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My feet come to halt in front of a huge painting of demons eating angels. The details are so striking, it’s hauntingly intimidating.
All the demons have repulsive faces, horns, and blood on their hands, and all the angels scream in agony as they’re devoured alive.
I’m pretty sure there’s a version of this where the angels slay the demons, but why am I not surprised that Kingsley would prefer this scene instead?
Hell, even the outside gate has a demon sitting on top.
“This was the last painting Mrs. Shaw purchased.”
I startle but hide my reaction when a short woman with generous curves stops beside me. Her brown hair is pulled into a conservative bun and she’s wearing a classic maid outfit that makes her appear refined.
“Hello. My name is Martha and I’m the only housekeeper Mr. Shaw keeps around.”
“I’m…Aspen.” I pause when pain bursts in my shoulder, reminding me of the assault.
“I know,” she says with a warm smile.
“You said Mrs. Shaw—as in, which one?” I motion at the painting, reverting the conversation back to it.
“Mrs. Liliana Shaw. The only one to be called Mrs. Shaw in this place. The other one is just Susan.” She pauses. “Or any other colorful names Mr. Shaw calls her.”
I snort. Of course, he has colorful names for everyone.
Martha, however, seems oblivious to my reaction as she continues staring at the demons. “As soon as she moved here, Susan attempted to vandalize the painting. So Mr. Kingsley Shaw hid it in Mr. Nathaniel Weaver’s house, then took it with him when he moved out of here at eighteen. He brought it back with him when he returned five years ago.”
“It must hold a lot of value for him if he went to those lengths for it.” But then again, it makes sense for a demon to protect those of his own kind. For hell’s greater good and all that.
“While that might be true, it’s a message more than anything else. The painting and Mrs. Liliana’s memory are here to stay. Susan is merely an unfortunate stop in Black Valley Manor’s history.” Martha smiles. “Or so Mr. Shaw says.”
She appears too happy about it. Something tells me Martha is the type of maid who has a fierce loyalty to Liliana and, therefore, to Kingsley as an extension. I wouldn’t be surprised if she spied for him when Susan was the lady of the house. Which would make sense that he would approve of her when he approves of no one.
Martha faces me. “Would you like to have a shower? I’ve prepared a change of clothes in the guest bathroom.”
“Uh, no. I better go home and get to work.”
Because fuck Kingsley. He doesn’t want me to show my face at the firm, fine, but I can at least work from home.
“It’s the afternoon, miss.” Martha motions at the glass doors, and sure enough, the sun is about to make its descent.
Holy shit.
Did I sleep a whole night and a day? That hasn’t happened in…forever. I’m the five hours of sleep type of person. Anything more and it should be reported to the weird police.
“It’d be better to take that shower.” Martha gently pushes me toward the bathroom, not taking my reluctance into account. “I’ll help you.”
“No, I can do it myself.”
She shakes her head, lips curving in a smile. “He mentioned you’d say that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Say what?”
“That you won’t accept help. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” With a nod, she steps out and closes the door behind her, leaving me with cloudy thoughts that I refuse to put a name to.
Like how the hell does he know me so well when he’s detached from everything and everyone?
Taking a shower proves to be harder than pulling teeth. But I go through it, hissing and whimpering every time a cut burns. No matter how hard it gets, I don’t call for Martha.
I refuse to be babied or treated like a delicate flower.
