House of Furies (House of Furies #1)

He himself closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them again they glowed red all around, like rubies lit from within. At once, the atmosphere in the room became close, a tightness rising sharp and sudden in my chest. Mary held my shoulder more firmly, as if to anchor me there to the chair. The very air itself began to hum, a silvery miasma drifting up from the floor and gathering around Chijioke until he wore a shroud of mist.

The chill in the cellar dissipated, replaced with a wet warmth, like the first droplets of summer rain, and Chijioke began to mouth a chant of some kind. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could feel their power growing, growing, until the heat in the room was almost unbearable and the swirling fog wrapped around him like a cocoon, obscuring everything but his glowing red eyes.

Hotter, hotter, and louder, somehow, a distant thunder that felt like a heartbeat filling the space around us. The doves in the cage began to hop on their perches and trill, turning this way and that as if the life was being squeezed out of them. It was becoming difficult to breathe. I held the cup of tea with one hand and touched my throat with the other. As a child I had fallen and knocked the wind out of my lungs many times, and this was similar, only it happened slowly, a deep exhalation I had no control over.

Then nothing was happening slowly—the doves flew out of the cage, just barely visible in the mist, two quick white smudges, and the bodies on the table convulsed, their chests lifting, both pairs of eyes snapping open, filled with horrible crimson fire.

The doves landed, perching on the bruised flesh of the doctor’s chin and the widow’s perfect white face, leaning down and dipping their beaks into their dead mouths like they were sipping nectar from flower blossoms. The instinct telling me to look away was not as strong as the raw curiosity. It was awful, sick, and yet somehow beautiful, so intricately choreographed, a sinister ballet playing out in front of my eyes.

Rapt as I was, I only then realized how short of breath I had become. Mary and Gile, too, were gasping, taking quick, shallow breaths to combat the pressure squeezing us all. Chijioke remained unaffected, chanting silently, the mist close around him falling away as the eyes of the widow and doctor ceased glowing, flaring out in the same instant the birds’ eyes exploded in color.

I was choking. We all were. My lungs ached, starved for air.

“Close your eyes and seal your lips!” Chijioke’s voice sliced through the heavy atmosphere like steel. I did as he asked at once and felt the pain in my chest ease. Whispers filled the room, a hundred voices, a thousand, and all of them urging me to open my eyes and drink deep of the air with my mouth. I clamped my lips together tightly, scrunching up my face, ignoring the seductive voices, the coercion, the disembodied giggles and coos surrounding us. Did the others hear it, too? Did they dare disobey Chijioke’s order?

As quickly as it had commenced, the ritual was over. A single wind rushed over me, fluttering the blanket and my hair, and then the room was still and silent and cold.

“It’s done. You can open your eyes.”

I peered through a squint, finding the doves had returned to the cage. They preened as normal birds would, though I thought I saw a twinge of red fading in their eyes.

“What . . . What did you do to them?” I whispered.

“They can hold on to a soul and keep it safe,” Mary explained. “Like wee living vaults.”

The birds . . . I thought of the hundreds of them Mr. Morningside kept in the manse. Were those all holding captured souls, or were they simply empty vessels waiting to be filled? What need did a single man have of birds stuffed with human souls? A dark, dark feeling consumed me, one of foreboding and sickness. Those birds sitting passively in his office no longer seemed a charming quirk but a harbinger. I shuddered, pulling the blanket close against the returned chill. The candles had gone out. The mist abated. I glanced to my right and saw Giles with his hands clasped together under his chin, grinning from ear to ear.

“Spectacular,” he whispered, flushed. “Pure magnificence.”

In a way, I had to agree. I wasn’t certain what I had witnessed, only that it was mesmerizing. He was bringing his hands together for applause when a noise from upstairs startled us all. It was the door, and someone was knocking frantically. I hopped up from the chair, leaving my cup behind on the stool and starting for the stairs. Chijioke beat me there, heading up first.

“At least somebody bloody knocks,” I heard Giles mutter, following.

“It could be Lee,” I said. It was a short journey up to the first level and the warm salon. Francis was still lounging by the fire and didn’t lift his head as we passed by. “He knows I came along.”

“Hmm.” Chijioke led us swiftly through the maze of halls to the front passage and all its family portraits. “It’s a good thing he didn’t turn up a half minute sooner.”

“What happens if you’re interrupted?” I asked, waiting behind the door with him. The others were crammed in behind us, Mary trying to peek over my shoulder.

Chijioke looked back and down at me, smirking. “I haven’t a clue. Not keen to find out either, lass.” He leaned into the door, watching through the glass peephole. “Seems you were right. It’s the Brimble boy.”

“Let me talk to him,” I said. The astonishment of the ferrying and the shock of being attacked dropped away. The exhaustion was there, of course, just beneath the surface, but distant enough that I could shove it aside. And now here was my sometime conspirator, and we were away from Coldthistle House. Now was as good a chance as I might get to mount an escape. I had never found cosmetics, but I would just have to persuade him to leave as best I could.

“Louisa and I will step outside,” Mary said. Her tone was just insistent enough to make me prickle. “The two of you can finish up here, yes?”

But Chijioke wasn’t moving away from the door. The knocking persisted. He stared down at me, arching one quizzical brow. “Haven’t you had enough adventure for one night, Miss Louisa?”

“I only mean to say hello,” I replied. The blanket had slid down to my elbows and I folded it neatly, handing it across to Giles. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Of course,” he said, giving an ostentatious bow. He straightened and stuck one finger into the air. “Next time a leeching, eh? Does wonders for the constitution.”

“Next time,” I echoed. Yes. A leeching. A maypole dance. A swift kick in the head. I would agree to anything so long as it got me out the door.

Chijioke moved aside, slowly, sighing all the way, his displeasure so palpable that I shrank as I went by. Outside, Lee had ceased the knocking, standing back on his heels and inspecting the building as if he might find a window to tap on. He was ready with his usual explosive smile the moment he saw us.

“Thought I saw you all trot in there,” he crowed. “Do you know, there was the most bizarre light flashing out from inside the place. Did you see it?”

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