Page 11 of When Bones Whisper
With a shiver, she backed away from the mirror when a loud meow sounded from the hallway below. The light from the candelabra slowly dwindled, the last flame quickly flickering into smoke, plunging the attic into darkness.
She ran to the edge of the opening, peering down at the welcome brightness of the lamp-lit corridor, spotting Duke crouched low to the ground, ears pinned back as he hissed at an empty space to her left.
With a long, shaky exhale, she looked at the black cat. “Duke! Stay there. I just need to get the bones.”
He hissed again, and her stomach dipped as a cold, long breath hit the side of her face. Her heart raced, and she grabbed the sides of the opening just in time to stop herself from falling out. A stronger whiff of sulfur assaulted her nostrils, an icy cold weight lingering around her neck like a noose.
A heavy weight slammed into her back, knocking the air from her lungs. With a strangled scream, the floor rushed up to meet her, and she landed on the carpet.
Coughing and spluttering, she climbed onto all fours and looked up, but there was nothing but darkness. Duke was still hissing, his ears tucked back as far as they could go, and the air held a new icy breath.
Something up there pushed her, and she had no interest in climbing back up to find out what.
Chapter Four
Barely one hour after Charlotte had fallen asleep, the booming thunder jolted her awake. Purple flashes of lightning illuminated the sky outside her tall, arched window, and heavy rain lashed against the glass, rattling the frame.
While she normally loved storms, this one felt more like an omen. It had been eighteen hours since she had unlocked the mirror, and her uncle and cousin had been found dead. Their corpses were discovered in their chairs at the gentleman’s club, so nobody suspected she was involved. Despite getting away with murder and getting her wish of having the house to herself again, she couldn’t leave her room. Although she’d had her uncle and cousin’s things placed in their bedrooms, their tobacco smoke and cologne still clung to the drapes and carpets. What was once her favorite place to be had become a graveyard of her family’spossessions, reminding her of not only what she’d lost, but what she had done too.
Charlotte swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet meeting the creaking, cold floorboards. With a heavy sigh, she curled her fingers into the fabric of her white nightdress and walked over to the window.
The wild storm battled behind the dark clouds blotting the night sky. Howling winds ripped through the gardens, swaying the chestnut trees stationed along the wrought-iron fence. She glanced at the patch of grass where daffodils used to flower each spring, smiling when she recalled last picking a bouquet of them for her mother. With a hard swallow, she turned and looked away from that patch of grass. If she allowed even a drop of pain in, she was afraid it would drown her entirely.
Lightning veined through the sky, lighting up the gardens, which appeared endless with their symmetrical flowerbeds, decorative statues, and pond. She stared at the shadowy corner hidden under long tree branches, unable to look away, as if the darkness was glaring back at her.
A shiver slid down her spine, along with a sudden urge to retreat.
Another flash cracked across the sky, revealing the ghost of her cousin, standing in the fog by the pond, his face contorted into a silent scream. Her heart stammered, and she gripped the windowsill. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.
With a gasp, she pulled the heavy drapes closed and backed away slowly. Picking at her cuticles, she glared at the drapes before grabbing a candlestick from her bedside table.
Regret ached deep in her chest, and she rocked back onto her knees. Even though they deserved it, she wasn’t sure she could survive their haunting her. With a deep breath, she reminded herself of the awful things they had done. Her uncle was known for beating his last wife, and her cousin was no better, sending maids away after compromising their virtue.
Four loud knocks echoed through the empty halls, making her jump. She flicked her eyes to the door, every muscle in her body tensing. The sound had come from the front of the house. The rattling of the metal knocker was unmistakable.
Another three bangs resonated, and she slowly turned to face the door. Whoever had turned up was persistent, and if it wasn’t for her ancestor’s warning about witches and vampires, she wouldn’t be so worried.
Quietly, Charlotte crept down the corridor, her aching, bare feet freezing against the cold ground. She listened intently from the hallway as the door opened and the housekeeper, Edith, conversed intelligible greetings to whomever had arrived. As she reached the top of the staircase, she peered down to see the visitor. A woman with eyes the color of oak removed the hood of her silver cloak. Her coiled amber curls fell to her shoulders, accentuating her distinctive diamond-shaped face and straight, long nose.
“I understand it is late,” the woman said, her tone clipped. “But I am here on the matter of Theodore and William Lovett’s deaths. I’m with the Pinkerman Detective Agency. May I speak with a Miss Charlotte Lovett?”
“Oh my. Yes, of course. Please come in,” Edith said shakily, stepping aside, allowing the woman into the foyer. “I will see if my mistress is still awake. Would you like some tea while you wait?”
“Please, thank you.”
Edith walked with the woman into the parlor room, and Charlotte ran her tongue across her parched lips. A detective was in her home. They couldn’t have known she was behind it. Yet, she couldn’t shake the anxiety building in her core. Her father had often lamented that she was a terrible liar. Her face told stories, he’d said.
Quickly, she hurried back to her room, clutching her chest as she walked inside. With a shaky exhale, she looked at the lone candle flickering on the bedside table, the shadows of the room darker than before.
With another step inside, the floorboard behind her creaked, and the door slammed shut.
Fingers clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.
What the blazes…
Before she could process what was happening, a second hand gripped the back of her neck, spinning her around with surprising force, trapping her between a wall and a muscular body.
She wriggled against the intruder, testing her boundary, but it was as if she were pushing herself against stone. Slowly, she tipped her head back to meet the intruder's furnace-gray eyes. Her stomach clenched at the intensity of his stare and a flush of heat crept through her chest and neck as she held his gaze, and she wassuddenly hyper-aware of every curve of his body pressed against hers.
