“ Disgusting little boy ,” he said , waggling his tongue . “ Fetch me some scotch .”
It pleased him to watch me run , his laughter chasing me down the winding halls . I returned with scotch on a silver platter , the lone ice cube shivering . He drained the drink then belched a curse , blew it in my face and let the glass shatter at my feet . Aside from my weekly pay , it would be the kindest gesture I would receive from him .
Only the old maid Maggie would speak to me about Mr . Rutherfurd ’ s condition . At night in the heart of the hedge garden , beneath the bust of Somnus , she whispered , “ Do you believe in curses ?”
I believed in ocean magicks , it ’ s true , tattoos that dragged dead sailors into heaven and moons known to summon serpents from their slumbering depths . But these things were too far away to concern me .
“ I ’ m not sure .”
“ The master bears the mark ,” Maggie said , tapping the sky-blue vein on her wrist . “ He sees his demons when his eyes are shut . They approach when he ’ s not looking , making him nastier and nastier .”
“ Demons … Then it ’ s true what they say .” I ’ ve heard the secrets carry through the hollow halls . “ That he eats babies . How do they fit them between the bars ?”
“ The bars ,” she said , her old features pruning . She allowed herself to blink her wide eyes , snapping them open with deliberate speed . “ I ’ ve scrubbed those bars
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