Page 14 of Blackwicket (Dark Hall #1)

Two lamps glowed, their sickly light intensifying the surrounding darkness, transforming bookshelves and furniture into ominous figures.

The first thing drawing my eye was the cupboard-sized space between the white bookcases and fireplace mantel, where my ancestors had carved with consistent use an invisible door to the endless nebular void of magic.

Throughout her life, my mother moved freely to and from that forbidden place, one I’d often secretly visited myself.

I tried to keep my eyes here, but more horrors awaited than the memory of the night my mother entered Dark Hall and sealed the portal. My gaze slid to a sooty smudge partially concealed by the rug. This was the spot where Thomas Nightglass had breathed his last breath.

The trembling came, the world growing small until I was aware of only the streaked wood that had drank blood and bile and couldn’t be cleaned.

The shrill ringing of the phone in the foyer broke the thrall like a pick on frozen water, and I gasped, sucking in air I’d stopped breathing. I bolted, grateful for a reason to withdraw that wasn’t merely cowardice .

I reached the phone, its screeching bell echoing loud and long.

“Hello,” I said, turmoil making the word terse.

“Hey, Cricket.” Darren’s voice was so unexpected, and a sob lifted, but I swallowed it down.

“Listen, I’m staying at this hotel, the Vanderson, in town.

It’s a damn sight better than sleeping in that wreck.

I know you’re mad at me, but why don’t you get a room here?

I’ll pay for it. You shouldn’t be up there by yourself. ”

I longed to sink into the concern in my father’s voice, the care I’d have once given anything to experience, but it had come too late.

Besides, the Inspector would ferret me out, make a scene.

If Darren learned the Authority was in town, he’d beat a hasty retreat, and as much as it pained me to admit, his presence at Fiona’s funeral would be stabilizing.

“That’s nice of you, but I’m already unpacked, and I need to go through Fiona’s things. I went to the funeral home, changed the plans.”

“Right,” he said. “When you set your mind to something, you’re a bull. When’s the service?”

“No service. Just a burial here at the house. I’m going to put her next to Mom.”

Next to an empty grave.

“A lot of people in Nightglass loved your sister, Eleanora. You should have given them a chance to grieve her.”

“What people?”

“She had friends.”

“Where were they when she died on the porch?”

“Eleanora.” The weariness in his tone infuriated me anew.

“If people loved her, they would have helped her.”

“Sometimes there just isn’t anything you can do, Cricket,” he replied, and the sadness in his voice was too aching, too real.

“I have a lot to do. Fiona’s burial is in three days, at noon. ”

“I’ll be there. If you change your mind…”

I brought the receiver away from my ear and rested it in its cradle, cutting him off.

My breath shuddered once through me before I picked it up again, bashing it on the corner of the wood desk, blow after blow, gritting my teeth against the jarring impact that sent tremors of pain through my shoulder, peppering the ground with splinters.

With the phone smashed into unrecognizable bits of machine, I threw what remained at the wall, where it bounced on its curled cord like a hanged man, destroyed.

Breath coming ragged in my lungs, I stared at the gouges I’d created in the antique desk, permanent trenches made by my lack of self-control, the same flaw that had triggered all these terrible events.

There were no words too brutal to describe who I was for accusing Darren of crimes I was guilty of.

I muttered a curse to the house, and it rumbled in return, drinking in my wrath.

The lights flickered, corners darkening, and I was sure every Drudge would rise to feast on my inconsolable hatred for those responsible for murdering my sister with their greed, their contempt, or their neglect. Including and especially me.

Tears were needles at the backs of my eyes, and I chose to flee.

I was wearing my coat, but I wanted the cold to numb me, so I rid myself of it, left it on the floor as I dashed into the blue winter evening.

Increasing my pace, I sprinted across frozen land, defying the wind that mounted the cliffs, my hair whipping free from its pins, lashing my cheeks.

I wasn’t going to stop at the edge and prepared to let the air carry me over the water and into silence.

But my feet slipped on the icy grass, and I collapsed a breath from the drop, rocks biting my knees and palms.

Looking over the expanse of dull gray water, I remembered the ships that sailed on the horizon before our borders closed.

Fiona and I would name them, crafting tales of their destinations and the secret things they carried.

Before our mother chose Dark Hall, we’d dreamed of someday being passengers, carried away to lives we imagined were kinder than our own.

Now, in this horrible future, my sister had left, but she’d gone alone.

The cry that had built in my chest since Devin spilled from my lips, first as a throaty whimper, followed by a wail.

I screamed until my throat turned raw, letting the sea swallow my grief.