15. Katrin

Chapter 15

Katrin

T he stairs creaked as I ascended, white paint chipping off with every brush of my hand along the banister. Tattered, lace curtains hung by the windows doing nothing to keep out the watery sunlight. I stopped at one such window and peered out over the grounds. Though I knew the sun had fully risen, the thick fog surrounding the manor remained impenetrable. If it weren't for the occasional protruding branches and glimpses of the ground, I could almost believe we floated among the clouds.

My legs burned by the time I reached the third floor, the lingering exhaustion reminding me that it had been almost a full day since I'd last rested. I paused at the top of the stairs, bracing one hand on the wall while the other firmly gripped the banister.

A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I paused long enough to pull the waterskin from my bag. After several deep swigs, I felt well enough to continue.

Doors lined the long hallway that stretched out on both sides of my feet. Each appeared identical to all the others. Stark-white frames surrounded each of the ornately carved wood doors. The walls between were decorated with faded floral wallpaper. Flickering sconces cast shadows over the areas where it had peeled away, revealing a cream and green striped pattern beneath.

The sun had been weak on my journey up the stairs, but here, darkness reigned once more. Not a sliver of natural light illuminated the dim corridor.

Foreboding traced icy fingers up my spine, freezing me in place. The candles flickering in amber glass sconces failed to dispel the strange shadows that clung to the walls and ceiling. I stared, certain they were moving. They shifted and whirled in opposition to the dancing candlelight.

I scrubbed my eyes with my palms. When I looked again, the shadows were still. Perhaps this place was haunted. I shook my head, forcing my feet into motion. It had been a long night. I would not be cowed by some trick of the light—not when rest was so close.

This was The Between after all. There was sure to be a number of inexplicable phenomena in the place between life and death. I couldn't lose sleep over moving shadows.

Even so, I stuck to the small patches of light as I approached the first door to my left on silent feet. Though the entire manor gave the impression of being utterly abandoned, I pressed my ear to the door to be sure no one waited inside. The last thing I wanted to stumble upon was some minor demon or spirit the Ferrier failed to mention.

The wood was cold against the shell of my ear. I suppressed a shiver as I held my breath, listening intently for any noise beyond its intricately carved surface. When I was certain no one waited within, I opened the door, wishing I'd had the wherewithal to procure a taper as it swung open to reveal an equally dim bedroom.

After growing up in a bustling household full of servants, family, and guests, the utter silence of the Ferrier's manor unnerved me. Even the whisper of my dress brushing the floor seemed to fill the space with ghostly sighs. I raced across the room, hurrying for the window I suspected to be on the opposite wall. Managing to avoid almost all of the near-invisible objects within, I exhaled in relief when my outstretched hands met heavy, draped fabric. In one jerking motion, I flung open the curtains.

The same murky light seeped in, but it was a welcome reprieve from the dungeonesque hallway beyond.

I spun, searching every corner and crevice for lurking shadows. Satisfied that the room contained only natural shadows and those plaguing my own body, I turned my focus to the simple—albeit elegant—contents of the room.

To my right was an unlit fireplace. Evidence of its last use lay in a heap below the andirons. A small door led to a privy chamber, which I was very glad to see, having known very little about the bodily functions of demons. I'd worried I would need to procure my own chamber pot. A large, four-poster bed sat to my left. A matching trunk and wardrobe—the latter empty—completed the set. Linens that may once have been white adorned the bed, emitting a cloud of dust when I sat upon it.

I coughed and sputtered, choking on the glittering remnants of days past. The air in the room felt stagnant as though it had not been used for some time. It was no wonder, given the current master of the home. Unless the Ferrier brought his work home with him, he'd hardly have an occasion to host guests, which made it all the more curious that he chose to exist in such an impressively large home. I hadn't seen any servants or caretakers either.

The Ferrier didn't seem the type to need constant companionship or even regular socializing, but it must have been a lonely existence in The Between. The next year of my life would be the same. Was it too much to ask to be lonely together?

I returned to the window, prying it open until the fresh scent of pine and hay reached me. The air outside was just as still, but I hoped it would go some way toward airing out the room. In the morning—the later morning—I would give this room the cleaning it deserved. Until then, I would have to make do with what I had.

After some searching, I found clean linens tucked away in the trunk. I'd never had to make my own bed before, but I made quick work of stripping the bed and eventually wrestled the clean sheets into an acceptable state.

By the time I finished, all my anxiety had trickled away, a hollow ache left in its place. I'd been wrung out and left to dry like a soiled shirt. In one night, I'd left my family, gambled away my dowry, and made a deal with a demon. I'd given up everything for this one chance at getting my life back. In a year, I'd have it all back, or I'd be dead.

I left the curtains open but locked the door. It felt ridiculous given the Ferrier's ability to walk through walls, but I took comfort in hearing the lock snick shut regardless. Though I laid down with every intention of remaining alert, the moment my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep.

I woke with a start, heart stuttering at the sight of my unfamiliar surroundings. Every muscle in my body tensed, preparing me to fight or run, whichever would keep me alive. My eyes scanned every corner for a threat before the events of the previous night came flooding back to me.

It took my body far longer than my mind to register that I was safe. Over twenty years of waking up in the same room of the same house and my heart refused to accept anything different. It pounded out a furious rhythm, threatening to jump from my chest and save itself if it came to it. I pressed my hand against my ribs like I could hold it in, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins refused to be so easily tamed.

I breathed in through my nose and exhaled heavily, willing my shoulders to drop, my fists to unclench, and my pulse to steady. After repeating the exercise several times, my muscles finally relaxed.

Flopping back on the bed, I stared at the crumbling plaster ceiling. Light still shone through the window, and I hoped it meant I'd only slept a few hours and not an entire day. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. A heaviness had settled into my limbs, and my movements were sluggish.

I debated returning to sleep, but my rest had been fitful at best. Nightmares plagued me just like they had in the world of the living. Sometimes I'd watch life pass me by from behind the bars of a cage, growing old while those around me experienced all that the world had to offer. Those dreams left me with an enduring sullenness, but they weren't as bad as the ones where Death came for me. When he'd drag me kicking and screaming into the Afterworld, and I'd wait for someone—anyone—to save me, but no one came.

No one ever came.

Sighing, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, resigned to shake off the fear that had haunted me for years. I had done it. I'd saved myself. I'd found a way to escape my fated demise, and all I had to do was endure a year in The Between. A year with the Ferrier.

Well, that and find a way to stop Death from hunting me.

I rose, wishing I'd had the foresight to bathe before I collapsed into bed. A thin layer of sweat and grime caked my skin, and I longed to be rid of this dress. The thing was, I hadn't packed another. For all my planning and all my confidence, I'd brought very little aside from coins and food. I guess I thought I'd either fail miserably or I'd have bigger things to worry about than clean clothes.

While I did have bigger things to worry about, I wasn't eager to dive into them just yet. I pulled an apple from my sack and took another swig of water. I would run out of water before I ran out of food, so that would need to be my first priority.

I cracked open the door and froze as shadows darted away from the spear of sunlight that breached the gloom. My throat constricted, and I slammed the door shut.

Now, I knew I wasn't hallucinating. These shadows were alive. Well, maybe not alive , but capable of independent movement at the least, possibly even sentient.

If the Ferrier had control over darkness, did he control these shadows as well? Were these his minions?

It made perfect sense now. He'd left me seemingly alone when, in actuality, he'd only left me at the mercy of his shadow creatures. They probably reported back every move I made to their dark master.

I pressed my palms to the solid wood like this small barrier could keep them out. Sure, they avoided the light, but what would happen when night inevitably fell?

Grabbing the old sheets from the haphazard pile on the floor, I stuffed them between the door and floor. Hopefully, it would be enough to barricade any errant shadows. Perhaps, if I was lucky, they would leave with the Ferrier at night when he returned to the world of the living.

I could wait until night fell to explore the manor.

I returned to the bed and emptied the contents of my bag. If I portioned out the food, I had five, maybe seven days at most. The water would only last me one or two.

The privy contained only the commode, no water pump, but that didn't mean there wasn't one somewhere in this house. If it came to it, I thought I remembered a well outside by the stables. For all I knew, it was dried up.

Leaning back against the headboard, I took a bite of my apple and questioned if I'd suffered a temporary bout of insanity when I'd left home last night.