House of Sand and Secrets (Books of Oreyn #2)(74)

“Do you know what else looks a little odd?” Harun leans back in his chair and steeples his index fingers. “You bringing that half-wild thing into my house and keeping it in your bedroom.”

I pause with my toast half-way to my mouth. Damn Harun, I think, and eat one corner, making him wait. When I’m done, I dust a few crumbs from my fingers. There’s a spot of black jam on the tablecloth; it seeps a bloody print around it. “What has Isidro told you of it?”

“That it’s a cannibal, and quite possibly insane.”

“His name is Merril,” I say.

“Sweet Gris, have you gone and named it? This is not some replacement for a string of future miscarriages–”

Before he can finish that sentence, I have my side dish in my hand, and without a moment’s pause for thought I hurl it at his head.

The plate shatters just left of his ear and Harun jerks so hard in his seat he almost topples. He recovers, eyes narrowed. “Do refrain from smashing my crockery, Felicita. With the two of you as my guests, I shall soon have no tables, and then no porcelain.”

I’m on my feet, my hands shaking. I can’t believe I just threw a plate at Harun’s fat head. Or rather, I can believe it. “Don’t say such a thing again,” I say, slowly, soft as a snake. “And never, ever where Jannik can hear it.”

Harun presses his lips together. His eyes are dark with exhaustion, and the tiredness does nothing to improve his temper. “Fine,” he snaps. “Get rid of the boy.”

I stare at him. “I can’t,” I say eventually.

“It’s a liability.”

“It’s a person.”

“Fuck!” He stands and slams his chair back into place, making the table shudder and the dishes rattle. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s easier, isn’t it?” I say. “If we just let ourselves forget.”

“If it harms anyone, Felicita, it’s dead. I’ll see to that myself.”

I nod. How did I bring this unwanted burden on myself? And for what?



*



The next few days pass in breathless slow-motion while Harun, Jannik, Isidro and myself make plans. We draw up scenarios, think of everything Eline can throw at us, and how we will respond. We write lists. We argue. We wait for news of the Lord’s Council meeting. We retreat into worried silences.

House Eline makes no move against us, not openly, not in the shadows. Our emptied warehouses stay deserted and untouched, our rented apartments gather dust.

Isidro and Jannik seem recovered from their capture, although I do not see much of Isidro outside our meetings. When I do, he clings to Harun’s shadows, trailing him like a foundling.

Merril is passive and quiet, allowing me to change the dressings on his cleaned wound, while Jannik holds him by that mess of hair. The hair is problematic – he won’t let me come near him with either a comb or a pair of scissors, screaming like a black-backed gull if I try approach armed with one or the other.

Neither of the other vampires trust him. Isidro will not stay in the same room as Merril, and sometimes I’m not surprised.

Merril has a way of staring unblinkingly at me, at Jannik, and then smiling slowly, as is he were listening to some private joke.

It’s more than a little unnerving.

It’s becoming harder and harder for me to find any empathy. And I hate myself for it. He’s been used in ways I cannot even imagine, and yet I have begun to fear him. I make myself treat him as best I can, but in truth, I want little to do with Garret’s Lark. We might have cleaned him up and dressed him, but underneath that we cannot change the rot. It’s too late, I find myself thinking. We should have left him.

And then I hate myself a little more.

We untie him once a day so that he can walk, and he pads around the room, barefoot and silent, while Jannik watches him warily.

Merril is sitting loose like this now, curled up on one of the dusky grey sofas that clutter the lounging area in our small wing. Unlike the other vampires, he seems to like more than merely blood and wine. He’s asked for fish, which he pulls apart delicately between his fingers, although I don’t see him eat much of it.

“You like the taste?” I ask him.

Merril shrugs and licks one finger thoughtfully. He has remained uncommunicative, although we now know he can understand every word we say.

A fist slams against our door, and Jannik, who is closest, opens it. From the thundering I had assumed that this was no servant. Harun is glowering at me, a letter crumpled in his hand. “The Council is meeting today. Eline’s pushed it forward.”

Damn. The first move made. “We will both of us have to go. We can’t leave this to chance.”

Harun will break his tradition of years and actually leave this prison he’s built for himself. To save Isidro. Now. “If we leave to go to that vote, the house will stand unprotected,” he points out.

What does Harun expect us to do here that the vampires wouldn’t? I do not want to touch scriv again, and Harun is a Saint. Was he planning to fight off an attack with dreams of the future?

“He’s playing a game with us,” Harun says, and holds out the letter.

I smooth it open to see the leaf of Eline’s house symbol at the top. The note is short, merely informing Harun that he will be presenting his proposal before the Council today, as they discussed over dinner. As if nothing whatsoever has happened. “He wants us there.”