House of Salt and Sorrows - Erin A. Craig Page 0,125

from the grinning god.

“He could bring back our sisters!” she hissed. “He could bring back Mama!”

“At what cost?”

“I could,” Viscardi said, raising his voice to be heard over us. “I could do all that and more.” A forked tongue slithered out from his blood-covered mouth, beckoning us. “And you might find you quite enjoy the trade.”

I shook my head. “Never!”

He looked at me with his glittering, fiery eyes. “You’re worried about what happened to Morella? I understand completely, Annaleigh. But you’d never be so foolish as to make the same mistakes she did. You’re far more clever and so much more…dazzling.”

My feet started to inch closer, seemingly under my control, but as I tried to force myself to stop, they continued forward. He drew me toward him like an anglerfish luring in prey with its hypnotic, flashing orb.

His fingers traced over my cheek, caressing the skin with a seductive tenderness I was unable to resist. It wasn’t until I nuzzled back into his palm that I realized it was covered in Morella’s blood.

“Annaleigh, stop!” Camille cried out, grabbing my hand and yanking me out of the trance and far from Viscardi’s reach. She squeezed me tight, rooting us to where we stood.

Viscardi sighed, a cloud of sulfur wafting from his lip, but shrugged it off, offering a low bow to us both. “Suit yourself.” Swooping up his wailing progeny, he disappeared in a crack of thunder.

Camille and I stared into each other’s eyes, gasping in the smoky air, as we absorbed everything that had happened on this horrible day.

Was it truly over? I’d expected to feel different, to feel less marked. Surely there ought to be something to signal the bargain was broken—but there was nothing.

A cry from the corridor snapped us back to the present. The fire raged unchecked through Highmoor. If we didn’t leave right now, we would not get another chance.

We raced into the hall as a ceiling timber, blazing as red as Viscardi’s eyes, splintered to the floor, catching the runner on fire. Orange flames licked up the wallpaper, and in a sudden burst of fire, an oil painting of Eulalie and Elizabeth was gone.

“The back staircase!” I had to shout to be heard over the crackling flames.

“The third floor is already on fire,” Camille said as we reached the landing. “Where are the Graces?”

“They were on the first floor with Lenore.” I prayed they’d not ventured upstairs.

The fire traveled fast as we fled down the stairs, a monstrous orange fist trying to smash us. Bursting out into the garden, we choked back smoke. The storm raged across Salten, whipping sharp flakes into our eyes. It should have been cold, but the blaze threw off so much heat, we were in no danger of frostbite.

People gathered around the fountain, huddling together for warmth and comfort. I sobbed in relief as I spotted Lenore, Honor, and Mercy pressed together under a blanket.

“Camille? Annaleigh!” Hanna cried, seeing us. “Thank Pontus! The main staircase was already in flames when we tried to go up for you. I was so scared we’d lost you both.” She pulled us into a painfully tight embrace. “Have you seen Fisher?”

I stared at her dumbly.

“Fisher!” she screamed again, as if I’d simply misheard her. “I couldn’t find him when the fire broke out. Did he go with Roland and the others to the shipwreck? Did you see him then? I don’t know where he is!” Hot tears ran down her face.

I ran my fingers over my own cheeks, smearing soot and pushing aside the last of Kosamaras’s beguiling.

It had been a lie, earlier in the Blue Room, one of Kosamaras’s tricks. There’d been no accident. No funeral. I was the only one who knew Fisher was already dead. Had died before ever arriving for the triplets’ ball.

Lenore left the fountain, joining us. Her eyes were bright with tears, and the flames reflected across them, reminding me of Viscardi’s burning irises. “Where’s Papa? Why isn’t he with you?”

Hanna let out another wail. “He helped the little ones out, then ran back in, saying he was going after Lady Thaumas. You were up with her…” She trailed off, taking in our silence. “Didn’t you see him?”

I locked eyes with Camille. She shook her head, silent tears welling up.

“We didn’t see him. Not since he took the baby…not since he went downstairs.”

“We must go after him.” Hanna let go of us, looking for other servants to rally. As I squinted through the snow, I could