Longshadow: (Regency Faerie Tales, Book 3) by Olivia Atwater

Author:Olivia Atwater [Atwater, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Starwatch Press

Chapter 13

Mercy was still trying to calm herself, a full minute after Hugh had disappeared. Abigail, for her part, was still trying to recover her voice; leftover fear weighed upon her throat, stifling her words.

Finally, Mercy cast a subdued glance at Abigail. Her eyes flickered once again with pink and blue twilight, rather than with darkness. Her pallid skin was stark against the shadows in the room, so that she nearly looked like a ghost herself. Mercy must have seen some measure of the fear in Abigail’s eyes, because a hint of shame crossed her features, and the last remnants of Longshadow’s ire faded from her manner.

“I’m sorry,” Mercy said softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Abigail swallowed. “I didn’t mean to be scared,” she said.

Mercy walked slowly back towards Abigail, as though approaching a trapped animal. She sat down next to Abigail and slumped her shoulders—as though she could shrink herself to something less frightening if only she caved her posture enough.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” Mercy said quietly. “I don’t like it at all.”

Abigail took a deep breath, steadying her pulse. She reached out to place her hand on top of Mercy’s. Again, Abigail was struck by how long and fine Mercy’s fingers were, and by how much she enjoyed holding her hand. It was a helpful reminder that Mercy was many things at once—for while she could be frightening, she could also be very kind and caring, when she was of a mind.

Mercy glanced down at Abigail’s hand. Gradually, she curled their fingers together, rasping ragged bandages against Abigail’s skin.

“I am scared of you,” Abigail said quietly. “You’re powerful, an’ you don’t always appreciate that.”

Mercy pressed her lips together miserably. “I can’t help bein’ powerful,” she mumbled. “I just am. I try not to do bad things with it… but I guess I don’t always manage.” Mercy stared down into her lap. “I thought Lucy should hear the truth. But now I’m not so sure. Do you think Hugh was right, Abigail?”

Abigail leaned herself back against Mercy, as she had done earlier. She sighed heavily. “Hugh’s still a kid,” Abigail said. “Kids think bein’ mean is always bad. An’ they think that if you’re nice to people, then they’ll be nice back.”

Mercy released Abigail’s hand to wind an arm around her back. Mercy was warm and comfortable—and while the scent of lilies that she carried with her was sweet, it was the smell of lye that reminded Abigail that she was human. “That isn’t an answer, exactly,” Mercy observed warily.

Abigail dared to lay her head against Mercy’s shoulder. Somehow, it was easier to talk about difficult things while Mercy was holding onto her.

“You’ve never needed anything from a ghost until you met Hugh—and now Lucy,” Abigail told Mercy. “You just accepted ‘em as they were, because you knew they were movin’ on soon anyway. Honestly, I always treated Lucy that way, even while she was alive. She’s never goin’ to change, because she doesn’t want to be a good person—she just wants to be praised an’ petted an’ given treats.

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