Page 73 of The Secrets of Roan Island

“Let me out,” I scream. “Let me out!”

Fear wraps around my throat and squeezes.

I spin away from the door to look into the shadows of another stairwell. It twists and turns out of sight. Unsure what to do, I climb. At the end is another door, this one metal. I press my palms to the smooth surface, sighing at the cool relief it brings.

When I lean against it, the door opens with a click.

Darkness greets me.

Taking a breath, I push the door wider and step through. It’s time to save myself. To find a way out of here.

With my hands out in front of me, I venture into the shadows.

The darkness is pervasive, a deep gloom that breathes around me.

I pause, listening.

My breath flows loud in my own ears. In and out.

I hold it.

A second breath whispers around me—in and out—like the darkness is an entity, a presence enveloping me in its murkiness.

A sound, as if wind, tickles my ears. A voice, singing, as if far away.

“Hello?” I call, sliding my foot in front of me, searching for obstacles. I hit another step. More stairs. “Is anyone there?”

The hairs on my arms and neck rise.

I’m not alone.

“Who’s there?” I hate how meek I sound.

My mind spirals into the dank cellar where they found my little sister’s body, where the last hours of her life must have been a horror. Tears spring to my eyes, hating the way my breath hitches with guilt and pain and grief.

“I’m not there,” I whisper to myself. “I’m going to get out of this.” I need to get back to Noah.

Resolute, I move slowly through the darkness, my eyes adjusting to the nuance of shades. I wish I could see the rest of the space to take inventory of where I might be, what I might have to do to survive this. I swallow bitter tears, hating that I had to live through David’s torture only to face this with Hammish, hating the weakness that threatens to steal my hope and will.

A scent I don’t recognize flows around me, reminding me of Noah, but not him. Different. Something sweet but spicy.

“Hello?” I ask again.

A breath.

“I’m Ruby,” I say, quietly. “I’m just looking for a light.”

And suddenly light flares. I squint and shade my eyes. When they adjust, I find a woman with a lantern standing on the other side of the room. She’s breathtaking, and… familiar. Herdark hair spins in glossy waves around her shoulders, her white nightgown genteel.

My hand flies to my mouth. “You’re the woman from the painting at the entry to the Gate House.” Her name comes back to me in a flash of recognition. Noah’s sister. “Zarah,” I breathe. “I thought you were dead.”

“I may as well be.” Her dark eyes watch me warily. “And who are you?”

“Ruby Rose.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me? Why would my father trap you in here? Are you a feeder?” She smiles and shows her fangs. I have no doubt she would stalk me, feed from me, and leave me for dead if it served her purpose.

I quell my rising fear with a breath. “No. I’m….” What am I exactly? “A… friend of Noah’s.”