(11) Eye of the Tiger

(11) Eye of the Tiger

     The remaining villagers of Hillcross were in shambles in the basement. Another two dozen or so had snuck out, even after the Marquis’s guilt trip. The air was thick with tension. And for those left the town gossip had reached a fever pitch, and there was no way to tell reality from fear and conjecture.

It certainly didn’t help that the truth was so farfetched. It would be easier to believe a neighbor had snapped. Or any of the other dozen insane theories pulled from old wives’ tales or just thin air. The bunker was utilitarian not set up for entertainment. What else was there to do but gossip.

The Marquis wasn’t in the basement when Carter got down there. In fact, most of the Lords and Ladies were missing. They were occupied in an “impromptu” meeting Carter couldn’t find. Most of the Aristocracy had been able to agree that they needed to be realistic about the situation as it was. They didn’t care to know what situation was. They just wanted it resolved.

Afterwards the Marquis found Carter sulking on one of the cots in the corner. She managed to wipe the pout off her face one second too late, replaced with a more appropriate look of concern.

     “Carter, good to see you are well.”

     “You as well, Marquis.”

Carter’s jaw was tight as she watched the Marquis carefully. Marquis Roarke himself was jittery, distracted by the people who had suddenly become interested in that corner of the room. It took a few seconds for the Marquis’s gaze to rest back on Carter and he gave the barest hint of a grimace as he did. Carter’s jaw clenched just a little more.

     “Yes, well.”

     Carter shuffled, “Yes, well?”

     The Marquis looked at Carter very seriously. “Well, I did need to know from you. Is there anything in the archives that could help the situation?”

     Carter’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. “Ah, yes. I mean no. I have never heard my mother talk about a house monster or anything like that.”

     The Marquis didn’t have any hesitation. “And you don’t believe that given the chance Saint or Riley would be able to find something to save my daughter’s life.”

     Carter exhaled in a quick gust, like she had the air knocked out of her.

     “It would be like finding a needle in a haystack for any of us to find such a specific poem in those archives. I feel like there should be some understanding for the time it will take for me to get accustomed to my new position.”

     “Yes. Victoria’s passing was quite sudden. But doesn’t it still stand it would be quicker to find the needle with three people? Rather than none, presumably, given that you are here.”

     “They made their choices. I came to find you so that we could speak with my full authority in the position of Magic Keeper.”

“To say what?”

“That I will figure this out.” The Marquis didn’t seem moved. Carter quickly added, “And I imagine Saint will be joining me soon.”

The Marquis gave a nod. “Yes, well. You’ve said it then.”

     Marquis Roarke turned to shake the hands of some people who were squeezing past them. And then he just walked off, their interaction apparently completed.

     Carter let out under her breath, “I hate magic.”

     The two people who had taken the bed in the corner sidled into Carter’s attention.

     “Carter Bonner. What a time to see you again.”

     “Penny Willis. Or should I say Penny Davis. Your wedding was lovely.”

     Penny was a promising young woman, now the wife of one of the Lady’s sons and set to inherit her position. Carter and Penny shared a demure handshake.

     “And of course your lovely mother, Tabitha Willis.”

     Mrs. Willis does not extend her hand to Carter.

“Of course.”

     Penny engaged Carter with a casual tone, with just a hint of viper’s poison.

“So, you must be under a lot of pressure with everything going on.”

     Carter wouldn’t be baited so easily, instead deflecting. “Yes, well. Everything is in hand, and there is nothing to be worried about.”

     Penny’s hand covered her mouth, hiding a brief smile.

“Of course.” She readjusted physically and conversationally. “I just mean I saw you speaking with the Marquis. You both must be so worried about Bliss, and Riley. I mean even Saint.”

     Carter stiffened. “I am sure they are handling everything just fine. Our job in here is to stay safe so they don’t worry about us. I am sure everyone will be back to their jobs before you know it.” Carter looked around. “Speaking of which, if you will excuse me, I should get back to my new job. It was nice speaking with you, as always.”

     Penny offered a slow nod. “Right, yes. You, too.”

     Penny and Mrs. Willis sat together on the bed huddled. Carter left without a word to anyone else. Climbing with dragged feet all the way up to her office.

The air in her office was at least more breathable. Although the perfect view of the house practically glowed in the afternoon sun outside her beautiful window. It gave her pause, but there was no chance she was in any danger from this far away.

     She looked around at the mess of books everywhere she had made trying to find any information. “Stupid books.”

     She went back to looking out the window. “Stupid magic. Stupid Saint.”

     She spit the words out, but that was all she would allow herself. She took a deep breath and recollected. It had been an exhausting twelve hours. The stress of the stable incident. The insanity of the ritual. When she had spent years dreaming of the power and respect of the position of Magic Keeper, she had not seen this happening the first day she had it.

     Marquis Roarke had gotten under her skin as well. Who was he to try and guilt Carter. He didn’t have anything to say when Bliss was getting elected. When they were younger Carter had done her best to protect her baby sister, and treat her like her own. But Riley had become a little monster herself, the perpetual little sister.

Always underfoot, questioning and trying to take. It wasn’t her fault that Riley had become impossible to deal with. It had almost felt right when Riley volunteered. Send a monster for a monster.

     Carter shook her head. Riley had stopped being her problem years ago. She could only worry about herself now. And Carter had risen to all the occasions. Maintained order, answered questions and spoken to the people. She had upheld the dignity of her position.

And she had meant what she had said, that soon Saint would come to his senses and get out of that house. Come back and help her deal with this pile of endless poems. And she would never let him forget the time when he had run headlong into danger instead of helping her.

     Because the answer was there. Maybe it was like Marquis Roarke believed. Maybe there was a perfectly laid out report about a house monster in those books. Unlikely, but possible. But maybe there might be a way to get at its power, it’s magic. Maybe somewhere in the poems was a way to use it.

     And it didn’t matter that she had no idea where to even start. Because Saint wasn’t there. Neither was Riley or the Marquis. Carter was on her own. And so, she started.

Her approach was chaotic and ineffective. She was constantly distracted, most often by the house out the window. And this went on for a few hours. Shuffling books, making logs and notes, but it didn’t amount to much. And it started to take its toll.

Eventually she gave up, and went to sit on the couch directly across from the window. It only took a few minutes before she succumbed. She laid down, and fell asleep for a nap.