Page 26 of Necromance
“She won’t let him leave,” Portia added, barely more than a breath.
The castle groaned around us, and I suddenly had the distinct, terrible feeling that something was listening. Portia took a step back, her translucent form flickering sporadically like a candle in a draft.
“I have to go,” she said hurriedly, glancing down the darkened corridor as if someone might appear at any moment.
“Wait,” I called, reaching out instinctively. “Let me help you cross over. You can leave this place.”
Portia froze, torn between longing and fear. But then she shook her head violently. “Oh no, ma’am,” she said desperately. “She is already upset that you tried to help Helga and her daughter and then you freed him.” She looked at Lucien briefly before her eyes came back to me. “We don’t want her to hurt you.”
A sharp chill wrapped around my spine. Was that the woman andchild from my first night in the castle?
Lucien shifted beside me, his voice low and measured. “Tell us her name.”
Portia’s breath hitched. She stared at him, then at me, as though she had already said too much.
I took a step forward, my heart hammering. “Portia, please. Tell me—”
But before I could finish, the candle in my hand guttered wildly, and a sudden, unnatural gust of wind roared through the corridor. Portia gasped, her ghostly form distorting as if pulled by invisible hands.
“Serena,” she whispered quickly, terror widening her eyes. Then, with a soft, sorrowful look, she vanished.
I turned, following Lucien’s gaze, but all I saw was the dim, empty hallway. Then I felt it—the weight of something unseen pressing down on the air, heavy and suffocating. A thick liquid, the color of dried blood, slid from the ceiling and slowly oozed down the walls.
The castle trembled as the slimy liquid poured onto the stone floor, the cracks drinking it as if it were nourishment. I pressed my hand to my stomach, willing the sudden revulsion to stay put.
Lucien’s posture stiffened beside me. His voice was low, edged with something dangerous. “She’s here.”
Cold unease swept through me. “Where?”
His dark eyes locked onto something at the far end of the hall. “There.”
I swallowed hard. I still saw nothing, but I didn’t doubt him.
Then his expression shifted, his jaw tightening. “And she’s not happy.”
The air turned frigid in an instant. A deep, guttural moan curled through the corridor, an unintelligible sound that raised every hair on my body. I had no time to react before Lucien moved. He stepped in front of me, pushing me behind him with a firm hand. The cold sharpened into a presence, and though I still couldn’t see her, I felt her rage. It burned, raw and consuming, thick as the scent of damp stone and old blood.
Lucien barely had time to mutter a curse before an invisible force rushed toward us. A deafening howl tore through the air.
Lucien grabbed my hand. “Run.”
I didn’t hesitate. We sprinted down the corridor, the unseen entity barreling after us with a fury that sent a violent gust slamming into our backs. My candle flickered out. The hallway plunged into darkness. Lucien yanked me into the nearest open doorway. He shoved the heavy wooden door shut and twisted the key in the lock just as something slammed against the other side with inhuman force.
I stumbled back, breathing hard. Thedoor shuddered, rattling in its frame.
Lucien pressed a hand against it, his eyes burning with intensity as he looked at me. “Well,” he murmured, voice husky with adrenaline. “That went well.”
I nodded, sinking down onto a rickety chair as I gasped for air.
At least we knew her name.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I couldn’t sit still. The room was too small, too stifling with frustration. I was cold and exhausted. My thoughts were a whirlwind of uncertainty and impatience, each one pulling me in a dozen directions at once. My hands gripped the back of the chair, my fingers digging into the wood before I turned to pace the length of the room again.
I muttered to myself under my breath. “This is ridiculous. We can’t just sit here. We’re no closer to figuring out who cursed you, or why.”
Lucien was silent for a long, intense moment, watching me from where he leaned against the wall, arms folded. He didn’t speak, didn’t offer comfort or any hint of reassurance, and it grated against my nerves more than I wanted to admit.
