Page 92 of A Heart So Haunted
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not much help, but—was there anything that might have been left in the house from before?”
From the 1800s? I doubted it. Still, I thought of the few boxes left in the attic.
“Maybe.” I released Hadrian’s wrist and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ll think on it for a bit and see if I can find anything.”
“It’s just—if it’s haunted, there have been reports of energy festering. You know? Like something is left behind with a heavy pull and then other malicious things follow. Maybe that’s what’s in the room.”
My thumb pressed flat between my brows. “Did she ever mention cleansing the house?”
“All the time, but it never did much.But, if there’s something in the house, the cleansing wouldn’t work.”
It made sense. I’d heard stories like that before, too, but it didn’t tell us what we were looking for.
The phone was silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not much.”
“It’s okay—I appreciate your help.”
Hadrian stood, quiet as a whisper, from the chair and padded to the open window in the living room. The sun had ducked completely out of sight, taking the oranges and reds with it, leaving us in almost complete darkness.
As Irene and I said our goodbyes, the slightest urge to ask her about Ivan emerged. But I clutched it, squeezed it until it vanished, and ended the call.
“Well,” I sighed, “that wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped.”
Hadrian kept his profile to me. The lonesome call of a mourning dove answered for him. I couldn’t tell if it was because my hopes had risen too high, which had me at a loss for words, or if it was a soft sense of hurt.
Hurt that we didn’t get any closer, but also because the air was strained, Hadrian’s posture remained rigid, and I had an overwhelming fear that he was disappointed he was here a while longer with me.
“Are you upset?” I whispered.
“No, dearest.” But his words were so, so tight.
My lips flattened. “Promise?”
He rubbed a clawed hand over his jaw. Then he shook his head. Not as an answer, but more to himself.
“Do you remember anything that Bunny might have used? Or kept? Something that maybe you had, of importance, back then before anything happened?”
The air grew heavy. His eyes danced between the floor, the table, and back. I could almost see the curtain pulling down over his expression, the hesitancy.
My lips parted, but a distant pounding on the front door stopped me.
I looked toward the foyer. Emma and Sayer wouldn’t knock, and the only other person I could think of was Ivan. Surely, he wouldn’t be persistent enough to come back and try and persuade me. Then again—
I cursed under my breath. The chair scratched the floor as I stood. I situated my sweatshirt then stalked through the living room.
“I swear on my life, if he came back, I’m going to bury him in the backyard under the shed,” I hissed.
Hadrian’s answering snarl followed me. “Wait—”
I didn’t. I yanked the front door open. “I told you—”
The words shriveled on my lips, floated away on the breeze. The sick press of dread sunk into my shoulders, like teeth cutting through muscle, straight to the bone—I wanted to turn back, to see if Hadrian was still in the living room, to rewind time just thirty seconds and get him to look out the window for me before I’d unlocked the door.
The porch light haloed her hair like she might have been from the heavens.
“Well?” my mother snapped. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
Chapter Eighteen
