The Blackwood Curse: A Night Shades Novel, page 16
Ollie looked straight at our joined hands and smiled, with a hint of concern, at his brother. Wax’s expression was blank and clearly dared him to say one word.
‘Where are you going?’ Ollie asked, taking the safer approach, and I breathed a little easier.
‘Nowhere. Listen, I need you to make sure everyone stays up here, OK? I need to take care of something with Becks.’
Ollie looked disappointed and I could tell he wanted to protest, but Wax put up a hand. ‘I can’t have you there. Not tonight.’ A long look passed between them where Ollie clearly made up his mind not to argue. ‘I’ll come and find you as soon as it’s over.’
Ollie looked at me to check I was OK with it and I nodded with a wry smile that totally said that I wasn’t. Then Tallulah went to come out of the room and Ollie turned and herded her back in with a final, ‘Be careful.’
Wax pulled me along to the bathroom and went straight to the shower and turned it on. The room soon felt balmy with steam. ‘You said you were dying for a shower.’ He grinned at his own silly pun and pulled his black t-shirt over his head.
I was already sweating in the clothes he’d loaned me, not able to help myself gazing at his body with every square inch covered in ink. There were geometric lines, Celtic symbols, Sanskrit verse, eagle’s wings and creeping vines. I wondered what it all meant. He watched me watching him and popped the button on his jeans. Then he pushed them down and kicked them off, till he was left in just his black body-hugging shorts.
As I suspected, the ink travelled the length of his legs, even venturing onto his feet. ‘So many,’ I whispered.
He kicked his clothes into a heap and stepped closer in one move. My breathing went out of rhythm, as if I’d forgotten how to do it. Along with the steam, I felt a little lightheaded.
‘Tattoo parlours stay open all night,’ he said by way of explanation that didn’t really explain anything at all. He was looking down between us and his hands were already picking up the hem of my – his – white t-shirt. He paused and looked into my eyes for permission.
I don’t know what came over me. I felt quite unlike myself. I didn’t want to be scared. I wanted to be carefree like the characters in the films. Except then I remembered that Wax was a hot, dangerous English boy I barely knew, all too ready to show me everything and any semblance of confidence drained away. Terrified, I swallowed hard and nodded.
He surprised me by kissing me then. The top came up, grazing my face without me paying too much attention. Then it was gone. He put his mouth next to my ear. ‘We’re just showering … but soon.’
He pulled away and stepped under the water. Part of me felt strangely bereft and the rest relieved. We didn’t have time and he was slowing things down between us; I should feel grateful. ‘Get rid of those,’ he said, looking back at me and dropping his eyes to the track pants.
I nodded and pushed them down, wobbling as I tried to get them over my plaster. Dripping arms held me and pushed me back to the bath where I could perch and remove them easily. His face was there and then it was gone, returned to the shower. I couldn’t help remembering his wet skin so close to me.
I limped closer to the shower in just my bra and panties. The cubicle wasn’t that big so it would be a squeeze. He turned and put his head back in the spray and his eyes never left mine. I knew what it meant. It was a question: would I keep my underwear on or take it off? His had gone. I felt my cheeks prickle and opted quickly for bra off, knickers on. The thought of getting them off sexily over my plaster was just too fraught with embarrassment. As it was, I’d have to stand weirdly to keep it dry.
Wax simply turned, giving me his back for privacy and began to soap his body. I was grateful. He passed the soap behind him, without looking, and I lathered it in my hands. I marvelled at the ink all over his body. He wasn’t that old to have all this done. He literally must have got them all the time.
I washed and rinsed off and Wax turned back to face me. It was astonishing how much power he had in that look. It turned up my pulse like a dial. His hair was flattened to his face and he pushed it back with his hands so it stuck out in all directions. It didn’t matter; he was incredibly good-looking.
He smiled like I’d given something away, and, just when I wanted to shove him to stop teasing me, there was a knock at the door.
‘Dinner!’ an unfamiliar voice said. ‘Mr Waxley-Black warns you not to keep him waiting.’
Wax had watched me the whole time, but now looked regretful. His eyes dropped to my lips and then back to my eyes. ‘You’re safe … for now,’ he finished with a grin.
Wax walked me back with a towel wrapped tantalisingly low on his hips. Me, not so much. I hobbled with mine clutched to my chest in case it fell. When we reached his room, he threw me another white t-shirt. ‘Be quick,’ he said.
I tugged the sweatpants back on and watched as he pushed his legs into black skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt, leaving his feet bare. ‘Come on,’ he said, taking my hand.
My first sleep and shower with a boy was over.
* * *
The dining room reminded me of one of those films where the mega-rich family eat from opposite ends of an extremely long dining table. This room was dark green and tastefully decorated in the style of the period in which the house was built: dark wood, china in cabinets and chandeliers hanging above the table. Two places were laid at one end, reminding me, brutally, that I wasn’t there. I continually forgot and wondered if that would ever change.
Wax’s uncle was already seated and folded up a newspaper when he saw him. Three cloche-covered dishes were already in front of him.
Wax pulled out his chair and sat at the place set next to his uncle. He nodded towards the armchair next to the wall, opposite him, as I was frozen to the spot. I sat nervously, still wary of what his uncle and maid could sense or see.
‘How’s the experiment going?’ Wax asked, lifting a cloche and spooning out what looked like mashed potato, then some sort of casserole, onto his plate.
My stomach rumbled so loudly that I clutched it with my hands. It smelled delicious. I prayed nobody heard.
‘Well,’ his uncle said, pouring some red wine. ‘There’s just one small ingredient missing.’
I suddenly felt chilled at what that might be. His uncle was stern and scary and reminded me of an old-fashioned school master. He was a tall, harsh-looking man, without any real warmth in him at all. I wondered how on earth Wax would spike his drink. He didn’t seem to miss a thing.
Wax didn’t seem nervous. He continued to eat slowly.
‘You have something of mine, I believe?’ His uncle held out his hand without even looking at him.
Wax stopped chewing and froze.
So did I. I couldn’t believe we’d been busted so quickly.
Wax reached into his back pocket and slapped the little book in his hand.
‘Thank you,’ his uncle said, matter-of-factly, and continued eating.
Wax was left staring at his plate. ‘What is it?’
‘You know what it is.’
Wax rolled his eyes, losing patience. ‘OK, why? What are you even trying to do? Who’s Ainsley? What’s all this about?’ He dropped his silverware down on his plate with a loud clink and sat back in his chair.
His uncle, knowing that the meal was very definitely over, did the same, a lot more softly. He sipped his wine, apparently amused, making me want to smack the smug look straight off his face.
He looked at Wax as if he was weighing him up; deciding whether or not to tell him. All I could hear was his fingernails tapping on his glass and a loud clock on the mantlepiece. ‘You’ve heard of the Blackwood curse, no doubt?’
Wax bobbed his head. He wanted to draw him out in conversation. ‘A bit.’
‘A few generations ago, there were two Waxley-Black brothers: Ainsley and Jedediah. There was a relative from the Blackwood house on the other side of the woods called Lucinda.’
Wax’s eyes went straight to mine and I mouthed, Lucinda?
His uncle narrowed his as if he’d caught his surprise. ‘What is it?’
For a horrible moment I thought Wax had given me away.
‘Nothing … I thought I heard something. Go on,’ Wax said, turning to him again.
My breathing returned slowly to normal. I ached for him to ask who the hell Lucinda was and how Lila fitted in, but knew he couldn’t without tipping our hand, so all we could do was listen, dumbly.
‘Anyway. Where was I?’ his uncle said. ‘Lucinda was promised to Jedediah, the oldest, set to inherit the estate, as you would expect. She had a substantial dowry and would replenish the fortunes of both houses. But both brothers were wasting their time dallying with the penniless Blackwood daughter of dubious birth. Lucinda’s father had to threaten to take his daughter out of the equation to put a stop to it. They had to avoid the scandal at all costs and she went ahead and married Jedediah in the end, I believe.’
So Jed was definitely the oldest. I wondered why we had never heard of Lucinda before. Although my aunt had mentioned how the parents of Jed’s intended had got involved in his affair with Lila. It made me wonder if they were responsible for her disappearance. Something wasn’t adding up. There had been no announcements in the papers that year.
‘What happened to Ainsley?’ Wax asked.
‘Oh, he threw himself into his career … an army man. Often the fate for second sons.’ He sneered at that. I’d put money on Wax’s father being the eldest of the two of them.
Wax was doing really well, faking conversational calm, when I knew he wanted answers as much as I did and not able to give away what he knew. ‘What did Jed do – apart from running the estate, I mean?’ he said, daring to fish a bit more and picking at his dinner again.
‘Oh, investments mainly. And, of course, the mine.’
Wax clinked his knife loudly on his plate as he almost dropped it.
‘Something wrong?’ his uncle asked. He was watching him closely.
I was already on the edge of my seat, heart banging in my chest, ready to get up.
‘Nothing,’ Wax said, shaking his head and looking him confidently in the eye. ‘What happened to it?’
His uncle shrugged and poured himself another glass. ‘Get the port,’ he said, pointing to the sideboard next to me.
Wax got up, wandered over to me and raised his eyebrows in the universal language of ‘what the hell is going on?’ He checked over his shoulder and his uncle was still droning on about the mine and how he believed it was on the edges of their land, which, by the sound of it, was quite substantial. It had run out of tin and been left to dilapidate.
It gave Wax time to take out a small wrap from his pocket and quickly tip the contents into the bottle. He held it up to his eyeline to see how much was there and circled it around like a chemistry flask. ‘Is tin worth anything?’ he asked, pouring a large measure into the glass and wandering back with it. Another discrepancy. We’d been under the impression it was silver.
He put it down directly in front of his uncle. ‘It was a good income for the family back then. Now, it isn’t worth the expense of digging it out – not with something infinitely more priceless than precious metal.’
Wax’s eyes went immediately to mine and I shrugged. I had no clue what he meant. ‘Did the brothers get on?’ Wax asked, in an attempt to smooth over his surprise.
Oblivious, his uncle shrugged. ‘As good as any, I suppose.’
‘So where did the curse come into it?’
His uncle looked thoughtful for a moment and turned in his chair to face him. I wished I could get a closer look at his face. ‘Have you ever noticed that in each generation since, there have always been two Waxley-Black brothers and one Blackwood daughter?’
I certainly didn’t and I was sure Wax didn’t either. We hadn’t bothered to look into the generations in between.
‘Well, there were,’ Wax’s uncle said, very satisfied with himself. ‘Every generation to fight for some stupid girl every time.’
It made no sense, and I could tell Wax was thinking the same thing.
‘But there aren’t two this time … not anymore,’ Wax said darkly, his whole demeanour changed.
Ollie was so real to me that I kind of forgot that Wax had a very different life with him when he was alive. He must have been devastated when he died.
His uncle conceded his point with a bob of his head. Wax was losing patience fast and pushed his plate away from him. ‘And, anyway, what’s any of this got to do with the mine or what you’re doing in the cellar?’
Uncle gave a blast of air from his nostrils in amusement and threw back the contents of his glass in one go. ‘There is something else in that mine. Something the brothers knew about all that time ago. And that spell is the secret to getting it.’
Wax was clearly waiting for him to tell him what it was. When it didn’t come, he blurted, ‘Who is Lila?’
Her name had been conspicuously missing until that point even though I instinctively knew it had been her the brothers had been fighting over. The amusement immediately dropped from Wax’s uncle’s face, then came back as fake as it was before. Without looking him directly in the eye, he asked, ‘You’ve spoken to her? Is she here?’ His eagerness for the answer was evident even from where I was sitting.
Wax was studying his face closely and I could tell he was as confused as I was. Except, I guess, he knew his uncle better than I did. ‘What do you want with her?’
His uncle turned his head to glare at him, his face now implacable and hard. ‘Listen to me, boy. If this spirit has come to you, and I suspect that she has, then run. Run as fast as you can, because she is bad news. She was trouble when she was alive and can be nothing but trouble now she’s dead.’
I had a thousand questions and I’m sure Wax did too. He was the bad guy and even he was warning us against Lila. I believed what he was saying, but something was off. Wax, I could tell, wasn’t sure. He had spoken to her and was evidently weighing what he knew in his mind. To him, she needed saving. I didn’t know Wax’s uncle and I certainly didn’t like him, but I was sure he was telling the truth. It was something in his smugness.
In the end, I had to stand up and shout, ‘No!’
The candle in the middle of the table went out and the salt cellar fell over. Wax looked over at me, amazed by my outburst.
His uncle looked around him, immediately alert. ‘Is she here now?’
‘Don’t listen to him, Wax. There is something not right.’
‘No,’ Wax said, turning to his uncle again and completely ignoring me. ‘I’m bombarded with nuisances all the time, remember?’ he said, flashing me an impatient look.
I sat back into my chair flattened, bewildered that he wouldn’t listen.
His uncle stood up, taking the bottle of port with him, and swayed a little. ‘I’m off to bed.’ His words seemed a little slurred. ‘I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.’
That did it; I knew he knew more than he was letting on. The pills were working and he’d let something slip. He walked, a little unsteadily, towards the door, mumbling away to himself. I was already on my feet.
‘Hang on, I’ll help you,’ Wax said, moving quickly to get under his arm. He looked over his shoulder and mouthed, ‘Stay put.’
I scowled. I guessed he wanted to make sure his uncle got safely tucked up in bed.
By the time I’d drifted out to the kitchen, Wax had come back with a handheld mirror in his hand.
‘Did you hear him?’ I asked as he walked past me and went straight to the pantry.
‘Come on,’ he said, completely ignoring my question.
I caught up and we went through the musty pantry to the cellar. ‘Aren’t we going to talk about what your uncle just said?’ I tried again.
Wax was already opening the cellar door and turning on the light. ‘What’s there to talk about? You don’t believe his shit, do you?’ He turned to glare at me and I almost bumped into him. ‘It’s what all this has been about, bringing her here to capture her. You just don’t get it.’
The trouble was, as I limped down the stairs behind him, in a weird way, I did get it.
‘Think about it, though, Wax. Why does he want to capture her?’ I knew his uncle was an asshole and Wax saw the worst side of that, but I just didn’t feel good about this. His emotions were ruling him and he was missing something crucial.
When we reached the bottom, Wax went straight to the bottle lever, pushed it and the panel moved across; like it did before. Everything looked just as we’d left it; candles lit on the altar and pentagon with artifacts on the floor.
Wax put the mirror down at the point of the pentagon with no relic. ‘Right!’ he said, backing off to stand next to me. ‘I just need to say the incantation.’
I felt a strange sense of relief when I remembered his uncle had taken the book, thinking it would buy me some time to convince him against this.
Instead, he smiled spitefully and pointed at his temple. ‘Good job I memorized it. Photographic memory,’ he said.
‘Great,’ I said, under my breath, and looked around for somewhere to sit.
‘No, come here,’ he said, his tone softer. He picked up my hand. ‘I want you with me in case anything happens.’
It warmed me a little and I gave his hand a squeeze. Then I looked down at the pentagon nervously. I was sure we were dabbling in things we didn’t understand.
Wax began to chant words that sounded like a priest, except I didn’t think it was Latin. It sounded like nothing I’d ever heard before. He said it over and over and nothing happened.
Then I did start to feel strange; a little lightheaded. The light in the room had got unusually bright. Then it went dark and I let out a scream that came out of me before I could stop it. My chest hurt and I had trouble breathing.
I began to gasp for air.
‘Becks … Becks.’ I could hear Wax, but he sounded further and further away.
The pain and breathlessness gradually subsided and I looked up at the only source of light. It was circular and directly above me, so close I could touch the glass. I smacked my hands against it. I saw Wax’s face look down at me through it. ‘No! No!’ he shouted.
