Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(32)

“Your story sounds a little far-fetched,” said Mr. Batewinch. “But either way, a young woman shouldn’t be kept locked in the cellar. One of the serving girls told me she’d seen Mrs. Rosings carrying food down here and feared someone was being confined as a punishment.”

Sera felt a gush of gratitude for the faithful servant who had reported it.

“Please summon help,” Sera said. “You will see that I’m not lying.” She thought a moment. The nearest officers would be at the Fells, but Fog Willows was closer. “Can you tell me . . . is Lady Maren at Fog Willows still?”

“Of course. And so is Master Stephen.”

“Send her word right away. She knows me, she would vouch for me.”

“All right, miss. I won’t delay. Whatever trouble you are in, I’m sure we can work it out. Are you really the empress?”

“I am, Mr. Batewinch. I swear by the Mysteries.”

“No need to do that,” he said. “I’ll return promptly. I don’t like the idea of anyone being confined in there. This won’t do.”

Sera’s gratitude was overpowering. She leaned her forehead against the door, listening as Mr. Batewinch’s footsteps went down the corridor. Then the sound was gone, and she was once more bathed in silence.

Turning, Sera leaned back against the door, her stomach in knots. She nursed her sore arm and regretted not asking Mr. Batewinch to bring her some water. If only she could break the door with her fists. If only Mr. Batewinch had been hale enough to do so for her.

Trembling with anticipation, she waited in the stillness. The steward had left the Leering alight, so she focused on the band of light glowing beneath the door. Each minute felt like ages, but the worst was over. Soon she’d be on a zephyr rushing back to Lockhaven. Lady Corinne had the Tay al-Ard, which made her even more dangerous, but Sera would thwart her, defy her, hunt her down, and bring her to justice.

She heard the sound of footsteps again and recognized the tread as that of the shoes she’d heard earlier.

“Mr. Batewinch?” she called.

“Yes, I am returned.” He sounded out of breath. “I couldn’t get the Leering to work. I couldn’t reach anyone. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“She’s controlling it,” Sera said, her frustration growing. She scowled, made a fist with her good hand, and struck the door. It only made her fingers hurt.

“So I fetched a crowbar,” Mr. Batewinch said. “I’m going to force the door open. Stand back, if you please.”

Sera’s fury turned to joy. She was to be freed after all. She stepped back, her heart beating double time in her chest. The sound of the metal biting into the wood, the wood crunching beneath the assault, thrilled her.

“Give me a few moments,” Mr. Batewinch wheezed out.

Another sound of footsteps mingled with the other noises.

“Someone is coming!” Sera warned.

The crunching stopped.

“Whatever are you doing in the cellar, Mr. Batewinch?” said Mrs. Pullman in a calm drawl.

“I’m rescuing some poor soul you’ve locked up down here,” he answered. “I see you’ve got the keys . . . I order you to unlock this door at once.”

“Do I tell you your business, Mr. Batewinch?” said Mrs. Pullman.

“Unlock this door at once!”

Sera felt a growing sense of dread as an oily feeling seeped toward her, sapping her hope and dimming the bright light coming in from under the door. Her pulse quickened as a spasm of fear shot through her.

“Who are you?” Batewinch demanded, his voice trembling.

“You mean nothing to me,” said Mrs. Pullman in a dead, merciless voice. Sera heard her shoes approaching, slapping the floor one after the other, slow but sure. The light of her lantern only appeared to increase the shadows in the corridor.

Then Sera heard a thump, the sound of a body thudding against a wall, and a horrible hissing wheeze. Somehow she knew it was the sound of a man struggling to breathe.

“Let him go!” Sera said, pounding on the door. Then she shrieked as Mr. Batewinch’s body collided with the other side of the door with a solid thump. The body sagged to the floor, blotting all but the edges of the light.

This darkness wasn’t just the absence of light. She felt the presence of the Myriad Ones, a power she’d not felt since taking the Test at Muirwood Abbey. Sera stood back, swallowing her fear, trying to repel the dark power radiating from the other side of the door.

She heard what was unmistakably the sound of a heavy object striking Mr. Batewinch’s skull. A gasp escaped her lips. When the key went into the lock, Sera tried to radiate bravery and strength, but her knees were knocking together.

Mr. Batewinch fell back into the cell, his eyes open, his chest still.

Mrs. Pullman stood in the frame of the door, her face in shadows. She gripped her lantern in her hand. Power and strength emanated from her despite her wizened frame, dark, dark, dark.

“You killed him,” Sera whispered.

“Everyone dies,” Mrs. Pullman answered, her tone flat and uncaring.

Sera steeled herself. She remembered the words to banish the Myriad Ones. To gain power over them.

Sera stood firm and began to say, “Banirex—”

Mrs. Pullman rushed forward and clamped her hand around Sera’s throat, cutting off the words. With inhuman strength, the old keeper pressed her against the far wall of the cell. Sera tried wrestling the hand from her throat, but the woman’s grip was stronger than iron. She couldn’t breathe.