Page 1 of Heir of Shadows

1

Marigold

“Mary, Mary…” Mr. Conradcalled as he crept through the house.

I have never hated my name more than at this moment.

Peering through the closet-door slats, I searched the hall for my tormenter. One hand gripped the ragged edges of my now-buttonless shirt, and I forced myself to take slow, even breaths. The shadows in the closet seemed to deepen around me, as if they were responding to my fear.Nonsense. I took a breath and almost choked on the heavy scent of rose air freshener. Mrs. Conrad kept her linens smelling like a damn garden.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called.

I twisted my mother’s ring on its silver chain around my neck. For some reason, the metal was as cold as an ice cube. I squinted through the slats, exhaling when I saw he was headed down the hall toward the master bedroom. Twisting the ends of my shirt, I tied them in a knot under my breasts. But my eyes stayed glued to Mr. Conrad.

Don’t you dare turn around.

If I just waited until he went inside the bedroom, I could escape down the stairs. Reaching in the pocket of my half-apron, I pushed aside my earbuds, and took hold of my phone. My thumb tapped against the screen, but I didn’t dare call my mother. And who else could I call? The police, to Mr. Conrad’s own home? I was just the maid.

“Mary,” he said, his voice slurred, “Don’t you know I came home just for you? I thought we could have a little fun…”

I bet you did, asshole.

“Billy told me you are a lot of fun.”

Bastard. I closed my eyes, my stomach clenching.Billy isn’t an old man, an old married man.Not that I should have slept with him either, but Billy’d been home from college for the summer, all muscled from playing soccer, and pretty boys were my kryptonite. I’d let myself have fun with the rich jerks from time to time, even though I knew better, but never with someone old enough to be my father. Stupid Billy. He shouldn’t have told Mr. Conrad about it. I was going to murder him for that.

I opened my eyes, and peered out through the slats again.

And he was inside the master bedroom. My heart hammered in my chest as I whispered a prayer to whatever was out there:Just let him get to the bathroom in the rear.I leaned closer to the door, watching, and the wood squeaked.No!I slid down to a crouch, making myself smaller, but he didn’t hear, or at least he didn’t reappear.

“One, two, three,” I counted silently.Now or never.

I bolted toward the stairs and leapt onto the banister. The polished wood sent me rocketing down at terrifying speed, my heart lodging in my throat. Unable to brake, I shot off the end and crashed into the wall, my boot punching through the plaster.

Before I could pull my foot free, something stirred behind the wall. Small scraping sounds came from the hole.Oh no. Not again.A furry body sprang from the hole, fixing me with unnaturally black eyes. The shadows around it writhed unnaturally, and I bit my lip.I was imagining it. Not like before. Just a mouse.The creature darted up the stairs, trailing darkness like a cloak. I couldn’t do anything but watch it go.

Mrs. Conrad was not going to like that.

I hauled myself to my feet, ready to get the hell out of there, when I froze. My stomach twisted as I watched more mice—no, a whole stream of them—spill out of the wall like some nightmare parade. Their little bodies moved in eerie unison, a tiny army on a mission, each one trailing wisps of shadow that shouldn’t exist.Not just a mouse. Shit.The stench of rot hit me, and I gagged.

Mrs. Conrad wasreallynot going to like that.

With a frustrated grunt, I shook the plaster off my boot and made a beeline for the front door. I was done.No more lecherous old men. No more creatures. No more!Or at least I thought I was—until a high-pitched scream from upstairs made me freeze. I groaned, my hand tightening on the door handle.

“Mother!” Mr. Conrad cried. “No!” He stood on the balcony above the entryway, and I started to cringe back, but he wasn’t looking at me.

The translucent figure of an elderly woman floated above the entry hall. Mrs. Conrad Senior had died years ago—I’d dusted her portrait enough times to know her face. The ring was icy against my collarbone as energy surged through me, familiar yet foreign. The shadows around her form twisted and coiled like living things.

I leaned against the door, trying to catch my breath and glaring up at Mrs. Conrad Senior. Why did this stuff always happen to me? Shadows that twisted with odd power? Weird dead things that appeared whenever I was freaked out, whether it was a school test or slimy Mr. Conrad. It couldn’t be real!

But this asshole was. I gave myself a shake, forcing my focus back on escape. Throwing the door open, I bolted down the drive, not stopping until I reached the wrought iron gates at the end. I gripped the bars, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass.

Then I pulled my phone from my apron pocket, and ordered a ride share, my fingers trembling.

Three minutes. I could handle three minutes. My eyes scanned the Conrads’ front yard, watching for movement while trying not to think about the apparition and the strange mice.

The streetlight at the end of the driveway flickered and went out. The temperature seemed to drop, and my ring turned ice cold against my skin. The shadows deepened unnaturally, seeming to respond to my terror.

But something else moved within that darkness—too fast to be natural. My heart hammered as more dark shapes emerged, moving with an awful, fluid grace that made my skin crawl.

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