An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Seventeen

T he next evening, I wake feeling refreshed. Ellen shows up without a syringe or an explanation for why Sebastian no longer wants my blood.

I have to get out of my room before I go insane. I get ready for the day and slip down to the parlor, hoping to catch someone around for tea.

But I’m too early. Tea isn’t set out yet. The only one here is Barnabas.

At least he still likes me. His tail starts thumping the moment he spots me, and his ears perk up. It makes me wonder if Sebastian has been avoiding Barny, too. Does he feel as neglected as I do? The thought makes me feel so sad that I grab his leash from its spot near the front door before I realize what I’m doing. When he sees it, Barnabas wiggles around with such excitement that I can’t possibly change my mind. It’ll be good for me, too, I decide. Languishing in my bed isn’t helping.

“Okay,” I say, clipping the leash on to his collar. “Just a quick walk, buddy.”

The weather is overcast, bitterly cold, and miserably damp, with fog settling over the estate and rendering the grounds gloomier than usual. Still, Barnabas is eager to forge ahead, and so I allow myself to be pulled along. But if I thought some time outside would be good for me, I’m proven wrong. Soon my shoes are caked in mud, my socks are soggy, and my hair is frizzing. The cold wind bites through my coat, and the clouds are darkening overhead, promising worse weather to come.

“Alright, Barny, I’ve had about enough of this,” I say, trying to turn around. But he digs his feet in, straining forward. My shoes slip in the mud. I curse as my feet slide out from under me; my ankle twists as I try to catch myself, and I tumble to the ground, the leash slipping from my hand. Barnabas bounds off into the fog.

“Barny!” I scramble to my feet. It takes a couple of tries; the mud keeps bringing me down, and my left ankle hurts like hell when I put my weight on it. Still, I lurch forward, searching the fog for a spotted menace with a wagging tail. There’s no sign or sound of him.

“Shit.” I teeter, unsure of what to do. Maybe I should go back to the house for help; surely Tobias and Trent know the grounds better and would have an easier time finding Barnabas. The grounds are gated, so he can’t get into too much trouble… but then I think of the gates opening and a car driving through the fog, unable to see Barny until it’s too late, and my stomach drops like a stone. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened. I can’t take that risk.

Caked in cold mud, with pain throbbing in my ankle, I limp forward into the fog. I don’t know where I’m going, and soon I’ve lost any sense of where I am. I wander aimlessly, calling out for Barnabas, but no response follows. The fog becomes suffocating. It’s like it enters my lungs with every breath. Still, I trudge onward.

When I hear a bark from the fog, I jolt to a stop, relief flooding me. “Barnabas! Barny! Here, boy!” I call.

For a moment, there’s nothing. Then my lovely, spotted boy comes trotting out of the fog, leash dragging through the mud behind him. But instead of being his usually wiggly self, he stands stiff beside me, tail straight up, and growls toward the fog. I’ve never heard him make a sound like that before, or seen his fur standing on end.

“Barny? What is it?” I carefully crouch down to take his leash in hand. “It’s okay, buddy.”

But as I tug the leash, Barnabas stays where he is, still snarling fearsomely. I frown, tug again, but he only digs his heels in.

Unease slithers over my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I stare into the fog. There’s nothing. Nothing visible to me, at least. But I swear I feel eyes on me.

I stand still until the moment passes. After another minute, Barnabas lets his lips fall back over his teeth, and his posture relaxes. He glances back at me and wags his tail, as if to say, Didn’t I do a good job?

“Yes, you were very fierce,” I say, running a hand over his damp fur. “I think it’s about time to head home now.”

Yet once again, as I try to pull the leash, he refuses. Instead, he whines and points his nose in a different direction.

I sigh. Maybe he knows something I don’t. Or maybe he’s just being stubborn. Either way, I don’t want to risk another leash-dropping fiasco, so I follow him into the fog.

After a couple minutes of him trotting along without a care in the world, me wincing with every step, Barnabas comes to an abrupt stop, his ears perked up and his eyes locked on something. I stop as well and follow his gaze to a gravestone ahead.

I suck in a breath. The stone stands alone beneath the drooping limbs of a weeping willow. It looks old, but the bouquet of roses sitting at its base is fresh and new. It feels like I’m approaching something I wasn’t meant to find… but with curiosity driving me and Barnabas keeping me company, I move forward to get a closer look.

Etta Langley , the headstone reads. Below, etched into the gray stone, is an inscription: Eternally beloved.

Something about the scene makes my heart ache. Gravestones are always sad, but this one, alone beneath the willow… it feels painfully lonely. Who would be buried all the way out here by themself? And the fresh flowers… those speak of a lingering pain, not an old loss.

A drop of water hits my head. And then another. I look up, dismayed, to realize the dense clouds have broken. Within a few moments, it’s pouring. Barnabas shakes himself off and ducks under the willow tree for shelter, and I follow him, crouching against the trunk.

The earlier incident with Barny has left me spooked, and the last thing I want is to be stuck here beside a grave. But the pain in my ankle is only getting worse, rain is pounding, and I don’t know the way back to the house. So after a moment, I sigh, lower myself to a cross-legged position on the ground, and settle in to wait for the weather to clear.