Neferet's Curse: A House of Night Novella (House of Night Novellas) Read Free

holding my hand in his, he met my gaze.
    That was the first time I saw it, what I have come to think of as the burning look . It was as if his eyes stared so violently into mine that I feared they would cause me to combust.
    “Your eyes are your mother’s,” he said. His words slurred and I smelled the sharp reek of his breath, heavily tainted by wine.
    I found I could not speak. I only shivered and nodded.
    Father dropped my hand then and walked unsteadily from the room. Before George began to clear the table, I took my linen napkin and rubbed it across the back of my hand, wiping away the wetness left there and wondering why I felt such an uneasy sensation deep in my stomach.
    *   *   *
    Madeleine Elcott and her daughter , Camille, were the first of the social calls I received two days later. Mr. Elcott was on the board at Father’s bank, and Mrs. Elcott had been a great friend of Mother’s, though I’d never truly understood why. Mother had been beautiful and charming, and a renowned hostess. In comparison, Mrs. Elcott had seemed waspish, gossipy, and miserly. When she and Mother sat together at dinner parties, I used to think Mrs. Elcott looked like a clucking chicken next to a dove, but she had the ability to make Mother laugh, and Mother’s laughter had been so magical, it had made the reason for it unimportant. I’d once overheard Father telling Mother that she would simply have to do more entertaining because dinner parties at the Elcott mansion were short on spirits and courses, and long on talk. Had anyone ever asked for my opinion, which of course they did not, I would have agreed wholeheartedly with Father. The Elcott mansion was less than a mile from our home, and looked stately and proper from the outside, but the inside was Spartan and, actually, rather gloomy. Little wonder Camille so loved visiting me!
    Camille was my best friend. She and I were close in age, she being only six months the younger. Camille talked a lot, but not in the cruel, gossipy way of her mother. Because of the closeness of our parents, Camille and I had grown up together, which had made us more like sisters than best friends.
    “Oh, my poor, sad Emily! How thin and wan you look,” Camille had said as she rushed into Mother’s parlor and embraced me.
    “Well, of course she looks thin and wan!” Mrs. Elcott had moved her daughter aside and stiffly taken my hands in hers before she’d even shed her white leather gloves. Remembering her touch, I realize now that she’d felt cold and quite reptilian. “Emily has lost her mother, Camille. Think of how wretched your life would be had you lost me. I would expect you to look just as terrible as poor Emily. I’m sure dear Alice is looking down on her daughter in understanding and appreciation.”
    Not expecting her to speak so freely of Mother’s death, I felt a little shock at Mrs. Elcott’s words. I tried to catch Camille’s gaze as we moved apart, settling ourselves on the divan and matching chairs. I’d wanted to share with her our old look, one that said we agreed how sometimes our mothers could say terribly embarrassing things, but Camille seemed to be looking everywhere but at me.
    “Yes, Mother, of course. I apologize,” was all she muttered contritely.
    Trying to feel my way through this new social world that suddenly was very foreign, I breathed a long breath of relief when the housemaid bustled in with tea and cakes. I poured. Mrs. Elcott and Camille studied me.
    “You really are quite thin,” Camille said finally.
    “I will be better soon,” I’d said, sending her a reassuring smile. “At first I found it difficult to do anything except sleep, but Father has insisted that I get well. He reminded me that I am now the Lady of Wheiler House.”
    Camille’s gaze had flicked quickly to her mother’s. I could not read the hard look in Mrs. Elcott’s eyes, but it was enough to silence her daughter.
    “That is quite brave of you, Emily,” Mrs. Elcott