He turned on his back, aware of the tears streaming from his eyes, and watched Willow. Her eyes were closed, and she held her hands over his chest, not quite touching him. From that spot, he could feel warmth, not an angry heat like the one in his stomach. Warmth that came from a thick blanket on a cold night, or from being held in his mother’s arms all those years ago, when he was small.
A memory that he hadn’t had in a long, long time. It made him smile, thinking of those times. Long before the magic in him blossomed, and so long before Malachi found him.
His head was no longer pounding, and he found that he was breathing normally. His chest didn’t hurt, and his tears stopped.
Finally, Willow’s chant quieted, and she opened her eyes.
“Not a Soul Gaunt,” she whispered, “but just as evil. Now, will you tell me?”
“Can I?” he croaked. He wanted to, but he couldn’t face that agony again. One more time would kill him, regardless of Willow’s power.
“Yes,” she assured him. “Whoever did this to you, I have their spell at bay. I can’t remove it, not without killing you, but I can nullify it.”
Darius struggled to sit up, finding it easier than he expected. Willow was truly amazing.
“I belong to a different House,” he began.
While he spoke, Willow left his side and returned to the window, looking out over the forest. At first, Darius was terrified that the pain would return, but it didn’t. Whatever she had done was working. Something in his chest twisted and snarled, but quietly, not able to work up into a true fury.
When he was done, she turned back to him.
“This Malachi, the head of your House, he did this to you?”
“Yes, so that Shireen, and Solomon if he returned, would think a Soul Gaunt was still around. It was supposed to distract you all, leaving me free to infiltrate both Houses, rather than just staying in place at Whispering Pines.”
“And Jocasta, the one you say has taken over Whispering Pines?”
“She knows none of this. Jocasta is…well, she’s hard to figure out if I’m being honest. I can’t get into her head, so I can’t tell what she’s really thinking. But, I believe she wants what’s best for Whispering Pines, she just doesn’t care what that means for anyone else.”
Willow nodded. “Yes. Shireen is much like that. Some people, not many, but a few, have a natural defense against anyone playing with their minds. Solomon most of all. His mind is like a fortress, and he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.”
“Yes! That’s exactly what Jocasta is like!”
Willow sighed and looked out the window again.
“Malachi’s plan. What is it?”
“I have no idea,” Darius replied. “He seems to be angry at the fact that the Greenweald didn’t recognize his greatness due to his low birth, or some such nonsense. He’s going to destroy the whole thing with help from some mysterious friends, who he’s then going to turn on.”
“It’s working,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Out there.” Willow nodded out the window. “There is something here, some infection that I can’t counter. It’s turning normally good Folk, good soldiers, into something else. Something cold and mean.”
“Then it’s started…”
“Yes.”
Darius sat back and thought.
“What about Jocasta?” he finally said.
Willow turned her head to him. “What about her?”
“Maybe she can hold it off. If we can get her to come to Subtle Hemlock, maybe between the three of us…”
“And you think she would? Given what you told me of her?”
Darius shrugged. “I don’t know. Do we have a better idea?”
Willow considered him for a moment, then moved closer.
“Why do I trust you?” she asked.
“For the same reason I told you everything.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m not like Jocasta, or Solomon, or even Shireen. You were inside me, you felt it.”
Willow blushed slightly.
“I’m not as you see me, Darius.”
“No? Maybe not. Maybe you’re much more. I’d like to find out, when this is all over.”
She pursed her lips, a slight smile playing about the corners of her mouth.
“Perhaps,” she said. “For now, we will go to Whispering Pines and speak to Jocasta. Maybe she will see reason.”
Darius nodded. “One thing first. Can we make sure Samuel is going to be all right?”
Chapter 62
The white mask lay on the ground, face up, as if it were staring at her. Celia had dropped it in her haste to remove her gloves and get any of the slime from that thing well away from her. Nearby, the dead hunter lay stiff and motionless, what passed for its face frozen into solid dirt.
Night was falling fast, and the alley was growing darker by the second. It was time to move on, to head back to Greta’s house and tell her and Friedrich the news about their daughter. She doubted they were still harboring much hope, but it was still a thankless task that she didn’t want to do.
She took the mask, although she couldn’t have said why. It felt like nothing more than a cold piece of porcelain. She looked at it in the gloom, one of the only bright spots in sight. How could something so innocent, so benign seeming, hide such a horror?
Again, no one accosted her on her way back. Not only was the news of her escape from the manor common knowledge, but now she had killed a hunter as well. No one in Dunfield was going to challenge her again.
She slowed as she reached what she had begun to think of as home. Her legs felt stiff and heavy, and they dragged as she walked. From down the street, she could see
