Craven Manor(44)

Daniel had intended to have dinner when he returned to the cottage, but at that point, he felt too sick. If Kyle suffered—if his life was ruined—it would be because of Daniel’s carelessness.

I all but invited him into the dragon’s lair. His eyes burned, and he scuffed his feet across the crypt’s stone floor. If he tried to protect Kyle by corroborating his story, that would mean betraying Bran—or worse, being locked up and sedated himself. There had to be a solution that resulted in no harm to anyone.

He might be able to convince Kyle he’d imagined the whole event or that it was a prank gone wrong. Kyle would hate him for what had happened, but hatred was better than being diagnosed with delusions.

Daniel needed to speak with Kyle and assess where his mind was. It was still possible his cousin didn’t remember any of the evening. Amnesia, drunkenness, or even the assumption that the memories had been a dream could save the situation. And if not… Daniel would have to play it by ear.

The hospital’s visiting hours were over for the day. Daniel would have to wait until the next morning to speak to Kyle privately. He could only cross his fingers that Kyle hadn’t already shared his story with the nurses.

Daniel went to bed early that night, but nerves kept him awake until well after midnight. Annalise came to tap at his door again, and he got up to greet her. He stood by the window and watched her dart between the trees, her long, fine hair floating like a wave behind her. The shadows were too heavy to see clearly, but Daniel thought he glimpsed a large, dishevelled crow in the pine above his house.



Morning took an eternity to arrive. Even after losing sleep, Daniel was awake for the first rays of light glinting over the treetops. He bundled himself in layers to keep warm then went to the manor before leaving for town.

Bran deserved an explanation of where Daniel was going and why, but he still felt like an idiot as he unpacked the situation to the black cat in front of the fireplace. Bran listened, occasionally blinking, but didn’t show any alarm or shift into his human form. Daniel hoped that was a sign of approval. He said goodbye and slipped back into the chilly morning.

Even though he kept his pace leisurely as he walked into town, Daniel arrived before visiting hours. So he took the opportunity to exchange one of his new gold coins for cash at the pawnbroker, then he spent the next twenty minutes wandering the streets.

He felt intensely self-conscious with a small fortune tucked into his pocket, but his clothes were ill-fitting and tatty enough that no one gave him a second glance. He passed stores full of fresh, mud-free jeans and clean hoodies, but it still felt too soon to spend money on what had been classified as frivolities barely a week before.

The smells wafting from the bakery were too good to resist, though. Daniel slid into one of the seats and wolfed down a fried breakfast. He tipped well then spent the final half hour loitering outside the hospital. As soon as the clock hung from the building’s tower ticked over to ten, he entered the building and asked after his cousin.

The nurse, a dimpled woman who looked as though she hadn’t slept in twenty hours, read the case notes for him. Kyle had woken the previous day. His cognitive abilities didn’t seem impaired, but the doctors wanted to keep him for at least another few days to monitor him. The news was an intense relief. Kyle hadn’t suffered permanent impairment, and the doctors wouldn’t be reporting his condition favourably if he’d talked about the mansion in the forest. The nurse gave Daniel a ward and room number, and he jogged up the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

Kyle had a room to himself, and as Daniel entered, the smell of antiseptic and bleach assaulted his nose. The blinds on the small window were half-turned to reduce the sun’s glare. Kyle was sitting up in bed, a tray with a biscuit and a cup of tea above his knees and his mobile in hand.

Daniel couldn’t help searching for changes in his cousin. Kyle’s skin was a shade greyer and had lost its usual flush. His eyelids drooped, and his jowls seemed slacker than normal. The stiff white hospital gown didn’t suit him.

“Hey,” Daniel said. He hovered in the doorway, still not certain whether his visit would be welcomed.

“You came at last, huh?” Kyle tossed his mobile onto the tray next to his tea. He didn’t smile, but there wasn’t any trace of anger in his expression, either. “D’you want a biscuit? They taste like garbage.”

Daniel wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to reject any olive branches, either. “I’d love one. Thanks.” He shuffled into the seat beside Kyle and accepted the plastic-wrapped biscuit. He turned the package over and pretended to be interested in the branding. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got thrown through a window.” At last, Kyle’s mouth twitched into a smile, but the expression didn’t look honest. He held up his left arm, which was swaddled in bandages. “They say it’ll scar.”

The phrase “I’m sorry” nearly left Daniel’s mouth, but he caught himself. The fall hadn’t been his fault, and apologising would be both an admission of guilt and an acknowledgement of what had happened. He didn’t want Kyle to start going down that path. It would be best for everyone—including Kyle—if he stayed ignorant. “That sucks.”

“It sure does.” Kyle shuffled a little farther up his bed and rested his head back on the pillow propped behind him. “You got yourself into a messed-up situation with that house. If you want my advice, you should get out before something like this happens to you, too.”