Page 44 of On Edge

I know what it is without opening it. The package is small and shaped like a vial of pills. On the front is the logo stamp of my doctor’s surgery, The Vale Practice.

“Everything alright?” She asks.

“Oh, it’s for my headaches. Dr. Fogg must have sent them.” I stuff them into my pocket. They make me sleepy. The last thing I need right now is to feel like a zombie.

My head isn’t too bad right now.

Maybe I’ll take one later.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring them out in a few minutes. I made the batter this morning since it’s Master Troy’s favorite since he was a boy.”

I cock a brow. Severin has liked pancakes since he was a boy. Kathy said she had started working for him when he bought Grayfleet, so I’m not sure what to make of that. I also thought he’d gone hunting, but now he’s back? He must have arrived in the helicopter this morning. Has he eaten already? I hope so. The last thing I want to do right now is eat my favorite food with him in the same room.

But I should be so lucky.As Kathy ushers me into the dining room, which is still dark and uninviting, a stark contrast to the warm, cosy kitchen, I see there’s another place setting. I sink into the chair furthest away from him, which I’m starting to see as mine.

And wait, shivering.

But Mrs. Oakley’s words about knowing Severin as a boy, about him losing his home again, and being in prison continue to haunt me.

Thishome.

Grayfleet.

I’m starting to think…no. But what if...What if Severin has more to do with the Swanleys than I thought? What if he’s the boy from the newspaper clipping? He would be the same age. It would explain why he kept the article.

The hairs on the back of my neck stick up as my eyes are drawn to the vacant seat at the opposite end. And then my heart starts to race as thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking slot into place. The boy in the article, Young Swanley, was convicted of killing his own parents. It would explain Severin’s time in prison. It would also explain why he appeared from nowhere and bought this decrepit estate for so much money. This was his family home.

Oh. No wonder he hasn’t renovated. I stare at the dirty tapestries and the worn flooring. He would have been just a boy when it happened.

My eyes water, and something like an ache lodges in my chest. Is this what made him this way? Is it why he’s so angry all the time?

But I have no answers….

Maybe the reporter coming today will know more.

Of course, I don’t have proof. It’s only a hunch, nothing more. But it all makes sense. And now I suspect it, I actually feelsorryfor him.

Even though he killed me?Nell hushes, softly.

Gripping my napkin, I breathe in and out, feeling like I’m actually going crazy. Nervously, I glance at the other chair. His jacket is there, hanging over the chair. I stare at it for a few seconds.

Until I hear the words…

Or, check his pockets before he comes back.

I don’t know if it’s Nell’s voice or mine. Not that it matters.

Adrenaline, sparks under my skin like electricity as I stand up and hurry over to Severin’s chair.

His jacket material is soft in my hands, and it smells of him: cedar and leather, with a touch of wood smoke. The urge to put it on, wrap it over my arms to keep the chill off, comes out of nowhere. It makes me hesitate until thunder rolls through the house like a bad omen, snapping me out of it. He really didn’t like it when I wore his sweater.

I shove my hand inside his pocket.

I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, until my fingers wrap around something cold and metal.

Closing my hand over it, I realize too late…it’s razor sharp.

Pain flares, intense and immediate.