Little Doll (Blackmoth House #1)

Chapter 1

Nova

“Shall I eat him for you, dear sister?”

My wretched sobs stopped. My head snapped up, and I turned my attention to my brother, Fane. He lingered in my bedroom doorway.

I’d been weeping loudly with my face in my hands. Alone in my chambers, lit by a lone candle and pale moonlight streaming in the tall window which I left open to the night.

Therefore, I’d failed to hear Fane arrive in the doorway. Though we shared the same home, I had not seen Fane in over a year. Occasionally I might’ve imagined his sinister laughter in some empty corridor, or thought I heard his voice whisper upon waking from a nightmare. But we had not actually crossed paths in many months.

We kept different hours, I supposed.

Fane always had the peculiar way of appearing out of nowhere. Everyone knew him for frightening people. I saw that had not changed. I regarded him anxiously after his bizarre remark. From someone else, an offer to eat someone might be a macabre joke. But with Fane, it seemed entirely possible.

I was surprised to see how much he had changed since last I saw him. My older brother must’ve been twenty-five years and some months old. Yet, he remained somehow boyish in his dark looks, long silky hair and shadowy black eyes.

“Fane!” I exclaimed, swiping at my teary face, and blushing furiously over being caught coming undone. “What are you doing here?”

His flawless face broke into a wide grin that some might find charming. But I found it unsettling.

He had such big, gleaming white teeth.

“I was drawn to the sound of your sorrow, little Nova,” Fane replied. He strode into the room, the black silks of his clothing rustling like the whispering wings of butterflies. He took it upon himself to perch next to me on the side of my bed. My feet dangled several inches off the floor, while Fane’s long legs easily reached it.

He stroked my cheek, and I shivered from the ice of his touch. A long black strand of my hair had escaped my updo, and he tucked it behind my ear. I imagined with his placid expression he was trying to appear loving. Yet, his deep, penetrating eyes seemed to intrude on my innermost thoughts.

I shoved off my bed and dusted down my full black skirt, then fidgeted and fooled with the lacy scarf tied round my long, thin neck as I made way across the room.

Away from Fane.

“I’m perfectly fine, dear brother,” I replied, proud that I had managed to fully compose myself. In truth, I was anything but fine, but I wasn’t about to share my trials with Fane.

It was the eve of my eighteenth birthday. Actually, I glanced at the big black clock ticking on the wall and discovered it had passed the hour of midnight. So, it was my eighteenth birthday. I’d quarreled bitterly with my father, who had informed me he had selected a husband for me.

News to me.

My father nor mother had ever so much as mentioned marriage for me. Nor were either of my brothers, Fane and Draven Westminster, married. And they were both well past my age. But my father abruptly burdened me with the news that the very next day after my 18th birthday passed, I would be wed, and I would leave our home, Blackmoth House, to live with my new husband.

I had never fought with my father, Costel, as I did that night. I hardly knew the man. He was always in town tending to some business or other. It was my mother, Arcane, with whom I held the dearest of relationships. But during my fight with Father, she had sat slumped in a needlepoint seat, crying mercilessly.

But saying nothing.

I begged to stay in the only home I've ever known. The manor that my mother could never leave because of her… Illnesses… The manor where my older unmarried brothers still lived. I begged to know why. Why was he casting me out? Why had they never mentioned such an arrangement before? Why did it appear I was suddenly unwelcome here in the home that I loved? Why was I not allowed to choose whom I wanted to love, or not to love at all?

He offered no answers, and he responded to my pleas with fury and shouting. Although Costel was a distant and cold man, he was not normally the type to shout or punish.

So, when he reared back and backhanded me across the face, sending me sprawling backwards, it stunned me into silence. I’d peered up into his dark shadowy face, full of rage, and felt I was looking upon a stranger. I was missing something. Some key bit of knowledge or information. Some hidden truth. Some secret going on, happening in the background of my home that I’d never been aware of.

After a long breathless moment staring into his piercing black eyes, I’d turned and run to my room, up three flights of stairs in the tower of the west wing.

Which is how Fane and I got to the moment we were in.

I wondered how he knew what was going on. Had he been lurking in the shadows somewhere nearby? Listening to the unfurling of my life and all that I’d ever known or expected for myself? I could only imagine him somewhere in the dark, smiling at my pleas, gleaning entertainment from our father’s wrath. That would be like Fane.

Fane hopped from the bed too and offered me his elbow. “M’lady,” Fane said dramatically, “would you do me the honor of coming out with me? I shall take you out on the town. Help you get your mind off all that awaits you.”

I grimaced and stared at his arm as though there was a disgusting spider on it. I glanced at the clock again. “Fane, it’s the middle of the night. Don’t be absurd!”

He scoffed. “Hardly. There is a lot left of the night, Nova,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling with more life than I’d ever seen in them. It could have been the flicker of the candlelight.

“Father would kill me for going out this late. You must be daft,” I replied.

He shrugged. “I go out this late nearly every night. It’s the only time to go out, really.”

We stood there in my room, staring into each other’s eyes. Matching sets of big black shadowy eyes and expressive beautiful eyebrows. His face uncharacteristically softened. “Come on, Nova,” he continued. “I just want to help you feel better. They’re long asleep, they’ll never know.” I stared at him a couple of seconds longer and couldn’t believe I was considering it. It was just that this had unexpectedly turned into the worst day of all my days, and I felt crazy. He grinned. “I’ve got a carriage already waiting for us by the stables,” he said with a slight sing song to his voice. Once again, he nudged his elbow toward me, inviting me to take it.

I slipped my small hand under his arm and linked my pale, thin fingers into the crook of it. He gave me another dazzling smile and led me out of the room.

I had never seen London at night. I rarely visited there. All my life, I’d known the good fortune of having everything I could ever need delivered straight to the door of Blackmoth House. It never crossed my mind, its source, or method of arrival. My needs were simply and efficiently met. From the finest food to tutors and music teachers, to the highest fashion, it was all available to me, at my fingertips.

Add to that the fact that my dear mother was homebound all my life and had never left the grounds of Blackmoth House as far as I knew, and there had never been much reason for me to venture into London.

That night, I would discover a world I didn’t know existed.

I sat across from Fane perched primly on the silky black cushioned seat as the carriage rumbled along the dirt road that led into the city. I made a point to stare out the window into the night at the misty landscape bathed in pale moonlight rolling past. The air between us seemed to sizzle with the sort of electricity that could give a painful little snap to the fingertips if you touched it just right. I tried to think of a single time I’d ever been alone with Fane in my life, and nothing came to mind.

All the while, I could feel his dark eyes bore into me.

The journey wasn’t long and soon the road turned to a cobblestone street that led into London. The clip clop of the horses’ hooves was like a prelude to the distant sounds of the city that were coming closer. A refrain of music in the night air. Far off, laughter and voices calling to one another. Streetlamps flickered in front of dark buildings and empty sidewalks. Where were the noises coming from?

Fane reached inside his black suit jacket and withdrew two objects I could not at first identify. But he handed one to me and kept one for himself. I looked at the object in my hand and found a dainty and delicate half mask to cover the eyes and tie behind the head with a black ribbon. It was a strange thing. It was made of a thin papery white material and its only design was an intricate network of jagged black lines marring the pale surface. It was like black lightning going insane across a white sky. The thing was fearsome, but strangely beautiful.

I looked up at him, only to find him strapping a mask to his face as well. His was also a half mask, but on one side it extended down to cover more of his face and the corner of his mouth and his looked like a skull.

I shivered as he tied it in place.

His long black hair spilled down his shoulders and framed his face, half graceful and darkly handsome, and half hellish and terrifying. The part of his mouth not covered by the rotten teeth of the skeletal mask smiled, wide and menacing.

“I’m taking you to a masquerade ball, Nova. Put it on.”

I hesitated, staring down at the ugly mask and then back up at Fane, whose smile had slipped.

Then, I tied on the mask.

To reach the party, we had to navigate a dark alley on foot and enter through a back door. No wonder the principal streets gave the illusion of a city that slept. Once inside, I found myself swept into a hot and heady world of music, smoke, crushed bodies, dancing and sweat.

The lights were low, but the energy was frantic. Fane was no stranger to this place. As soon as my boots crossed the threshold, a woman in a dress more revealing than I’d ever seen before whisked him away. She wore a mask made of peacock feathers.

She was loud and fast, demanding with grabbing hands that pulled my brother away from me to vanish into the crowd. My eyes filled with tears, tempting me to turn back into the night. But what would be most frightful? This wild place?

Or a dark alley at night?

Before I had time to make a choice, someone had taken my hand and pulled me.

People seemed to respect the man, as the crowd parted to allow him to guide me through it. He was tall and even though he wore an elaborate black suit with a frilly collar that covered him nearly to his chin, I could see a hard body packed with tight muscles. The muscles of his shoulders rippled beneath the silky fabric of his jacket as he led me. His hand was huge and covered my tiny hand. I wanted to pull away, but the warmth of him was enchanting.

He led me to a bar and motioned to the barman, then turned to me. He wore a mask like Fane’s. The visible part of his face was flawless and devoid of any emotion. The other half covered by the mask was terrifying. A shock of black hair swooped across his forehead and back, styled smooth and debonair.

I became dizzy looking at him.

The bar man brought him a small glass that was full of a pale green liquid. The masked man lifted the glass to my lips. He placed his other hand beneath my chin and tipped the tiny glass, allowing the green liquid to spill over my tongue. It tasted bitter and dry with a slight hint of candy. It was like an old ghost drifting down my throat. He only gave me a little, then allowed me to pull back and grimace.

“What is that?” I asked.

He smiled slightly, then tipped more of the drink into my mouth. I closed my eyes and took it.

Amongst the jovial music and the laughing and dancing patrons, the man coaxed the entire drink into me. The pleasant warmth in my belly sent my thoughts spinning and buzzing like a lively merry-go-round at the fair. The bitter liquid swirled in my belly, and it was almost as though it coated my eyes with something that made the light look different in this place.

A new song began, with haunting, eerie strings mourning and a strange driving beat played by the drums. The song sounded sad and angry but was also fast and pulsating. The masked man swept an arm around my waist and whisked me into the crush of bodies on the dance floor.

Thanks to the extravagant parties my mother had been throwing at Blackmoth House all my life, I was no stranger to music or to dance. My earliest memories were of sneaking to the stairwell in my nightgown, crouching down, and watching the party goers dance. As the parties stretched on into the night, and the revelers partook of free flowing drink, the music got louder and faster and they would dance at a frantic pace.

Once I’d reached adulthood, I hadn’t needed to hide and watch from the darkness anymore. I had been allowed to wear fine decadent gowns and sweep my long black curls up into sophisticated styles and come to the parties and dance. Many a young man had the opportunity to sweep me up into his arms and cavort me around a waxed parquet dance floor over the last several years.

Maybe that’s why I let the masked stranger lead me. It reminded me of a party at Blackmoth House.

Our bodies pressed together as though we were made for each other. I heard a slight grunt from him as he wrenched me against him. My arms slid around him, and my hands crawled up his back. The feel of his hard body moving beneath my fingertips sent a chill up my spine and I gasped. Though the startling mask partially covered his face, his eyes peered down at me sharp and dark. Penetrating. It was like he had access to my inner secrets. See through my clothes. See through my skin. See through my light.

See through to the darkest reaches of me.

The music grew and throbbed and the man spun me mercilessly to the rhythm. The effect of the drink he’d fed me had further set in, and the pace of the place seemed to slow as my mind became murky. Dark and fast, the music perplexed me. It differed from any I’d heard before. As it swelled toward its finish, the man spun me one more time. In perfect rhythm with the final refrain of the song, he dipped me backwards, and we became still with his lips a mere hair’s width from mine. I panted from the exertion and from the proximity of his full lips, which I desperately wanted to lick.

The man’s lips spread into a slow, charming smile. A warm explosion blossomed low in my belly.

The music resumed, now more cheerful, and the man led me to a new spot in this unusual, smoky place.