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And who died here? He said it was his childhood home.

Was it his parents? A sibling? Some other person?

Brick and his fucked-up games. Why couldn’t he have justtoldus what he wanted? Why did he have to draw everything out, do it in a way that made Black more homicidal than even marginally cooperative? What the hell was wrong with him, anyway?

The vampire excuse wasn’t cutting it anymore.

I walked over the fireplace, even as it occurred to me again how little we had to go on.

I stepped past the couch––

––and a person appeared in front of me.

11

THE FIRST CLUE

Ilet out a low gasp, flinching back. Then I froze in place.

I stared at them like an animal caught in a snare, even though they seemed to look directly through me, their eyes registering no awareness of me at all.

The man in front of me looked like something out of one of the paintings on the wall.

He looked relatively wealthy, or like he’d just come back from some formal event.

He wore a full-skirted knee-length coat, what looked to be silk with fine details in silver thread over dark red cloth. Under that, he wore knee breeches, which also appeared to be of silk. A long waistcoat of some red and silver flower pattern hung under the coat. The pattern looked Baroque to me, but I’m hardly an expert in clothing from the late 1700s.

The frilled white shirt under the silk waistcoat appeared to be linen, or possibly a light cotton. He wore white silk stocking and leather shoes with stacked heels under the knee breeches, showing off muscular calves.

Like the paintings in the entryway, something about his facial features was familiar enough to cause me to stare. I drank in his features, the shape of his eyes, his prominent jaw, cheekbones, and full lips.

I realized I saw some hint of Brick in his features.

“Black,” I whispered. “Black, do you––”

“I see him.”

I jumped violently.

He’d answered from much closer than I’d expected.

Last I’d looked, Black had been all the way across the room.

He must have crossed that distance when I triggered the… well, whatever it is I triggered when I walked into that part of the room. I looked over my shoulder to find Black hovering near me protectively. He stood within inches of my back, staring at the apparition I’d somehow awakened when I approached the forest green couch.

I could have sworn I saw Black standing in this part of the room earlier.

Maybe something else had caused the apparition to appear.

Both of us watched the male sit down on an embroidered chair cushion by that same fire, a pipe in his hand. I noticed the silk embroidery didn’t look faded here, but a sharp gold with details of pink flowers. There were more things in the room, as well, including a hound dog sleeping on a hand-woven rug at the man’s feet.

I watched as he stuffed that pipe with tobacco from a leather pouch he extracted from a pocket in his silk coat.

He unbuttoned the top of the waistcoat while I watched, exhaling.

He was home for the evening.

“Brick’s father?” Black asked.