Craven Manor(29)



“Why aren’t you eating, little buddy?” Daniel stopped a few feet away from the cat and knelt to speak to it. “Bran said not to worry about you, but that doesn’t seem right. You’re too thin.”

The cat stared at him, unmoving. He held a hand out as an invitation for pettings, but it ignored the offer. Maybe it has some digestive problem. It could be on a very specific diet. After the concern Bran has showed towards Annalise, I can’t imagine he would neglect a cat like this.

A shiver ran through the animal, and it shuffled its paws and tail even more tightly together. Daniel had the benefit of a jacket, but even with his layers, he could feel how cold the air was. And it would only get worse as the night progressed.

“Bran?” He raised his voice to be heard through the building. “Bran, your cat’s cold. Is it—I mean—would you let me light a fire for it, please?”

His words echoed back at him then died out. He stayed crouched by the cat for a moment, and when a response didn’t come, he shuffled towards the stack of kindling left beside the fireplace.

“He didn’t say no, so that’s basically a yes, right?” Daniel grinned at the cat. Its ears twitched in his direction, though it refused to turn its head. “Yeah, I reckon it is.”

Daniel brushed dust off the kindling, stacked it in the grate, and struggled with the flint to get it lit. The cat didn’t move until heat started to emanate from the fire, then it rose and crept closer to the flames.

“You’re so thin, little buddy,” Daniel whispered. He reached out to run a hand over the cat’s head. Its hackles rose, and its jaws parted in a furious hiss. Daniel withdrew his hand. “Okay. No touching. I understand.”

He sat beside the cat for a few minutes, enjoying the fire’s warmth and the animal’s company. The cat mellowed under the heat, and its amber eyes drifted into a contended squint. The tail unfurled from around its paws and twitched lazily at its side.

“Bran should really take better care of you,” Daniel murmured. “He’s such a strange person. In every aspect. I mean, the guy’s named after a breakfast cereal, for crying out loud.”

The cat didn’t show any appreciation of Daniel’s humour, though it did blink at the flames lazily.

At the back of his mind, Daniel was aware that time was passing. He didn’t want a repeat of the previous night. Bran had seemed relatively unfazed by the after-hours trespassing, but Daniel didn’t want to push his luck. He got to his feet slowly to avoid disturbing the cat, then fetched his candlestick and slipped through the open door.

Shifting feathers told him the crows lurked, unseen, above his head. He looked up, but all he could make out were layers of black. Crows, dead branches, and night sky jumbled into a colourless kaleidoscope, and he shivered as he hurried through the garden. A speck of rain hit his cheek, followed by another tapping on his forearm, and Daniel exhaled in relief as he slipped into his cottage and locked the door.

Sleep came easily that night, but his dreams were unsettling. He pictured himself dragging bones out of the earth, only there were too many to belong to just one body. Skulls, femurs, and endless ribs broke free from the soil. He threw them behind himself and dug deeper. They were never-ending. Soon, he was on his stomach, arms stretched deep into the abyss he’d carved in the ground, and still, the brittle human remains went deeper.

Daniel snorted as he woke and rolled onto his side. A low-level stress headache pulsed behind his temple. He rubbed a hand across his face and shivered; he’d been too tired to light a fire before going to bed, and the cottage was frigid.

Something scrabbled at the wooden door. Daniel rubbed sleep out of his eyes. He’d been expecting to hear more of Annalise’s questioning taps, but this held none of her previous patience or curiosity. It sounded like fingers on wood, drawn over the same place again and again until the nails were worn down to stubs and the flesh was bleeding. It spoke of mindless terror. An all-consuming urgency.

Daniel threw his covers away and pulled boots over his chilled feet. He went to the door and touched his palm against the wood. It shuddered as the clawing increased in speed and harshness. He backed away.

The sound refused to stop. Its echoes surrounded him until he began to feel as though he would never escape them. Scared by the thought of what he might see but helpless to do anything else, he crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain.

The scrabbling ceased immediately. Daniel held his breath as he bent closer to the glass. The space outside the front door was empty. He frowned. “Then what—”

A hand slammed into the glass near his face. Daniel gasped as he jerked away from it. Annalise appeared there, her sightless eyes bulging and her hair coursing around her face as though a harsh wind whipped at it.

Her mask of sweet civility had broken. In its place was raw dread. Her lips stretched open, and every muscle in her face twitched as she tried to scream. It was the expression of a drowning person, someone so mad with terror that they would kill to gain one single gulp of air.

Daniel couldn’t look away. What happened to her?

Annalise beat her open palm against the window once then threw the hand back to point towards Craven Manor. Daniel squinted as he approached the window, and fear squeezed at his thundering heart. A fire’s glow was visible over the trees.





Chapter Thirteen


Darcy Coates's Books