Into the Tiger's Hour

Chapter Seventeen

Hearth Home had been in an uproar when they'd left, but the news of Iris's death had quieted that almost immediately. Now it was caught in a thick hush and everyone, even the children, tiptoed as they walked down the halls.

It was the second time in eleven years that Spider had left her bookstore, and all of the curtains drawn across the windows helped her avoid the panic attack that was clawing at the edges of her mind. But with Iris dead, Jonas unresponsive and Bertram hospitalized because of the heart attack that had followed the news, there was no choice. Someone had to be there to help Andrew with the children. They didn't understand all of the misery; no one had had the heart to break the news to them, and the ones that were too young to understand only knew that something was very wrong.

They cried for Bertram at night, not Iris, but the teenager hadn't been part of their daily lives. It was Bertram who had tucked them into bed, eased their scraped knees and swung them in the air until they giggled. And it was Bertram they were waiting for with as much patience as children could manage.

Naptime was a blessed relief from the sad eyes that followed Spider as she tried to keep up the daily routine. From trying to stay strong for the mute Coriline who radiated more despondence than a Gothic romance and handling Andrew's bouts of histrionics that punctuated every hour the hospital didn't call with updates on Bertram's condition.

It was a compromise on Andrew's part, the back room that Spider took her coffee and pack of cigarettes into. She was wholly unable to smoke outside and he didn't permit it in the house, but the back room that had been used for storage was largely closed off from the main house. Sacrifices were being made by everyone, and this was his magnanimous contribution. He'd even put one of the candy dishes the children had made the previous year into it for her ashes and offered pillows for the straight-backed chair brought in from the porch.

The cushions were thin and not particularly comfortable, but with the door shut, the small room was quiet and Spider settled into the chair with a sigh of relief. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the pack, tearing the cellophane and ripping the first Pall Mall in half. Gritting her teeth, Spider tapped the blood-red pack against her hand until another slid out and she had to flick the wheel several times before the lighter produced a flame.

Nicotine hit her tongue and tingled, rushed through her with the first hard draw and she exhaled smoke in a thin line, eyes closing. Her head dropped back against the unyielding wood, dug into her scalp and pressed a pewter bat against the back of her ear, but Spider didn't sit up.

Iris dead.

Jonas basically catatonic.

Bertram hospitalized.

Ax inconsolable.

Who else was this tragedy going to claim before all was said and done?

Guilt weighed heavily on her. Although Spider hadn't told Iris the rest of what she knew--it had been a hard-won truth she'd fought out of Jonas about Dia's reincarnation and his obsession with bringing the French infant home--she couldn't help but wonder if she'd said too much. No one else would've answered her questions, and Jonas might have become even more restrictive with Iris if she'd been able to ask him. Someone had to tell her, but...

If this was the result, Spider knew she had been very, very wrong.

She brought the filter back to her lips and breathed in deeply, held the smoke until she was light-headed and exhaled in a puff before sitting up. The room was tidy and as meticulously cleaned as every other inch of Hearth Home, but there was nothing to look at. Several small boxes were on a rack of shelves. Andrew had put the candy dish on a small wooden folding table. There was her chair and she herself, none of which were interesting enough to keep her mind off of the same thoughts over and over again.