Craven Manor(74)

Except by Daniel.

He kept replaying the events surrounding Kyle’s death again and again. He alternately blamed himself for enabling his cousin, and for not showing enough compassion. Kyle might not have been a shining example of human goodness, but Daniel believed he wasn’t inherently bad, either.

“Daniel?”

He startled at Bran’s rasping voice then managed a grimacing smile. “Sorry. Stuck in my head.”

Motion caught his eye. Annalise had emerged from her tomb. She stood twenty paces away, swaying, with her hands clasped behind her back. She grinned, and her excitement eased some of Daniel’s tension. He smiled back at her as he pulled a small metal tube out of his pocket. “Ready?”

She nodded. He turned the laser pointer on. The red light cut through the mist and appeared on a tree several feet to the tomb’s left.

He’d come up with the idea after trying to play hide-and-seek with Annalise. He could never keep up with her, and her transparent form gave her a distinct advantage. The laser pointer solved both problems. Daniel could rest, and it gave Annalise a challenge.

Annalise vanished into the mist. Daniel tried to track her movements, but she was good at hiding herself. He took a guess and turned off the laser pointer. Annalise’s hand appeared on the tree a second afterwards.

Bran laughed. “Almost.”

Daniel turned the light on again, this time pointing at a different tree. He tried to guess how long it would take her to reach it, but was a moment too slow as her hand appeared under the red dot. She twirled in triumph then danced back into the mist.

“Nice job,” Daniel called then turned out the light again.

Annalise vanished as she waited for him to pick a new target.

Daniel tilted his head towards Bran as he flicked the beam on again. “I spoke to Joel this morning. He can bring us a generator to power some stuff in the manor, if you want. Lights. A radio. Or any other kind of entertainment you want.”

Bran rolled his shoulders. The movement reminded Daniel of the way the crows would ruffle their feathers. “I’m sure that isn’t necessary.”

“Don’t you get bored, though? During the day, I mean, while I’m working?”

“I have been alone for nigh on two hundred years. You would be amazed at my tolerance for it.”

Daniel chuckled, and his moment of distraction cost him a point as Annalise caught the light. He switched it to a new location, on the crypt’s wall. “Fair enough. But you don’t have to be alone. Not anymore.”

“Hmm.” Bran glanced behind them, to the behemoth of a building rising over the treetops, and his expression softened. “Perhaps some lights in the house would be nice.”

Daniel had let his attention wander from the game. Annalise appeared at his side to startle him. She brushed her fingers across the laser pointer, turning the metal ice-cold, then frisked away, her face bright with mischievous laughter.



Five Months After





Daniel flexed his shoulders as he jogged up Craven Manor’s wide front steps. Winter was on its last legs, and premature bright-green leaves were beginning to sprout from their trees. He wore a thick jacket, but the doubted he would need the wool gloves that were tucked into his pocket much longer.

The mansion’s front door stood ajar. He rarely closed it. The habit was part sentimentality by that point; he was so used to the door waiting open for him that shutting it felt wrong. The gap let leaves and dust blow through the opening and made sweeping a job that never ended. But it also provided extra illumination for the foyer, which still felt gloomy, even after the modern lighting had been installed.

Daniel shed his coat and hung it on one of the metal hooks beside the door. The high ceiling was empty; he and Bran hadn’t replaced the chandelier after the fire, and Daniel found he preferred it that way.

Repairing the building had taken months. The flames hadn’t spread far from the foyer, but whatever they’d touched had been a lost cause. He and Bran had salvaged as much as they could, though, and mimicked the house’s original design with the new installations. They’d managed to repair Annalise’s scorched portrait, and it continued to look over the entrance from its place above the stately wooden staircase.

The foyer was cosier now. A thick rug cushioned the floor around the fireplace. Steady flames crackled in the grate, radiating warmth across the space and lighting the stone walls.

Bran never ate or slept, but heat and cold were two sensations he could still feel. Daniel lit the fire when he woke every morning, and he made several trips back to the building through the day and evening to restock its wood. Under his watch, the fire was never allowed to fully die unless the grate needed cleaning.

“Good evening.” Daniel rounded the plush red chairs and slid into one. The fire felt amazing after the biting cold outside. “I finally cleared up that fallen tree to the east of the crypt. We’ve got a whole six functioning paths weaving through this maze now. And enough dry wood to last us until next year.”

“Look.” Bran, reclining in the chair next to Daniel, nodded to a small, furry shape at his side. He seemed to be trying not to move. “She’s asleep.”

It had taken five months, but Daniel had finally convinced Bran to let him adopt a cat from the shelter. He’d picked out a young grey girl, and it was snoozing beside Bran, its fluffy head resting on his leg.