Coral and Pearl stayed talking to Crowcaller for longer than they had intended. Partially due to Coral hoping that Silas would arrive at his establishment and save her from having to continue her search for him. Crowcaller was good company once she had calmed down enough to stray from the topic of the town’s safety. She spoke of her adventures as an apprentice and then as a licensed adventurer.
Crowcaller liked to describe things in a little too much vivid detail. Coral really didn’t need to know what a hobgoblin looked like strung up with its own intestines. Or the sound of splintering bones, the aroma of decomposing bodies in a Chimera den, or the hollow helplessness when watching your team members die and there was nothing that could be done to save them. That wrung a deep chord in Coral, the feeling of guilt and utter horror of the moment. She had to force the memory away of Arthfael Claysend dropping to the ground beneath the ghoul.
These stories, told from Crowcaller’s perspective were more humble variations of the retelling’s she had heard. The woman who sat drinking heavily in front of them was as much a human as Coral and Pearl was. She was good at what she did and had become immortalised for it in the minds of the people she helped. Slaughtering monsters was a messy business, and far from glamourous while doing so. It wasn’t at all like the ballads that were sung of their heroics. It was hard, dirty and mostly sorrowful work.
Coral grew to have a new appreciation for what Adventurers did. Though she still couldn’t quite grasp why Crowcaller liked the occupation. Apart for the significant gold that could be made of course.
Mr. Brown appeared with a glass of delightful cherry wine for both Coral and Pearl, accompanied with roasted venison and vegetables. She hadn’t ordered anything, and while they had stayed long enough for the sun to begin setting, she still had to trek back up to her manor and break down the door. She had hoped to do that before it truly fell dark.
“On the house,” Mr. Brown said at Coral’s confusion.
On second thought, perhaps it would be a better experience with a full stomach.
“What about me!” Crowcaller said, wriggling the now empty pitcher in the air. “I’m thirsty over here.”
Mr. Brown stared down at her and scoffed. “When you’re ready to settle your account, speak to Silas. I don’t know if he’ll consider opening another line of credit for you.”
Crowcaller scowled, dug around in her pocket and withdrew a cloth pouch. She threw it at Mr. Brown, who caught it midair then opened it to poke around in the contents.
“It’s a start,” he said mildly.
“Just refill me, will you. I’ll pay you when I remember,” Crowcaller said impatiently.
Mr. Brown took the pitcher, staring hard at Crowcaller. “I’ll come calling tomorrow for the rest of what you owe,” he said. Crowcaller waved him on uncaringly.
Pearl nudged Coral in the side, a grin plastered on her face. Coral narrowed her eyes.
She and Silas had barely interacted with one another to develop a relationship that would extend to special compensation at his establishment. She had hit the man on their first encounter, and since then their interactions had been limited. He had tried to keep her safe from the ghoul and had even offered to take her back to town if she requested. She was attracted to the man, Coral had eyes after all, but his disappearance after that night had in fact made her believe he wasn’t invested in any kind of friendship.
She also wasn’t about to advise her sister that Mr. Brown had handled a man earlier in a similar fashion. While he hadn’t been explicitly threatening, both she and Mr. Brown could tell where that interaction was quickly headed.
Coral didn’t know what exactly she had done to earn herself a bribery for good behaviour. She also didn’t know if she should take it as a compliment or an insult. Still, she wasn’t going to turn down a free meal. Or wine. The fruity concoction didn’t quite coat her tongue with the splendour and joy she relished for such drinks. It was spoiled with confused contemplation with each sip.
To distract herself from Pearl’s cheeky grin, and her own thoughts of Silas, Coral picked a rather blander topic that would help to divert her sister’s subtle teasing.
“How did the Dire River earn its name?” Coral asked Crowcaller, then began to tuck into her venison to keep her mouth full. Beside her, Pearl gave her a look that meant she knew exactly what Coral was doing. Pearl took up her own cutlery in a much more elegant manner and began to carve off a bite size piece of her meal.
The black snapdragon rose on its back feet and pawed at Coral’s leg, its little nose sniffing out the venison. Without thinking too much about it, Coral cut a piece of venison and fed it to the snapdragon, careful of its snapping teeth.
“The Acheron’s, when you get down to it,” Crowcaller said, looking into her empty mug with a displeased grimace. “They owned the majority of the land well before Direwood had been built. Over time, the Acheron’s built their manor up in the foothills of the valley, and the only way to reach them was by the river. Back then, it was practically impossible to get here by foot. Too many deaths and monster attacks, no road, that kind of thing.”
Crowcaller sunk a little deeper into her seat so that she could wiggle her fingers at the snapdragon. It ignored her in favour of the potential venison.
“Vampires need to feed, and as wealthy as Lord Acheron is, they could afford to lure people from the city with the promise of compensation for their efforts. Except, the river was almost as dangerous to travel as the land. I’m sure you’ve seen the large lake that the river feeds off of, with Epril on the other side. Most who passed through Epril weren’t seen again, nor their boats. The river itself can be hard to navigate and it runs deep. Deeper than what you would think any river would have a right to. A lot of people drowned or died. Epril kept giving warnings and many didn’t listen. It’s hard to ignore a lifetime of wealth for a few years as a vampire’s blood bag, and desperation was rife back then, the danger as common as ants. Epril started warning those who came to pass through town of the dire circumstances. The wording stuck and the route was referred to as Dire River.”
“It’s the same for Direwood. The town’s name.”
Coral looked up at the sound of a new voice. Behind Crowcaller stood three women, each with a cold look to their faces and a pitcher of mead in their hands. Their eyes fell on Coral, and she tried not to shrink beneath their sharp gaze. These were the women who Coral had seen in the guild and were a part of Silas’s team.
“Anika, come, sit,” Crowcaller said. She shuffled to the far side of the seat to make room for them all. All three sat, and set the pitchers down on the table, their mugs already filled to the brim.
“I don’t know if you’ve been properly introduced,” Crowcaller said. She gestured to the woman who had spoken. She had a mop of curly brown hair, a sharp nose and amber eyes.
“This is Anika Valenbow. She’s an excellent huntress and can track anything down. Even better than Silas, but don’t say that in front of him. It’s a bit of a sore spot. You’ll start up another competition,” Crowcaller said.
“One he will lose,” Anika said with a wry smile.
“Ariella Remstone,” Crowcaller gestured with a grin at the woman with short coffee coloured hair that matched her eyes, with the most beautiful, long eyelashes Coral had ever seen. She was slightly shorter than everyone and had a rather stocky build. She was seated beside Anika and gave a moderately warmer, though lackless smile.
“She joined Direwood Adventurers guild about a year ago. Cursed shit, that went fast. And this is Iris Woodmore. She has the voice of a songbird. If I’m lucky enough to be up early, I get to enjoy her singing,” Crowcaller said.
“I’d say she makes others sing, if you catch my meaning,” Anika teased.
Iris rolled her blue eyes and tossed a few loose strands of black hair behind her shoulder. “That was one time. They barely stayed alive long enough to cry out before I silenced them forever.” She took a sip of her drink then settled an icy stare on Coral.
“How’s your leg?”
The question caught Coral off guard. Her immediate response was to assess Iris Woodmore’s posture, which was relaxed, with one arm draped over the arm of the chair, and a leg crossed over the top of her knee. A casual, relaxed state. All three women wore some variation of loose brown trousers and a beige shirt cinched at the waist with a belt. There was not a doubt in Coral’s mind that they had concealed weapons strapped to every part of their body.
Iris Woodmore’s relaxed posture was a contradiction to the cold look in her eyes and the set of her jaw. If Coral hadn’t spent her childhood evaluating her father’s mood swings by the smallest of body gestures, she would have missed the tension held in the woman’s neck and shoulders. Iris was strung tight, and the internal weariness clawing at Coral’s insides made her consider her words before speaking. Despite the concerned question and her perceived openness, Coral could see that Iris Woodmore did not like her.
This wasn’t anything new to Coral. It did make her wonder what she could have done to illicit this weary coldness. Iris had been there that night with the ghoul, moments after Mr. Claysend had lost his life. For all she knew, she could have been close with the man.
“It’s healed well. Though it feels odd at times,” Coral answered truthfully. The scar tissue felt strange beneath her touch, like the wound hadn’t healed properly.
“Scars can do that sometimes,” Ariella said. “Especially if you lose a limb. I swear I can still feel my missing fingers.” She held up her left hand to show the last two digits were missing.
Iris pulled her arm from over the back of the seat and looked into Corals eyes. It made her blood run cold.
“How did you manage to stay alive? From what I’ve been told, that wasn’t your only encounter. Was it?”
“Luck,” Coral said. “Quite literally.”
She took another sip of her wine. If Coral was going to talk about that night under that fierce glare, she wanted a little numbing to ease the mild panic that came with her words and memory. The ghoul was gone, but Lady Rayner’s spirit resided in her manor. She had been roaming the halls that afternoon. Had that been why she and Pearl had been locked in the bedroom? Coral took a deeper drink from her glass. She was going to find out, with or without Silas’s help.
“Luck. You must have that in droves,” Ariella said.
Pearl shook her head. “No, she quite literally means luck. Coral has always had a mind for magic, and while she hasn’t really put anything into practice, she seems to have a talent for it.”
Iris’s cold stare fell on Pearl. Pearl stared right back with a pleasant smile tucked into the corners of her mouth.
“She used a luck spell, and it kept her alive, thank goodness. I’m not surprised in the least that she was able to conduct the spell. Coral’s always been quite clever like that.”
“that’ll do it,” Anika said. “Especially for someone who doesn’t know how to fight. What happened when you used the spell?”
Coral’s fingers twitched at the memory of her burns. “I happened to ram a burning stick down the monsters throat. The Ruesong boys made it possible. They had kept it in place long enough.”
Crowcaller and Anika chuffed in a way that sounded impressed. Iris and Ariella sat unmoving, their faces unchanged.
“Silas arrived a moment later, and everyone else for that matter. It was literal luck that kept me alive. I don’t care for the after affects. I would have liked it to take hold before Mr. Claysend-“ The words in Coral’s mouth dried out, and she had to take another bracing sip of her wine.
“What after affects,” Anika asked, her brows pinching together.
“A lot of luck spells are balanced by having the recipient exchange an event or circumstance. Essentially, good luck instead of bad luck. This particular spell didn’t allow me to control what event it took hold of.”
“I hadn’t meant to do what I did, with the ghoul. The spell took to a path at an opportune moment, which was exactly what it was meant to do. In exchange, I got to experience a similar situation. Thankfully it wasn’t as dire as choking on a burning stick. I don’t recommend this spell. I suppose it’s called Fool’s Luck for a reason,” Coral said.
“It was still a scalding cup of tea you suffered from,” Pearl said cheerily.
Coral couldn’t understand how Pearl was cheery about her bout of asphyxiation. Perhaps she should get Pearl to perform the spell next and she can experience the misfortune that accompanies the spell.
Ariella watched both Coral and Pearl with an assessing look. Coral was beginning to feel that there was a deeper meaning behind these questions.
“At least it wasn’t the wine that I chocked on,” Coral said while raising her glass in a small toast to herself. Pearl copied her motions, a beat later so did Crowcaller.
“When was the first time you saw the Ghoul?” Iris asked.
Coral let out a heavy breath. These questions were certainly beginning to feel a lot like an interrogation.
“The night before it was reported. I had been under the impression that Mr. Acheron had slain it at first. I found this most distressing, especially when it’s come to my attention that a necromancer had once resided in the manor without this being disclosed previously in the sale. I was most aggrieved to discover that the Adventurers Guild hadn’t done a thorough investigation and removed such a creature.”
Coral set her cup down on the table and looked right back into those cold eyes. “It makes one think how such a creature survived all these years under the nose of Direwood’s Adventurers Guild.”
All three women stiffened, except for Crowcaller who let her offense show easily in her heavily intoxicated state. Coral didn’t care. She liked Crowcaller, but she would not sit here and listen to this line of questioning with an undertone of suspicion. If this was how she was going to be treated, then she could throw this straight back on to them.
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“The guild was under different management back then,” Crowcaller said, her voice clipped. “You’ve only been here when it has been quiet. We’ve been enjoying a lull in the frequency of monsters that roam the area, thanks to the work of our current guild members. It isn’t uncommon for people to go missing from Direwood, having run afoul of the many dangers that come from the wilds.”
“I see,” Coral said, making sure her tone was still pleasant. Coral hastened to finish her meal, no longer enjoying the company of the women around her.
She gave half to the snapdragon who was still begging with this round button eyes, ate quickly and left her unfinished wine on the table. She gave a curt farewell, forcing Pearl to stuff a last bite into her mouth and gather their things and hurry after her as she made her way outside.
The walk back to the manor was brisk and heated. Coral had so much anger boiling beneath her skin that she had hardly felt the cold. She didn’t spare one moment for the odd screeches she couldn’t recognise from the trees along the road. The evening’s light faded quickly, and it was near pitch black on their return. Coral marched along fuming; eyes trained on the ground but not really seeing the road. Anika, Iris and Ariella kept forming in her mind with their cold, suspicious faces leering at her.
Pearl hurried along behind her, occasionally having to pick up her skirts and jog to catch up. She was holding most of the purchases in her arms and had more than once dropped a few things as she tried to hurry along in the dark.
The black snapdragon ran ahead, sniffing along the ground. It found a large stick far too big for it and carried it along for some time before getting stuck on a rock. It tugged a few times, then gave up as Coral marched on ahead and it came running as fast as its little legs could carry it when they had both gotten too far.
Oh, Coral was in a frightful mood. While the three women hadn’t outright accused her of anything, their suspicions were evident enough. Sure, she bought a necromancer’s lair. A rather bold move for anyone, really. Yes, there had been a ghoul, a creature associated with necromancers and had caused a stir in town in their haste to find where it had disappeared to. That didn’t mean she was responsible for such a thing. She had no dealings with such horrible magic.
Coral pushed the front gate open, the metal hinges creaking, and glanced up the drive towards the manor. A lantern flickered to life from the front portico. This alone was enough to stop Coral in her tracks, and glare.
“I don’t remember putting a lantern there,” Pearl said, her boots crunching on the fallen leaves.
“There wasn’t one there when we left,” Coral said angrily.
She bent down and scooped up the black snapdragon into her arms. It sniffed at her jaw, its nose damp from snuffling the ground. She didn’t want it running about freely just now. Hopefully the fast pace she had set on the way back was enough to tire it out. She had ghosts to deal with right now, and she wasn’t thrilled about it.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Pearl whispered.
“I’m not letting us be chased out of our own home. Come on,” Coral said, then walked forward.
As they approached the manor, the door opened slowly. Coral wondered if this was Alvis Borthwells way of performing his previous occupation duties without alarming them. Coral stomped up the stairs, the bottom of her dress now thoroughly wet and left a trail of leaves behind her as she stepped into the dark foyer. She stopped with Pearl right behind her, who now held the lantern as well as balancing all their packages in her arms. Coral turned and looked about, expecting to see the corporeal form of the woman. There was nothing but darkness and shadows. Coral turned on her heals and squinted at the door. It slowly shut behind them and then gave a resounding click as the lock engaged. This made Pearl inch closer to Coral.
“Alvis Borthwell,” Coral said, her voice loud in the echoing quiet that followed. “And any other of you ghosts that are here. I have a bone to pick with you.”
This phrasing of words reminded her that she did indeed have a bone to speak with them. Motioning for Pearl to follow her, Coral made her way down to the Winter Salon. She stuck her head through the door to check that the other snapdragons hadn’t burnt anything while they were out. Seeing that the snapdragons were coiled up by the fire’s embers and that nothing on first inspection had been destroyed, Coral set the black snapdragon down. She nudged it gently towards the fire, hoping she wouldn’t have to come back and break up another fight between them all. Ensuring the door was firmly closed, she and Pearl made their way to the kitchen. Pearl set the packages down on the wooden table with a small sigh.
“I don’t know if you should talk to them without Silas here,” Pearl said breathily. She darted a glance around the kitchen, her eyes straying on the cupboards where the porcelain was kept.
“I’m not waiting around for him any longer,” Coral said, rummaging through the draws in search of the bone they stashed away. She couldn’t remember where Elwin had hidden it, but she was sure it was somewhere in the kitchen. It seemed less conspicuous to hide a chicken bone in plain sight. Even if it was marinating in blood.
Coral pursed her lips as she searched, more than a little aware that this was closer to Anika, Iris and Ariella’s suspicions.
“This could be dangerous,” Pearl said worriedly.
“We’ll be alright. I only want to talk,” Coral said. It took a few minutes to find the bone conductor. Elwin had stashed the bone high in a cupboard so that it wasn’t easily found by anyone. Pearl kept herself busy by lighting the kitchen with candles so they could see a little more outside of the lantern’s light, her harried movements belied by her calm expression.
Coral held the vial up for Pearl to see in the light.
“Do you think it will last longer now that it’s spent some time marinating?” Coral asked, holding the vial up for Pearl to see. She gave it a little shake for good measure. The bones rattled against the glass dully, the blood smearing about.
“You’re the one who studies magic, you tell me,” Pearl said.
“It’s hardly real study. It’s more of an interest than anything else. Mind you, I think I will give a few of those spells a try in the book you’ve given me. There were a few useful sounding ones, which could help, like dust repelling. I’d rather not dust the stairs again. Or the floor. Or anything else for that matter,” Coral said, knowing perfectly well that she was rambling to delay what she was about to do.
Without Elwin here, apprentice or not, what she was about to do was against the law. She hadn’t crossed a boundary like this before. She had toed it earlier, with Elwin helping her initially make contact with the ghosts, but this time it was different. This was far closer to the suspicions that she did have something to do with necromancy.
Coral sat at the kitchen table, still examining the vial’s contents. The bones inside didn’t look any different. All she could do was assume that the sigil Elwin had drawn across the bone’s surface was still intact. Coral unstoppered the vial.
“Wait,” Pearl said, holding a hand out to stop Coral and eyeing the vial dubiously. “I really don’t know about this. What if we make them angry and they start throwing things at us again?”
“Duck I suppose?” Coral suggested.
Pearl did not look amused.
“We’re already living with ghosts. They can already hear everything we say,” Coral said.
“Well, ask to speak to the children then. I saw that spectre by the nursery, and I’m certain it’s Lady Raynor. She had the same hair. We can ask what happened and see how we can help them,” Pearl said.
For all of Pearl’s talk of ‘we’, it was truly only Coral who would be talking to the dead. The bone had been soaking in her blood, not Pearls. Perhaps her sister’s empathetic request was spurred on with slightly more courage than Coral felt, because Pearl wasn’t the one to ask the questions. Or at least, if she did, she wouldn’t hear the answers. Though if their roles were reversed, Coral would have hated not knowing what the dead were saying around her.
“I’ll ask. It’s doubtful it will be of any help. They’re all stuck here as much as you and I.”
“Even so,” Pearl said, crossing her arms against the chill in the air. “Please ask anyway.”
The cold was enough of a telltale sign that at least one ghost was nearby. Coral shook out a bone into her waiting palm.
An immediate barrage of sound filled the room. Coral dropped the bone with a start. She hadn’t been expecting an immediate reaction and it sounded as if three people were all standing right behind her, yelling. She scooped the bone from the table and cringed as Mrs. Sapping hollered across the room.
“And if I ever catch you two doing that again, I swear I will find a way to trap you in a void for all eternity.”
“You’re overreacting, woman. Calm down,” Egbert said dismissively.
“Don’t you tell me to calm down,” snapped Mrs. Sapping. “I’m this close from forcing you bodily from the grounds.”
There was an answering snort of derision from whom only Coral could presume was Egbert, somewhere to her left.
“Stop yelling,” Coral cut in sharply. The bickering ceased.
“Is she talking to us?” said Mrs Sapping, sounding confused.
“You hear anyone else flapping their gums? Of course she’s talking to us. She’s holding that bone,” Egbert said pointedly.
“Now that I have your attention,” Coral said, turning so that she faced the direction of the voices. At least she hoped she was facing them.
“What exactly were you playing at earlier? I hardly think our cooperation in these premises includes forcibly shoving Pearl into my bedroom and locking us in with a guest.”
Coral hadn’t meant to initially take such a sharp tone with them. She had wanted an amicable relationship with the dead after all. Except the acerbic tone from Mrs. Sapping had set Coral a little further over the edge in her frustration at being suspected in her involvement with necromancy.
Well, now she certainly was, but as she was only talking to the ghosts to ensure the viability of her future business prospects and the hope that she could find some clue to improve their co-habitation. That hardly counted, even if she was technically breaking the law.
“Please accept my most sincere apology, Lady Seaver. I was rather in a rush, you see. Lady Raynor was roaming and she was not in a state fit for guests at that time. It was entirely for your safety,” Mr. Cicero Bramer said studiously. “As you no doubt heard, Mrs. Sapping has already discussed this with us. Thoroughly. For hours. Though I doubt there was anything else I could have done to ensure your safety, as it was a rather urgent matter.”
“So that was Lady Raynor standing outside of the nursery?” Coral asked. The explanation confirmed her suspicions that the ghost she had seen was Lady Raynor. There had been a rather large part of her that hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“It was,” Mr. Bramer confirmed.
“Why exactly was it an urgent matter?” Coral asked, the anger now leeching out of her.
There was a brief pause before any of the ghosts spoke.
“She’s not in her right mind,” Otis piped up.
“That’s quite improper to say such things,” Mrs. Sapping chastised.
“It’s true though,” Egbert said simply. “Absolute nutter now. I would be too, transformed into a ghoul and having to resort to cannibalism to survive.”
“That’s highly offensive. Lady Raynor is hardly at fault for what happened to her. She was a good woman and a kind mistress. I won’t hear of her predicament spoken of in such a horrid fashion,” Mrs. Sapping said huffily.
A brush of cold air drifted past Coral. Pearl squeaked in surprise as her skirts ruffled in an unexpected breeze, then the kitchen door jerked open.
“I don’t know what I did to get cursed with an eternity trapped here with that woman. It is what it is, there’s no point tiptoeing about it,” Egbert said.
There was no response from Mrs. Sapping. Coral assumed that the woman had left the kitchen. Mrs Sapping had however given Coral further insight into the relationship between the housekeeper and the Lady of the manor. Mrs. Sapping clearly held Lady Raynor in high regards.
“Piece of advice,” Egbert said quietly into Coral’s ear. It sent cold shivers down her spine. “Place a few of those black crystals about your room. It’ll keep them nosey ones out, and hopefully that crazy woman.”
“Should I be afraid of Mrs. Sapping?” Coral asked, rubbing profusely at her ear.
There was a huff of amusement all around her.
“Not her. Lady Raynor,” Egbert clarified, though his voice was further away now, as though he too were leaving the kitchen. It was frustrating not being able to actually see any of them.
“Don’t concern yourself too much with Egbert’s words. He doesn’t like any of us,” Mr. Bramer said reassuringly.
“I like Otis,” yelled Egbert, his voice echoing down from the corridor.
Pearl jumped and stared with round eyes at the kitchen door. “Did you hear that?” Pearl said, her fingers clutching at her skirt.
“Hear what?” Coral asked, confused.
“Someone, a man, said they liked Otis. Is that one of the ghosts?” She asked.
“She heard that?” Mr Bramer said. “Well now, that doesn’t happen very often. Egbert surely must mean it then. It takes quite some effort to break through to the earthly realm.”
“That was Egbert,” Coral said to Pearl. “Though I think he has left the kitchen.”
“He has,” a woman said. It took a moment of concentration before Coral recalled who the voice belonged to.
“Miss Mahon, you’re here as well. Who else is here in the kitchen?” Coral asked, blinking at the cupboards. It was odd having a conversation with people she could not see.
“It is Mr. Bramer and myself. Though it would please me if you could call me Hazel,” Miss Mahon said.
“I would be happy to, Hazel,” Coral said.
“Did you hear that, Mr. Bramer. I have a new friend,” Hazel said.
“I’m delighted for you, dear,” Mr. Bramer said fondly.
Coral hadn’t expected Hazel Mahon to take the casual address of first names as friendship, though she wouldn’t complain. Hopefully this meant that she had one less ghost to contend with.
“I’m sure you’re aware that I have little time to speak with you,” Coral said.
“We are. No need for further explanations. Everyone else has gone to find the Raynor children,” Mr. Bramer said. “As soon as they find them, they will be brought to you. It shouldn’t take long. They have so little to do and seldom have guests. Most of us were eager to assist.”
Coral found that Mr. Bramer’s statement was rather contradictive. There was far too much to do in a manor of this size. Five stories, several turrets and a basement were in severe need of cleaning and mending. If the ghosts were able to throw plates, open doors, and even bodily move her and Pearl about, surely one of them could life a duster or polish a window for her.
“I have overheard you mention that you were curious to know what has happened to us,” said Mr. Bramer. “Commendable of you, though it is not a pretty story. I also cannot tell you the whole of it. When death came for me, I was confused at first. I kept trying to leave, but there was something preventing me from moving on. That magical force field. I took very little notice of what transpired after.”
“It was the same for me,” Hazel said quietly.
“Do you know what happened the night you died? Were any of you aware that Lord Raynor was a necromancer?” Coral asked.
“Goodness, no,” Mr. Bramer said with a huff. “If any of us had known, we would have left, pay or not.”
“I was closest to the Lord and Lady, and I hadn’t suspected necromancy. But after a while, when Lady Raynor fell ill, he became reserved. He made odd requests. He kept to his study, always reading his books, scribbling notes. We had doctors and witches marched in, and when they couldn’t help, Lord Raynor grew angry and hardly ever ate until prompted to by Lady Raynor. When he wasn’t with his wife, he was reading,” Hazel said, her voice taking on a wistful, sad tone. “He loved Lady Raynor, he doted on her, but had very little time for his children, consumed with his work as he was.”
“He was beside himself with worry,” Mr. Bramer interjected. “He built this manor for Lady Raynor. I haven’t the slightest clue why he chose Direwood of all places. No expense was spared, his wife and his children had anything they ever could want, even this far from the capital. He was the kind of man that had worked hard for his fortune and found that his money could not give him what he wanted. His wife. He was grieving and was desperate for a cure.”
“When the elixirs and potions didn’t improve Lady Raynor’s health, his studies led to him buying all manner of herbs and plants I had never heard of. He requested them to be prepared in recipes he passed on to the kitchen staff. And that was the least strangest of his requests. We had to be masked around Lady Raynor, and she was confined to bed rest.”
“He brought livestock in droves, had them slaughtered and their blood stored and used in the recipes. When those in his employ questioned some of his more strange requests, or didn’t meet his standards, they were dismissed immediately,” Mr. Bramer said.
Hazel gave a sad sigh. “It wasn’t uncommon then, to see many of the staff in the morning, only for them to be gone by nightfall. I don’t know what happened to them. I can only hope they weren’t taken the way Egbert had.”
“What happened to Egbert?” Coral asked.
There was a moment of quiet, long enough that Coral wondered if the bone conductor had run its time.
“It would be best if you ask Egbert that. It’s not our place to say,” Mr. Bramer said, his voice thick with implications.
“Very well, I shall,” Coral said. “Can I ask what happened to you?”
“Hazel was slaughtered first by Lady Raynor, by then she was a ghoul of course, freshly turned. I saw the whole thing and couldn’t escape myself. My fate was the same as Hazel’s.” Mr. Bramer said, as though they were discussing a rather fascinating book.
“It was horrible,” Hazel added quietly. “I can hardly step back into that basement. That’s where it happened.”
“I’m sorry,” Coral said gently. She was genuinely sorry for anyone who died from a ghoul. In her mind she could see Mr. Claysend dropping to the ground, the ghoul perched on him like a horrific nightmare come to life.
“Yes, well. It would have happened eventually with or without the intervention of Lord Raynor. It was a terrible way to go and wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemies. Sometimes I swear I experience the pain all over again.”
“You do. We all do,” Hazel said softly. There was a slight tremor to her voice.
“Not this again, Hazel. You don’t need to scare Lady Seaver then we already do when we move about the house. Completely unintentional, I swear,” Mr. Bramer said, tacking on that last part in a reassuring way.
“It’s true. I’ve watched you all relive the last moments of your life. On the anniversary. You writhe around, screaming,” Hazel said.
“I do not scream,” Mr. Bramer said indignantly. “Nor do I recall ever doing such a thing.”
“You can deny it all you want. Facts are facts, Cicero. I watched you, though no one else ever remembers it. I don’t remember reliving my death, but I know it happens. There’s a residual pain.”
“I’ve never seen anyone else go writhing about, carrying on,” Mr. Bramer said.
“You were flayed alive and left to bleed out on the floor for hours. Egbert has seen you. And others,” Hazel insisted.
“Egbert is not to be trusted. I wouldn’t believe anything that thief said,” Mr. Bramer said dismissively.
“I’m not a liar,” Hazel said sharply.
“I believe you,” Coral said, placating Hazel.
“Thank you,” Hazel said, her tone relieved. “It is nice to have a friend that believes me. Everyone always speaks over the top of me. They never stop to listen to what I have to say.”
“You’re so quiet, I never do it on purpose,” Mr. Bramer said defensively.
“Here they are,” Mrs. Sapping interrupted loudly from the corridor. “Master Emeric, and Miss Ayleth Raynor, please say hello to Lady Coral Seaver, and her sister Lady Pearl Seaver.”