Shadow Garden. No one knows why. A family from Priortage was found with the life drained out of them. The Gardens are restless, and it’s taking all your men to hold back what lives inside.”
“It’s worse than I thought,” Jonquil said.
“Dark days. Dark days indeed. But now Miss Lily is here. I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” the maid said.
They came to a rounded door at the end of the hall. Polly banged three times. For a moment there was no answer, and then the clipped tones of a highborn woman responded. “Come in and be quick about it.”
Lily didn’t know what she expected her grandmother to look like, but it wasn’t the woman sitting in the chair by the window. Deiva was dressed all in black, with a veil covering her face. Her hands were the only part of her that could be seen and they were so white as to be lifeless.
“Why do you come so late at night?” Deiva asked Polly. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted no visitors?”
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but your son has returned with your grandchildren,” Polly said.
“Thomas? Thomas is here?” Deiva said, showing a spark of interest.
“No Miss. Your other son, Jonquil,” Polly said.
“Oh,” Deiva slumped in her chair. “Bring them forward if you must, but be careful not to disturb anything.”
‘She lives in the past,’ Lily thought. A table was set for two in part of the room, but the food had long moldered. The white tablecloth was brown with age. A man’s belongings were everywhere: a hunting jacket hung over a chair, a pipe filled with tobacco set next to an ashtray. A cabinet filled with ancient weapons was open in a corner. Dust covered everything as though the room hadn’t been aired out in decades.
“I’ll leave you to it. Ring the bell if you need anything,” Polly said. She slid up to Lily and Silas. “I’m so glad you’re home. I could just eat you up, I could.” The maid squeezed them on the cheeks. Her fingers squelched against their skin and left slime on their faces.
Lily started to recoil in disgust but decided that would be bad manners. When the maid was gone, she and Silas scrubbed their cheeks.
“Well, let me see them,” Deiva said. “Your father will be home any time now and I have to be ready for him.”
“Mother, Father is never —,” Jonquil started.
“Enough!” Deiva said, her veil fluttering. “He’ll be coming from the Gardens soon and then it’s time for dinner. Let me see what Thomas has been doing while you’ve been wasting your time chasing hobgoblins in the petunias.”
Jonquil gritted his teeth and nudged the children forward. Their grandmother straightened her dress with her toadstool-colored hands. Every so often she glanced out the windows as though expecting someone to arrive.
“Who do we have here?” she said as Lily and Silas approached. “Come to your grandmother.”
Lily smelled the sickly scent of something rotting. Intense eyes examined her through the black veil. Deiva placed an icy hand on her face, turning it from one side to the other. “Hmmm. You look exactly like your mother. Let’s hope you don’t have her arrogant attitude. What’s your name, child?”
“Lily, Grandmother. I only hope I take after my mother and not other members of the family,” Lily said trembling with rage.
Deiva laughed, the sound like water pumping from a rusty well. “Too true, too true. Many lilies grow here in Nightfall Gardens. They protect from evil and witches and are the flower that fairies sup. Let’s hope you’re rightly named, for Blackwood women are the most cursed of the cursed.”
Their grandmother turned to look out the window as though afraid of missing something that might come out of the fog that obscured the gardens. When she was certain the grounds were empty, she scrutinized Silas.
“I see your father in you and also my Great Uncle Octavius. His eyes were the same as yours. There was always a merry twinkle about him and song on his lips but he
“It’s worse than I thought,” Jonquil said.
“Dark days. Dark days indeed. But now Miss Lily is here. I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” the maid said.
They came to a rounded door at the end of the hall. Polly banged three times. For a moment there was no answer, and then the clipped tones of a highborn woman responded. “Come in and be quick about it.”
Lily didn’t know what she expected her grandmother to look like, but it wasn’t the woman sitting in the chair by the window. Deiva was dressed all in black, with a veil covering her face. Her hands were the only part of her that could be seen and they were so white as to be lifeless.
“Why do you come so late at night?” Deiva asked Polly. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted no visitors?”
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but your son has returned with your grandchildren,” Polly said.
“Thomas? Thomas is here?” Deiva said, showing a spark of interest.
“No Miss. Your other son, Jonquil,” Polly said.
“Oh,” Deiva slumped in her chair. “Bring them forward if you must, but be careful not to disturb anything.”
‘She lives in the past,’ Lily thought. A table was set for two in part of the room, but the food had long moldered. The white tablecloth was brown with age. A man’s belongings were everywhere: a hunting jacket hung over a chair, a pipe filled with tobacco set next to an ashtray. A cabinet filled with ancient weapons was open in a corner. Dust covered everything as though the room hadn’t been aired out in decades.
“I’ll leave you to it. Ring the bell if you need anything,” Polly said. She slid up to Lily and Silas. “I’m so glad you’re home. I could just eat you up, I could.” The maid squeezed them on the cheeks. Her fingers squelched against their skin and left slime on their faces.
Lily started to recoil in disgust but decided that would be bad manners. When the maid was gone, she and Silas scrubbed their cheeks.
“Well, let me see them,” Deiva said. “Your father will be home any time now and I have to be ready for him.”
“Mother, Father is never —,” Jonquil started.
“Enough!” Deiva said, her veil fluttering. “He’ll be coming from the Gardens soon and then it’s time for dinner. Let me see what Thomas has been doing while you’ve been wasting your time chasing hobgoblins in the petunias.”
Jonquil gritted his teeth and nudged the children forward. Their grandmother straightened her dress with her toadstool-colored hands. Every so often she glanced out the windows as though expecting someone to arrive.
“Who do we have here?” she said as Lily and Silas approached. “Come to your grandmother.”
Lily smelled the sickly scent of something rotting. Intense eyes examined her through the black veil. Deiva placed an icy hand on her face, turning it from one side to the other. “Hmmm. You look exactly like your mother. Let’s hope you don’t have her arrogant attitude. What’s your name, child?”
“Lily, Grandmother. I only hope I take after my mother and not other members of the family,” Lily said trembling with rage.
Deiva laughed, the sound like water pumping from a rusty well. “Too true, too true. Many lilies grow here in Nightfall Gardens. They protect from evil and witches and are the flower that fairies sup. Let’s hope you’re rightly named, for Blackwood women are the most cursed of the cursed.”
Their grandmother turned to look out the window as though afraid of missing something that might come out of the fog that obscured the gardens. When she was certain the grounds were empty, she scrutinized Silas.
“I see your father in you and also my Great Uncle Octavius. His eyes were the same as yours. There was always a merry twinkle about him and song on his lips but he
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