Lucian thought quickly. She taught me to listen… and Lira likes folding napkins. I can probably turn this around…
"Yes," he said, forcing himself to sound calmer and more composed than he actually felt. "I'm passing by and wanted some food and drink. I can pay you, if your mistress says it's okay?"
With that little shift in dialogue, Lira smiled in understanding. "All right. The lady of the house is still asleep, but if you give me a few minutes, I'll be glad to serve you tea."
+
The atmosphere in the room was completely different. It was still the same crumbling living room, but the early morning light cast a warm glow, softening everything. The couch's surface was clean, though the edges were dusted with motes of light.
A soft ticking noise broke the silence. He glanced at the mantle and saw a duck-shaped clock.
It read 7:05.
It's weird how little I remember of the house before this. Well…it's not like I was concentrating on the house yesterday. I just wanted to fix Lira and leave. He felt a pang of sadness. I just saw her as another cadaver. No wonder she threw me out. It's like when I wanted to embalm a body before I knew how.
His old mentor said so clearly. "Everything has their season, even in death."
Idly, he wondered when Lira would descend the stairs. Lucian heard shuffling and murmuring about fabric and silverware for tea.
Above the mantle, he spotted some photographs. A family—a man, a woman, an older boy, and two twin girls. The woman's face was obscured by a large hat, and the man's face was partially covered because of his top hat.
So far, there was nothing unusual… and yet, as he stared, the thick, sweet scent of pinkberry tea crept into his nose.
"Hi," a ghostly voice said, and Lucian looked around.
"H…hi?" he asked, until he spotted the faint shimmer of a woman.
The pendant around his neck grew warm. There were still some pieces of furniture that the light didn't quite reach, and he carefully scanned the room.
Lucian's gray eyes fell onto an armchair near the fireplace. There, seated, was the shadow of a woman. "Hello. I'm still glad you tried the pinkberry tea."
"It was all right," Lucian said as he put a hand in his pocket. He did it out of habit, the same way he always had when meeting someone new. You can take me out of the world, but…anxiety is still anxiety everywhere.
In his previous life, he always had a small round stone with him. In this one, he felt the ridges on Lira's gold coin. As he did so, he heard the commotion upstairs get a bit louder. Like she was telling him to hold on, somehow.
"Sorry I didn't drink it sooner—I've never seen pinkberry before."
The shadow tilted her head and Lucian saw a wide-brimmed hat, and the tiniest gleam of pearl earrings. "Oh yes… you aren't from here…" Her voice carried a strange weight, as if English weren't her first language.
"No, I'm…" He suddenly stopped talking. Not because he wanted to, but because the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "…I arrived a day ago." Inside a coffin.
"Mmm." She paused, like she was devouring something sweet. "It's an…unpredictable berry. One of the last things we planted here, before the ground froze over."
Lucian was momentarily distracted by the soft rattle of his pendant against his collarbone. "The ground…wasn't always frozen?" he asked, curious. He turned his head to have a better look at her.
As he did, the photo on the mantle seemed to change. He could have sworn one of the girls wasn't missing an eye. "No. That was the well girl's fault." The shadow turned her head downward and her hat swished elegantly. It moved in slow motion and when Lucian looked at the photo through the hat—
—there was no photo. Just a stone fireplace.
Lucian's heart started beating triple-time and his throat felt far too dry. The lady, unaware of his feelings, continued her story. "She froze the well water. Then the soil hardened and we never got it to thaw."
When she said Lucy froze the water, he made a little noise, because his pendant knocked itself onto his collarbone. She interpreted this as protest rather than pain. "Oh?" The shadow had leaned forward just a little bit. "You don't think so?"
An ominous fog began to snake inside the room, and Lucian was sure that without Lucy's pendant, his racing thoughts would have consumed him. He was desperate to look at anything but her right now.
Lucian glanced back at the clock.
6:59.
Maybe he read it wrong. He blinked and checked again.
6:58.
"She didn't like clocks either," the shadow said casually, as if she'd been watching him read it. "Maybe she's trying to tell you something."
The shuffling noises upstairs stopped. The shadow was quiet as Lira walked downstairs, her apron tied tight and hair neatly braided. If she saw the shadow, she was doing a great job of hiding it. Lira glanced at Lucian and he swore there was a gentle warmth to her voice.
"Would you like some tea, young master?" It was leagues different from how she acted yesterday.
Lucian saw how she seemed to shine when allowed to perform her duty. He swore he even saw a slight pink glow across her cheeks—reminiscent of how he applied blush on female cadavers.
"Yes, Lira, thank you. You may call me Lucian." He looked at the shadow as he spoke, and she added, "Please serve Lucian our finest tea and biscuits, Lira."
The dutiful maid bowed slightly. "Understood. Please follow me." The shadow left first, her feet not quite touching the ground. She walked past the mantle and Lucian glanced at the mantle again.
7:30, the duck clock said. He didn't know what to believe, because when he looked at the photo—
The woman in it was completely different to the shadow with the large hat. She had golden curls and a small tricorn hat. But that wasn't what chilled Lucian to his core.
It was the words "She's a liar" splashed across the mantle's wall, covering the woman's face.
"Lord Lucian? Come in for tea."