Page 104 of House of Roots and Ruin
I frowned. Hadn’t she just said that?
“I thought I heard something.” Her eyes swept up and down the corridor, the expression on her face identical to before. “I think someone’s following us.”
Again, she disappeared, only to reappear once more, coming up from behind me. I watched her repeat this procession again. And again. And a third time. My head darted back and forth as if watching Camille’s twins playing a game of badminton on Highmoor’s lawn.
Constance seemed to be retracing the steps she’d carried out in life, over and over, as if caught in a swift current, unable to break free. As she started the loop once more, I stepped in front of her, trying to alter her route, but she walked straight through me. The hairs on my arms rose as goose bumps broke out all over my body.
It wasn’t a chill that made me shiver.
This was wrong.
She felt wrong, an entity thrown into the wrong time and place.
I wanted to help her but I was powerless to stop the cycle from playing out again and again.
“What happened next?” I whispered, rubbing my hands over my arms. I didn’t feel right. It was as though her wrongness had somehow imprinted itself upon me. “What are you trying to show me, Constance?”
“You said you could help me.” She flickered. “You said you could help them.”
Again, the pause. Again her words. “I thought I heard something.” But this time Constance faded out, dropping the last line.
I glanced back toward the kitchen, ready for the sequence to start again.
But then she reappeared in the middle of the corridor, farther along it than she’d ever reached before. She had paused beside a bas-relief, anger marring her face.
“No. No. You said you could fix them,” she protested. “That’s not good enough!” I watched her hands rise, striking out at an unseen companion. Her shoulder jerked as though they’d hit back and her eyes grew round and fearful.
Constance’s form flickered with greater frequency now, nearly translucent even in her strongest moments, and I wondered if she was tiring. I’d never noticed Hanna struggle so—it certainly would have helped tip me off to her secret sooner if she had—but she’d also been dead for far longer than Constance.
“You must come and see—” She swiped at the stone mural,her hands disappearing into a cluster of flowers, and walked through the wall, leaving me behind.
I studied the artwork before me, certain there was a secret passage concealed behind it.
I brightened when I spotted the spiky leaves of an oleander plant.
Oleanders meant distrust, warning that you couldn’t always believe what your eyes told you.
With a smile, I pushed the little plaster blooms, and a hidden panel swung open.
The tunnel beyond was as black as a tomb.
I glanced back hopefully down the hall, praying for a candlestick or lantern, anything to help light my way. But there was nothing and as I hesitated, I could hear Constance’s voice echoing off the brick walls, growing fainter. I’d have to go in blind.
The door clicked shut behind me and I waved my hands about, trying to situate myself within the darkened space. The walls on either side of me were close and rough. In front, there was nothing but a void perforated with dusty cobwebs.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
Constance’s voice rang out as shrill as a siren. I followed afterit.
The floor was uneven, riddled with unexpected dips that sent me stumbling into the walls. My hips ached, already sore with the promise of bruises to come, but I pressed on.
“She’ll never go along with it.”
Gradually, the passage sloped upward at such an angle I knew we were no longer on the first floor of the manor. But it didn’t feel as if we were on the second either.
“I’m going to tell her,” Constance warned, sounding closer now, though I still couldn’t see her. “I’m going to tell her tonight.”
I reached out, hoping to grab hold of her.
