“It just is.”
“There’s something I’ve been wondering, listening to your brother talk.”
“I should warn you, my brother is … radical.”
Gretchen snorted. “You’re just as radical, Tobias. It’s only that your opinions differ.”
“I suppose.” He paused. “I’d never thought of it that way.”
“He made it seem as though you only rarely ‘wear the wolf,’ as he put it.”
“True.”
She stared at him. “You can’t be serious,” she said, as shocked by that as by any of the rest of it. More shocked, actually. “I’d be shifting all the time.”
He nearly smiled. “Yes, I imagine you would.” He stared unseeing out of the dark window while she stared at his pale reflection. “But I have never truly worn the wolf before today.”
“In London, you mean.” She thought of the cramped carriage and the agitated horses and the oblivious crowds pressing all around. “Yes, I can see why.”
“No. I mean, ever.”
She moved to stand in front of him. “How can that be possible?”
“I shifted once on my thirteenth birthday,” he said. “It’s tradition. But never since then, not until the wolfsbane potion. It interferes with control, but shape-shifters must wear their animal to drive poisons and dark magic from their bodies.”
Gretchen’s head fairly spun. “I don’t understand. Why would you waste such a gift?” she asked, inadvertently echoing the same question his family and Cormac had been asking him for years.
“A curse, you mean.”
“Do not tell me that you are all conflicted and brooding over this. Why wouldn’t you just enjoy it? You’re daft.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Explain it to me then,” she insisted quietly. She wasn’t sure why it was so important. Except that something about the conflict with his own nature, touched with sadness, reminded her of her brother when the ghosts drove him to drink too much. “Please,” she added when he still didn’t speak. “I’d really like to understand.”
“The wolf wears you as much as you wear it,” he said tightly. “You can forget yourself.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“You can forget your duties, as well.”
“And for you that would be terrible indeed,” she allowed. They were so near she could feel the warmth of him, contrasting with the cool draft from the window behind her. The coals shifted in the grate, sending up sparks.
“You noticed the scars on my mother’s face?”
She nodded.
“They were put there by Wolfcatchers.”
“Well, surely that says more about humans than wolves.”
“Perhaps. But the danger is the same.” He pointed to a small family portrait hanging between the bookshelf and the window. “That’s my older sister Gaelen,” he said, pointing to a girl with dark brown hair and gray-green eyes. She was as pretty as a porcelain doll. “My family prefers to stay in the country. It’s much easier that way. But Gaelen doesn’t have a choice.”
“Why not?”
“She’s gone feral. She barely bothers to return to human shape, and when she does, she can’t stand to be around people. She’s not able to cope with them.”
“What happened?”
“Four years ago, she found her lover’s bloody pelt strung on a tree branch to be tanned. A Wolfcatcher had found him in the woods. He was still collecting his trophies when Gaelen stumbled across them.”
Bile rose in the back of Gretchen’s throat. “No.”
“She killed him. And she’s never been the same since.” His voice was rusty as the story spilled out like iron nails from an old tacking box. “I swore that night that I’d do whatever it took to keep my family safe. Our kind can’t risk attending the academy unless we have iron control. So I trained hard to contain my magic.”
“And then you joined the Order,” Gretchen said, understanding. She assumed his brother had decided to join the Carnyx at the same time, to protect the shifters from the Wolfcatchers. “Oh, Tobias, I’m so sorry for you and Gaelen, both.”
“Why me?” he said. “I wasn’t wronged.”
“Weren’t you?” she asked simply. “Weren’t you robbed of the joy in your true nature?” He looked as though he didn’t know what to say to that. “Still, how can you have kept it a secret? You are not exactly anonymous. All the Wolfcatchers in London must have a bounty on you.” She shivered at the thought.
He only shrugged. “As a Keeper I smell like magic every day. To detect wolf on me is difficult. And there are the charms, of course.” He shook his head. “I’ve never told anyone any of this, aside from Cormac and the First Legate.”
“What’s so wonderful about control anyway? To hear you and my mother talk, it’s a magic shield against bad manners, pestilence, and disease.”
“It’s what separates us from the beasts.”
“Hmm, pity.”
“There is an entire city depending on me, not just my own family.” The fire had dwindled and the darkness of the library held them in its palm. They could pretend they were anywhere. “Without control,” he added hoarsely, as his eyes locked onto hers and his hands slid up to grasp her upper arms, leaving a trail of delicious shivers in their wake, “anything can happen.”
“Isn’t that the point?” She didn’t pull away. Couldn’t have.
He brought her closer, up against his chest, even as he lowered his head to kiss her. His hand tangled in the cropped curls at her neck, his thumb resting along her jaw. He nipped at her mouth, and she stood on her tiptoes to get closer. She felt everything—the fire, the taste of gingerbread on his tongue, the secrets between them. He pressed her back against the wall until wolves and warlocks were forgotten, until it was only two witches and a stolen moment before the battle breaks.
When the kiss ended, too soon, he rested his forehead against hers, struggling to reclaim his usual discipline.
Her breath trembled when she finally released it. “I’d say control is overrated, wouldn’t you?”
Gretchen spent the early morning hours in the gardens, still unable to sleep. She drank tea on the terrace until the sun was too bright and the spring flowers too cheerful to ignore. She wandered the paths, making note of the kinds of plants she found and their magical application. Why, it was practically like taking an exam. She felt positively virtuous.
The gardens, much like the house, started off formal, with a fountain made of leaping fish, box hedges, and dainty benches set on pebbled paths, before it deteriorated into a pretty sort of wilderness.
It wasn’t long before Gretchen came across Posy in one of the shadows, sitting up in a poplar tree with a book and a half-eaten apple. “Hello.” She tilted her head up, shielding her eyes with her hand. That she hadn’t been wearing the customary bonnet when she’d stumbled onto Tobias’s carriage went without saying.
Posy smiled shyly. “Hello.”
“I haven’t climbed a tree in a dismally long time,” she announced. “That must be rectified immediately.”
Posy goggled at her. “But you’re a lady.”
“All the more reason to climb trees, if you ask me.” She hauled herself up onto the lowest branch, steadying herself.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Posy said dubiously. “Are you sure you know how?”
“Oh, Posy, you’ve just dared me to do it now. And I never could ignore a dare.” She pulled herself up from branch to branch, pausing to tie her skirts into a knot between her knees when they got in her way. “This is much easier in breeches,” she huffed, wriggling into the crook where the main trunk split into two. Catkins dangled like braids of golden hair.
She peered through the branches to the pebbled paths and the mossy wall at the edge of the property. “Lovely,” she declared. She gestured in the direction of the wall. “How have the neighbors not found you out?”
“There are spells and wards,” Posy replied, her v
oice small, as though she wasn’t accustomed to speaking easily with other girls. “And we have so many dogs about, if they were to glimpse anything, it’s easily explained.”
“Clever.”
“It was Tobias’s idea,” Posy said proudly.
“Yes, I imagine it was.”
Posy’s tail curled over the branch, soft fur ruffling in the breeze. When she saw that Gretchen noticed, she flicked it out of sight.
“Did you know I’m a Whisperer?” Gretchen said lightly. “I’m still getting used to it. My ears bleed sometimes. It’s not very attractive. I’d much rather have a tail.”
Posy’s smile was shy and sweet, like sugared violets. She fairly shone when she forgot to cringe away into the shadows. Gretchen caught sight of Tobias walking the paths below them. She wondered how often Posy laughed. And if Tobias even knew how to.
She plucked a handful of catkins, which were soft and slightly sticky. “I think I can hit him from here.”
Posy giggled before clapping her hand over the mouth to stop herself. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, Posy.” Gretchen grinned. “There you go, daring me again.”
She waited until he’d turned the corner before lobbing them. They flew into the rosebushes on the right, missing him completely. He turned his head sharply.
“You missed,” Posy pointed out.
“That was a little misdirection,” Gretchen disagreed. “Now I have him exactly where I want him. Looking the other way.” She sent another volley of missiles. They pelted him like sticky green rain.
She hadn’t counted on his proximity to the fountain though.
He ducked the attack, pulling up the hose lying in the grass, currently filling the stone basin. And aimed it directly at them. They scrambled down the tree, shrieking with laughter. Cold water dripped from their hair and Gretchen sputtered out a mouthful. Tobias leaned against the fountain, grinning.
“You knew we were up there,” Gretchen accused.
“You’re rather hard to miss.”
Posy wrung water from her hair and looked from Tobias to Gretchen and back again. She wandered away, still giggling. Gretchen felt awkward. Not because she was soaked through or because Tobias was a wolf, not even because they’d kissed, but because she didn’t particularly feel like punching him in the face.
“My sister has been lonely. You seem to be good for her,” he said. A catkin clung to his arm like a giant caterpillar.
“I’ve never been accused of that before.”
“It is rather unprecedented.”
Chapter 14
Gretchen was going down to breakfast when Ky arrived, bloodstained and grinning. He smelled like violence and the Thames, with that hint of pine she was starting to associate with wolves. “Did you find him?” she asked.
“Who, love?”
She rolled her eyes. “The Wolfcatcher who attacked your brother, of course.”
“I’m sure I was out drinking with the lads,” he replied. “Isn’t that what aristocratic boys do?”
“And I was working on my needlepoint,” Gretchen returned. “Because that’s what gently bred ladies do.” He snorted a laugh. “Tell me about the Carnyx,” she added, fascinated by all the aspects of this new hidden world.
“My brother will have told you we’re savage.”
She grinned. “Yes, but he’s said the same about me.”
“We protect the wolves from the Wolfcatchers and the warlocks. Someone has to,” he added defensively.
“I agree.”
“Do you have any idea how many of us are tortured and killed for our pelts or teeth? We’re not even animals to them, only magical trophies.”
“So you fight.”
“Often and well.” She saw the swagger in him, so different from her own brother’s easy affability. “We can’t all bow to the Order like Tobias.”
“He fights for you as well,” Gretchen said, suddenly feeling the need to defend him. “For all of us, really.”
“He’s ashamed of his heritage.”
She shook her head gently. “I don’t think that’s true. His way is just different.” She nodded at the daggers on his belt. “Are those magical? May I see one?”
He lifted his eyebrows at that but handed her one. “It’s sharp, mind.”
“Wouldn’t be much use if it wasn’t,” she remarked, testing its weight and wicked point. It wasn’t ornamental in the way of antique or ritual daggers, but there was a certain beauty to the ironwork on the wooden handle.
“It’s quite nice.” Gretchen handed it back reluctantly. She bent to retrieve the dagger she’d worn tied above her ankle since the night they’d stumbled across a kelpie. “Tobias’s hat on the side table,” she announced, before throwing it. It flew with little flourish, but it flew true, puncturing the tall, crowned beaver-pelt hat.
“Blimey.” Ky whistled. “You’d make a fair Carnyx.”
She grinned. “I know.”
Gretchen lingered over breakfast but she knew it was time to go home. Rain gathered, perfectly reflecting her mood. The first few drops hit the windowpane like fat silver coins. The clouds were mounds of whipped cream, edged with blackberry icing. She could just make out the shape of Posy as a small wolf racing between the trees, fur in wet spikes, tongue lolling. She bounded and leaped about, looking so pleased with herself it was impossible for Gretchen not to smile as she watched.
Remembering what Tobias had said about wolf-charms, Gretchen hurried out into the garden as the carriage was brought round. She kept to the hedges, water trickling down the back of her neck. She circled the garden until she found a paw print in the soft lawn on the other side of the ornamental garden. She waited for it to fill with rain before collecting the water in a small vial. She tucked it up into her sleeve and returned to the house.
Tobias found her entering through the conservatory, using her shawl to rub the wet from her hair. Her dress was thin and damp, and she was grateful for Posy’s dark blue spencer keeping her arms warm. The glass house was redolent with the perfume of lilies and waxy white jasmine flowers.
“The carriage is waiting,” Tobias said. She hoped she heard a twinge of disappointment in his voice, to match her own. He was impeccably dressed in a morning coat and simple cravat. When he glanced at her mouth, she felt the heat start in her belly and travel up into her rib cage. She shivered, suddenly flushed within and chilled from the rain without.
“You’re different here,” he added quietly, turning to stare at the row of orange trees and the wet hedges beyond.
She tilted her head. “As are you.” Though he still looked so solemn and serious, at some point it had gone from being irritating to sweet.
“I thought you argued and challenged everything as a matter of course.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes I do, but it’s only because I’m continually constricted by my birth or my gender or social etiquette. I have always known I am not a pretty dress who happens to speak and move, but here I have finally felt that to be true. You have no idea how liberating it is.”
He finally looked away from the gray rain. “No one would choose this life, Gretchen.”
“You’re wrong. I would.”
“You say that now. But the secrets would eat away at you. You have an open nature. I don’t think it would sit well.”
She shook her head. “Being quiet and proper because you are hiding a beautiful secret is vastly different from being quiet because it is assumed you must have nothing to say.”
He quirked a smile, softening his stern beauty. “It was much easier when I didn’t like you, you know.”
She smiled back. “Why, Tobias, that was positively romantic,” she teased.
The rain continued to beat on the glass roof, like a stampede of horses in the sky. It swallowed up the words they could not say. Tobias was the first to straighten, as if going to war.
“Are you ready?”
She thought of the rainwater safely hidden in her sleeve.
/> “I am now.”
Godric was waiting at a discreet distance from the Lawless townhouse, leaning against a lamppost and scowling. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat when he surged forward, spotting her. The Lawless gates were barely open when he was pounding on the carriage door. Gretchen opened it and stepped out, grinning.
“What the hell is going on?” Godric demanded as their wolfhound-familiars chased each other in happy circles around them.
“I thought Emma and Penelope told you,” she replied, dropping her voice so as not to be overheard.
“They did.” He looked at her steadily. “I’m assuming they left out all the important bits.” He turned to glower at the house. “I’ve half a mind to drag Tobias out here for an explanation.”
“Don’t you dare,” she said. She smiled up at the coachman. “Never mind. I’ll walk home.”
“In this weather?” He sounded more resigned than aghast. She had a feeling Tobias was the only one in the family who didn’t run about in all types of weather and at all hours. He nudged the horses into a backward walk, easing the carriage back into the drive.
Gretchen slung her arm through Godric’s, the rain already soaking through her dress. Mud splashed up under the wheels of the other carriages on the road. The sky was a bland uniform gray, nearly low enough to touch. “I’m perfectly fine,” she assured her brother. “Or will be as long as you tell me Mother doesn’t suspect anything.”
“No,” he grumbled. “She thinks you’re at Aunt Bethany’s house.”
“Good.”
“I was going to come fetch you myself,” he admitted. “Until Penelope tackled me.”
“Also good.”
He slid her a sidelong glance. “She’s stronger than she looks. And she’s vicious. She bit me.” When Gretchen laughed he smiled begrudgingly, but only for a moment. “What happened, Gretchen?”
“I can’t tell you,” she said apologetically.
He stared at her incredulously. “You tell me everything.”
“I know. But this isn’t my story to tell.” She nudged him with her elbow. “They only took me in to keep me safe.”