then down a wide passageway toward the sound of the party. I’d completely forgotten about Lady Nairn’s dinner.
The company had already gathered in the old great hall, now laid out as a comfortable drawing room, filled with sofas and chairs, a fire of some sweet-smelling wood crackling in the immense fireplace. I scanned the room for Lady Nairn; she was holding court among three men in front of a long bank of windows. “ Where’s Lily? ” My voice felt ragged in my throat.
Around the room, conversation faltered and the clink of glassware and ice stilled as everyone turned to stare.
Lady Nairn’s eyes flickered across the room in the direction of a grand piano in a far corner. A man bent over it, laughing. Jason Pierce. Registering the silence, he straightened and turned, revealing Lily in green velvet at the keyboard, flushed with delight. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”
I felt a wash of loose-limbed relief, followed by a flush of confusion. The dead girl wasn’t Lily…but in that case, who was she?
At the piano, Lily launched into the dark, downward sweep of Bach’s Toccata and fugue in D Minor. “ By the pricking of my thumbs, ” she chanted, “ something wicked this way comes. ” flat-footed and heavy, silence smothered the room. “The play,” gasped a small white-haired woman, clutching at a silver cross on a chain around her neck. “You’ve quoted the play.”
“Worse than that,” said Sybilla fraser, her fingers wrapped gracefully around a champagne flute. “She’s quoted the witches.” Sybilla was draped in fiery silk that set off her golden hair and skin; her eyes were smoldering. She was, if anything, more beautiful in person than on-screen.
But I could not get the girl on the hill out of my head. Neither Ben nor I had found any trace of her. Maybe she’d been a dream. Or maybe I’d left someone up there, dead or dying, alone on the hill as darkness fell.
I turned to leave, only to find that someone had stepped into the doorway behind me, blocking my way. The gray-haired fury from the hill. In dark accusation, she raised her arm to point at Lily. At least, most people in the room seemed to think that she was pointing at Lily. But from my vantage, she was pointing straight at me. “You’ve brought evil into this house,” she said, her voice a low rumbling growl. For a moment, no one moved.
“The curse only works in a theater,” said Lily, rising. When no one answered, her bravura faltered. “Doesn’t it?”
“As of today,” said Sybilla, “this house is a theater.” She pointed at the door.
“ Out. ”
“Christ, Syb,” protested Jason. “She’s just a kid. And it’s not like we’ve started rehearsals. You don’t have to do the bloody fiend-like queen thing yet.”
Sybilla’s eyes flashed. “You, too. Out.”
“ Fiend-like queen? ” he scoffed. “You think that counts?”
Behind Sybilla, a large man with a paunch and grizzled ginger hair balded into a tonsure rose to his feet. “A quote’s a quote, laddie. And as the lady says, I gather we’re to rehearse in this room. Informal-like, but, still, rehearsal’s rehearsal. So out with the both of you.”
“Hell,” said Jason. Brushing by me and then past the gray-haired woman, he flung himself out the door. Eyes spitting fire, Lily followed.
The gray-haired fury never moved. With Lily gone, she was now clearly pointing at me.
“Does either of them ken the ritual to counter the curse?” asked the ginger-haired man of no one in particular.
It seemed an easy way out of the room. “I’ll show them,” I said. As I came to the old woman, she leaned in close. “Put it back,” she said in my ear.
Put it back? Did she know about the knife? And if she knew about the knife, did she know about the body? “Did you see anyone on the hill this afternoon? A body?” I asked, low enough that no one else could hear.
She shook her head. “It’s the blade you should be worried about,” she said, and
The company had already gathered in the old great hall, now laid out as a comfortable drawing room, filled with sofas and chairs, a fire of some sweet-smelling wood crackling in the immense fireplace. I scanned the room for Lady Nairn; she was holding court among three men in front of a long bank of windows. “ Where’s Lily? ” My voice felt ragged in my throat.
Around the room, conversation faltered and the clink of glassware and ice stilled as everyone turned to stare.
Lady Nairn’s eyes flickered across the room in the direction of a grand piano in a far corner. A man bent over it, laughing. Jason Pierce. Registering the silence, he straightened and turned, revealing Lily in green velvet at the keyboard, flushed with delight. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”
I felt a wash of loose-limbed relief, followed by a flush of confusion. The dead girl wasn’t Lily…but in that case, who was she?
At the piano, Lily launched into the dark, downward sweep of Bach’s Toccata and fugue in D Minor. “ By the pricking of my thumbs, ” she chanted, “ something wicked this way comes. ” flat-footed and heavy, silence smothered the room. “The play,” gasped a small white-haired woman, clutching at a silver cross on a chain around her neck. “You’ve quoted the play.”
“Worse than that,” said Sybilla fraser, her fingers wrapped gracefully around a champagne flute. “She’s quoted the witches.” Sybilla was draped in fiery silk that set off her golden hair and skin; her eyes were smoldering. She was, if anything, more beautiful in person than on-screen.
But I could not get the girl on the hill out of my head. Neither Ben nor I had found any trace of her. Maybe she’d been a dream. Or maybe I’d left someone up there, dead or dying, alone on the hill as darkness fell.
I turned to leave, only to find that someone had stepped into the doorway behind me, blocking my way. The gray-haired fury from the hill. In dark accusation, she raised her arm to point at Lily. At least, most people in the room seemed to think that she was pointing at Lily. But from my vantage, she was pointing straight at me. “You’ve brought evil into this house,” she said, her voice a low rumbling growl. For a moment, no one moved.
“The curse only works in a theater,” said Lily, rising. When no one answered, her bravura faltered. “Doesn’t it?”
“As of today,” said Sybilla, “this house is a theater.” She pointed at the door.
“ Out. ”
“Christ, Syb,” protested Jason. “She’s just a kid. And it’s not like we’ve started rehearsals. You don’t have to do the bloody fiend-like queen thing yet.”
Sybilla’s eyes flashed. “You, too. Out.”
“ Fiend-like queen? ” he scoffed. “You think that counts?”
Behind Sybilla, a large man with a paunch and grizzled ginger hair balded into a tonsure rose to his feet. “A quote’s a quote, laddie. And as the lady says, I gather we’re to rehearse in this room. Informal-like, but, still, rehearsal’s rehearsal. So out with the both of you.”
“Hell,” said Jason. Brushing by me and then past the gray-haired woman, he flung himself out the door. Eyes spitting fire, Lily followed.
The gray-haired fury never moved. With Lily gone, she was now clearly pointing at me.
“Does either of them ken the ritual to counter the curse?” asked the ginger-haired man of no one in particular.
It seemed an easy way out of the room. “I’ll show them,” I said. As I came to the old woman, she leaned in close. “Put it back,” she said in my ear.
Put it back? Did she know about the knife? And if she knew about the knife, did she know about the body? “Did you see anyone on the hill this afternoon? A body?” I asked, low enough that no one else could hear.
She shook her head. “It’s the blade you should be worried about,” she said, and
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