Of Midnight Born by Lisa Cach Page B

there were facts to support the conclusion. He had seen the same thing happen too often with acquaintances who, like him, were interested in the sciences. Their own thoughts became more real to them than the physical world they were trying to study, and they became incapable of seeing evidence that contradicted their theories.
    Clearly, the best course was to ignore any strange sensations he had of being watched. There was no purpose in doing otherwise. If Serena existed, she would have to write him a letter saying so, as well as draw a map pointing to the location of her moldering bones.
    With that thought in mind, he rolled his head to work the kinks out of his neck and then rose, taking the lamp and book with him up to his bedroom and thence to his bathroom, making a conscious effort to ignore the sense of something following him. It was much like trying not to think of a blue zebra, once someone has suggested that you not let the image enter your mind.
    He stopped in front of the door to the water closet, his resolve to act and think as if he were alone faltering at the idea of tending to private needs with the presence in attendance. A dim remembrance of a childhood fear of monsters in the privy flitted to mind.
    Serena stood a few feet from Woding, watching as he stepped into the water closet. She couldn’t bring herself to follow. She hadn’t even followed Briggs into that small chamber, remembering too well how her own brothers had made a joke of trying to disrupt and embarrass her at similartimes. She’d dosed William’s food with enough tansy to send him to the garderobe for a day and a half, in revenge for one particularly humiliating episode.
    Her haunting of Woding’s staff, although draining, was proving reasonably successful. Unfortunately, there were always more workers willing to be hired, a fact that had become abundantly clear when Marcy and Mrs. Hutchins showed up. Serena had eavesdropped on a few of their conversations, hearing their boasts that they would prove the men cowards. Knowing that, she was even less likely to want to disturb the women in any way.
    It was best, therefore, that she direct her efforts to where they should have been all along: to Woding. His awareness of her presence had given her a devastatingly simple idea for how to wear him down. She would be by his side day and night. Minute by minute, hour by hour, this man who appeared to value solitude almost as much as she did would have to endure her constant company. He would feel her standing behind his shoulder, sitting across from him at dinner, leaning against the parapet of his tower, and even lying beside him in his bed. Day in, day out. It would drive him mad.
    And the beauty of the plan was that she would not drain energy from her tree. She could haunt him this way for half a century, and it would be nearly effortless. She’d had centuries of learning patience, and could endure the pain of being in such close contact with the living. Woding would break long before she would.
    She went and sat on the edge of the tub. It was white and perfectly smooth, and she wished she could know what it felt like to step into such a bath. She knew there would be no danger of finding a splinter in one’s backside while one wallowed about in the steaming water.
    She swung her feet over the edge and slid down into it. She was a tall woman, but the tub was long and deep, andwith the back of her neck on the edge of the tub she didn’t even need to bend her knees, her feet just reaching the end. She lay there, pretending to be covered in water, then slid down deeper, pretending to hear the water fill her ears, and to feel it close over her face.
    She heard Woding come out of the water closet; then after a few moments he appeared beside the tub. She looked up at him as he looked down, faint flickers of emotion dancing in the muscles across his face. It was his habit to bathe in the evening, and she wondered if he was reluctant to do so now. It