A perfect wife. She’d make a perfect wife, a dear sister, too, for James.
It was she who assured him that her virtue was for him anyway, so they might as well indulge. She taught him the pleasures of rutting, grunting, and spending, all the while reassuring him that they’d be wed well before anyone would notice if she should come to be with child. He was so proud to announce their engagement, excitedly writing to James while he was at seminary, boasting of the dear, sweet beauty he had found.
“Nyx! Silas! Silas, can you hear me?” Grace’s voice penetrated the haze, and he felt her little fingernails digging into him even as his form fell apart.
“Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. That!” The words ripped out of him as he ripped apart, turning into a seething black cloud.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, silly one?” Cynthia’s voice was there, in his ear, sweet as syrup.
“I’m just writing to Mr. Bleaker, Father’s lawyer, to confirm that the will is all in order.”
“The will?” Cynthia’s voice was sharp with worry. Why could he hear it now, over a century too late and too dead to change the outcome?
“Well, my dear, I am sure that the farm will be a success once I really make a go of it. We will have our little share of Father’sdividends, and of course, we shall have Hilltop. But the bulk of the money that Father and Mother left will go to James. It will set him up properly. If he intends to be a minister, better he should have it, for they’re never wealthy men.”
“But you are the eldest!”
“And as such, it is my duty to provide for James—and for you. Why, don’t frown, my love. We’ll live a comfortable life, and so will James.”
A THOUSAND LITTLE SIGHTSthat he could see now, trapped in death, forced to watch the life he’d blocked out.
Her newfound coolness at his touch. Her excuses to come over with her aged mother and stay for days or weeks, always chaperoned, of course. Her insistence on cooking, even though he had servants.
Narrowed eyes.
Sleight of hand.
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It has some herbs that are only grown higher up in the mountains.”
How he sickened.
How it grew worse over time, but Cynthia stayed near while insisting the wedding wait until James returned.
When he was gaunt and sallow, and crippled with pain, his vision blurred, but still he saw her dumping out the little paper packets from the window.
Why would she put the seasoning in the grass? Wasn’t one of them the powders she claimed came from the doctor?
Why had it only clicked when he felt his soul tearing away?
GRACE COWERED BEHINDthe edge of the desk in the reception area. Nyx had lost any semblance of human form. He was a wild black storm, a tornado bouncing from window to window, rattling and raging, pained screams coming from his soul.
Nothing evil could ever sound that heartbroken.
“Nyx! Come back to me! Come here!” Grace begged.
Blackness cloaked the entire reception area. The storm hit outside as it crested inside, and suddenly—all the blackness poofed away.
And there was nothing but a huddled gray being at her feet, breathing shallowly, eyes closed.
Grace crawled over to where Nyx lay, reaching for him, but then putting her hands back in her lap, afraid to touch him. “Nyx?”
“Cynthia killed me. Slowly. With poison. My brother came home a few days before my death, and she...She clung to him and begged him to take care of her when I was gone. Of course he agreed, always one to make a gallant promise, if a hasty one. They comforted each other after I died. But on my deathbed I saw... I saw her take the powders she’d been giving me, one for my stomach pains, one for my meals—and she threw them both out the window. I knew then. I knew as my soul was leaving my body that she had only wanted me for my money, and when she saw I meant to live simply and ensure James had the bulk of our ready capital—she wanted me dead. Cynthia had to find a way to leave me honorably, or James would never have looked at her. We were more than brothers. We were bosom friends. He would never have had a woman who threw me over for him. But if Iwere gone? If she were my grieving intended? Ah, yes. That he would consider, especially the way she played it.”
Grace covered her mouth with one hand, reaching for his shoulder and grasping it tightly. “You were murdered?”
“By the woman I loved—and now hate. I could not leave this world, Grace. It was the clear vision I had after days of delirium and anguish. Clear as you’re standing before me, I saw Cynthia disposing of the contents of those bags. I saw how she peered into my dying eyes, impatient and stony-faced, and then... Oh, then as I felt myself hovering between planes, she burst into tears and wails, and flung herself on James. I knew at once why she had thrown me over, and why she had to get rid of me—to get to James. And if she did not love me, but the money she thought I had... What would she do to James, who would betrulywealthy? By my last will and testament, he gained all of my holdings and all that our parents left as well.”
“You think she would have killed him, too?”
