Carlo watched the house merged with the mountain come into view as they rounded the curb and approached the peak. Mistraldol, the house of the Klaereons, intertwined with the rock and stone of Hathersage. Inside that house there were strange pockets of dark which held magic and mystery. And…there were people moving about outside. Many people who resembled the living more than the dead. That was a change.

  The wagon completed its circle and pulled up next to a humble wooden door. Carlo jumped off the back, the rocky ground jarring his feet and ankles as he landed. He didn't think Octavia would do it, actually open up the haunted house. Then again, Octavia was a different woman now, wasn't she? No longer possessed by Ra, no longer manipulated by Khun, cured by Balthazar's angel of her insanity. A mother of two, a wife, the head of her family. Her new self would demand a new life.

  "Thank you," Carlo tipped his hat at the Wells.

  "Any friend of George's," said Arnie.

  So Carlo was a friend of George's? That was useful to know, for those nights when he might need to get away from all of—his eyes tried to take in the house to the top of the towers—this.

  Carlo left the back of the house and circled to the magical edifice's front door. Before, the shadows leaked out of Mistraldol's windows as though it were a seething cauldron. Today was bright and the house was not threatening, just an architect's whimsy. Maybe he would finally find out how the Klaereons managed to merge a house with a mountain.

  People. He couldn't get over it. There were people in the garden, weeding and planting, maids washing windows. How had Octavia enticed people to come here and work? Carlo walked through the stone gates and up the path to the front door. He knocked, expecting it to resound like a tomb. It did not. The door opened and a gentleman of some hauteur studied Carlo, with his swarthy Italian skin and his unsightly facial hair. "The servants' entrance is by the kitchen," the slightly faded man intoned.

  "Sorry. I would give you my visiting card, but I do not have one. You would expect me to breach etiquette anyhow. However, if you announce Carlo Borgia to Madame Klaereon—or Madame Claudian maybe—I can assure you she'll see me."

  The old man's eyebrows were like wings. "I think not. You do not even know how to address her ladyship appropriately."

  Carlo shrugged. "You do as you like. It's not my position on the line."

  "It is my position to keep people like you from bothering my employer."

  Carlo shrugged again. "You should check in this case. I don't mind waiting. Out here?"

  "You will circle to the back of the house and wait in the kitchen. I will alert the mistress of the house to your presence."

  Carlo smirked at the stoic man. "That's the way of it, is it? I can guess what you think of Miss Lucia. Do you enter through the back?"

  "You are impudent." The man slammed the door with dismissive finality.

  Carlo circled back to the humble wooden door. On the way, he stopped at the stairs up to the garden. Five years ago, this was where Drusus had brought him, where Octavia, possessed by Ra, had killed her father, where Balthazar and Carlo had stolen the Solomon Scroll and Carlo had escaped into the Abyss. Ah, Mistraldol. So many good memories.

  He rapped on the door. A thin, older woman opened it, hands on her hips, and scrutinized him. Carlo was reminded of Herr Professor Nabrotzsky, except the woman's apron was covered with flour and spices. "You here to deliver something, then?"

  "No." Carlo removed his hat. Was she the cook? His mother had said to never trust a thin cook. "I was sent to the kitchen by the house's butler, although that esteemed gentleman forgot to leave me with his name. I am actually a guest of the family. I don't look the part, I realize, so your butler is forgiven his mistake. I am more comfortable waiting in the kitchen until someone comes to get me anyway, if that is amenable to you."

  The woman nodded. "You're from foreign parts?"

  "Yes. I am as foreign as they come. That seems to be pretty important to all of you around here, that we acknowledge that."

  She let Carlo into the dark kitchen. Two other women worked in the room, one cleaning carrots, another kneading bread dough on a table, clouds of flour coating her arms and face. The older woman returned to decorating a cake with glazed sugar flowers. Also in the kitchen were a mahogany woman, stout, watching two young children, a brown girl carrying a doll and an albino-skinned boy with black hair and blue-purple eyes. The boy had to be Marcellus, current Binder linked to the Solomon Scroll. A small monkey sat on the boy's shoulder, eating a slice of apple. Carlo was certain he was looking at a much-changed Thoth.

  "What do I call you, Madame?" Carlo asked.

  The cook was both charmed and affronted. "Madame? I am Mrs. Larkin. This lady is Madame Vipond."

  "Charmed," said the mahogany woman. Carlo noted her scarlet dress and a rosary of shells and beads wrapped around one hand. Certain stones of it glowed.

  Carlo snapped his heels together and bent at the waist the Austrian way, modeled by many soldiers in occupied Venice. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Madame. I am Carlo Borgia."

  Her smile was the sun peeking out from behind clouds. "Olympe Vipond. I teach the children." Her accent was hard to place. Maybe French. Maybe not.

  The little girl stepped close to Mrs. Larkin. "Marcellus said he wants a flower."

  The old woman tried to sound stern, but instead sounded like a pleasant grandmother. "He does, does he? Not you?"

  "It's not for me," said the little girl. "Honest. It's for Marcellus, only he's too shy to ask."

  "Diana," said Madame Vipond, "leave Mrs. Larkin alone. We're going out to the garden now."

  The little boy moved to Carlo. "Thoth says he knows you."

  Carlo wished he had something to amaze the boy with, a coin to pull out from behind his ear. Would a child surrounded by magic be astounded by such a trick? Another thing Carlo wanted to learn, it seemed, was sleight of hand; he had sharp memories of his father producing candy and coins from behind Carlo's ears, making them disappear back into the air.

  "Thoth is an old friend. Would you introduce me to this young lady?"

  "This is Diana. She is my classmate."

  Diana delivered the flower to Marcellus. "Are you a magician?" asked Diana. "Magicians are trouble."

  Olympe came forward to her two charges. "Please forgive her. I said magic would get you into trouble because you are so curious." The woman touched her daughter on the nose and Diana giggled.

  "Thoth says you are welcome at Mistraldol," said Marcellus.

  "I'm glad I am." Marcellus resembled Drusus, cursed Klaereon traits notwithstanding. "I hope Thoth is a good teacher."

  Marcellus became shy and hid behind Diana.

  "He's a bad monkey," said Diana. "He gives Marc bad dreams."

  "Shhh," said her mother. "Mr. Borgia isn't interested in that."

  Of course he was. Carlo wanted to ask questions, but there were footsteps on the stairs.

  One of the kitchen maids scuffled and the small stool she sat on fell on its side as Octavia breezed into the kitchen. She took both of Carlo's hands in her own, and Carlo smiled. Octavia wasn't as reserved as her very English husband. "I am so very sorry, Carlo. When McAllistair told me about my visitor, it took me several moments to deduce he was talking about you."

  Octavia had changed so much. Her skin was tinted now, not the paper white it had been when she was Bound to Khun. The pale blue dress she wore was also a shock. This was the first time Carlo had seen Octavia in a color other than black. Before, there had been madness at the edges of her eyes and now there was happiness at seeing him, but he could also read concern.

  "Honestly," said Carlo, "I'm more comfortable here than I would be upstairs."

  Mrs. Larkin snorted. "A learned gentleman like yourself with children and sugar flowers?"

  "Thoth says a gentleman can fit in anywhere," said Marcellus.

  Octavia smiled. "My son and his tutor." Did Octavia mean Thoth or Madame Vipond? Octavia nodded approvingly at the cake. "Beautiful, Mrs. Larkin."

  "There's no surprise to it, now you've already seen it," said Mrs. Larkin.

  "We have not yet seen your finished masterpiece," said Carlo. "That will be worth waiting for."

  Mrs. Larkin placed another flower on the cake. "You're right, Master Marc. A true gentleman can fit in anywhere."

  Carlo allowed himself to be led up stone steps hewn from the peak.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Octavia asked.

  "I knew you would grasp the fact when I appeared on your doorstep."

  "It would have helped me prepare your room."

  "You mistake my intention, Octavia. I plan to stay in the town. Given Lucy's engagement, I believe I should."

  "You are an old family friend. We all owe you more than we can repay you." Octavia opened a door.

  "Lucy was clear last time we spoke about how she felt regarding my reliance on Mistraldol. I would rather avoid such awkwardness."

  They surfaced in a hallway as genteel as any he could have imagined at a more standard manor house, again a change from the dusty curtains and streamers of shadow lingering during his last visit, and passed into a room with soft chairs and covered benches, papered with flowers, a bright window letting in daylight. Octavia retrieved a shawl from a floral swooning couch and sat down artfully in a wing-backed chair. Hairstyles had changed, obviously, and now Octavia's ringlets did not dangle in her face, so much as they danced behind her head. The blue gown was diaphanous and Carlo decided the shawl was to keep her from freezing.

  "It is an eligible match," said Octavia in a practiced monotone.

  "Drusus tells me you are unhappy with it."

  "You…have seen Drusus?"

  Carlo shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet. "I have seen Drusus."

  Octavia's collected demeanor diminished. "In all of the Abyss," Octavia gestured with her hands, trying to form the right words. "Why didn't you tell me that right away?"

  "In my defense, it was the first thing I said to you behind a closed door."

  "I've been beside myself with worry. Why did he leave?"

  Carlo paced a bit. "I've been thinking about how to proceed here. I've had a rather long trip to think about it. First, let me assure you he is physically safe and unharmed. In Prussia, they have doctors who study science of the mind. I've done a little casual reading, but I am not such a doctor. If I were to have an opinion, I would suggest Drusus exhibits a schism of personality."

  "What does that mean?"

  "When Lucy…did what she did…Drusus and Khun decided to continue their longstanding enmity."

  Octavia narrowed her eyes. "Like Ra and myself?"

  "No, Octavia." Carlo's voice softened. "You were possessed and Ra made you do things you did not want to do. This is more like…" How to describe this? Carlo's eyes wandered around the room, looking at the clock on the mantle, at the china shepherd and shepherdess. "…like they are both keen to keep their privacy, so they share one body and prefer not to let the other know what they are up to. Drusus seems to have control more often. Neither of them is happy about it. Drusus is one person, I think, but he believes he is two."

  Octavia glanced at the clock and back at Carlo, pulling her shawl more tightly around her. "I did not realize he was so troubled. After we had Gregorius, he seemed more settled. Did he tell you why he left?"

  "Drusus thinks somehow Khun is a danger to you. I have spoken to Khun. He assures me he is not, but he thinks Drusus is."

  "You…spoke to Khun? That should be impossible. Drusus speaks of Khun like he's still someone else, but never has Drusus pretended to be Khun."

  Carlo scratched his head. "We are not in the realm of pretending, Octavia. Drusus can become Khun physically. Neither remembers what the other one does. Try to think of Drusus' physical transformation more like mine. When you…" Carlo trailed off. It was awkward to bring up their past. "When you first met me, tried to control me, you transformed me to show my demonic nature. I was still Carlo."

  "Except you tell me in Drusus and Khun's case, neither remembers what the other one does? Is Khun still alive?"

  "I can't explain how it works, exactly. I can only theorize Khun and Drusus are distinct personas of Drusus. What is clear is both personas feel you and your children are in danger, and they want to keep you safe, which brings us to Lucy."

  The butler from before wheeled in the tea cart, pointedly ignoring Carlo as he placed it in front of Octavia. Carlo leaned against the wall, waiting. Octavia thanked the butler graciously and after the butler paused to study Carlo disdainfully, he closed the doors as he exited the sitting room.

  "The sin of being foreign is never to be forgiven," said Carlo.

  "Do you still take your tea plain?" said Octavia.

  Carlo laughed. "I admire your composure."

  "Don't. I dread what you will say next." Octavia poured.

  "Drusus hurt Lucy. Badly. She told him to run, and try as he might, he cannot return home. Fear compels him to stay away and prevents him from making contact."

  Octavia handed Carlo a saucer. "Lucy is well." She studied her hands in her lap. "As well as she ever is. She is not injured."

  "She was. Lucy can heal, Octavia. All of us intimate with the Egyptians do."

  "I've asked her about Drusus, and she's said nothing. Why would she keep something like this secret?"

  "Let me present you with the situation as I think it stands, see if you share my opinion of the matter. Drusus cannot remember hurting Lucy, and he regains himself, discovers he has injured Lucy gravely. Lucy compels him to leave. She says they are dangerous, and Drusus, full of fear, runs. When he comes to himself again, he has every intention of returning to you, but again, the thought of returning is too much for him. When he thinks about coming home, he breaks into a sweat, he trembles, he pales. Khun also speaks with fear in his voice. Lucy has not told you at all of this encounter. What do you make of it?"

  Octavia's hands shook as she placed the cup and saucer on the cart. "Ra?"

  "Drusus thinks so. Ra fits the facts. He has the potential to command Khun. I am not so sure. I believe Lucy, as she is now, may have plans of her own."

  Octavia swallowed. "She's gotten worse, Carlo. Her reputation for wild experimentation is scandalous."

  Carlo's smile tilted. "Wild experimentation?"

  "Dissections, chemicals."

  "Ah. Medicine and anatomy. I hazard an interest in scientific curiosity points away from Ra."

  Octavia shook her head. "She locks herself in the east wing of the house and experiments." Octavia placed her hands flat on her lap. "Yet, Ra would never align with Atreus Galt willingly, so you may be right, Lucy must have some plan of her own. Unless Drusus is delusional?"

  "About injuring Lucy? I don't think so." Carlo rubbed his chin. Might as well get his other questions about Lucy over with. "Octavia, this Galt. Drusus does not think he is a good man."

  "I hate Atreus Galt." Octavia looked up, smiling so widely that her whole face must feel the strain. "Only a woman with no emotions would agree to marry him, and I am amazed Lucy sees a strategic advantage in it. What Lucy does not conceive is that Atreus Galt controls for the sake of controlling. He recently became head of his family due to his father's death. His father was very cruel. Atreus will be the same. We become our parents."

  "You didn't."

  "Not yet," said Octavia. "I strive to become my mother."

  "That gives me hope, for my own situation as well as yours."

  "Carlo, you are not your grandfather."

  Carlo placed the half-finished tea on the mantle piece. "I think it best if I confront Lucy alone, so she doesn't feel attacked by both of us."

  "So you can analyze the situation?"

  "If you like, yes."

  "Will you tell me where Drusus is?"

  "He was in Berlin, but he's gone by now, and he wouldn't tell me where he was going. You have to understand, he doesn't trust himself, and wishes to protect you. He's as well as can be under the current circumstances."

  "You should have gotten word to me."

  Carlo smiled. Just as he knew Octavia's smile was fake, she would guess that about his as well. "How? Unlike you, I do not have couriers who deliver from the shadows."

  "By not telling me, you have betrayed him."

  "I am sorry you feel like that. I will try to make amends." He clicked his heels and bowed, an Austrian affectation, and walked toward the door.

  "Carlo?"

  He turned. "Octavia?"

  "I apologize. Thank you for helping Drusus. Thank you for trying."

  "Don't thank me. I have done nothing yet." Carlo backed toward the door. He waved at her and went into the corridor. He took a deep breath. That had been the easier reunion.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Venice, 1838

  Carlo and Lucy stood in front of San Marco close to the edge of the Grand Canal, their reflections zigzagging in the water. This was where they met, and Carlo noted to himself, this was where they would also part. There was a tension, an uneasiness. Venice ignored it, the nightlife full of raucous laughter and merriment echoing off the stones around them. The main thoroughfare of Venice was ever busy.

  Carlo was bone weary. Their return to Venice yielded no results in his search for his family. Carlo was growing more and more aware he had feelings for her, and more and more aware Lucy didn't have feelings of any sort.

  "Coming here was a fool's errand," said Lucy. "Your grandfather is not here."

  "I'm ready for your earth-shattering idea about how to find him," said Carlo.

  "You don't want to find him," said Lucy, "because you want him to live."

  Lucy had missed his biting sarcasm entirely. "Yes," said Carlo, "because I do not believe him to be wholly bad. I don't trust him, but I won't kill him."

  "You'll follow him about for the rest of his days and make sure he damages no one?" Lucy's clear eyes studied him. "I thought you were already performing that function for my family by accompanying me."

 

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