Fiendish Grace Read online

  As Grace turned back to the house she saw a pale face disappear behind gauzy curtains. She growled to herself, Elsbeth. That nosy little miss couldn’t even keep herself to herself for one second, could she?

  Grace didn’t join her sisters for breakfast as she’d already had hers but it was inevitable that she was in the kitchen at the same time they were polishing off their brioche rolls and hot chocolate.

  The two girls had their heads together and were discussing something but Elsbeth lifted hers and called after Grace as she passed.

  “You asked for something else, didn’t you? Something evil or nasty or horribly frivolous, didn’t you? You can’t hide from me. I know you have a hold on father and I know there’s something wrong with you.”

  Grace turned to regard her youngest sibling, blinked at her impassively and sighed. “Elsbeth. I promise you nothing you read in your novels is going to happen to you, not ever. No mysteries, no magic, no intrigue and no evil sisters. I know, I read them before you because I’m older. Do you know what older sisters get? It’s time alone with fathers and mothers before little brats ruin everything. Perhaps all I wanted was time alone with my father without you stealing his attention.”

  “Evil witch,” Elsbeth snarled, tearing up and her little nose, a trait all the girls shared, scrunching up.

  “Disgusting, selfish child,” Grace growled. She turned and swept out of the room.

  When she’d left their sight Grace hunched over and hugged herself outside the study. Little Elsbeth knew something was wrong with her. She’d gotten closer to the secret than perhaps she was aware. Grace felt nauseous. What would break first, the bargain or her welcome in the house and within the town? She didn’t know how she would be expelled but she couldn’t bear the thought.

  That afternoon brought a guest, an uninvited one as far as Grace was concerned but Elsbeth and Louise would persist in bringing around suitors and the absence of one unassuming father wasn’t going to stop the constant parade of man flesh.

  His name was Percival James and he was a barrister or, would soon become one, it wasn’t exactly clear. He dressed as finely as Elsbeth wished she could, with frills and buttons and lace and in the nicest midnight blue velvet coat. Even with the reasonably cool weather it was still early summer and it was a wonder the man could breath.

  Grace heard them coming through the field and spared a glance through the window at them. She listened with half an ear and rising discontent as he was allowed inside and introduced to cook. When Graces’ sisters brought him into the sitting room, he strode in like one of the roosters in the yard and went straight for her. By this point, Grace was quite put out.

  “Miss Grace, I presume,” said the young Mr. James, bending down and presenting his outstretched hand to her.

  Grace set aside the little grey cat she was working on and rose from her spot on the cool wooden floor. She stared at the young man, perhaps twenty to her nineteen, if that, and held out her hand for him to grasp. He did so and gave it the most delicate of pecks.

  Grace saw this with satisfaction. Already her mere presence was causing discomfort. He was in her house without her permission so it was only right for him to squirm in that ridiculous blue costume of his.

  “I am Mr. James, Percival James,” he said cordially.

  “I heard,” said Grace, without even the pretense of amiability.

  “Perhaps we should have some games,” said Louise, as usual trying to break the tension.

  “Yes, lets,” said Elsbeth.

  They led the young man to the other side of the study and set up a card table and chairs.

  Grace was about to resume her sewing when she heard a hm from the direction of the card table.

  “Aren’t you going to join us, Miss Grace?” asked Percival.

  Grace put away her project and joined them at the card table. She smiled at Mr. James.

  “I hope my sisters have told you. I have frighteningly good reflexes.”

  “Don’t worry, I am quite the game master,” said the young man cheerfully.

  Five rounds of trumps later he slumped in his chair, defeated.

  “I am also known for my intuition,” said Grace smugly.

  “Perhaps we should do something else,” said Louise.

  The future barrister perked up.

  “Yes lets.”

  Grace stood and smiled widely. Mistaking her expression for enjoyment of the group activity Percival also stood, his vigor returned.

  “What would you like to do, Miss Grace?”

  “Well, Mr. James. I would like to go for a walk. It’s such a fine day outside it wouldn’t do to waste it all inside.”

  “A walk,” Percival looked out the window at the cheerful sunny day but then nodded, perhaps a tad unwillingly. “Very well, a walk it is.”

  The young man was soaked before they’d got halfway to the village. To Grace’s satisfaction, he begged off on the return trip back to the house. It was a perfect plan, or so she thought. Soon she regretted what she’d done. With no young man to entertain her, Elsbeth was hopping mad. She stomped the whole way home, tears streaming down her face and she glared at Grace when she thought Grace wasn’t looking.

  Even the imperturbable Louise seemed quite put out. She sidled up to Grace.

  “Grace, what are you doing? Mr. James was quite nice.”

  Grace couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He was silly. That’s all I could see about him.”

  Louise pinched her, on the belly where it really hurt, and Grace jumped, growling at her sister under her breath.

  Her anger having quickly cooled, Louise merely sighed and then explained. “He was interested in you. He wanted you to talk with him and he was playing cards with you. Elsbeth and I might as well have been children for all he paid attention to us once he’d met you.” With one last disappointed glance she went ahead to sooth Elsbeth, leaving Grace behind to think.

  With a sinking feeling she realized that Louise, the ever-practical middle sister, was right. The man had been interested in her and all she saw was an intruder. Oh, for her prodigious intuition, all it did was help her understand when things happened, not why. In dealing with people it was almost useless.

  As she contemplated her faults, Grace had fallen behind but as she came within sight of the farmhouse a familiar shriek rang out.

  “What is it now?” she said to herself. She continued on, unwilling to be rushed by one of her sister’s bird-brained fancies. Her opinion changed and her pace quickened when she saw Elsbeth sobbing and the cook and Louise holding her from either side.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Cook looked up and shook her head. “It’s your father’s horse and his things. Alabaster wandered into town a little while ago, spooked.”

  “Father-?”

  “They don’t know where your father is.”

  Grace halted in her tracks and stared at cook. She could feel the blood draining from her face. Still, she found herself thinking, it wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t fit for polite company anyway and this way her father wouldn’t have to deal with her disappearance.

  “It was you, you did this!” yelled Elsbeth.

  Cook and Louise held her back from her sister.

  Grace could only stare in shock.

  “No she didn’t,” said Louise.

  “Shh, calm down now,” said Cook placatingly.

  “No, she fetched the blood egg yesterday and today daddy is gone! It’s a bad omen, she’s cursed! Everyone knows it!”

  Elsbeth wriggled out of their grip and ran clumsily off to the house, her anger so strong she clearly wasn’t watching her feet.

  Louise shrugged. She started after Elsbeth and then paused in front of Grace. She shook her head sadly.

  “She’s been…I’m sorry. We need to stick together through this tragedy.”

  Grace just looked at her, eyes unfocused and Louise let out a quiet sigh before resuming her walk to the house.

  Chapter
Five: Seafoam Green

  Fog doesn’t just hang in the air, sometimes it swirls, the loosely packed particles slipping between the denser clumps of soft gloom. It’s like creatures are slipping through the material between worlds, if only briefly.

  The house was settling, shaking dust off the walls and just generally making itself comfortable. Sometimes, when there was no one around, it let the mist crawl down the corridors and pool in the corners. Unlike a regular house, it didn’t get moldy or rot and a nice mist bath was just the thing to clear away the cobwebs. They itched something terrible. Apparently spiders had no qualms about venturing into an eldritch place so there were often quite a few. The house couldn’t seem to find the actual creatures, though. It was puzzling.

  Out on the cliff’s edge a shadow lurked just within the boundary of the mist and fog, watching the beach below. The night was well and truly underway and the moon, a small crescent slash in the sky, provided barely enough light for a regular human to see by. Fortunately, the shadow was perfectly capable of seeing by the faint lunar rays.

  The shadow leapt from the cliff in a smooth dive all the way down to the beach. It landed in a run straight for the water. Once there, it danced along the surf and then disappeared beneath the waves. For minutes there was only the quiet music of the sea brushing up against the rocky shore, a susurration seemingly dry and wet at the same time, grating but silken on the ears. Finally with a leap the shadow emerged, shaking itself and scattering salty droplets. The diving attempt had yielded results. There hung between its jaws was a creature which glinted tarnished silver in the moonlight.

  The great beast flung its catch up in the air then caught it at the back of the neck and bit deeply, neatly severing the spinal cord before settling down to tear into the shark on one of the large, flat rocks which littered the beach. It worried its food with gusto. A loud crunch rang out but was immediately stifled by the sound of the waves. Once the creature had finished, only skin and the fins lay scattered upon the rock.

  With a shake, the beast leapt among the waves to clean the blood which shimmered blackly in streaks upon the thick fur. Once clean, it laid down on a rock and watched the waves, damp hair rising in spikes from its broad back. It was motionless for a while, then suddenly it moved, looking up at the head of the cliff. There was something up there and it was none too quiet.

  The house, busy with its personal cleaning ritual, abruptly breathed out, expelling the mist in a sudden gust. Something was different. Something had changed. The boss was back but there was something else…

  Chapter Six: Greige

  The house was silent though all of the inhabitants were together in one room, the sitting room usually a place for games or conversation, they said nothing.

  The young Mr. James had stopped by to sit with them and there they reposed, morose, barely speaking. As was her custom, Grace began to work on one of her dolls but from the harsh looks this action drew from her younger sister this was not the right thing to do to gain favor. Grace put down her sewing and stood. She began to pace like a trapped animal, eventually pausing by the window.

  “Can’t you soften just this once?” said a plaintive voice.

  Grace turned to regard Louise. Her sister stared back at her with red eyes. Grace returned to pacing.

  “Can’t you be still!” Burst out Elsbeth.

  With a deep hissing breath Grace turned to her sisters, their guest and Cook, who she noted was currently sewing something.

  “I can’t be still and I will not burst into tears just to suit you. Look at Cook, she’s keeping her hands busy. I refuse to believe sitting around morose is a beneficial use of our time!”

  Cook raised up the thing she was sewing so they could see it. It was a black cloth.

  “My dear, I’m sewing a table covering for the wake. I’m not just keeping my hands busy.”

  Elsbeth started sobbing and Grace stared at her in consternation which intensified when Louise put an arm around her shaking shoulders. She shook her head, sending her loose, orangey-red locks everywhere in her distress.

  “I’m going to go clean something, I’m miserable enough as it is.”

  In the hallway, her frequent place of refuge, if only temporary, Grace began to boil over with anger. Of course she worried about their father and of course she would mourn. She certainly wouldn’t burst into tears and roll around on the floor like Elsbeth might and she was not going to stop moving. Movement was life and energy and she hated to be still and stagnant, more now than ever. If they were so set on letting their misery have the day they should just go to sleep! Now that was at least something to do!

  Grace went into the kitchen and began to clean the table, then underneath the table and then the legs. After that she got on her hands and knees and cleaned the floor, including along the molding. After that she began to clear out the cabinets. The din of parcels and jars clanking and the cabinet doors opening and shutting barely registered to her ears, seeming distant and muffled. It didn’t matter. Movement was what mattered.

  Once the others had retired for the night she’d go out on the beach beside the dark caverns, the ones that filled up mostly with the tide, and scream into the night. She’d done it before after her mother disappeared and they’d first moved into town. The caverns changed things, making her usual exclamations somewhat feral to begin with, absolutely spine chilling. She knew because the last time she’d done it the townspeople had been frightened for weeks to set foot anywhere nearby.

  “Let me help you, girl.”

  Grace turned, surprised to find cook clearing out the other cabinets. The older woman treated her to a soothing, motherly smile.

  “It’s alright to spend your time tidying up, I know that’s how I deal with hardship in my life, my family, my world. I clean things until they shine up, or I break them. Take control of your pain and fear and make it do something for you is what I say. Now your sisters, they take the blows that life gives them and they hurt for a while and then they get up later. You and I, we harden up and try to make the world work for us. There’s nothing wrong with either way, unless you break any more crockery.”

  Cook pointed at the kitchen basin which already had a shattered pot of jam, the purple mess beginning to stain the ceramic, and a fragmented orange crock. Grace halted her cleaning and looked down at her hands in shock. She didn’t remember picking up either thing, let alone dropping them. She stared at Cook, feeling cold.

  “What am I doing?”

  “Coping dear.”

  Cook patted her on the shoulder and led her to the kitchen table. The tabletop was thick and made of pale, sturdy oak. Leaning against it steadied her.

  Grace didn’t know how long it took but Cook put a mug in her hand and she drank, taking comfort from the warmth on her fingers and the steam that bathed her face as she stared at the tea sloshing around in the cup.

  She looked up when she felt the table shudder and saw Cook had sat down across from her. The kitchen was in order again, all the jars and bowls and things on their shelves or out of sight. Grace was too exhausted to say much of anything, even to thank her seemed gargantuan effort.

  Cook filled the silence, her words emphatic. “I say this for your own good, girl. You need to learn to show your pain to others. You have sisters and that can be a source of great strength if you can open up to them. Besides that, if you stay as you are you’ll never get close enough to a man to make him your husband and have a family of your own.”

  Grace blinked. “You’re the only one who truly thinks I have a chance anymore.”

  “Oh, you know that’s not true. Your sisters have faith. They don’t bring around the boys only for themselves, if they did they’d be in town sun up to sun down.”

  Cook and Grace turned as they heard movement from the sitting room. Soon Louise and Elsbeth came into the kitchen, Louise supporting her little sister as she usually did. Elsbeth was still crying.

  “I’ve come to get her some tea,” said Louise.

/>   Newly charged, Grace stood and went to fix a cup for both of her siblings before either could protest. She poured from the still steaming kettle and set the tea on the table.

  “Here you go.”

  Louise smiled uneasily at Grace and got Elsbeth into a seat. The youngest sister paused in her wallowing to look at Grace, look down at the tea and then to knock the cup off the table. The mug was thick crockery and so didn’t shatter but still there was a crack.

  “I’m not drinking anything you’ve touched.”

  Grace fought not to leap on her sister and strangle her. She glared and then slunk out of the kitchen, banging the door behind her. She went to sit where they kept Abba, a nice large area behind the shed with a white fence. There was a low bench there that was usable, if not comfortable . Aimee came up and rubbed against her and she absentmindedly petted her while staring into the distance at nothing much at all.

  The hinge at the gate creaked but Grace didn’t look up. The antique bench groaned and bowed slightly even though it had only a little more weight on it.

  “I’m sorry,” said Louise sadly.

  “Sorry for what? You certainly indulge her enough,” said Grace.

  Louise sighed. “She’s fragile.”

  Grace turned to look hard at her sister. “She’s the fragile one? I rather thought she was the strongest. She always gets her way and she seems quite sturdy. I on the other hand, I-.” Grace trailed off.

  “I need someone to care about and you have never wanted me to do that for you. You’ve never been close to us, especially not to Elsbeth. When mother died you could have taken over. You and she are both so stubborn and vibrant, not like me. I’m sure she would have taken after you and mother but all I can do is support her and that’s what I did.”

  Grace felt the sudden realization that Louise was probably the least happy person on her own in the house. Sure she seemed happy with Elsbeth and talking to others but perhaps she’d never developed any identity on her own. Perhaps Louise had been shorted on necessary attention as well. On a sudden impulse Grace reached out and grabbed her sister, pulling her into a hug.