The Jade God by Alan Sullivan (snow like ashes series txt) 📕

Presently the inner edge of one of the heavy curtains that hung over the French window stirred ever so slightly and at one point drew very slowly aside, leaving a narrow oval gap on the border of which a man’s fingers, short, broad, and strong, were visible. This gap widened inch by inch, till, framed in the dull fabric, there appeared a face. A mass of tumbled hair surmounted a low forehead, beneath which moved eyes that were dark, shining, and restless. The man might have been forty, with tanned skin, large and rather uncouth features, a broad mouth, heavy lips⁠—blue-black and unshaven⁠—and a strange, furtive expression. No part of his body was visible below the chin, and the face hung as though suspended like a threatening mask in midair. The roving eyes searched the room, darting from place to place with extraordinary quickness, and reflecting little pinpoints of light from the leaping flames. Finally they rested on Derrick and his sister with a look in which surprise mingled with a certain unconquerable composure. There was no fear in the look but rather the suggestion that this formidable stranger from the dark had been here before and was now making up his mind on some vital matter. Then the lips widened into a grin rendered repulsive by discolored teeth; the gap narrowed as silently as a leaf falls; face and fingers diminished and disappeared; the curtain trembled and hung straight; and there drifted into the room the faintest possible sound from without. It was over, like a baleful dream.

Derrick looked up sharply. “Who was that?”

Edith, perceiving nothing, stared at him. His face was tense, his eyes very wide open. She struggled against a foolish sense of alarm.

“Where, Jack?”

“In this room. Did anyone come in just now?” He peered about, searching the dancing shadows, keyed suddenly to a strange pitch.

“No one,” she said. “Who could there be? I heard nothing.”

“That’s odd,” he murmured.

She got up, stood beside him, and put a hand on his arm. “What’s odd, Jack? I wish you wouldn’t go on like this⁠—and don’t be so mysterious, unless you want it to get on my nerves.”

“I had an extraordinary feeling that for a moment we were not alone.” He laughed, but it sounded a shade forced. “Dreaming as usual, I suppose. Sorry, Edith; I won’t do it again.”

But Miss Derrick, in spite of herself, had turned a little pale. For the past hour she had been trying to put out of her head a succession of strange thoughts about strange things, and she had nearly succeeded. Now she felt dizzy. Perhaps they had not been alone. But who could it have been? Mystery, breathless, confusing, and baffling, stole in on her like a secret assailant, attacking all senses save that of fear. Her pulse slowed⁠—and beat tumultuously. She stepped to the bell and rang hard. Derrick looked at her with wonder.

“What’s the matter? There’s nothing to be frightened about!”

“How do you know?” she stammered. “I feel queer because I don’t know. I want to see someone who isn’t just ourselves,” she went on chaotically, “and I’m the more vexed because it has to⁠—to be Perkins.” She covered her eyes unconsciously, like a child. “Jack, Jack, what is the matter with me? I’m acting like a fool.”

He put his arm round her. “I’m awfully sorry, dear, but, really, it’s nothing. I hardly knew I spoke. Of course it is nothing. I’ll search the house if you like.”

“But would you find it?” she whispered. “Would you find it?”

Came a tap at the door, and Perkins entered, her face as blank as ever. Edith controlled herself with an effort and looked straight into the basilisk eyes.

“Perkins, has anyone come to the house just now?”

The maid glanced at her, impassive and inscrutable. “No, madam. Was anyone expected?”

Edith could but answer with another question. “You⁠—you have heard nothing within the last few minutes?”

“Nothing whatever, madam.” The voice carried no suggestion of surprise, but Perkins’s eyes met those of Derrick for a passing instant.

“Thank you. Please go to my room, and⁠—and bring me a handkerchief. Are all the windows and doors fastened?”

“Yes, madam, except this one. Mr. Derrick told me to leave that to him.”

She disappeared. Derrick laughed and lit his pipe.

“You’re answered now, Edith! The house closed tight as a drum, and the only access from outside through this room.”

“Perhaps you’re right! Yes, of course you are; but, when she comes back, say something that will keep her for a minute; say anything at all. Please do that. I can’t explain, but I must hear some other voice, even Perkins’s comfortless accents. Jack, I am a fool.”

“You’re not very complimentary to my powers of entertainment,” he chuckled. “I won’t write any more tonight. We’ll get out the cards if you like.”

She shook her head and sent him a strange glance, as though wondering if he would understand. “It isn’t entertainment I want tonight.”

“Then what? I’m not in a position to offer much more.”

“I don’t know. It’s something like protection, but not quite that, either. I know it sounds absurd, but it’s the kind of thing that could only come from one who does not believe what you do about all this.” She made a gesture at the surrounding room. “I suppose it’s a sort of companion in my incredulity. You’re beginning to make things rather too much alive for my comfort, though I don’t believe in them at all.”

“There’s nothing here,” he protested quickly, “nothing but ourselves. Forget what I said. I was only dreaming aloud. It’s what the Scotch call havering.”

Even as he spoke there came to him the refutation of his own words. Millicent signaled his disapproval from the canvas overhead, and stinging whispers from the silence around proclaimed him false to his real belief. The protest died on his lips, and Edith looked at him keenly.

“I don’t want you to say what you don’t believe in the hope of stiffening me, but I’d be glad if you’d help to prevent