Page 56 of A Heart So Haunted
His cheek feathered. “I am unsure.”
I shifted my weight from one side to the other. My hand searched for the doorknob behind me.
“You grow nervous. You do not want me to be anchored here.” Another head tilt. “Do you? You fear me. Or do you fear what this room does?”
I fumbled until I finally felt the cool metal of the doorknob. “I want to help—”
“You will not return,” he said, his voice unnervingly calm. “Not for a while. Will you? Your heartbeat is loud.”
“I will,” I assured. I twisted the knob, and thankfully, the lock released.
He chewed on those two words. Outside, bugs started to hum, and the crisp sound of lapping water echoed from somewhere far away. A light breeze drifted through an open window.
“I willhelpyou remove me, if you desire,” he offered, creeping closer. Closer. “And if you leave me out to dry? I could make things hellish for you, you know.”
I knotted my hands together so tightly that my nail nearly broke the skin of my palm. That was fair enough. I had threatened him. He threatened me. Now we were even.
“I thought you weren’t in the nature of making deals?” I breathed.
His teeth snapped together twice. “Tread carefu—” Hadrian’s sentence broke. His attention trailed behind me, down the gap in the wall, over the floor, which was still littered with my tarp and pile of sheetrock. I had the strongest urge to back away.
My nerves started to quiver. “What?”
That flicker in his jaw appeared again. It reminded me of a cat watching birds through a window and that sharp, mechanical clicking that ensued, the way their eyes didn’t leave their prey. Like he could see the other side.
“The …” He sidled himself against the wall to my right and inched forward, the floorboards protesting against his weight.
One clawed hand grabbed the doorframe. The wood groaned. Hadrian’s eyes drifted to the floor and stopped. Right at the broken section I had pulled off earlier. Slowly, thoughtfully, he bent down and picked up the broken piece, then ran a claw over the hole it had left. Then he flipped the piece of wood over. The underside revealed carved markings, which I wouldn’t have seen unless I had been looking for them. As soon as his claw touched them, they shimmered silver—like liquid metal, catching in the light—before fading away.
He’d just put his hand through the door.
He’d said before that he’d tried to open it but couldn’t get through, couldn’t see anything on the other side, and now he was—
He grinned up at me, all sharp points glimmering in the dull light.
“See you on the other side,” he murmured. Then he stepped over the threshold—and vanished into the hallway.
Nothing more than a shadow in an already haunted house.
Chapter Twelve
Hadrian had crossed the threshold and he was inside the house.
Red flags popped up like gophers. The same image replayed in rapid succession: his toothy, vicious grin, the glint of hallway light on the curves of his horns, and his body dissipating into the woodwork. This couldn’t be happening—he couldn’t be in the house yet. That wasn’t part of the plan. It ruined my leverage.
Emma wasn’t even home yet.
“Hadrian.” I hurried after him and tripped through the door juncture. Bits of sheetrock scattered, the tarp crackling underfoot. The hall was empty.
If I found him, what would I do? Stuff him back in the closet like a snow jacket? Half our deal, gone, just like that. Clearly, whatever had been keeping him inside that closet was broken.
I ran to my bedroom first, turning lights on as I went. Dolls loomed from the corner of the room, every set of beady eyes following me as I bent to check under the bed. I threw open the closet. I looked behind the door. No Hadrian.
How did such a large creature vanish into thin air?
“Hadrian.” In a frenzy, I went room by room, opening doors, closets, wardrobes, and bathrooms. I checked both guest rooms thatEmma wasn’t using, the other hallway closet, under every bed, behind every dresser, and in every wardrobe. By the time I made it to Aunt Cadence’s bedroom, my face was nearly purple, my shirt stuck to my body, and I struggled to grab the doorknob.
“This isn’t funny!” I shouted into the empty house.
