imogen raised a translucent hand and pointed down to the floor, which Kate instinctively understood was the direction of Charlotte’s room in the cellar.
“Charlotte’s fine,” Kate said.
Imogen tilted her head questioningly.
“Truly,” Kate replied. “She is well. We just have to find the proper dosage of wulfsyl. This time, she didn’t hurt anyone. Much. I’ve already taken care of Simon’s small scratch. He’s weaving magic spells with his usual aplomb. Soon we’ll have hedgehogs everywhere.”
Imogen’s chest quivered with what appeared to be gentle laughter.
Kate grinned at the hopeful sign from her sister. “Would you like to see Charlotte?”
Imogen shoved up the veil from her disfigured face so Kate could see her excitement at the prospect. The homunculus skull tumbled from her lap to the floor, forgotten for now.
Kate held out her hand and Imogen grasped it with long, tentacle fingers. “We should take her a new dress. Why don’t you pick out one for her?”
Imogen hesitated but then shuffled to a closet and pulled a box from a high shelf containing dresses from her younger days that had been preserved from her rampages. She slowly worked the lid from the box, with Kate watching but not helping. Imogen shuffled through the box, pausing to run her fingers over the luxurious fabrics. Kate stood beside her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She could feel the small sobs shaking her sister. They stood quietly for a few moments till finally, Imogen drew out a beautiful party dress, a lovely shade of lavender and embellished with delicate navy embroidery.
“She’ll love that one,” Kate agreed, finding a clean cotton chemise for Charlotte to wear tonight. Then together they went downstairs to the cellar.
Charlotte was curled in a tight ball under a blanket on the disheveled bed. Her head rose meekly at the sound of the door opening. She looked forlorn and sounded miserable. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
Kate settled herself on the foot of the bed while Imogen sat in a chair close to Charlotte’s head. “No, dear. You behaved admirably. We’re all terribly proud of you. Aren’t we, Imogen?”
Imogen nodded and reached out to gently touch Charlotte’s shoulder.
“Mr. Malcolm isn’t,” Charlotte whimpered. “He hates me.”
Kate shook her head. “Mr. Malcolm is concerned, that’s all. We are a family here and there is a risk to everyone’s safety. He has been a hunter all his life and has made a commitment to keep the innocent safe from those who do not care about life. You two know more than most that it is hard to change what you are.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone!” Charlotte clutched Imogen’s rubbery hand. “I think I recognized Mr. Simon! I tried not to hurt him. I didn’t, did I?”