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. Shhhhhh, the Noc hushed, pressing a red claw to hislips.Her troops began to erode and flake away, her shiningcheckered tiles fading to cloudy white again while her imag-ined cheer uniform transformed back into her ashen streetclothes.Her cover blown, Isobel tried to jerk free, fingernailsscraping at the Noc s porcelain hand. Oh, he s really fighting me now, Scrimshaw said. I canfeel him, fluttering about inside as if on fire.Tell me, should Ilet you two lovebirds bid each other a final farewell? Pinfeathers.He was talking about Pinfeathers. KELLY CREAGH 211 No, I think not, said the Noc through a gritted grin. Never been a fan of good-byes myself.Especially the kindthat have been said once already. Isobel opened her mouth, wanting to call out to the otherNoc, to beg him to push through.But Scrimshaw clenchedher neck tighter, slowly crushing her windpipe. You should hear him implore me, the Noc continued. Pleading like a child.It s almost painful to listen to.Youreally ruined him, you know.And now I have to wonderwhat it is pardon, what it was about you that did it. TheNoc tilted his head at her while he continued to strangle her,as if he really wanted to know. What type of poison are you,girl? Poison?Because Pinfeathers cared for her, Scrimshaw saw heras poison? As Pinfeathers s downfall? His ruin? But if shehad become the biggest weakness of the leader of Varen sNocs then, in regard to Scrimshaw, couldn t the same besaid for . . . ?Light-headedness closed in on Isobel, stealing her abilityto think.The room began to blur, and the bodies of the court-iers, still draping the balconies above, became fuzzy blobs.Scrimshaw s dual face melted into a jagged smear, and sparksflashed in the corner of her vision.But one fading glance atthe creature s open collar, at the delicate, hazy image carvedinto his chest, and she was reminded of who the girl was.Who she had been to Poe.Isobel tried to speak.A gasping sound escaped her, but 212 OBLIVI ONthe Noc must have read what she d tried to say on her lips,because for an instant, his squeezing grip faltered. What was that? he demanded.She again attempted the one-word utterance a singlename.One she knew he knew.At least as well as Pinfeathersknew her name.Scrimshaw let go of Isobel s neck.He switched hands,snatching her by the shirt collar instead.Isobel inhaled, gulping for air.Her dizziness lifted, andScrimshaw s split face snapped into clarity. Speak plainly, he snapped, shaking her. Tell me whatyou just said.Say it again, girl. Virginia, Isobel rasped, pressing fingers to his cold chest,to the engraving of Poe s young cousin and bride.Scrimshaw s expression collapsed.Pain blended withsorrow, replacing his rage. Why? he snarled, thrusting his halved face in hers. Whywould you dare speak that name to me? Why make hers thelast you ll ever utter? Because, Isobel said, her voice hoarse, ragged almostgone. She s standing right behind you. 23In the Hearts ofthe Most RecklessThere hadn t really been anyone there.No one at all.But Isobel s lie that there had been someone a very spe-cific someone proved a far better distraction than she hadinitially dared to hope.Because when Scrimshaw turned his head to look, sud-denly there was someone.Isobel had not imagined the young woman into being.She hadn t been able to think that far ahead.Or that fast.Not with the Noc gripping her throat, squeezing the lifefrom her.So the phantom standing before them had to have arisenfrom the depths of the Noc s consciousness, triggered byIsobel s suggestion and, perhaps, by the underlying currentof Scrimshaw s own repressed longing.Though Isobel could recall only a few specifics regardingthe appearance of Poe s wife a handful of vague characteris-tics picked up during her study with Varen, retained from theone or two glimpses she d had of her portraits Scrimshaw,it seemed, had forgotten nothing.Black-haired and pale in complexion, her small handsclasped in front of her, the round-faced young woman so 214 OBLIVI ONreal, so completely lifelike watched the Noc with large andsoulful brown eyes.Releasing the fabric of Isobel s shirt, Scrimshaw angledslowly toward the vision.Freed, Isobel retreated from him fast, and though sheexpected the Noc s head to snap back in her direction and forthe illusion to rupture as instantaneously as it had material-ized, she was relieved when the Noc remained entranced. Do you remember the Valentine I ve been writing foryou? Virginia asked, her voice soft and high, sweet like asongbird s. Well, you and Mama will both be pleased toknow that even though I haven t yet finished it, I have begunsetting the lines to music.Just as you suggested. Transfixed, Scrimshaw took two slow steps in Virginia sdirection.Isobel watched, clasping her throat where he d grippedher, still stunned that her bluff had worked and that, some-how, she d managed to buy back her life again.For at leastanother moment.But maybe, she thought as she trained her gaze on theupside-down crow in the center of the Noc s back, anothermoment was all she needed.Spinning away, Virginia strode to the piano benchthat appeared only just as she sat, the skirts of her simple,cream-colored dress swishing.With girlish flair, she lifteddelicate hands and placed slender fingers on an invisiblekeyboard.As Virginia pressed down, a squat, rectangular piano KELLY CREAGH 215unfurled from the nothing and the middle chord she d struckresounded softly, as gentle as a sigh.More notes followed, herhands wandering to and fro over the keys as if the song wereone she had to find her way back to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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. Shhhhhh, the Noc hushed, pressing a red claw to hislips.Her troops began to erode and flake away, her shiningcheckered tiles fading to cloudy white again while her imag-ined cheer uniform transformed back into her ashen streetclothes.Her cover blown, Isobel tried to jerk free, fingernailsscraping at the Noc s porcelain hand. Oh, he s really fighting me now, Scrimshaw said. I canfeel him, fluttering about inside as if on fire.Tell me, should Ilet you two lovebirds bid each other a final farewell? Pinfeathers.He was talking about Pinfeathers. KELLY CREAGH 211 No, I think not, said the Noc through a gritted grin. Never been a fan of good-byes myself.Especially the kindthat have been said once already. Isobel opened her mouth, wanting to call out to the otherNoc, to beg him to push through.But Scrimshaw clenchedher neck tighter, slowly crushing her windpipe. You should hear him implore me, the Noc continued. Pleading like a child.It s almost painful to listen to.Youreally ruined him, you know.And now I have to wonderwhat it is pardon, what it was about you that did it. TheNoc tilted his head at her while he continued to strangle her,as if he really wanted to know. What type of poison are you,girl? Poison?Because Pinfeathers cared for her, Scrimshaw saw heras poison? As Pinfeathers s downfall? His ruin? But if shehad become the biggest weakness of the leader of Varen sNocs then, in regard to Scrimshaw, couldn t the same besaid for . . . ?Light-headedness closed in on Isobel, stealing her abilityto think.The room began to blur, and the bodies of the court-iers, still draping the balconies above, became fuzzy blobs.Scrimshaw s dual face melted into a jagged smear, and sparksflashed in the corner of her vision.But one fading glance atthe creature s open collar, at the delicate, hazy image carvedinto his chest, and she was reminded of who the girl was.Who she had been to Poe.Isobel tried to speak.A gasping sound escaped her, but 212 OBLIVI ONthe Noc must have read what she d tried to say on her lips,because for an instant, his squeezing grip faltered. What was that? he demanded.She again attempted the one-word utterance a singlename.One she knew he knew.At least as well as Pinfeathersknew her name.Scrimshaw let go of Isobel s neck.He switched hands,snatching her by the shirt collar instead.Isobel inhaled, gulping for air.Her dizziness lifted, andScrimshaw s split face snapped into clarity. Speak plainly, he snapped, shaking her. Tell me whatyou just said.Say it again, girl. Virginia, Isobel rasped, pressing fingers to his cold chest,to the engraving of Poe s young cousin and bride.Scrimshaw s expression collapsed.Pain blended withsorrow, replacing his rage. Why? he snarled, thrusting his halved face in hers. Whywould you dare speak that name to me? Why make hers thelast you ll ever utter? Because, Isobel said, her voice hoarse, ragged almostgone. She s standing right behind you. 23In the Hearts ofthe Most RecklessThere hadn t really been anyone there.No one at all.But Isobel s lie that there had been someone a very spe-cific someone proved a far better distraction than she hadinitially dared to hope.Because when Scrimshaw turned his head to look, sud-denly there was someone.Isobel had not imagined the young woman into being.She hadn t been able to think that far ahead.Or that fast.Not with the Noc gripping her throat, squeezing the lifefrom her.So the phantom standing before them had to have arisenfrom the depths of the Noc s consciousness, triggered byIsobel s suggestion and, perhaps, by the underlying currentof Scrimshaw s own repressed longing.Though Isobel could recall only a few specifics regardingthe appearance of Poe s wife a handful of vague characteris-tics picked up during her study with Varen, retained from theone or two glimpses she d had of her portraits Scrimshaw,it seemed, had forgotten nothing.Black-haired and pale in complexion, her small handsclasped in front of her, the round-faced young woman so 214 OBLIVI ONreal, so completely lifelike watched the Noc with large andsoulful brown eyes.Releasing the fabric of Isobel s shirt, Scrimshaw angledslowly toward the vision.Freed, Isobel retreated from him fast, and though sheexpected the Noc s head to snap back in her direction and forthe illusion to rupture as instantaneously as it had material-ized, she was relieved when the Noc remained entranced. Do you remember the Valentine I ve been writing foryou? Virginia asked, her voice soft and high, sweet like asongbird s. Well, you and Mama will both be pleased toknow that even though I haven t yet finished it, I have begunsetting the lines to music.Just as you suggested. Transfixed, Scrimshaw took two slow steps in Virginia sdirection.Isobel watched, clasping her throat where he d grippedher, still stunned that her bluff had worked and that, some-how, she d managed to buy back her life again.For at leastanother moment.But maybe, she thought as she trained her gaze on theupside-down crow in the center of the Noc s back, anothermoment was all she needed.Spinning away, Virginia strode to the piano benchthat appeared only just as she sat, the skirts of her simple,cream-colored dress swishing.With girlish flair, she lifteddelicate hands and placed slender fingers on an invisiblekeyboard.As Virginia pressed down, a squat, rectangular piano KELLY CREAGH 215unfurled from the nothing and the middle chord she d struckresounded softly, as gentle as a sigh.More notes followed, herhands wandering to and fro over the keys as if the song wereone she had to find her way back to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]