Page 16 of Whispers of Helena
“The last few were...complicated.” I snap the notebook shut, shoving it back into the drawer.
Eli watches me carefully. “Just make sure you come back in one piece.”
“Always,” I reply, tipping back the rest of the gin. It burns,but it doesn’t chase away the unsettled feeling that’s taken up space in my bones. “What do you know about Helena?”
Eli raises an eyebrow as he sets his empty glass down. “What do you mean?”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “We know all of her basic information, where she’s from, what she told us about her family. But she’s been here for over a month, and I still don’t know the first thing about her.”
“Have you tried asking her, or are you expecting me to do the digging?”
“The latter,” I admit.
Eli sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “She’s twenty-eight, from some small town I’ve never heard of. She hates spiders and takes her work seriously. She’s determined to prove herself.”
“Do you trust her?” My voice is quiet, but the insinuation behind the question is anything but.
He meets my gaze, his expression unwavering. “She wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
I sit back, considering his words. A faint ticking from an old clock in the corner is the only sound in the room. Eli stands, grabbing his hat from the back of the chair.
“Don’t let your ghosts blind you, Silas,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “She’s not here to haunt you.”
He leaves, the door closing softly behind him. Alone once more, I stare at the closed ledger, the glass empty in my hand. Helena’s laughter echoes distantly in my mind, mixing with the memory of my wife’s voice. And for a moment, I feel the severity of both pulling me under.
Shortly before midnight,I move through my room, getting dressed, grabbing my boots. I sit in the chair beside my bed, the stillness of the night pressing down as I tug them on. Each movement practiced, a quiet rhythm that mirrors the thoughts circling in my mind.
With barely a sound, I open my door and step into the dimly lit hallway. The air is colder here, untouched by the warmth of the woodstove below. Three steps, and I’m in front of Helena’s door. I stop, as I do every night that I leave. The distance between us is only a few feet, separated by a simple wooden barrier.
My hand hovers near the doorframe, a strange pull keeping me rooted. I tell myself it’s to ensure she’s asleep, that her quiet breaths rise and fall in peace. But deep down, I know it’s something else. A silent plea, perhaps, for her to pray to the God she so fervently believes in—a prayer that might reach even a man like me.
I shift my gaze across the hall to Kiran’s door. My vow to him echoes in the stillness:I’ll be quick. I’ll return.
Drawing a steadying breath, I turn to leave. My boots tread softly down the stairs, the old wood complaining beneath the commitment of my promise. Stopping by the back door, I pull on my coat and grab my hat. Turning the knob, I step out onto the porch.
I tread down the steps, the stables just ahead, their dark silhouette blending with the night. As I approach the building, I pull back the heavy door, the creak of iron and wood shattering the quiet like a warning. The familiar scent of hay and leather greets me as I step inside. I grab my saddle and move into Shadow’s stall.
He huffs softly, his breath warm in the cool air. “Easy, boy,” I murmur. I sling the saddle over his broad back, cinching it tight. My rope hangs coiled on the wall, and I grab it, draping it over the saddle horn. The leather creaks quietly, the only sound before we ride. I lead him out of the stables, and once we’re outside I swing up into the saddle.
Shadow moves easily beneath me as we begin our ride, following the same trail I always take. The night stretches wide and serene around us, the stars vivid against the inky sky. But tonight, something feels different. The sensation starts as a prickling at the base of my neck, spreading like the slow creep of frost over my skin.
I pull back on the reins, bringing Shadow to a halt. My eyes are drawn to Helena’s window. The curtain shifts, a slow sway. I wait, my pulse quickening, watching to see if she’ll pull it back again. As I wait, the wind stirs, light at first, then stronger, threading icy fingers through the yard.
I glance up, expecting clouds to be rolling in, but the sky is clear. The wind shouldn’t be moving like this. Not here, not now. A shiver snakes down my spine.
And then I hear it.
Silas.
The voice is rigid,now familiar, and unmistakable. It cuts through the night like a blade, echoing off the barn walls, bouncing through the hollow yard. It’s the same voice I heard when I held Helena’s hand under the water. It was soft then, distant. Now, it’s closer. Louder; like it’s coming from above, called down from the stars themselves.
Shadow stirs beneath me, his ears flicking back. He steps sideways, uneasy. I lean down and pat his neck, feeling the taut muscles quiver through my glove. “Easy, boy.” My voice is steady, but my heart isn’t. Shadow doesn’t spook easily, but tonight, even he feels it.
Something is wrong.
The pit of my stomach twists, the apprehension spreading like poison. My eyes scan the yard, searching for movement, for shadows that don’t belong. The stillness presses in, heavier now, like the glare of unseen eyes.
Every instinct screams for me to press on, to finish what I set out to do. But tonight, the air is too thick, the dark too alive. For the first time, I pull on the reins and turn Shadow back toward the stables. Whatever waits for me out there can wait one more night.
