Page 58 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
Mr. Owen made a sound of agreement and resumed reading his latest serial novel. I could have gone to my room. Probably ought to have, as I’d been fantasizing about being able to take a good soak in my bathing tub for at least twenty-four hours. The thought of rinsing away my troubles, then drifting off to sleep watching the night sky behind the spires of the cathedral appealed. But instead I was unwilling to leave the comfort of the old man. I hadn’t had a glimpse of paternal affection in years—not since I left my father in America more than a decade ago now. He’d always been an indulgent patriarch. Too much so, Tamsyn’s own father complained. Perhaps she was right, not all men were like my Papa. Though I imagined Mr. Owen and he would have gotten on rather well. My hand rose to my throat, toying with the gold chain there.
I fell asleep in the study to the low snore of Fiachna on the back of the chair, punctuated by the subtle sound of Mr. Owen’s turning of pages. I was safe now. Far away from the horrors I’d seen in Lothlel Green. Far away from Ruan Kivell and whatever ancient and invisible cord bound us together.
IWAS BACKat Penryth Hall. Or someplace very like it. The flower-papered walls on either side of me quivered like the surface of a summer wheat field in the breeze. Rippling. Dancing.
There was a light in the distance. Faint and glowing. Flickering.
I followed after it.
With each step the walls swayed and trembled.
On and on I went, making my way through the maze-like corridors and up the undulating stairs.
Continuing, as a somnambulist would, until I at last reached the third floor.
And that was when I saw her.
The woman from the orchard. Standing at the end of the hall. More wraith than human. White robes billowing in the still air. I reached out to touch her, but she shook her faceless head and turned away from me.
Again, I followed. An automaton now—not a woman—wound and obeying the mechanics I’d been designed to perform. Emotionless walking. Watching.
The wraith paused outside a door, her bony hand outstretched, and turned the knob. The door swung wide as the walls around me began to melt. The flowers now weeping red wax as a great golden serpent slithered between my legs and after the wraith.
It turned.
I should have run. I should have screamed.
I did neither. I simply stared back into its hollow visage. The cold boring into my soul, robbing me of breath.
Then it turned away and entered the nursery, pausing over the cradle to gather up Jori where he lay sleeping.
I opened my mouth to cry out. To stop it. Anything.
But no sound came.
And then the air around me was rent with a scream.
BANGING.SO MUCHbanging. It took several seconds after I woke before I remembered where I was. Exeter. Yes. And someone was at the door. I jumped to my unsteady feet. The fire had died in the hearth.
It was just a dream.
A loud crack of thunder shook the house. A thick blanket lay pooled at my feet.
The pounding on the door continued. I reached down, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around my shoulders as a bulwark against the cool night air. Pausing in the hall, I looked up at the great wooden grandfather clock. Half past two was rarely a propitious time for guests.
The hall table drawer scraped on its track as I reached in and withdrew Mr. Owen’s ancient Webley revolver and confirmed it was loaded.
My breath grew surer as I finally shook the last remnants of my nightmare from my thoughts.
I pulled the bolt on the front door and slowly opened it, the gun in my left hand. Too damnably tired to be afraid of whatever might be on the other side.
“Ruby…”
It was Ruan.What was he doing here? He stood there huddled in the narrow portico, soaked to the bone, his hair plastered around his shoulders as he had been the evening he found me in the inn. His face as ominous as the flashing sky behind him.
Oh God, the dream.What if it hadn’t just been a dream? My stomach clenched and I stumbled backward, squeezing my eyes shut, willing him to be just another aftereffect of exhaustion. It couldn’t be happening again.
I opened my eyes. Throat tight.
