Dark Stars Danielle Rollins (pdf ebook reader TXT) 📖

had his head bent, absently brushing it off, but he looked up when Ash spoke.

The Professor had always looked alarmingly like his daughter. He had Zora’s strong jaw and dark eyes, and his mouth had the same way of twisting into an ironic smile whenever someone said something that he thought was a little stupid. But there were lines on his face that Zora didn’t have yet, deep frown lines around his mouth, creases that cut across his forehead and fanned away from his eyes.

“Jonathan,” the Professor said brightly, smiling.

Hearing his name brought tears to Ash’s eyes. It was the Professor, really and truly, after all this time. Ash opened his mouth, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.

The Professor took a step forward, clamping a hand down on Ash’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, son.”

29Dorothy

Dorothy thought it best to let the Professor and Ash have a moment alone. She backed away as the two men embraced, feeling like she was invading on something very personal, a reunion between a father and son rather than a teacher and student, for instance. When she saw that she would not be missed, she darted through a door and down the hall.

She wandered Avery’s house for a while, at a loss as to where to go. This place had never felt like home to her, not even in the weeks leading up to her wedding when she and her mother had lived here. It had a museum-like quality to it, the ceilings soaring above her, the walls all ornately papered in the most expensive oriental fabrics, the floors and trim gleaming with fresh polish, even though Dorothy had never actually seen anyone dust or mop them. Even the furniture was over-the-top, lavish, intricate. Settees covered in velvet, elaborately stitched cushions, tables carved with tiny animals and flowers. It was too much, and Dorothy was surprised to feel a sharp ache of homesickness as she walked through the halls now.

She thought of decaying, brocade walls and waterlogged carpets, the top of a domed skylight peeking out from below the black waves. Her hotel. Her real home.

She found herself entering the sitting room, which had always been . . . well, it seemed disingenuous to call it her favorite room in Avery’s house, but it was at least a room she didn’t actively despise. It was small and narrow, with heavy, velvet drapes and thick carpets that made it feel a bit like a child’s fort, almost like it had been built entirely of blankets and pillows. And there was the fact that Avery rarely came in here. Always a plus.

A teapot and several cups were laid out on a small table near the love seat, probably her mother’s leftover service from that morning, Dorothy realized. It was likely cold by now, but Dorothy poured herself a cup, anyway. Caffeine was caffeine, and she hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in she didn’t know how long. She stirred in a few spoonfuls of sugar and sunk onto the sofa, thinking of the Fairmont. It had truly been the only place in her life that had actually felt like a home. Would she ever be able to go back again? she wondered.

She took a sip of cold, bitter tea.

“Well,” said her mother’s voice, from directly behind her. “That was quite a show you put on.”

Dorothy cringed and nearly swallowed the tea wrong. She forced herself to return her cup and saucer to the table beside her before turning to find her mother standing in the sitting room doorway.

Loretta swept into the room and took the seat beside Dorothy’s. She poured herself a cup of tea as well and grimaced as she drank.

“That tastes dreadful,” she murmured, placing her cup back on the table. “We should call for a fresh pot.” She looked around, as though expecting a maid to step out of one of the walls.

“Leave the servants alone; the tea is fine. In fact, I think it’s quite good.” It was a silly lie, but Dorothy was feeling contrary. She took another careful sip of her own tea, sucking her lips in so she wouldn’t inadvertently grimace. Her mother gave her a look of utter disdain, clearly not falling for it.

Swallowing, Dorothy said, “So, I take it you were watching?”

“Your little stunt out in the field?” Loretta lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, I was watching. You and that man seemed to have appeared out of thin air, clouds of smoke billowing around you. How very exciting.”

There was a catch to her voice, as though all of this were an elaborate prank, but there was something complicated happening behind her eyes. Dorothy felt her mouth twitch. No matter what her mother said, she could tell that Loretta’s curiosity was getting the better of her.

“You still don’t believe me?” Dorothy asked, working hard to keep the smile from touching her lips.

Loretta only stared at her. Looking back at her mother, Dorothy remembered a story she often told, of attending a séance with the Fox sisters long before Dorothy was born. The Fox sisters were the most famous mediums of the nineteenth century, and they’d managed to con most of the country, claiming they could communicate with the dead through mysterious knocks and raps. But Loretta had noticed that the noises these “ghosts” were supposed to be responsible for only came when the sisters’ feet were on the floor, or when their dresses were in contact with the table. She confronted the women after her séance was over and was given a stack of cash to keep her mouth shut.

Thinking of this story now, Dorothy found herself unable to suppress a grin. It must be killing her mother that she couldn’t explain how Dorothy was doing the things she was doing.

After a moment, Loretta said, “What exactly do you plan to do now?”

With that, any semblance of a smile dropped from Dorothy’s mouth. What now? How could she begin to answer that question?

She thought of the