Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Constance spent the ride trying to master her fear so she could influence the supernaturals. But every attempt left her more exhausted than before.

They stopped several times for fresh horses, and each time Baines pulled out his knife and looked at Simon meaningfully. At one such stop, the supernaturals left. She couldn't say how she knew exactly, she just did.

They traveled this way for two days. The coach shaking her to her bones as the horses pulled it at a gallop.

She slept fitfully, Simon beside her. When he was awake, he snapped his watch open and closed without stopping, Constance afraid that it would push Baines over the edge.

It was dark when the coach finally rolled to a stop, gravel crunching under the wheels.

"We're here," Baines said, rousing Constance from the half sleep she'd been in.

"Simon," she whispered. "We're here."

"Where is here?" He asked carefully.

Baines was holding the door. Constance went first so that she could check for what exactly she wasn't sure.

A castle loomed up before them, the moon full and bright overhead.

"Greyfield, keep," Baines said with cold pride.

It wasn't Bunsall, alive with wealth, surrounded by neat gardens. Instead, it was a fortress, cold and grey, sitting on top of a hill, the sound of the ocean cold and hungry behind it. Baines led the way to a towering door, the human footman who had joined them at some point, shadowing them from behind.

She considered grabbing Simon and running, but she didn't know the wilderness surrounding the castle, or the cliffs it was built against. Far away, she heard a wolf howl. Simon stepped closer.

Like the mouth of a terrible beast, the door screamed open on ancient hinges. A musty smell assaulted her nose and a bent butler stood there, the light from his candle throwing shadows on the stone walls.

"Is everything ready?" Baines asked, ushering them inside.

"Yes, sir," the old man said with a grim smile. "We've arranged it as you requested. The others are waiting."

"Good," he said, the door clanging shut behind them.

The footman and the butler struggled to place a huge wooden beam across the door. Constance's heart battered her chest.

"Come," Baines said.

"Sir," Constance said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We've been on the road for days. We're tired and hungry. Might we have some food and rest?" She didn't want to ask him for anything. What she wanted to do was spit in his eye, but Simon looked weak and she couldn't afford to be anything but humble with him in tow.

"You may rest after." He began walking, his footfalls echoing down the corridor.

"After what?" She asked, following reluctantly Simon beside her.

He led them to the end of the hall. The butler produced an ancient key, which Baines inserted with precision, the lock screeching open. He waited for the butler to pull the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into the gloom. Dread sluiced down her back and her hands shook. She stood at the opening, afraid to move. There was something down there, something old and hungry, and she could feel it searching for her.

"This is the only way," he said when he noticed she wasn't following.

Her feet wouldn't budge.

The footman pushed past her, grabbing Simon.