Page 96 of A Heart So Haunted
His claws scraped along the boards. Shoulder blades rolled with each step. “Hm. Kind of you to think of my horns. I’ve grown fond of them.” The sarcasm that layered his words was better than the silence from earlier.
“Sure.” I hefted a large overspilling binder from the bottom of the box. More dust plumed. I coughed. The binder fell open when I dropped it to the floor. At first, an ember of hope filled my chest—they might be documents, maybe something Aunt Cadence had kept during her time researching? Maybe from when she’d talked to Irene?
I squinted in the low light.
A picture of my grandparents stared back at me. My shoulders sank. I snapped the binder shut and started piling everything back in the bin.
“Care explaining why you are up here at such an hour?” Hadrian came and crouched—similar to a gargoyle on watch—beside me. He used a nail to nudge open another photo album. “What are these?”
“Photo albums. And, if you must know”—I gathered four albums and stood from a squat position—“I’m looking for whatever it is that might help us with your situation.” Because my mother’s presence had kicked things into overdrive. God forbid she get her greedy hands on something without me knowing. And, just because it was my luck,shewould find this unknown thing that could free Hadrian before I could and sell it to a pawn shop.
He squinted, yellow eyes aglow. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I do not think family photos will help—”
“Hadrian.”
Tendrils of sooty hair fell in his eyes. The muscles around his neck and shoulders coiled. “Yes?” he murmured.
I thought of what someone might see, looking at him. How I should have fainted from terror. Maybe thrown myself down the stairs to get away. Instead, I turned my back to him, scared he might be able to see the fluttering in my stomach. The warmth pooling there. “You’re not helping.”
“You wouldn’t wish to have my help, anyhow.” He huffed.
“Why not?” I closed the bin, scooted it aside, then moved to the next. It was hidden by a coatrack that looked like it’d belonged in a department store. “I’ve seen you protect a little kid. Surely sorting through old junk is easier.”
His mouth tugged at my comment, but he didn’t acknowledge it. “Everything from this day and age confuses me. Your vehicles. I likely cannot open one of these”—he pointed to a container—“or I would break it. God, and that terrible contraption in the parlor infuriates me.”
“Contraption,” I echoed. Surely he meant the living room.
“The flat, black device that shows moving pictures. You have one in your chambers.”
“The TV?” I laughed.
He shivered. “I hate it.”
I tried to hide a smile. “Really? Why? You don’t think it’s neat?”
“God, no,” he groused. He rubbed a pointed ear and closed one eye. “The sounds it makes are horrid. Not the voices but the high-pitched whine. I find it appalling that anyone would spend their time sitting in front of that disgrace when there are plenty of perfectly fine windows to watch out of.”
“I think your ears are a bit better than mine.” I chuckled. He’d probably heard static. “I’m assuming birdwatching is a more prestigious pastime, then?”
“Prestigious? More like acceptable.” His eyes flitted to me. I could have sworn a flush heated his face.
I sat back on my haunches. “Hadrian Belfaunte. Are you embarrassed?”
His cheeks tightened, jaw ticked. “Do not mock me, human.”
I scrunched my face and lowered my voice to mimic his, “Do not mock me, human.Sorry to break it to you, Boogeyman, but I’m not scared of you.”
I grinned for good measure.
He grunted.
“You were scared a bird had gotten hurt,” I said, softer, but not teasing. “You like the birds?”
His chest heaved. Finally, he admitted, “Yes. That’s why the windows are open all the time. And for—other reasons.”
Every muscle in my face relaxed. He opened the windows when I closed them.
My chest welled with something unfamiliar. Warm and seeping. He pretended to be particularly interested in a box labeledHalloween decor.
