The Stars Over Bittergate Bay

Chapter 21

21

T he attic was a wide-open space, cool and damp. Rain streamed down the matching round windows on opposite sides of the room, the peak of the roof high above, slanting sharply down on either side. Piles of old furniture, couches and cushions, and several bookshelves loaded with stacks of boxes that spilled out onto nearby trunks were providing most of the insulation for the lower floors.

“What is all of this?” Sidney asked. Jonas snorted in lieu of a response and shook his head, nudging a milk crate to the side with his calf.

“If you think this is bad, you should see the cellar.”

“You could furnish three houses.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve only got two.” Jonas wandered off toward one side of the attic, and Sidney watched him go, still a little lust drunk. Jonas bent low and dragged a dark crate out from under the slope of the roof. His shoulders bulged with the effort, and Sidney turned away in an attempt to focus.

“Are all these Delilah’s things?”

“Likely half.” Sidney tried to determine by sight alone which box or boxes looked most likely to contain fashion magazines. He ended up picking one at random and lifted the lid. Inside was a stack of alarmingly lacy table linens.

“Whose are these?” Sidney asked, holding up something that looked like it belonged in his great grandmother’s house. Jonas glanced over his shoulder and smirked at the smug look on Sidney’s face.

“You never know when company’s going to come by.” Jonas shoved aside the crate he’d unearthed and pulled over another.

“Strange that you didn’t rush upstairs and break them out when I got here.”

“Curious,” Jonas deadpanned. Sidney chuckled.

Normally bad weather had Sidney stir crazy and sour for not being able to look at the stars. But this was fascinating. It granted Sidney insight into what Jonas found valuable or worth keeping.

Sidney discovered a box of wrapped glassware and another which appeared to be full of half-empty decanters in varying levels of dustiness. Sidney slid his way between several crates toward the wall, where a low bookshelf overflowed with loosely wrapped papers.

“Delilah really wants to reminisce over old fashion plates?”

“She probably wants to change her appearance for the Ascension,” Jonas said. “She does from time to time.”

“I suppose I thought ghosts just look the same as they did when they died.”

“I can’t imagine I’d want to be trussed up in the clothes I died in for the length of my afterlife. What if you die in your sleep? Pajamas for eternity?”

“I rather like my pajamas,” Sidney considered.

“If I die in my sleep during the summer, am I supposed to be nude forever?” Jonas asked. Sidney’s cheeks warmed at the thought. He kept his head down, unwrapping a bundle of papers, which looked primarily like old school notebooks.

“Does it take a lot of concentration, I suppose? Magic?”

“Ghosts do have some magic that binds them to their realm.”

“Delilah mentioned that,” Sidney said, thinking back to the conversation hey’d had earlier in the week. “She said they gain magic by interacting with humans. Talking about their deaths. Scaring them. That sort of thing.”

“Making them engage with the afterlife, or at least, the concept of it,” Jonas amended. “Which, I suppose for some means scaring, yes.”

Sidney considered this as he set his first packet of papers aside. There was another stack below where he’d pulled the first one from, and behind that was a wine crate full of photographs. It wasn’t Vogue, but Sidney pulled it forward anyway. He sat on the floor, thumbing through the yellowing prints.

The first few were of Elmmond House, bedecked with sparkling lights as though it were Christmas. Then there were people. Or perhaps not people.

Some had wings, others crowns and horns. Some shots were posed and others candid. A room of beings sitting, staring rapt at a woman wearing little more than strategically placed leaves, mid-recitation. A table bowing under the weight of food. Blurred figures dancing in a bedecked ballroom. The evidence of an Ascension party from long ago.

Or maybe not so long ago. The next snapshot had clearly been matted and framed at one point. The center was sun damaged, the edges in a crooked square were far paler than the print.

On the right side of the photo was a fireplace, where a man in a finely-tailored suit stood with his shoulders pressed against the mantle behind him. He was exceptionally handsome and was mid laugh. A pointed chin and long nose barred perfectly symmetrical lips, his long hair looked light grey in the silver nitrate. There was a circlet atop his brow and the stone in the center of it was nearly the size of Sidney’s pocket watch.

The man’s arm was wrapped around the shoulder of a thinner man. Pale with more angular features, his gaze came out from beneath thick dark lashes as he looked askance at the man who was laughing. His shirt hung open at his chest, collarbone leaving a stark shadow against his skin.

Beside them was Jonas, smiling broadly. His eyes were bright and crinkled at the corners, his body turned partially away from the camera, placing him in profile against the other two. That strange angle must have been the reason his skin looked so much darker, though the tattoos on his visible forearms marked him clearly out. A large metal pendant hung off his neck, a strange ornament, reflecting the light in an odd way. It must have been part of his fancy dress, along with the rams horn that curled back behind his ear, black tip pointing to the corner of his jaw.

“Any luck?” Jonas asked. Sidney startled as he looked up to find Jonas standing over him, only a wine crate between them. Jonas stared at the photograph in Sidney’s hands, his brow furrowed, mouth open as though he was about to speak.

“An Ascension party?” Sidney offered. Jonas nodded, crouching down to take the photograph gently from Sidney.

“Masquerade was the theme that year, I believe,” he said slowly.

“I might have guessed by the costumes. That’s quite the getup.”

“I’m partial to the horns,” Jonas said dryly.

“They suit you,” Sidney smiled. “What’s that giant thing hanging off your neck?”

“It’s a livery collar. A replica.” Jonas handed Sidney back the picture and turned away, looking around the attic again, though, his shoulders seemed oddly straight and tight. Sidney pursed his lips, and glanced back at the photo. He should let it go. He knew he should. It wasn’t his place. Not any of his business. But the picture had been framed.

“Who’s this with you?” Sidney asked, trying to keep his tone light. But the silence that fell was hard. Sidney should have dropped it; he knew it. But he was so curious. Had one of these men been the partner who’d worked with Jonas in the caves? Betrayed him? Jonas walked away as he began to speak.

“The one on the left is Asterion. He’s a prince of the fae realm Andurnei. And the other is Edmund Morrow. A sorcerer.” Jonas crouched down out of Sidney’s eyesight to shift more boxes, and Sidney knew he should apologize, even if he wasn’t sure for what. He tucked the photograph away and pushed the box back to where he’d found it while he tried to think of something to say. On the other side of the attic, Jonas grunted.

“And here they are.” Jonas shifted backward and tugged a stack of yellowing magazines from beneath a dusty desk. “Here, Sidney.” Jonas hoisted the pile up as Sidney made his way through the maze of crates toward him. “Do you mind taking that down to the library while I put things right up here? It’ll just be a minute.”

Sidney understood he was being dismissed and felt guilty enough for asking about the photo that he wasn’t going to argue. And he definitely wasn’t going to think about how, when Jonas put the magazine’s in Sidney’s arms, he hadn’t looked Sidney in the eye.