“You think I should stay away from her?”
More nodding followed, and the gestures were repeated, but in reverse.
“She doesn’t like me.”
Sophie had found the crux of the message, and Marie pressed her hand to reinforce the message. Sophie tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Thank you for warning me. I’ll be careful.”
Marie discarded the page and began drawing again. Her face had darkened.
Sophie watched a tall rectangle appear on the paper, with a squiggly shape halfway down. “A door.”
A wave of Marie’s hand told Sophie to keep guessing.
“Is it the front door? You think I should leave?”
A vague gesture suggested Marie didn’t disagree, but it wasn’t the image’s intended meaning. She scrawled around the door’s frame several times, but Sophie’s guesses were becoming more erratic, and Marie scowled in frustration. She dropped the pen, raised her thumb to her mouth, and bit it hard.
“Marie,” Sophie gasped, but the girl brought her thumb back to the page before Sophie could stop her.
A bead of blood had appeared where she’d pierced her skin, and Marie smeared it across the image of the door.
Sophie stared at the red mark and swallowed. “The red door.”
Vigorous nodding affirmed the guess. Marie moved the picture to one side and began drawing again, this time more slowly and carefully.
Sophie couldn’t bring herself to look at the new image. The panic was back in full force, and it was all she could do to keep her voice steady. “Marie, did you open the door?”
At Marie’s nod, Sophie felt her heart plunge. “Marie, you shouldn’t have. Joseph—Mr Argenton—says it’s not safe.”
Marie nodded again, her eyes large.
Sophie thought back to that morning, when Marie had tried to tell her something as they’d left her room. She had a plan—was this it? Did she explore the house… for me?
The girl’s loyalty was overwhelming, but at the same time, it terrified Sophie. This isn’t the sort of house that lets you uncover its secrets without consequences. What if she’d been hurt? She was there on my behalf—how could I forgive myself if she’d come to harm?
Marie finished her drawing. She pointed to the page with the blood-dyed door then pointed to her new image, which she held up for Sophie to see.
“Sweet mercy…”
It was the shadow monster, looming out of inky blackness, its empty white eyes boring into Sophie’s soul.
Feeling faint, she pressed a hand to her mouth as a rushing noise filled her ears. Marie discarded both pages quickly and gripped Sophie’s shoulder to prop her upright.
It’s almost identical to what Elise has been drawing. Did Marie see those pictures? Or is this her own experience?
Sophie took her hand away from her mouth. “Marie, is that what you saw when you opened the door?”
One look at the girl’s haunted eyes answered the question even before Marie nodded.
“You mustn’t ever go back there again. Mr Argenton says we may be able to leave Northwood soon. But it’s dangerous as long as we stay here. Don’t go searching for these sorts of things.”
Marie nodded, resolute, and squeezed Sophie’s hand again. Sophie smiled at her and squeezed back. “Thank you, Marie. I wouldn’t wish this house on anyone, but I’m grateful I have you with me.”
The door creaked on its hinges, and both Sophie and Marie started. Rose, resplendent in a forest-green dress, stood in the doorway, hands folded neatly in front of herself. Her dead eyes flickered across the drawings scattered over Sophie’s bed and lingered over the page with the Shadow Being. Sophie thought Rose’s eyebrows rose a fraction, then she fixed her gaze on Marie.
“I need your assistance.” Her voice was empty of emotion but not unkind. “Please come with me, Marie.”
Both Sophie and Marie stood up. Sophie dreaded what Rose might say about her conduct with Joseph, but the older woman turned and left the room without even glancing at her. Marie gave a brief smile, which Sophie returned, then the maid hurried from the room to catch up to her employer. Sophie waited until both sets of footsteps faded from her hearing before allowing herself to breathe again.
She was certain Rose had seen her at the lake that morning, and Sophie had expected her next encounter with the woman to bring a fresh and cruel punishment. But Rose hadn’t spoken to her. She hadn’t even looked at her. It was as if Sophie hadn’t been in the room. Maybe that’s her retaliation—to ignore me. I wouldn’t be upset if it were.
Too anxious to keep still, Sophie picked the drying pictures off her bed and looked at them. Marie believed she should be careful around Rose. All of Rose’s hostilities had occurred when they were alone together, though, so what had Marie seen or heard to bring about her opinion?
Sophie flipped through to the final page. The black creature, though drawn quickly, was still more detailed than it had been in Elise’s pictures. She could make out the sharp fangs that filled its dark maw. The claws, extending in long arcs from its knuckles, nearly scraped the floor. The white circles of its eyes were large and perfectly round. Intent. Hungry.
Sophie folded the paper and tucked it inside her dress. She could show it to Joseph when he returned. He’d told her that Elise had read about the monster in a book, but Marie’s experience brought the lie into sharp relief.
She hoped Marie would come back when Rose no longer needed her. Sophie had a lot of questions and thought Marie could use drawings to communicate the answers. Even if she couldn’t, it would be nice to talk with someone who hadn’t spent her whole life in Northwood.
Sophie frowned as a new thought hit her. She’d been so shocked by Rose’s appearance that she hadn’t even considered what task her aunt wanted Marie for that one of the other maids couldn’t help with.
No… Sophie started upright. Anger at her own stupidity rushed through her, closely followed by cold, sickening dread.
Why didn’t I realise it before? If Rose wished to truly, deeply hurt me, she’d be too smart to attack me directly. She’d go after someone more vulnerable. Someone I cared about… she’d hurt Marie in my place.
Sophie ran from her room, but Rose and Marie had long disappeared. She stopped where the pathways split, trying to guess which direction they’d taken.
“Marie?” Her voice echoed through the passageways, bouncing back at her from a dozen different directions. Sophie wrung her hands then turned towards the main stairwell. “Marie! Can you hear me?”
She knew the house was too vast for there to be any chance of finding them quickly, but she still had to try. Panic nipped at her heels as she rushed through the twisting passageways. The staircase loomed ahead. Would Rose have stayed on this level or gone up or down? Sophie hesitated, one hand on the balustrade, aware that every second she wasted might have dire consequences.
Make a choice!
She went downstairs first, hoping Rose might have gone to the kitchens or the dining room. Her footfalls were a loud drum as she leapt down the stairs and crossed the foyer.
A door to her left stood open, and Sophie went to it. She recognised the gun storage room where she’d found the butler the day before. The shelves each held a gun, cleaned and lined up neatly, save for one.
The cold dread in Sophie’s chest plunged its fangs into her heart. She turned back to the stairs in a flurry, screaming, “Marie! Marie!”
A single gunshot rang through the building. The crack seemed to shake the walls and lingered in Sophie’s ears.
“No! Marie, no!” Sophie took the stairs three at a time, stumbling and scrambling in her desperation to follow the noise. It led her back to the third floor, where she turned left. From there she was lost; she took the twists quickly, glancing into every open door and turnoff she passed, trying to following the echoes she imagined still rang in her ears. “Marie! Can you hear me? Marie!”
Sophie turned a corner and pulled up short. Rose stood in her pat
h, hands neatly clasped at her front and a broad smile parting her red-dyed lips. It was almost identical to the expression she’d worn on the day she’d greeted Sophie.
“Well, my dear.” Rose’s voice was a calm and deadly purr. “Perhaps now you’ll reconsider before trying to twist my nephew from his duty.”
Sophie’s gaze dropped to Rose’s dress. The forest-green garment was perfectly tailored and impeccably crafted. Its high neckline brushed Rose’s jaw, and its ruffles would have done a queen credit. A spray of dark red liquid stained the bodice.
“Where’s Marie?” The words came out as a terrified croak.
Rose’s smile widened, and she stretched one graceful hand out to indicate to the offshoot she stood next to. As she raised her arm, three men came out from the hallway: the butler and two footmen. They were all deathly pale, and one of the footmen was sweating so profusely, it stained his shirt. They dropped their eyes as they passed Sophie, seemingly determined not to look at her.
Rose still stood at the hallway’s entrance, her smile and outstretched arm a cruel invitation. Sophie moved as though she were in a dream. The air felt thick; it stuck in her throat and burnt her lungs. Repulsed chills crawled across her back as she drew nearer to Rose. She didn’t dare break eye contact until she’d reached the hallway, then she turned to look down it.
The wallpaper changed to black-and-gold. In the distance—it seemed very far away—the red door stretched nearly to the ceiling. At its foot lay what looked like a bundle of white cloth. Sophie caught sight of a limp hand extending from the heap, and a strangled scream rose into her throat. She ran towards the figure, already dreading what she was about to see.
Marie lay at the door’s foot, wrapped in a large cloth. Sophie dropped to her knees and tugged the fabric away from her friend. Marie’s sightless eyes gazed at the ceiling, unfocussed in death.
“No, no, no, please—”
Sophie caressed the girl’s face, trying to wake her, but Marie’s body was already beginning to cool.
“Marie!” The word rose into a scream, and once she’d started, Sophie couldn’t stop. She shrieked, shaking Marie’s body as hot, furious tears spilt from her.
This is your fault, a cold little voice whispered to her. Marie is dead because of you.
Large hands gripped Sophie’s shoulders and began pulling her back. She struggled, but they wouldn’t let her go. She twisted and, through the tears blinding her, saw Garrett Argenton was dragging her away from the body.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” she cried, clawing at his hands.
He grunted as her nails cut him, but he didn’t let go. “There’s nothing you can do for her now,” he said. “Come away.”
The words filled in her head. Nothing you can do now. But you could have stopped this. If you’d been a little quicker, a little smarter, you would have realised what Rose was planning. You could have stopped her… barricaded the door… protected Marie. But you allowed her to be a target then failed to save her when she was in danger.
Sophie wailed in shame and horror, then slumped, too exhausted to struggle anymore. She couldn’t stop sobbing and couldn’t draw breath fast enough to fuel her limbs. Garrett wrapped an arm around her and dragged her down the hallway, only stopping when they reached its end, where Rose waited for them. He let Sophie collapse to the floor then straightened to face the tall woman. “Why are you doing this?”
“Our nephew has forgotten his purpose.” Rose’s smile had died into a sneer. “Have you seen Elise today? It hasn’t let her alone. She’s dying, and yet Joseph still tries to protect this girl.”
“He says he has a hope of banishing it completely.”
“Ha! You know as well as I do that it’s a fool’s errand. Have you forgotten how many of our forbearers held similar hopes? Their blood has painted this house. He should know better, especially after what happened to his mother—”
Garrett turned away with a hiss.
Rose crossed her arms, her eyes glittering. “We can’t indulge our nephew any further. If he won’t do it, we must take the task upon ourselves.”
Garret’s dark eyes flicked to Sophie, then he looked away, as though he were ashamed to meet her gaze. “I promised Joseph we would wait a full day. If it’s in vain—”
“It will be. And while you wait, your own daughter is dying. Is that what you want?”
The lines about Garrett’s face hardened as his voice dropped to a bitter murmur. “Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be kinder.”
A door slammed, and the three of them jumped. Sophie, whose tears had reduced to a terrified trickle, scrambled towards the hallway. “Marie!”
What she saw sent ice through her veins. The hallway was empty. Someone—or something—had taken Marie’s body through the red door.
Garrett placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, but Sophie slapped it away. She staggered to her feet and leaned against the wall to keep herself steady. “What have you done with her?”
Garrett didn’t answer, but Rose stepped forward, her red-lipped smile stretching wide. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”
Sophie faced the hallway. The red door called to her; she was aware of the whispery noises, far louder than they’d ever been before, but still too quiet to make out the words over her thundering heart.
Rose placed a cold hand on Sophie’s arm. “You can still catch her if you’re quick.”
Sophie shook the hand off and backed away from the pair. She didn’t dare take her eyes off them until she’d reached the main hallway, then she turned and ran.
I’m so sorry, Marie. Fresh tears ran down her face. Her eyelids were sore and swollen, and the ache in her chest was more severe than anything she’d felt before. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, after everything you did for me. You didn’t deserve this.
She couldn’t count the number of times she’d become lost in Northwood’s third floor, but that day, whether by pure luck or because the house had decided she’d endured enough, she found her room almost immediately. She slipped through the door, locked it behind herself, then pressed her palms against her eyes as she tried to smother her grief-filled wails.
It’s time to leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Forest
Sophie found her travel cases stored neatly in the cupboard. She took out the largest one, opened it on the bed, then began throwing anything she might need inside: her brushes and reticule went in first, followed by any jewellery she thought she would be able to sell. Then she wrenched open the wardrobe doors and began taking out the dresses—the horrible, sickening dresses Rose had chosen for her—and bundling them into the case.
She hated herself for not realising that Marie had been in danger. She hated Rose for everything the woman had done and intended to do. And she hated Joseph for his lies and concealments and for abandoning her at Northwood… but she didn’t hate him as much as she wanted to.
Her head warned her that he would turn out to be as twisted as his toxic family, and she had to leave him forever if she wanted to be safe. But her aching heart screamed at the idea. I must see him again. If nothing else, she was sure he’d been genuine during their morning by the lake, when he’d stroked her hair and smiled at her so warmly. In that moment, she’d felt as if she had a chance to be happy.
It only took her a moment to make up her mind. She would leave Northwood immediately and wait outside the gate for Joseph’s return. There, she would give him an ultimatum. He could come away with her, and they could start a new life together, or they could part at the gate and never see one another again. Under no circumstances would she step back inside Northwood’s bounds—not even if he tried to carry her in.
Sophie turned back to the wardrobe and reached for another armful of dresses. There was something strange about them, though—something Sophie couldn’t immediately make sense of. The gauzy garments bulged outwards, as though a large shape hid behind them. She stared at them in confusion. They didn’t look like that a moment
ago.
Then a sound reached her—a very low, very quiet exhale. The noise seemed to pass through Sophie, rattling her core. She reached a shaking hand towards the dresses, unable to stop herself, and tugged the closest one aside.
An ash-white face stared at her through the gap. Sophie shrieked and scrambled away. Her back bumped into her bed as she pressed her hands over her heart.
The dresses bulged forward and parted as the spectre behind them stepped out of its confinement. One bare foot hit the floor with a muted thud then was followed by the other.
Sophie stared at the figure’s face, unable to believe what she was seeing. The skin was white enough to have been a bleached tablecloth, and the eyes were stained entirely black. The lips, so awfully familiar, held a ghastly blue-green tint. Unruly in life, her hair now hung like a limp curtain around her face. The face, despite the contortions of death, was sickeningly familiar.
“Marie,” Sophie breathed.
Marie’s lips parted. Inside her mouth was black and filled with small, angular teeth. The sightless eyes fixed on Sophie, and Marie lurched forward, her bony fingers reaching towards Sophie’s face.
Sophie threw herself towards the door. She seized the cold metal handle and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. Marie inhaled, making a sickening rattle, as though it had come from a woman on her deathbed. Then there was a footstep, ponderously heavy, as the dead girl moved nearer.
You fastened the door’s lock when you came in. Unlock it!
Sophie tugged at the deadbolt. It stuck in its bracket and groaned in protest as she tried to drag it free. Marie took another step closer, halving the distance between them, her raspy breathing filling Sophie’s ears. She couldn’t think; her whole awareness had become condensed to the space behind her, where the spirit drew closer, its hands stretched towards her exposed back. Then the bolt pulled free, and Sophie yanked open the door just as Marie’s fingers grazed across her neck.
A strangled cry escaped Sophie as she tumbled into the hallway. The ghost’s fingers had felt like ice on her skin. She didn’t stop to see if Marie was following her before she snatched up her skirts and fled.
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