Wow! Thanks for all the reviews! I was stunned! I've never gotten so many in just a day! And as thanks, here's a new chapter!
It was early June, almost a year since the day when life took a turn for the worst and all innocence was lost. Gemma was home from school for good, and things were quiet, far too quiet, considering previous events during the year. Most of me was on edge, waiting for something, anything to go wrong, but a small part of me wanted to believe that things had finally settled into place. Part of me enjoyed the dull routine that had become my daily life.
For the first time in my entire life, I was on my own. I finally had the chance to get to know myself, something I never had a chance to do. With so many duties and obligations put over my head by the Rakshana I had barely a chance to think of anything else. Everything was pre-calculated, from my lesson plans to my role as protector to Gemma Doyle to my course of action should anything go wrong. My head was a swarm of equations and explanations, with no room for imagination.
So imagine my surprise when I rediscovered a part of me I locked away as a six-year-old. Once my head cleared of the initial misery of being cast from the Rakshana, and then the intense loneliness when Gemma went back to school, I was left with a clean slate. Oddly enough, it turned out I had quite a penchant for drawing. And not so surprisingly, Gemma was my favorite subject to draw.
But frivolities aside, I knew I had an important place in helping Gemma with the Order. We corresponded, though not as often as I would have liked, and she informed me of any significant information regarding the realms. In turn, I wrote her about London with the promise I'd let her know of any news concerning the Rakshana's plans to take the magic. I heard nothing.
Everything was quiet. I should have known better and kept my guard up. But Gemma was home and I was happy for her company again. In hindsight, not much could've been done to prepare me for what happened. Whoever was so quiet those past few months certainly decided to announce their presence with a bang.
On the night of June 4, 1896 I heard screaming.
I was sitting at a table in the tavern I was staying at, drinking coffee and taking in my surroundings when suddenly I heard a woman's shrill screams. Being the youngest and fittest in the tavern, I was the first to dash outside. A lone woman was in hysterics, clutching her tattered gown about her shoulders and cowering against a wall. A metallic scent reached my trained senses and I instinctively looked for its origin. A young boy, around the age of 13, was crumpled in a heap only a few feet from the doorstep. As I neared him cautiously, a wave of nausea overtook me. Through the blood and contorted limbs, I recognized him as the boy that often ran messages from the Doyle household.
People were beginning to emerge from the buildings behind me. I vaguely heard the tavern keeper coax the distressed woman inside for a hot cup of tea. I cocked my head and took in his form. Death had come swiftly in the form of a slit neck, a fate that nearly ended me. Someone called for the constable. I was about to retreat when something caught my eye. A letter, clutched tightly in the boy's stiffening grasp. Without thinking, I quickly wrenched it from him and hid it from sight until I made it safely back to my room.
I removed it from my pocket to study and my stomach gave another unpleasant lurch. The wax seal was that of Gemma's, and her handwriting emerged from beneath a spatter of blood to reveal my name. I sank down onto my bed on shaky knees. I ripped open the envelope and pulled out the parchment emblazoned with her name and family crest. The words were written in haste and sent a chill to my very heart.
I think someone is trying to kill me.
I was in a fit, torn between acting rashly and acting intelligently. I weighed the possibilities with a shaken mind. Was Gemma really in danger, or was this an elaborate hoax to draw me out of hiding so that the Rakshana had one less thing to worry about? If the latter was the case, then they have surely discovered my Achilles' heel, though I revealed that the moment I saved her from them. My palms sweated and I felt ill, unsure of what to do.
As I paced the room, a knock sounded at the door, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin. The woman who screamed earlier stood in the doorway smiling eerily. Closer inspection revealed, however, that she was not in fact a woman. To make matters worse, the broach on the dress was emblazoned with the sword and the skull.
I had been found.
"Kartik, you sneaky little rat," said the man, a member of the middle ranks. I recognized him as one of Amar's friends. My heart sank. Surely this meant that every member of the Rakshana was aware of my deed and hated me for it, regardless of previous camaraderie. "Soon you and your precious priestess will be together." He drew a pistol from the folds of the skirt. "In Hell, of course."
My panicked brain saw only one opportunity for exit, one I took in haste. I grabbed an iron paperweight from the shelf and flung it as hard as I could across the room. It hit his skull with a satisfying clunk and I was free to dash out of the room and into the dark, deserted streets.
I'll never know how my legs carried me to the Doyle's house, but thankfully they did so without giving out. However, when I reached the back of the house I collapsed, exhausted, onto the ground.
"Mr. Kartik?" At the sound of my name, I looked around frantically. It was Emily, the maid, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with an incredulous look on her face. "Gracious me, it is you!"
"Hello," I said weakly, not particularly happy to see her.
"You look terrible! Come inside for a cup of tea!"
"What time is it?" I asked, still panting for breath.
"I don't know exactly, but the entire household is tucked into bed. I was just finishing up my chores. Come in for tea, no one will know."
"Yes, thank you," I said hurriedly. My nerves had calmed a bit. There was no apparent imminent danger for Gemma. The only obstacle then was to get rid of Emily, so that I could find Gemma in peace.
Emily lit a lamp and started boiling water for tea. "Where have you been, Mr. Kartik? You just took off and I – we had no idea what the matter was! Thank you for the book, by the way," she says, blushing. The effect is not as charming as it is on Gemma. "Miss Doyle gave it to me, but she never said -,"
"How is she?" I ask, cutting her off. Emily looks taken aback.
"She's very sick," Emily says. "Can't keep a thing down. Looks like death itself, she does." Her face developed a slight sneer, as if she was glad to report on Gemma's apparently ill appearance. The cattiness of women will never cease to appall me.
Emily continued. "It's really a shame though, that she can't eat."
"Why?" I asked, certain I would get an answer implying that Gemma looked like an underfed dog.
Emily's face grew thoughtful. "Well, Simon Middleton gave me a certain spice that Miss Doyle is fond of. It's from India, he said. He told me to put it on her meals, because she loves it so."
A chill rose up my spine. "A spice you say? What is it? Saffron?"
Emily shrugged. "I'm not sure."
I had forgotten Emily couldn't read. "May I see it?"
She handed me an ordinary looking bottle. I spilled some of the contents onto the table, despite Emily's protests. The yellowish powder smelled like garlic, and was definitely not saffron. It was arsenic. Gemma was being poisoned by her own maid.
"You said Simon Middleton gave you this to put on Miss Doyle's food?" I asked sternly. Emily's eyes grew wide at my tone, but it did not bother me. She had a hand in this, and therefore she was just as guilty as Middleton.
"Y-yes," she stammered. I scooped the powder back into the bottle and threw it out the open window.
"Don't ever touch her food, do you understand?"
"W-whatever is the matter, Mr. Kartik?"
"Goodbye, Emily," I said coldly, walking back out into the yard.
Yay plot! Don't worry, Kartik's parents were not just thrown into the prologue for nothing. That will happen much later though.
Yay birthday tomorrow! Thanks for all the "happy birthdays" and visions of Kartik popping out of a cake! I'm very happy because I get to ride Dix tomorrow! I would have today, but he pulled a shoe, so I had to ride Scout, who is fat and lazy and going to Canada for the summer. I love him and all, but he'll come back and say "So you want me to canter, eh? Fat chance, eh?"
You guys rock the casbah! I wish I could send a piece of birthday cake to all of you. But then it'd be stale. So as further thanks, I'll share with you how to get a copy of the teaser book. Which is a real book, released at Book Expo America last weekend by Libba Bray herself. It's the prologue and first 4 chapters of The Sweet Far Thing and it is free. This is what I did to find a copy (it's not sold at places like Borders or Barnes and Noble).
Go to Google and type in "independent booksellers" and your zipcode. Call every place that shows up in your area. Booksense dot com has a lot of listings. If you don't have luck, try Ebay in a few weeks. Best of luck to all of you! (If you can't find it, drop me an email and I'll fill you in on what happens.)