Chapter 189: Ezekiel’s Plan
The bookhouse was unlike anything Ruelle had ever seen.
From the outside, it looked like an ordinary house where a widow lived alone. But inside, it felt like stepping into the inside of someone’s mind.
Every room was filled with books. The walls almost disappeared beneath them, rows upon rows blending into shades of brown, red, green, and black. Some were bound in leather so old the corners had peeled, while others were patched together with thread.
Beneath the scent of lavender that slipped in through the open windows from the garden outside, she picked the smell of old paper.
"She’s the fortune teller we met at the fair, isn’t she?" Hailey whispered, leaning close.
Before Ruelle could answer, the old woman spoke, "What book are you looking for?" Her eyes were sharp despite her age. "The rooms are sorted by what suits them best. Bedrooms hold things on bedsheets, storybooks, and where to find aphrodisiacs," she pointed with her cane. "The kitchen holds books on poisons, teas, and recipes that can heal or kill."
Hailey blinked.
Ruelle stepped toward one of the shelves in the living room, glancing at the titles. None were useful. She asked, "And if it is purely informational?"
"That would be in the storage room. At the back."
Ruelle nodded and headed there. Behind her, Hailey wandered through the shelves, reading aloud under her breath.
"How to Dissolve a Human’s Bones?" Hailey stared at the title in horror. "Is it really what I think it is?" She turned to the old woman with open suspicion. The old woman only stared back at her.
The storage room was colder than the rest of the house. Dust sat thick on everything and the books here were older, their pages yellowed and brittle. Some cracked at the spine when Ruelle opened them.
Instead of waiting for the worst to happen, she had decided to be of help when things would turn dire.
If her father wanted Lucian gone, perhaps there was a way to turn it back on him. Since the night before, she had been turning it over in her mind. A way to keep him from meddling... and prison crossed her mind. A false accusation was something enough to keep him locked until the wedding.
But the treaty tied them all together. The courthouse would not throw him into a dungeon over something small.
That meant she would have to use another approach. Debt collectors.
Her fingers paused on the page. Seeing how he had reacted two days ago at the courthouse, he hadn’t repaid the debt yet.
As Ruelle reached for another book, something beneath the cupboard caught her eye. It was a grey book. She bent down and pulled it out, the dust clinging to her fingers. There was no title on it and when she opened it, every page was blank.
"Did you find it?" The old woman stood at the doorway.
Ruelle looked up. Behind her, Hailey looked pale and was trying to catch her attention, mouthing something without sound and pointing at the old woman.
"Not yet. I’m still looking," Ruelle answered, rising to her feet. She handed the blank book to the old woman. "You can use this for groceries," she said, muttering, "or customers."
The old woman stared at the book in Ruelle’s hand before asking, "You can’t see what’s written in this?"
Ruelle frowned and shook her head.
The old woman then turned to Hailey, whose arms were full, one hand still holding the book on dissolving human bones, the other clutching a twig doll she had picked up. The woman pointed at the blank book.
"And you? Can you read it?"
Hailey stared at the old woman. She abruptly pointed, "We are in a witch’s house! She’s going to turn us into these little dolls and make us sweep her floors forever."
Ruelle instead asked, "What’s written in the book, Hailey?"
Hailey whispered, "Is reading it really more important than running?" She wasn’t ready for herself to enter the witch’s cauldron. She sighed and glanced down at the page. "The way to the mountains of Jillian is through the river crossings. The boats there are old, but the waters are full of silver fish—"
"Why can’t I read it?" Ruelle asked the old woman. She looked down at the page again.
As the old woman fell into thought, Ruelle glanced at Hailey. She replied, "I know, Hailey. I suspected it when we met her at the fair."
The old woman stepped close enough that Ruelle could smell the herbs clinging to her sleeves. Then the woman sniffed like an animal catching a scent.
"What changed since the last time?" the old woman muttered. "Did you lie with someone?"
"What?" Ruelle’s face burned while Hailey choked beside her. "No."
The old woman clicked her tongue and said, "When bodies meet, things change. Blood, breath, skin, fluids. Magic shifts." She leaned closer, her nose brushing near Ruelle’s neck. Then she stopped.
As realisation fell, Ruelle pulled down the wool scarf from her throat, revealing the dark vine-like markings.
"The soul bond," the woman murmured.
"What do you mean?" Ruelle frowned.
The old woman shut the book with a soft clap. She held it up between them and demanded,
"Do you think this is an ordinary book? The one who wrote it is said to have written it as a journal. Secrets not meant to be revealed. One sees mountains and rivers. I see the histories of dead towns."
"So vampires cannot read it?" Ruelle enquired.
"They cannot," the witch replied. "The one who wrote it hated them. Witches were hunted because of vampires. They were the first shadow that drew men to us."
She looked at Ruelle again and touched her neck, "This won’t let you read it. You will need to temporarily let it fade. Perhaps asked the parent who shares your blood."
Ruelle would have... if her mother were alive. A lot of her questions could have been answered. Glancing at the book, she asked, "Can I take it?"
"Suit yourself," the old witch harrumphed, already turning away. "You’ll need the basics. It is plain enough no one has taught you."
Ruelle followed her out of the storage room, dragging a still-shocked Hailey behind her. She then asked, "Can I return? If I need your help?"
"Don’t." The answer came instantly. The witch stopped by the kitchen table and shot her a look. "You think people don’t keep an eye? With deaths piling up and prisoners escaping, every rat in the streets has eyes now."
With books stacked across every room, Ruelle wondered if the witch realised how suspicious this place looked. She caught the old woman bend beneath one of the kitchen slabs and pulled out a thin book, placing it on the counter. The woman informed,
"This one has the basics."
Ruelle picked up the book, adding it to the grey book she had taken from the storage room. She wondered if this would help in keeping the corruption from spiralling. Before she could read the contents inside, someone banged on the door. The three women turned in its direction.
"Open the door!" came a man’s impatient voice.
The witch clicked her tongue. Her hand swept over the kitchen island, grabbing a fistful of salt. In one quick motion, she drew a sharp pattern into the wood and pressed her palm flat against it.
The next moment, the books in the kitchen and the rest of the house flickered before they disappeared from sight. Even the loose pages on the table melted into nothing.
In seconds, the kitchen looked ordinary and bare. The old witch remarked, "Took me ten years to do that."
"Are they the guards who followed?" Hailey asked tensed. It was one thing to be sneaking and a whole different deal to be found in a witch’s house. But then her eyes fell on Ruelle, realising what was spoken. "Should we perhaps slip out of the window?"
But it was too late, as the older woman opened the door and here stood an officer with four guards behind him. The look the witch sent Ruelle and Hailey said enough—if I fall, you fall with me.
"We need to search the house," the officer said, stepping inside without waiting. "Children have gone missing. And prisoners escaped the dungeon."
His eyes moved across the clean house before his gaze settled on them. The corners of his mouth twitched.
"And what are the mother and daughters up to today?"
"We aren’t together," Hailey said quickly.
The officer looked at her. "No?" He began opening cupboards, lifting lids, glancing under tables. "Then what brings you here?"
"Can’t women meet each other to gossip?" Hailey tilted her head.
The officer’s eyes fell on Hailey, his eyes narrowed as if he knew the patterns. He then jerked his head towards them, speaking to his guards, "Search them. We need to make sure no one is hiding anything and show your lovely smile with your teeth and nails."
With the two books hidden beneath her coat, Ruelle’s fingers tightened around the fabric. She couldn’t let them find the one on witchcraft.
"I doubt a missing child could fit into any of our pockets," Ruelle said, her voice steady. "So there is no reason for you or your men to put your hands on us."
The officer laughed. He looked amused by her boldness. He stated, "We do not need to find the children first," he said. "We need to find signs. Clues. Or discover if someone here is not what they claim to be."
He raised his hand and snapped for the guards to do their work.
But when the guards stepped forward, Ruelle moved faster. The dagger slipped from beneath her dress into her hand, the blade catching the dim light. She raised it between them. She said,
"We are respectable women. You will not touch us without proper warrant. Which you have yet to show."
Hailey blinked before quickly catching on.
"That’s true," she said, grabbing the nearest vase and holding it up like a weapon. "Searching women like this is rude. Do you wish to lose your position?" she asked.
The officer paused and one of the guards scoffed at the attempt to bluff.
The guard laughed, "Are you about to claim you’re some minister’s daughter? What would one be doing in a place like this?"
"I am no minister’s daughter. But you may want to think twice before laying hands on me," Ruelle replied. "I am the future daughter-in-law of Lord Azriel Slater."
"Or Prince Edward’s friend," Hailey added for support with a grin.
Ruelle pressed on, "And I am to marry Lucian Slater under the treaty your courthouse itself approved."
The officer’s eyebrows furrowed as if considering what she said, while the guards, upon the mention of all the names, looked back at their senior. They looked at the woman even more closely this time, noticing the expensive silk that she was draped in but it was the mark on her neck that made them realise.
"Ruelle Belmont," the officer asked to confirm and Ruelle gave a nod. At once, he bowed deeply. "My apologies for my insolence. And that of my guards. I was only carrying out my duty."
Once the men left, a collective sigh escaped from the younger women. The old witch muttered, "You seem like such a tangled string."
Hailey pressed a hand to her chest, "Can you imagine if they found out what was happening in this house?"
The old witch turned and shuffled back inside. She deadpanned, "You’d be tied to a post in the centre of town. Set on fire for everyone to enjoy."
Hailey laughed at first but then stopped. She stated, "But I’m human."
"You think that matters?" The witch snorted, throwing her a look over her shoulder. "People have burned plenty of humans for less. Most don’t care what you are. They only care that there’s something to point at." When her eyes moved to Ruelle, her lips were set in a thin line and she then said, "Only return if it is necessary."
Ruelle nodded at once, a small smile spreading on her lips. "Alright."
Before the door could shut, Hailey suddenly stuck her hand against it and stopped, "Wait a moment! Did you read my cards wrong?"
The old woman stared at her. Then said flatly, "Yes. Your fate may very well end in a cauldron."
Hailey’s face fell right away.
But Ruelle caught the twitch at the old woman’s mouth. "Leave," the woman muttered, and shut the door in their faces.
"Ruelle, do you want to hit the local inn?" Hailey asked, feeling depressed.
Ruelle put her arm around Hailey’s shoulders and replied, "She was joking. I am sure there’s a wonderful man waiting around the corner. Or maybe he is yet to see you."
"Maybe he will see me at your wedding?" Hailey brightened up and Ruelle grinned.
Remembering something, she then asked, "You aren’t scared?" She noticed her friend’s gaze turn to her, where silence filled briefly and she then said, "I found out about it a while back."
Hailey had tried not to think about it. She wanted to be supportive but she had heard the horror stories of witches, so it took a while for her to process. She replied carefully, "I..." but the words seemed to get stuck and she cleared her throat and continued, "Even if you were a frog, you would be my friend, Ruelle. It doesn’t matter."
"Frog, huh," Ruelle gave it some thought.
After returning to Aunt Imogden’s house in the same way they had used to leave, they left for the new Belmont residence.
When Ruelle stepped down from the carriage and when she looked around, her eyes met her father’s, who stood by the living room window and was now watching them.
When they entered the house, her father asked, "How was your visit?"
"Imogen is excited for the wedding," Mrs. Belmont replied, taking off her coat. "She said she would help however she can. She wants to make sure her niece lacks for nothing."
How generous, Ruelle almost smiled at the thought. The moment Aunt Imogen had heard she was to marry into the Slaters, her affections had grown warmer than Ruelle had ever known them to be.
The books sat hidden snugly beneath her coat.
"How about you, Ruelle?" Her father’s voice pulled her back.
"It was fine," she offered nothing more. The sound of hammering drifted from the dining room and they turned to it.
Mrs. Belmont frowned, "What is that?"
"The courthouse gave us this mansion. I thought it needed some changes. To feel more like home," her father said.
Curious, the women followed the direction of where the sound came and when Ruelle appeared at the front of the dining room, she noticed the long, rectangular dining table was no longer there. Instead, it was replaced by a smaller, round table.
Mrs. Belmont stared speechless. She said in doubt, "I thought the old table was fine. We’ll have guests. We’ll need the space."
"Guests come and go, Megan," her father’s voice was calm. "But we are the ones who live here." His eyes then shifted to Ruelle. "A family should sit where they can see each other. Speak to each other." A faint smile touched his mouth and he added, "Especially now."
Mrs. Belmont stepped to his side and slipped an arm around his waist.
"You must miss Caroline terribly," she said. Her voice sharpened at once. "Did you see that leech at the courthouse? Ezekiel. Surely he didn’t go looking for her. He’s probably waiting for her to die." Her mouth twisted. "I hope he dies badly."
"Let us not talk about him. Go warm your hands," he responded to her, and Mrs. Belmont made her way out of there.
He caught the way Ruelle lingered for a second longer than usual before leaving. When she turned and left, his gaze followed as far as it allowed. A faint smile touched his mouth. How long had he been waiting? He had worked hard to have her and today...
He pulled out a small vial filled with pale crystals, near identical to coarse salt. All he needed was one quiet night. A few hours of sleep would be enough. Walking to the kitchen, the maid appeared before him and asked,
"Was there something you needed?" The maid stepped in front of him. Blonde hair like Ruelle’s, though the eyes were wrong.
Ezekiel had never intended to kill all those women. They had only been substitutes, something to quiet the craving, so he would not lay his hands on Ruelle before the time was right. Before she was ready. But who knew she would lose her way and think she was meant to be with someone else? It was time he brought her to her senses.
"My wife asked for water," Ezekiel said sharply. "And help with her hands. Must I explain everything?"
The maid flushed. "No, sir." She hurried out, the others following after her.
With the kitchen empty except for him, he quickly uncorked the vial and poured the crystals into the salt container. It blended right away. Then he slipped away before anyone noticed.
By dinner, Ruelle sat at her father’s immediate left and Hailey sat beside her. The round table made them feel too close. Too easy to watch and it made it difficult for her to have an appetite in his presence.
"The maids hired by the courthouse cook well," Mrs. Belmont said after finishing her plate. "I’d like them to stay."
"Indeed." Her father nodded. He questioned, "Did you ask for these dishes?"
Mrs. Belmont hadn’t but she smiled anyway.
"Yes. These taste like my mother’s cooking," Mrs. Belmont murmured. She looked at the untouched dishes still spread across the table. "There’s too much." She waved a hand, "Give the rest to the guards. Better than letting it go to waste."
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