Craven Manor(15)

The shape was vague and blurred, but it looked like a hand. Daniel squinted as he leaned closer. At the tips of the smudge, he found tiny whorls from a fingerprint.

“Who—” He held his hand up next to it. There was a significant size difference. From palm to fingertips, it was half as large as his.

Is it from the thing that paced around my house last night? He felt physically sick at the idea. But the way the mark was blurred made him think it might not be fresh. Someone had to visit the cottage to clean it and stock its pantry. The handprint might be from then.

He rubbed the goose bumps on his exposed arms. He couldn’t remember seeing the print the previous day, but he had been rushing through his examination of the cottage. It wasn’t too far-fetched to imagine he’d overlooked it.

All right, think logically, Daniel. Are we going to stay?

His gut said to get out. He might not be comfortable at Kyle’s, but at least people didn’t knock at the door in the early hours of the morning—except for one time, when a drunk man thought it was his apartment and became angry when his key wouldn’t fit. Daniel managed to crack a smile at the memory. Kyle had emerged from his room, brandishing a baseball bat. He and the drunk man had yelled at each other through the door until the stranger finally gave up and shambled off.

Daniel’s smile faltered. Kyle was rough around the edges, but they were still cousins. Daniel owed him a debt of gratitude for opening up his home. And he’d left Kyle in the middle of the night, without so much as a goodbye.

Then Daniel thought of Fletch, the fast-food worker who had usurped him on a whim. The man probably hadn’t meant any harm, but he’d still caused it inadvertently.

I don’t want to go back there. Daniel dug through his bag to find the two warmest jackets he owned and layered them over his shirt. I’ll let Kyle know I’m okay, but I won’t be moving back in if I can help it.

He pulled the chair away from the door and unbolted it. Frosty morning air assaulted him and made him shudder despite the extra layers of clothes. As he stood on the doorstep, rubbing his hands together, he became aware of faint noises coming through the trees and disturbing the morning’s stillness. The sounds didn’t seem organic.

Footsteps? Footsteps and… something being dragged across the ground?

Daniel ran his fingers through his hair in a futile effort to look respectable. It had to be his mystery employer. Who else would visit Craven Manor so close to dawn? Daniel jogged into the garden and did his best to locate the source of the disturbance. The noises became clearer as he drew closer to them, until he broke out of the tangled shrubs and dying trees near Craven Manor’s entrance. Daniel slowed into what he hoped looked like a casual stroll.

A young man, not much older than Daniel, was bent over a wheelbarrow beside the stone steps. Shaggy brown hair extended almost to his jacket collar. He was dressed in simple but clean clothes, the kind Daniel associated with people who worked with their hands, and even through the bulky jacket, it was clear he carried some muscle.

The flock of black birds shifted in their tree as Daniel approached. The man was arranging the tools Daniel had requested inside the wheelbarrow, almost like it was a gift basket and presentation was important. Daniel’s shoes crunched through a patch of fallen leaves. The man twitched and swivelled in Daniel’s direction, his eyes wide and his face tense.

For a moment, the yard was eerily silent. Daniel had the overwhelming sensation that his presence was unwanted, but it was too late to retreat. He swallowed and held out a hand, praying it wouldn’t shake. “Hey. Sorry to startle you. Bran, right?”

The other man stared at the offered hand. A twitchy smile created crinkles around his eyes, but the grin didn’t feel genuine. Perspiration shone across his forehead. “No…? I, uh, thought you were. You’re not Bran? You don’t own this place?”

“No. Sorry—I was expecting—” Daniel, feeling lost, cleared his throat, his hand still extended. “I’m the groundskeeper. Newly hired. I’ve been waiting to meet Bran.”

The other man finally relaxed. He flexed his shoulders as a chuckle washed the tenseness away from around his mouth, though it still didn’t touch his eyes. “Yikes. Sorry, man. You really startled me. No one was here the last two times I visited, and I didn’t expect anyone to be here today, either. I’m Joel, by the way.” Joel finally shook Daniel’s hand. His grip was firm, if a little clammy.

“Daniel. I guess you haven’t met Bran, either?”

“No.” Joel scuffed his boot through the fallen leaves. Seeing such a beefy man look frightened was strange, but that was the only way Daniel could describe him. “I work in Arbour’s hardware store with my dad. We got contracted to deliver supplies. Dad’s not really well enough to bring them himself, so he sends me instead. But…”

Daniel thought he could guess his companion’s thoughts. “It’s not the most hospitable place, is it?”

Joel nodded furiously as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s a damn nightmare. Crows everywhere. A house like something out of a horror movie. And this guy, Bran, we’ve never even met him. He just sends instructions in letters. Every time I come here, I’m half expecting to get murdered by a crazy axman.”

I’m glad I’m not the only one. “But you took the job?”

“We kinda had to.” Joel shrugged, and he looked uncomfortable again. “We were maybe a month away from having our business foreclosed when this guy leaves a letter under our door. He wanted us to clean up a cottage and make some deliveries to his house. And in return, he paid us a small fortune—way more than the work was worth. It was so weird, we would have thought it was a prank if he hadn’t sent payment up front.”