Craven Manor(62)

Daniel ran for the stairs. He hung close to the bannister and rolled his feet to minimise the noise he made, but the carpeted steps still groaned under his weight.

Has Bran found her yet? Or is she hiding? He was tempted to call out to the other man, but advertising their locations could only put them both in more danger.

He reached the second-floor landing. Annalise’s terrified, paint-rendered smile overlooked him as he crept towards the stairs’ second flight. He caught a scrabbling noise coming from the hall to his right. Daniel lifted his candelabrum higher, but all he managed to illuminate were the red-painted walls and dark wood doors.

Block her escape first. Find Bran after that.

His pulse beat painfully quickly as he climbed the second flight. He felt the tower’s presence before he could see it. A cutting, cold wind brushed through his hair and made the candles flicker. The breeze had been funnelled down the twisting stairs and through the tower’s open door, and it chilled Daniel to his core.

He kept one eye on the inky stone hallway as he crept towards the room with the broken window. Its door was shut, and Daniel opened it as quietly as he could.

More cold air came through the bedchamber’s broken window. Daniel shuddered. He held his candelabrum well ahead of himself and used it to fight back the shadows that clustered in the space. Chairs were upended, and a vase lay broken on the floor from Bran and Kyle’s fight. The wardrobe door hung open, and Daniel caught a glimpse of rotting robes stored inside.

Daniel placed the candelabrum on the dresser beside the door and tipped his salt bag. The fine white grains tumbled over the carpet as he began creating a line across the doorway. His breath plumed in the frosty air.

Wait… that’s wrong. Daniel pulled the bag up, stopping the line half-drawn, to stare at the white mist drifting out of his mouth. The outside was cold at that time of year but not cold enough to cause condensation. It was reminiscent of the frigid air he’d felt in the tower.

She’s here. He wet his lips. Should I call Bran? Or will that make her flee?

Prickles crawled over his skin. He stood in the doorway, facing into the room. It left his back painfully exposed to the hallways and the stairwell. He tried to listen, but no sounds made it past the rasp of his own ragged breaths.

The candles guttered, their flames struggling to stay alive. Daniel silently begged them to hold on. Their glow made little progress against the dark, but it was better than being blind.

Where is she? He let his eyes travel across the broken furniture. The room didn’t hold many places a human-sized being could be concealed. One place his candlelight didn’t reach was the space underneath the sagging queen bed.

He flicked his attention towards the window at the opposite side of the room. Its curtains swirled in the cool night air. If he tried to confront Eliza, she could leap through the hole in the glass. And once she was outside, wrapped in the twisting, maze-like garden, there would be no way to get her back.

Daniel took a step into the room. He hung left, close to the wall, to give the bed the widest berth he could manage. The candles stayed on the dresser, and they continued to splutter, making the shadows dance across the walls.

His outstretched arm bumped the wardrobe. He had to shuffle a few inches closer to the bed to slink around it. The smell of rotting fabric grew worse as he passed the open door, and it turned his stomach.

A symphony of night animals and creaking branches floated through the window. Glass crunched under Daniel’s feet, but he still didn’t take his eyes off the bed. His chest was impossibly tight and his mouth parched as he reached a hand into the bag of salt.

Gently, quietly. He pulled out a fistful of salt. Grains ran between his fingers as he spread it across the window’s casing and shards of broken glass.

A soft hissing noise spread through the room. Daniel’s fingers shook as he returned them to the bag and brought out another handful of salt. The sound seemed to wrap around him, coming from all directions at once. It was simultaneously frightened, angry, and aggressive.

And it wasn’t coming from under the bed. The realization made Daniel’s heart skip a beat. As the last of the salt fell from his fingers, he glanced behind himself, where the wardrobe stood at his back.

Two cold eyes glared out of the darkness.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





Daniel opened his mouth, but he couldn’t make any sound. The wardrobe’s half-open door was less than an arm’s length away. Scraps of decayed fabric poked out of the opening, forced out of their usual resting place by the creature that had taken refuge inside. The eyes were locked onto him. He stared back, trapped in the stalemate, as the hissing grew harsher and the temperature plummeted. Then he managed to draw in a sharp breath and yell, “Bran!”

Eliza exploded out of the wardrobe. Daniel glimpsed the door spiralling through the air and heard it smash into the wall behind the bed. Something heavy and impossibly cold slammed into his chest. He fell, and his shoulders and back scraped over the glass shards. Gnashing teeth extended from a wolf-like maw made of darkness. Froth dripped from them and splattered across Daniel’s cheek. He grabbed for the talisman and thrust it between himself and the monster, and the creature arced back with an ear-splitting yowl.

Daniel rolled, trying to escape the numbing cold that pressed against him, and teeth dug into his shoulder. He screamed, and the teeth tightened. He pressed the talisman into the monster’s head and felt it buck. A gurgling, wheezing noise bubbled through its jaws, but it didn’t release him.