THE SON-IN-LAW WHO WOULDN'T BURN

CHAPTER 8: THE TEA

Garrick closed the door behind him with his heel. The lantern in his hand swung from side to side, throwing his large shadow across the cellar walls. For a moment, the small room seemed even smaller.

He placed the clay teapot on the floor, hung the lantern on a hook beside the narrow window, then pulled the guard's stool closer with his foot.

He sat down. The stool creaked beneath him.

Cole kept his eyes half closed and his breathing slow and light. His heart beat slowly, just as Hollow had taught him. The ring on his left wrist felt warm against the wall, hidden beneath his sleeve.

"Don't open your eyes too quickly," Hollow whispered. "Wake up slowly. Look confused."

Where's Dennis?

"Gone. Garrick sent him away. He wants to be alone with you."

That's not good.

"No."

"Rise and shine."

Garrick tapped the teapot with one of his silver rings.

Tink.

"I know you're awake. Your breathing changed when I opened the door."

Cole slowly turned his head towards the sound. He blinked twice before looking at Garrick.

"Uncle Garrick?"

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry, sir." Cole pushed himself up on one elbow, letting his arm shake. "Is it morning?"

"It's the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep."

Garrick leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. The skin under his eyes looked dark in the lantern light. He smelled of wine, with another sour smell beneath it. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days.

"Do you know what keeps me awake, Cole?"

"No, sir."

"A fire that wouldn't burn."

Cole said nothing.

"That altar has stood for fifty years. There have been seven sacrifices in my lifetime. I've held the torch for four of them. Do you know how long it takes a man to burn?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

"About as long as it takes to boil an egg. They scream for a while, then they stop. I've never seen anyone walk away from that fire."

His eyes moved to Cole's face.

"So you can understand why I find what happened to you interesting."

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know why it happened."

"No. You don't."

Garrick picked up the teapot and took off the lid. Steam rose from the hot tea.

"I brought you something. You must be cold down here. A little hot tea should make you feel better."

Cole's whole body went stiff.

"Don't drink it," Hollow said. "He's not going to let you."

"Cold-blood sickness, isn't that what you called it?" Garrick poured the tea into a small metal cup. The hot liquid made a soft hissing sound as it touched the metal. "You said it runs in your family. Your mother had it too. Cold hands, cold feet, always feeling cold. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you must love hot tea."

"I..."

"Give me your hand."

"Sir?"

"Your hand." Garrick's voice stayed calm. "Your right hand. Hold it out."

Cole stared at him. The room seemed to grow quieter as the seconds passed. Somewhere inside the walls, water dripped.

"If you refuse, he'll know something is wrong," Hollow said. "If you pull away too soon, he'll know. You have to feel it first. Then react. Wait half a second."

Wait?

"A man who's just been hurt doesn't always react at once. Sometimes his mind needs a moment to understand what's happened. Then the pain hits. Hold out your hand."

That's insane.

"It's how you survive. Hold it out."

Cole stretched out his right hand, palm facing down. It shook a little, but he didn't try to stop it.

Garrick studied it for a long moment. Then he gave Cole a slow smile.

"Good boy."

He tipped the cup.

Boiling tea poured over the back of Cole's hand. The brown liquid ran across his knuckles, slipped between his fingers, and dripped onto the salt-covered floor. Steam rose from his skin.

The heat was strong, almost painful. But something cool moved beneath it, covering the pain like a hand pressing down on a bruise. The burning feeling slowly faded.

One, Cole counted.

Two.

After half a second, he pulled his hand back with a sharp hiss and held it against his chest.

"Ah! Ow! That's hot!"

"Is it?"

Garrick placed the cup on the floor.

"It looked like it took you a moment to notice."

"I was half asleep." Cole bent over his hand, breathing through his teeth. "I wasn't ready."

"Show me."

"Sir..."

"Show me your hand."

Cole slowly opened his fingers.

The back of his hand was red, from his knuckles down to his wrist. Hollow had brought the blood close to the surface. Cole hadn't even known that was possible until now. His skin looked sore and swollen, just like a real burn.

Hollow had told him it would look worse the next day but would be back to normal by the end of the week.

Garrick turned Cole's hand over with two thick fingers and held it under the lantern. His thumb pressed against the red skin. The spot turned white, then slowly became pink again.

He lifted Cole's palm and sniffed it like a dog.

"Funny," he said quietly. "A burn like that should leave blisters."

"It stings pretty bad, sir."

"It should leave blisters."

He let go of Cole's hand, wiped his fingers on his trousers, and looked at the cup. A little tea was still left inside.

"A man with cold blood has thin skin. I've seen it before. A little hot water can leave his skin sore for a whole week."

His eyes returned to Cole.

"But you took boiling tea like someone was touching your hand gently."

Cole's mouth had gone dry.

"I don't feel like anyone is touching me gently, sir."

"No?"

"It hurts."

Garrick laughed.

It started as a low sound, then grew louder until it filled the small room. He laughed so hard that he had to wipe his eye with one knuckle.

"Oh, that's good. 'It hurts.' You know, you're a hell of a liar, boy. I've watched you lie for three years, and I never noticed it. All those 'yes, sirs.' All those 'sorry, sirs.' I thought you were just stupid."

"I am stupid, sir."

"No."

Garrick stopped laughing at once.

"No, you aren't."

The room went quiet. The lantern flame shook, making the light move across the walls.

Cole kept his shoulders low and his eyes on the floor. His heart gave one slow beat, then another.

"Say something," Hollow whispered. "Something small. Let him think he's winning."

"Please, sir," Cole said. "I'm tired. I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth would be nice."

"I told Silas the truth."

"You told Silas a story."

Garrick stood up. The stool scraped against the floor as he moved away from it. He picked up the teapot, the cup, and the lantern. Then he stopped with one hand on the door.

His back was turned to Cole when he spoke again. His voice was softer now.

"My father's decided you're a miracle. He's old, and old men want to believe in miracles. He thinks the family's luck has changed. He's going to keep you under this roof, feed you, and call it a blessing."

"Sir..."

"I'm not old."

Garrick turned around.

The smile was gone. His eyes were pale and cold. He looked completely sober. For the first time, Cole understood that Garrick's laughter had never shown what he was really thinking.

"I've managed this house's money for twenty years. I know when something doesn't make sense. And yo

u, Cole Marden, don't make sense."

He opened the door. Light from the hall fell across his shoulders.

"Silas thinks you're a miracle," he said. "I think you're a mistake that hasn't finished happening.”