Page 68 of The Darkest Chase
I tear my gaze away, staring across the café instead.
“That makes one of us,” I mutter tightly.
“Fine,” she answers with absolute conviction, picking up her phone, and when she swipes the screen and smiles down at it softly, I know exactly what picture she’s looking at. “I’ll just have to believe in you hard enough for both of us, Micah.”
Fine is fucking right.
Let her believe whatever she wants.
Nothing Talia Grey does will make me a better man than the twisted creature I truly am.
9
DARKEST HOUR (TALIA)
Nothing else in the world calms me more than the scent of the workshop and the sound of Grandpa hard at work.
I’m at my drafting table, with a perfect view of the shop front so I can head out if a customer comes in. But I’m not really thinking about sales right now.
Papers scatter across the angled wooden tabletop and my pencils are strewn everywhere. I’ve filled pages with sketches until my hand hurts, using my photos of the Arrendell manor as a reference, trying to tame that strange beast into something livable.
Behind me, Grandpa works over his lathe, humming softly to himself as he fills the workshop with the scent of hot sawdust, slowly bringing another masterpiece to life.
I feel like half my drawings are a tribute to him, to what I know he’s capable of. I’ve always designed with Grandpa’s style in mind, but also with a touch of my own.
No matter how I might feel about the Arrendells, there’s something exciting about taking on the challenge of transforming a luxe dungeon into something warm and alive. The interior is mostly black and white with wood accents and tacky splashes of red. It makes me think of a chessboard strewn with the blood of kings and queens and pawns.
Then there’s the garden out back.
Even if it was mazelike, there’s natural beauty there.
Trees and flowers growing wild, a touch of lightness, like those grounds could somehow purify the darkness of the family’s history. The idea stuck with me while I sketched and bled into concepts focused on light wood tones with a soft gloss meant to capture the natural light that could permeate the place if we replaced those heavy velvet drapes with modern fabrics and hand-carved wooden shutters.
My concepts turn the bedrooms into bowers, complete with flowered trellises of climbing vines. Others get more technical, but there’s an organic look to it I like.
With a little grunt work, we’ll make the interior of the manor look like it’s sprouting up from the surrounding forest.
Yes, it’s going to take years of hard work.
But as long as my grandfather’s here, I don’t care.
I’ll work with Xavier Arrendell indefinitely if it helps Grandpa hold on to what he cherishes.
Right now, though, if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late for a meeting with the man in question.
I get up, shuffle my papers together, and slide them into a portfolio folder before slipping over to kiss Grandpa’s cheek.
“Heading up to the big house,” I say, while he slows the lathe and smiles at me. “Did you want to see my sketches before I go?”
“Show me when you get back.” His smile brightens. “I trust you, Serena dear.”
Only practice stops me from gasping with distress.
It hits me so hard, every time he calls me by my mother’s name.
He must be in some strange liminal space between past and present, if he’s not asking me why I’m going to the Arrendell manor.
I take a shaky breath, wondering if I should leave him unsupervised. No matter what happens to his mind, he never forgets his skills with his tools.