Bloodline (Whyborne & Griffin Book 5) (23 page)

“Well?” she demanded, stopping a few feet away from me.
“Have you come to apologize?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” It took the wind out of her sails, but only for a
moment. “Get on with it, then.”

I glanced around nervously. The landlady peered out from
behind the curtains of the downstairs parlor, a sour look on her pinched face.
“Can we step away, please? Or find somewhere a bit more private?”

Christine huffed and led the way out onto the street. “We’re
away.”

I accepted it was the best I was going to get. At least the
neighborhood was a quiet one, with only a few people hurrying to work at such
an early hour. “I’m sorry. My behavior was inexcusable. I had no right to say
such things cruel things to you. You’re my best friend, and I hope you will
forgive my foolishness.”

She eyed me a moment then thrust out her hand. “Very well. I
forgive you.”

We shook on it, but my nervousness only increased. The
apology had been the easy part. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”

She frowned at my tone and glanced at Griffin. But he only
looked at me. “Go ahead, my dear. I’m right here.”

“Dear heavens, what is it?” Christine asked in alarm. “Don’t
tell me you have some incurable disease.”

“What? No!” I stared at her in shock. “Why would you think
such a thing?”

“You certainly looked upset enough. What is it then?”

“I’m trying to tell you! I’m…well. It seems I’m a ketoi
hybrid.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Are you certain?”

“I’m afraid so.” I explained everything to her, including
our early morning meeting with Persephone. When I finished, she looked away, as
if something in the street suddenly fascinated her.

“Christine?” I asked tentatively.

“Of all the things for Nitocris to have been right about,”
she said.

“I know.” When she still didn’t look at me, I said, “Are you
all right?”

“Yes. It’s just a bit of a shock.”

I bit my lip. “Do you want me to leave?”

“What?” She finally looked at me. “Don’t be daft just
because I need a moment to think.”

“I’m sorry. Take all the time you need.”

“Oh, do stop looking at me like that.” She thumped me
lightly on the shoulder. “I don’t give a fig who—or what—your
ancestors were. Although I would have liked to have met Persephone. She sounds
like a sensible fish-woman.”

“Christine…” I said, torn between relief and exasperation.

“I can’t believe you’re some sort of hybrid fish-man,
though,” she went on, ignoring me. “What sort of abomination from the sea is
afraid of water? You’re really terrible at the whole monstrous creature thing.”

I glowered at her. “It isn’t funny, Christine.”

“That’s your opinion.” Her grin faded. “Truthfully,
Whyborne, I’m a bit surprised, but you’re my dear friend. That hasn’t changed.
You are still the same person you were yesterday. I really don’t see the
problem.”

Had we not been on the street, I would have hugged her.
Instead, I only said, “Thank you. I was afraid…well. I’ve given you rather a
lot to look past when it comes to our friendship. Sorcery. My inclinations. I
feared inhuman blood might push you to your breaking point.”

Christine sighed. “Was he like this with you?” she asked
Griffin.

“Yes.”

“Then you have my sympathies.”

“Christine,” I said, vexed. “This hasn’t been easy for me to
accept. How can I ask anyone else to?”

Her expression softened. “You’re right, of course. And I
don’t mean to make light. But Griffin and I love you—not in the same
fashion, obviously, but we’re not going to let a little thing like being a
shambling horror on your mother’s side change our opinions. I mean, we’ve both
met your father and not abandoned you, after all.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You do make a valid point.” My
mirth died away. “Speaking of Father…Griffin and I discussed things once
Persephone left. If we can confront Stanford this morning and expose him, we
can disrupt whatever he has planned for tonight. Father won’t tolerate such
goings-on. If we can just convince him, he’ll call Stanford to heel.”

“Or join him,” Christine said darkly.

“I don’t think so. If Guinevere hadn’t died…well.” I shook
my head. “Even if her death came through some accident or mistake, Stanford’s
schemes were still responsible. Father won’t overlook that.”

Christine nodded slowly. “I see. Very well, then. Let’s see
what we can do.”

I hesitated on the walk outside Whyborne House. “Father may
not even let me in the door after yesterday.”

“You told him how you felt. Forcefully,” Griffin allowed,
“but you didn’t hurt him. Despite all the chaos, it was clear to me even then
you didn’t mean to actually harm the man.”

It seemed a low bar for good behavior. But this was my
family we spoke of. My great-great-great-grandfather had murdered his brother. The
Endicotts of thirty years ago had almost killed three of us, if unwittingly so.
And if Griffin’s worst suspicions were correct, and Stanford had indeed
murdered Guinevere…

I’d been upset about being related to inhuman monsters from
under the ocean? How absurdly naïve of me.

I took a deep breath and stepped up to knock on the door. Fenton
answered this time. His face was pale, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept
much. Did he fear attacks by monsters?

At least I could tell Father there was no need to guard the
house. Which also meant explaining the ketoi that had frightened Mother was in
fact his own daughter.

My head ached at the thought. “We’re here to see Stanford,”
I said.

Fenton shuffled slightly. “He’s not in, Master Percival.”

I glanced incredulously at the sun, which still hung low on
the horizon. “This early, and he’s already gone out?”

“I don’t think he came home last night, sir.”

Oh. That didn’t sound good. But perhaps I was being
paranoid. Perhaps Stanford was drunk in a gutter somewhere, or had fallen
asleep in some dockside brothel.

What had our family come to, when total dissolution was the
best scenario I could imagine?

“And…Father?” Hot shame rushed over me at the thought of
confronting him again. He would be angry, and any truth my words of yesterday might
have contained would be brushed aside.

“He left yesterday.” Fenton paused, uncharacteristically
uncertain. “He took some of things with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe he and your mother had strong words. Your father
stated his intention to find other lodgings.”

I gaped at him. Father had
left?
Walked out of
Whyborne House, his pride and joy?

I’d told him that his wife and children were monsters. Had
he been unable to accept such a thing? “What did they quarrel about?”

“It isn’t for me to say. Would you like to see her?”

I took the hint. “A moment, if you will.” I turned to
Christine. “There’s no reason for us both to miss work. I’ll send word as soon
as we find Stanford, but until then, it might be best if you go in to finish up
whatever remains to be done for the tours tonight.”

“All that remains is for the curators,” she said. “But I’ll
go in and make some excuse for you.” She hesitated. “What about tonight?”

“With any luck, we can head things off in time for us both
to get to the museum before the tours start.”

“Hmm, yes. What is the likelihood?” She waved me off. “Never
mind. I’ll tell the director you’re ill. Ghastly symptoms. Should things go
awry, perhaps he’ll believe I caught it as well, and we won’t both end up
unemployed tomorrow.”

She strode briskly away. Griffin and I followed Fenton
inside. “This might be best done in private,” I told Griffin apologetically.
“Not to suggest Mother doesn’t consider you one of the family, but…”

“But it will be best from you alone,” Griffin finished. “I
understand.”

“Fenton, please show Mr. Flaherty to the private parlor.”

“Very good, sir.”

I climbed the familiar path to Mother’s room. She called for
me to enter when I knocked. I stepped inside, and found her still at her
breakfast. A half-eaten piece of toast lay before her, smeared with raspberry
jam, beside an almost untouched cup of coffee. She still wore her dressing
gown, and at the sight of me rose to her feet. “Percival? Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m afraid quite a few things, actually.”

“Your Father said you’d returned yesterday. That you claimed
we’re hybrids.”

Curse it. “It’s true.”

She sank to the divan. “I…I see. He yelled at me. Accused me
of lying to him, of concealing my true nature. I called him mad.”

Damn him for shouting at her. “I’m sorry. He had no right.”

She looked up at me, mouth a thin line. “Sit down and tell
me everything.”

~ * ~

I began with the true nature of Zachariah’s mysterious wife,
and ended with Persephone’s visit. When I finished, Mother sat in silence, her
face white as the pages of the book forgotten at her side.

“I’m sorry,” I said. If it felt unreal to me, how must it
seem to her? I’d gained a sister, but she a daughter. As for what she thought
of Stanford’s actions, I couldn’t guess.

“I see.” She closed her eyes.

“Mother?” Had the shock been too much? I reached to touch
her, but she stood up abruptly and walked to the window.

“Damn you, Emily,” she whispered, staring out the glass.
“Damn you to the lowest reaches of Tartarus.”

I rose to my feet, but didn’t approach. “Mother?” I repeated
like a fool, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“She knew.” Her voice trembled with suppressed rage. “I
thought her my friend. I thought we shared confidences. When she wanted to keep
the child in her belly, I fought Niles not to turn her out. But she hid
everything from me. Everything.”

I couldn’t imagine how Mother must feel. “She must have
known your father’s reaction to finding out the truth,” I said. “She meant to
protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting!” Mother spun, her eyes flashing
fire. “In the name of protection, she denied me my birthright. Worse—she
denied me freedom! If she’d told me the truth, when I lay weak and in agony
from giving birth, I would have begged her to take all three of us to the sea.
You, me, my daughter, all of us. We could have been happy together, and strong!
Instead, I’ve wasted all the years of my life in this
cage
.”

The look on her face was utterly savage, and at that moment,
I understood her as I never had before. I’d wondered before whether her true
nature was the socialite Father had fallen in love with, or the scholar I’d
always known.

But the truth was neither: she’d simply picked the only path
open to her. And if I’d doubted whether she ever loved him, I doubted it no
longer.

She hadn’t. As with everything else, he’d been the most
acceptable of the only choices human society offered.

“I’m sorry.” I felt stupid for repeating the words yet
again, but I’d never felt so helpless. Nothing I could say would change
anything; it had all been set in motion before I was old enough to speak a
single word of protest.

She took a deep breath and reached for me. I took her hands.
“You have been my only joy,” she said fiercely. “The best thing I’ve ever done.
But I regret your wasted years as much as my own. Among the ketoi, away from
your father and brother, away from the society that condemns you, you might
have found happiness so much sooner.”

I sighed and tugged her closer. “At least Emily might have
trusted you to make your own choice. Even if your choice had been to run insane
like Grandfather.”

“Or you.” She shook her head. “Really, Percival.”

“It was a shock!” I protested. “On top of an unpleasant
fight, which I haven’t mentioned because it’s of a personal nature.”

“I see.” She gave me a skeptical look. Then, after a moment,
dropped her gaze to our hands. “Do you think I might meet her? Persephone?” She
swallowed. “Did Emily name her that? Persephone, the daughter given to the
underworld. I want to know what her life turned out to be. Who she is. I feel
terrible I drove her away the other night.”

“You had no way of knowing her identity. And yes, I’m sure
she’d love to meet you.” I drew her hands to my mouth and pressed a kiss to her
knuckles. “Will you be all right? I should return to Griffin, but if you need
me to stay, I shall.”

“I’ll be fine.” Her expression turned wistful. “Angry,
perhaps. Sad. Worried about Stanford.”

“I’ll do whatever I can for him,” I promised.

“No you won’t. You’ll do whatever you have to, even if it
means standing against him.” She let go of my hands. “I named you truly,
Percival. My knight. Of all the things in this world, you are the only one I
never doubted.”

~ * ~

With no idea where to look for Stanford or what lodgings
Father might have found, Griffin and I went next to Wyrm Lane and the Endicotts’
rented house.

“After the other night, I’m not entirely comfortable with
them or their decisions,” Griffin told me as we walked. “I understand we need their
assistance for this, but I can’t agree with their methods otherwise.”

“I know.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “It’s hard to
explain. The feeling that everything you do is right because you’re the one
doing it. The way they live, without fear, above society…”

“They’re able to do so because they have the power—and
willingness—to destroy anyone who might try to censure them.” Griffin
gave me a keen look. “You do realize that, don’t you?”

“It isn’t that,” I protested. But what had they said, about
having earned the right to do as they pleased? About how the world owed them
for saving it, time and again?

“It’s precisely that.” Griffin sighed. “There’s a difference
between being free and feeling no responsibility to anyone else. You express
disapproval over the men who have a wife and children at home, but frequent the
bathhouses at every opportunity. But one could argue they’re simply living
without the artificial constraints of society, couldn’t one?”

“I suppose. But the Endicotts have saved lives, time and
again. They take their responsibility seriously.”

“It doesn’t give them the right to pass judgment on whomever
they please.”

On Abbott, he meant. But also Dunwich. How easily Theo had
dismissed Griffin’s concerns the night on the boat. “I know.”

He touched my elbow lightly. “I’m sorry, my dear. And I
swear I’ll try to get along with them, for as long as this takes.”

“Thank you. And I’ll try to convince them not to move to
Widdershins after all.”

He stopped dead. “Move to Widdershins?”

“Oh. Er, yes.” I felt my face heat. “I spent more time with
them than you knew. I didn’t want to lie,” I added in a rush. “I just felt they
accepted me. All of me.”

Griffin’s eyes darkened, and he glanced down at his shoes,
then back at me. “I’m sorry I made you feel thus. I never intended…but the
result was the same, whether I intended it or not.”

“We’ve worked this out between us, haven’t we?” I asked
quietly.

“Yes. We have.”

“Then stop fretting and come along.”

When we arrived at the rented house, we paused on the
sidewalk outside. “Perhaps you should remain out here,” I said. “Otherwise, I
fear we’ll be distracted by arguments about methods.”

“Agreed.” He leaned against a lamppost. “Fetch me once
you’ve smoothed the way, as it were.”

Theo answered my knock on the door, a bright smile on his face.
“Percival! Come in; come in. We were growing concerned, since we hadn’t heard
from you.”

“No need,” I said. “Or, well, perhaps there is need. I’ll
explain everything to you both.”

“Come up to Fiona’s laboratory, then. She’s putting the
finishing touches on the wand.”

“Good. It might prove useful.” If we failed to stop Stanford
from taking over the town and making war against the land alongside the ketoi,
the ability to draw upon the arcane power of the maelstrom might become
necessary.

Fiona greeted me effusively from her workbench. “Look!” She
held the wand out to me.

I took it. A deep buzz trembled in its length, in my bones,
as if it vibrated to some force that touched nothing else in the room. I could
feel its power, feel the maelstrom beneath my feet, nearly hear its roar as the
lines of power curved and met only a few streets away.

A little breeze sprang up and touched my hair. I handed the
wand back to her hastily, before I accidentally unleashed a gale in the small
room. “Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Percival has something to tell us,” Theo said. He found a
chair and sat in it, gesturing for me to do the same.

My belly clenched with nerves once again…but my fear was
foolish. Griffin and Christine had accepted my confession easily enough. Theo
and Fiona would be no different. “I have bad news. It seems Stanford is the one
collaborating with the ketoi.”

“No!” Fiona’s eyes widened. “One of our own? How could he do
such a thing?”

“And he killed Guinevere?” Theo asked.

“I don’t know. I hope not. Perhaps he sent someone, some
other hybrid working for him, and when she fought back he panicked.”

“One moment.” Theo frowned. “What do you mean, ‘other’
hybrid?”

I took a deep breath. “We’re—the American branch of
the Endicotts—ketoi hybrids. When Zachariah fled England, it seems he
took up with one of the ketoi from an underwater city off the coast of
Massachusetts. My twin sister, the one I thought died…it turns out she was
taken to the sea and transformed. I think the Endicott spell is even what
almost killed us, believe it or not. But I’ve spoken to her, and she’s the one
who told me of Stanford and the rest.”

Shocked silence followed my pronouncement. Fiona and Theo
shared a look. “It’s not possible,” Theo said. He sounded numb. “Are you…are
you certain?”

I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “I’m afraid so. I
was as surprised as anyone, but it’s true.”

Theo recoiled in his chair, his lips parting. Fiona’s eyes
widened in alarm. “A ketoi-sorcerer hybrid,” she whispered, and the horror in
her voice was impossible to mistake.

“No!” I exclaimed, rising to my feet and holding out my
hands. “Well, I mean, yes, but nothing has changed! I’m still the person I was
when we parted the other night. It’s just the situation is more
complicated—not all the ketoi are our enemies.”