Craven Manor(22)

Then his shoe hit something firm. Daniel scraped the dirt away and sucked in a breath as he saw stone. He hunted around it, digging through the leaf litter and the loam until he discovered another, then a third. They gave him a direction. He followed it, and soon the path resolved itself. His relief was immense, but he knew he’d lost a lot of time.

It was eleven when I left the pub. It takes just under an hour to reach Craven Manor. But I was dawdling, stuck in my thoughts. What if it’s already after midnight? Does Bran have any way of knowing I got home late? I need to buy a watch with my next payment.

The rusted gates were visible through the trees. Daniel broke into a jog then smothered a curse as his bike stuck in another shrub. He shook it free and sprinted the last few feet.

The moon washed its blue light across the gardens and the manor’s roof. It looked deceptively peaceful. Daniel left his bike beside the gate and squeezed through the gap. There were no clanging bells or sirens at his intrusion, but he still felt guilty as he slunk through the trees. Dead branches grazed his arms and neck as he wove past them. They reminded Daniel of brittle fingers scrabbling at his skin. His heart flipped unpleasantly.

A wail echoed through the garden. Daniel looked up at the crow perched above him. He recognised it as the old oversized bird that normally lurked by the house’s front. He’d disturbed it, and it ruffled its feathers as though affronted.

“Sorry,” Daniel whispered.

Its beady eye followed him as he passed its tree, then it shook its feathers out and launched into the air. Its wing beats were slower than its companions’ but harsher, as though fighting against the air. Daniel watched it until it disappeared over Craven Manor’s rooftop.

Hurry. Get inside. Lock the door. It might not be too late.

He staggered into the ring of statues. The half-nude ladies and centaurs seemed less carefree than before. Although their poses were relaxed—arms thrown overhead, feet dancing—their gazes were accusatory, and the stains running through their garments seemed harsher.

Daniel hated the way their eyes followed him. He slipped past them, towards where he knew his cottage was hidden. He caught a flicker of motion in the corner of his eyes. He could have sworn he’d seen something moving through the trees—

Don’t linger. Get to your house.

An awful sense of dread descended over him. The hairs rose across the backs of his arms. His mouth felt horribly dry. His palms sweaty, he flexed the fingers as he broke into a run.

Someone’s following me.

Paranoia hit him like a sledgehammer. He couldn’t stop turning his head, hunting for movement among the dead branches and strangling vines, convinced he had company but unable to see it. His cottage was just ahead. Moonlight glittered on the windows like a beacon.

And yet the thing behind him was gaining. He couldn’t hear it or see it, but he could feel it. And it grew closer with every step, fixated and inexorable.

He hit the cabin’s wall hard enough to force the breath out of him. The door’s handle was jammed. He twisted it, panicking that he’d been locked out of his home for missing the curfew, but then it screeched as it turned. His feet tripped over the entrance, and Daniel tumbled onto the wooden floor. He swivelled to close the door, and his heart missed a beat. A figure stood just outside the threshold, its glassy eyes locked onto him.





Chapter Ten





Daniel gaped. The world seemed to slow, unravelling, until he was trapped in that moment. He lay on his back, one hand stretched towards the door that was just out of reach and the other pressed against the wooden floor. His sweaty fingers rubbed through the grit and dust. His brain, stunned into stupidity, latched on to the texture. His floor needed sweeping. That was real. Mundane. Easy to believe.

Unlike the phantom outside his door.

She was there and not, tangible and a delusion, all at the same time. He could see her. He could see through her. The black gnarled trees at her back were as perfectly clear as she was.

His lips parted, but he managed only a whisper. “Annalise.”

She’d lost her colour. The blonde in her hair was gone, along with the flush across her cheeks and the pastels in her dress. It had all been converted into the phantom white. When she moved, the image rippled and threatened to vanish, like trying to hold on to a Magic Eye solution. Her curls drifted behind her as though she were suspended in water. Her eyes were missing both pupil and iris.

She stepped forward. Her dress and hair seemed to float with the motion. One of her hands reached towards him.

Fear broke through Daniel’s shock. He lunged towards the door and forced it closed. The latch bounced then caught with a reassuring click. Daniel forced a shaking breath down his throat as he leaned the side of his head against the wood to listen.

The outside world was perfectly silent. No insects chirped. No birds shifted in the trees. If not for his own ragged breathing, Daniel might have thought he’d gone deaf.

Then came a soft tp, tp, tp on the other side of the door.

Daniel crept backwards, away from the door, and pressed a hand across his mouth to silence the noises that wanted to escape.

Tp, tp, tp. The knocks were harder. More demanding. Daniel’s eyes burned as he flicked them from the door to the window and back. He hadn’t pulled the curtains. Patches of stars were visible between the canopy.

The rules said the curtains had to be shut. Will something bad happen if they’re not?