Page 73 of The Devouring Time

He seems genuinely excited to cater to us. What has Mary told him?

We follow him upstairs, where the original bedrooms appear to have been carved up into smaller ones. The rooms he shows us to are close to the stairs and once belonged to a single chamber, at least judging by the interrupted wainscoting on their walls. The spaces are narrow and windowless, but the linens are fresh and the floors swept. Both rooms include two tiny cots, one shoved against each wall, a small chest at the foot of each bed, and nothing else.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” Brother Thurston beams as though the rooms are palatial rather than dark and cramped. “The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the left. Is there anything you need? No? Then feel free to stay here or retire to the keeping room.” He pauses delicately. “I do have to ask you don’t wander.”

“Of course,” I say automatically.

He bustles off. Helen shakes her head. “Aggressively cheerful, isn’t he? Mary has him thoroughly bamboozled.”

“Maybe he’s just committed to the work?”

“The work of resurrecting a god, or egregore, or whatever the hell they want to call it?” She snorts. “Oh, I’m sure he is. But what will this god do when they have it back? More importantly—what will it feed on?”

“Do gods have to feed on something?” It doesn’t sound very godly to me—but I’m thinking of an omnipotent creator. The Greek gods had feasted, and the Norse ones, and probably others that I don’t know about.

“Why do you think they demand devotion? Worship? Sacrifice?” Helen shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to freshen up. I’ll see you downstairs.”

With nothing else to do, I return to the keeping room, where I’m soon joined by Helen. Brother Thurston comes in and out, checking on our needs to the point where I’m sure he’s as much guard as dogsbody.

Thankfully, Adrian and Dorset return with dinner and our belongings within the hour. Dorset leaves, and the three of us eat chicken sandwiches and mashed potatoes, washed down with bottles of root beer.

None of us want to have an open discussion with Thurston lurking around. After a half hour or so of only the most desultory conversation, we give up and climb the stairs to our rooms. Thurston of course follows us up, leaving only when all three of us declare our rooms satisfactory.

As soon as he’s gone, Helen slips into our room. “What do you think?” she asks in a whisper. “Should we wait until our cheerful shadow has gone to bed, then sneak out and explore the house?”

“I would like to know more about these people before we entrust Sterling’s mind to them,” Adrian admits. “But we’ll have to be careful.”

Warmth blooms in my chest at his concern. “You have a good point.”

“Stay ready, then.” Helen reaches for the door. “We’ll meet in the hall outside at midnight.”

Once she’s gone, Adrian turns to me. “Would you like to sleep some? I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“I’m not sure I can sleep.” I glance at the cots. To hell with it. “Let’s push these together, if you don’t mind.”

He smiles, then kisses me. “Of course.”

We shove the cots together, then settle in. I wish we could make love, but I don’t feel comfortable doing so in this house. Adrian props himself up, so I curl against him, my head resting on his chest. He settles his arms around me, and I listen to his heart beat beneath my ear. Before long, I drift off into slumber.

Thankfully, no dreams haunt me, and I’m gently shaken awake some time later. My mouth is dry and gummy, but I don’t want to rattle around brushing my teeth and risk waking up the cult members.

Helen is already in the hall waiting for us. “This floor seems to be where everyone sleeps,” Adrian whispers. “But there are rooms downstairs we haven’t seen yet.”

Hopefully they’ll be unoccupied at this time of night. We make our way down the stairs with agonizing slowness, struggling to keep the old boards from creaking too loudly under our feet. The house is utterly silent and we don’t dare switch on a light. Fortunately, the streetlamps outside filter through the dirty windows, giving just enough illumination to guide our steps if we’re careful.

We’ve already been in the keeping room, so we go through the door on the other side of the entryway. As I’d guessed when we first entered the house, it opens onto a parlor. We shuffle in and shut the door behind us.

Glowing coals in the fireplace cast a dim light on the room, revealing the shapes of furniture. Adrian signals us to stay where we are, then picks his way to the fireplace and runs his fingers along the surround until he finds the matchbox. He holds a long match to the coals, and light blooms as it catches.

When he raises the match, the wavering flame reveals a desk, a worn daybed, and several threadbare chairs.

Mary King sits in one of them, her wand in her hand.

48

I freeze, heart pounding. Beside me, Helen stiffens. “Mary⁠—”

“I hoped I was wrong,” Mary says conversationally. “I hoped we could trust you. Or at least that Hellion would be the only one creeping around while everyone else slept.”