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“As quickly as she’d begun to mend, she took a turn for the worse. She refused to eat or drink and then began to reject even me. She wandered the gardens when she wasn’t inside, pulling up flowers, scribbling in her journals. She raved about spirits, a woman who wailed through the night, and I became tormented by the memory of my beautiful mother wasting away from illness, telling me the Good Folk had come for her as payment for our good fortune, as payment forme. I knew my wife had somehow internalized my mother’s stories and her obsession with them. They’d snaked into her mind and festered there. I was rash and confronted her, upset her all the more. She screamed at me, accused me of being a changeling.”
“What did you do?”
I couldn’t imagine how that must have felt, to be believed inhuman by two people you loved the most. He shook his head, unwilling to continue.
“What did you do?” I repeated softly.
Now his eyes filled with all the tears he’d been trying to hold back.
“Damn me to hell, I grabbed her, shook her and insisted she was being terrorized by nothing more than her own nightmares. She needed gentleness, and I selfishly gave in to my own desperation. Of course she ran away from me. I’ll carry that guilt forever.” He cleared his throat, tried to regain composure. “There was a hellish storm, and she fled right out into it. I followed after her with the doctor and several staff, Ms. Dillard included. The ravine was full, and it rushes like mad during bad weather. We were worried.”
I already knew what happened next.
“The screaming, God, it was unspeakable. I still hear it at night, but it wasn’t even her.”
He stood from his seat and left me, the memory too vile, taking his grief to the fireplace so I wouldn’t have to witness it.
“It was Felicity,” he said at length, raw. “We found her on her knees by the embankment of the ravine, making that unholy noise with Rodney trying to pull her away. My wife had jumped into the water. It was black as the pits of hell and rushing so swiftly we couldn’t see her. I tried to jump in myself to save her, but Hannigan restrained me. He knew better than I did her chances of surviving. Her remains were discovered the following week by the police at an embankment several miles away. She was in such bad shape they wouldn’t even let me…”
He broke down then, a hand covering his face, shoulders shaking.
I threw off the blankets and crawled, trembling, out of bed, hurrying to him as fast as my weak legs would carry me. He heard me coming and turned to catch me in his arms. As we embraced, he sank to his knees, I with him. I held his head against my shoulder as he wept. When the grief seemed to subside at last, he shifted and gathered me into his lap, pressing his lips against my forehead.
“You’re precious to me,” he said. “I wish you to be well.”
My heart seized, full of love, sorrow, and fear, because I had seen the things walking the halls of Willowfield and didn’t believe his wife had been mad.
Chapter 21
Spring had come in full bloom, and I walked through the sun-drenched gardens, barefoot and light as air, the scent of roses and hyacinths filling me with bright anticipation. The world was new, and the darkness that had lurked inside me long gone.
I could hear Callum’s laughter, deep and beautiful as a church bell, and I ran joyfully towards the sound, around high green hedges and through arches of gardenia. I called for him, and his voice responded in turn, drawing me into the rose labyrinth, violent red with blossoms.
I navigated its mysteries with sure, quick steps, excited to see the face of my love, but when I made it to the middle, I tripped to a halt. Callum lay tangled in the arms of a woman on the grass inside the fairy ring, their naked bodies writhing together in an unnatural twisting that disoriented me. I choked on my hurt, and he looked up, never stopping his carnal onslaught, fucking this stranger while his eyes were locked on mine. He smiled, slow and mean, grabbing a fistful of the woman’s hair just as he often did to me, pulling her head back so that I could see her face.
She had none.
There was only dying flesh stretched across delicate bones, mere impressions in the skin where features should be. The creature’s hand rose up above her head, reaching for me, screaming with no mouth. I screamed in return.
***
I awoke in the early morning light, my own distressed sounds having brought me from sleep. The dream fled quickly but left a hard knot of hurt in my chest. I stared at the ceiling above, focusing on the feel of the mattress beneath me, the sheets around me, and the warmth of Callum beside me. I turned my head to find that he was awake.
“What’s tormenting you, my love?” he wondered, his thumb on my chin, imploring me to confide. The worry in his eyes was a small proof, but I needed more. The strange, angry arousal from the dream lingered, so I sat up and threw a leg across his hips, straddling him. His maddening length hardened immediately, but I took more satisfaction in the way his demeanor shifted from concern to shadowy desire. Taking ahold of the hem of my slip, I pulled it over my head.
“Millie, are you well enough…”
I quieted him by raising myself onto my knees and reaching between us beneath the waist of his silk pajamas to stroke his erection from base to tip before drawing it out. The guttural sound he made was encouraging, and again I ran my fingertips up his cock. He was willing to engage with me now, tucking his fingers into the silk leg of my underwear to pull it aside, worshiping me with his eyes, before moving his fingers between the flushed lips to aid my pleasure.
“No,” I said firmly and he stayed his hand, lifting a brow as I showed him my intentions, guiding the silky head over the pulsing nub of my clitoris, teasing myself with it. I was provoking him, hoping to incite a need so fierce it hurt. Any amusement at the novelty of my antics had faded from his eyes, replaced by the unyielding want I’d hoped to inspire. I was aware that I didn’t have much time left to tease before I lost my advantage so lowered myself onto him.
His hands came to my hips in a moment, but I grabbed his forearms, pressing my nails into skin, making my point. I wanted just a second of power, a breath of time when I was sure what the next steps were. I rocked forward and his eyes closed, a low groan vibrating in his throat. I angled myself so that with every motion his pelvis gave friction to my pleasure, luring me toward euphoria. He gave leeway, watching me ride him with the focused intensity of a man trying to control himself. My climax approached, but I shifted as it reached toward its zenith, denying myself just for the pure joy of desperation. I moaned.
“Millie,” Callum warned, his restraint wound so tight I knew it would soon snap.
I surrendered to him.
“Show me,” I panted. “Show me your love.”
