Craven Manor, page 17
He exhaled as he turned away from the window. He left Mrs. Kirshner’s plate on the table and washed his own. Finally, he took the pocketful of cash—the proceeds from the coin he’d sold the previous day—and hid it in her cupboard, behind a tin of peaches. It might take her a few days or even weeks to find it, but the cash would support her and Alonzo for a while once she did. His conscience wouldn’t let him spend the money on himself, but he had no compunctions in leaving it to a woman who’d deserved a better lot in life.
He picked up the talisman off the windowsill. The leather strap went around his neck, and he tucked the vial under his shirt then checked how it looked in the bathroom mirror. As long as he kept his jacket zipped, the talisman was invisible. Daniel silently let himself out of the apartment.
City sounds engulfed him as he stepped onto the street. Two men yelled at each other from inside a store, and cars blared their horns. Daniel ducked his head and thrust his hands into his pockets as he half walked, half jogged away from the noise. He stopped at a general store two blocks away and spent the last of his money on a small bag of supplies.
This is the right thing to do. He felt queasy and sweaty. Paranoia about touching the rot in the abandoned town resurfaced, but he comforted himself by recalling that Mrs. Kirshner had said the disease killed its host within a day. If he’d contracted anything, he would have felt it already. The clamminess was derived purely from stress.
City became countryside, and Daniel followed the familiar trail down Tilbrook Street. The massive gnarled oak at the end shifted in the wind, and its branches seemed to beckon him forward. Daniel turned and followed the flagstone trail into the overgrown forest.
The woods seemed noisy that day. Birds and insects clamoured to be heard, and Daniel tried to clear his mind as he focussed on the sounds. Looking nervous when he arrived back at Craven Manor might sink the whole plan.
The gates came into view sooner than he would have liked. He stood outside them for a moment to take in their rusted, deteriorated visage. The bronze plaque that announced Craven Manor glinted in the light.
“A manor to strike fear into people who saw it. A manor inhabited by cowards.” He licked his lips and stepped through the gate’s narrow gap. The manoeuvre became easier every time he performed it, but he hoped he would only have to practice it once more… when he left Craven Manor for the final time.
Daniel left the plastic bag not far from the gates, hidden behind thick bushes. Then he turned and followed the familiar track through the garden towards the manor.
The anxiety-prompted sickness returned as the building came into view. Its dark stone walls, high windows, and insane mix of buttresses and extensions were overwhelming. He looked towards the tower and thought he saw a ghostly pale face pressed against the glass. As he stared at Eliza, she retreated into the shadows.
“A shy woman. A woman riddled with phobias.”
The crows had gathered in the tree and the stone supports around the front doors. Daniel searched for the huge, age-tattered bird, but Bran wasn’t amongst them. He climbed the steps to the open front door and stepped inside.
He’d forgotten how forlorn the foyer was. The void magnified the sound of every breath and movement. The chandelier barely refracted the light that struggled through the windows. Every object—the empty photo frames and candles on the mantelpiece, the fireside chairs, the high curtains framing the windows—were all suffocated under the blanket of dust. It was too dim to see the spiderwebs, but Daniel knew they were lurking, waiting for him to walk into them.
Moment of truth. Will Bran believe me?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Daniel waited in the doorway for several pounding heartbeats, but the manor’s master didn’t swoop down from the higher floors. He tried to calm the shaking in his hands and stepped forward. “Bran?”
Two amber eyes glinted by the cold fireplace hearth. Daniel felt a pang of relief and let a natural smile grow. He liked cats. Talking to Bran in his animal form would be easier than trying to lie to the man’s face.
“Hey, sorry it took me so long to get back.” He moved towards the cat, trying to keep his stride natural and his trembling fingers hidden in his pockets. “I stopped to visit my neighbour, but she was sick, so I stayed the night with her to make sure she was okay.”
The best kind of lie is a distortion of the truth. That was one of Kyle’s favourite mottos… or a paraphrasing of it, at least. It was easier to keep a story straight when most of it was factual.
The cat blinked. It maintained its usual pose, pin-straight and with the tail coiled around its legs in a neat loop. Daniel knelt next to it. Someone had refilled the kindling and logs beside the fireplace—probably Joel. Daniel began stacking the wood in the empty grate. “Let’s get this house a bit warmer for you.”
Bran turned to face the fireplace expectantly. That was a good sign; he was more interested in heat than an interrogation. Daniel waited until baby flames licked over the kindling before speaking again. “I saw Kyle, but he’s not looking good. He was still in a coma, and the doctors are worried about brain damage. I might go back and visit again in a few days.”
He hated lying. It left him feeling clammy and dirty, but Bran needed to think he and his secrets were safe. He needed to think Daniel was on his side.
The cat looked up at Daniel, but he couldn’t read the golden eyes. Its ears maintained a neutral position, but the tip of its tail flicked, suggesting Bran’s mind wasn’t as calm as the feline’s face appeared.
“I know I missed a day of work, but I’ll make up for it. If it’s all right with you, I’ll keep working on the paths through the garden. It will be easier for all of us if we can get around a little faster.”
Bran turned towards the flames and gently lowered himself onto his side. His eyes drifted closed as he enjoyed the warmth. Daniel waited until the flames were established and had plenty of fuel to keep them burning, then he rose and dusted his hands on his jeans.
“I’d better get to it, I guess. I’m pretty tired, so I’ll go to bed early tonight, but I’ll catch up with you again tomorrow, okay?”
There was no response—not that he’d expected one—so Daniel made his way towards the door. It took a lot of self-control to keep his pace natural when nerves made him want to sprint out of the building. He threw a glance over his shoulder before slipping outside, but the cat remained lounging by the flames.
As he stepped into the woods, he sucked in quick breaths, simultaneously trying to get oxygen to his limbs and resist the urge to hyperventilate. He felt as though he’d just walked beneath a sleeping dragon’s nose and come away unscathed.
Lying to a cat had been easier, but it had also made it difficult to gauge what Bran was thinking. Does he believe me? Or does he know the truth and is biding his time until retribution?
The second option was enough to paralyse him, so Daniel pushed it to the back of his mind and focussed on what he needed to do. The day was still early, and to maintain the appearance of normalcy, he would have to go about his job as if nothing were wrong.
He went back to his cottage. A collection of blocky shapes had been left outside the building. Joel must have made his delivery while Daniel was away.
The largest shape had to be the generator. Daniel ran his hand over the large, box-shaped plastic-and-metal machine. In addition to it, Joel had brought the fridge, a bench-top dishwasher, and a halogen oven. Crates of supplies sat beside it. The vegetables had wilted from being left outside too long, but they were in abundant supply.
It would have looked strange if he ignored the delivery, so Daniel spent an hour moving the new equipment into his cottage. He didn’t bother setting up the generator since he would never get a chance to use it. But he packed the fruit and vegetables away and arranged the new equipment on his bench top, as though he intended to finish its installation later. Then he collected his shovel and gloves from the shed and returned to the garden.
He’d started progress on a path between the crypt and the house before discovering Eliza’s bones. It made sense to continue that work, though he would need to scope out a new laneway that had a respectful distance from her body. He found where he’d left off and spent a moment in silence beside the woman’s grave. The ground, which had been heaped, was starting to sink back towards level as rain and time compressed it. The makeshift cross he’d placed at the grave’s head drooped to one side, and he righted it then looked behind himself.
Eliza’s tower was visible from his position, but not much of the rest of the house. The sun’s angle made it impossible to see inside the shadowed window, but he wondered if she was watching him.
You haven’t been forgotten, Eliza. Just wait a little longer.
He backtracked along the path and marked a new branch that would circumvent the grave by at least twenty feet. Then he started working—pulling weeds out of the ground, digging up small trees where possible, and slashing through the vines and spiderwebs that criss-crossed the area. By keeping the trail fluid, he could weave it around larger trees and take the path of least resistance, which made his work infinitely faster. He’d reached Craven Manor’s front door by the time the sun was close to setting.
Bran can’t complain about today’s work, at least. He wiped the back of his arm across his forehead to clear the sweat that had built there. The exertion had left him drained but satisfied. It felt good to tie off at least one loose end.
The crows were coming in to roost. One at a time, they swooped down from the heavens to alight on branches or stones. Their mournful cries drifted through the cooling night air, and their feathers made a rustling cacophony as they shuffled and bickered among themselves.
Their cries followed Daniel as he took the path he’d cleared back to the crypt. He stopped outside the stone tomb for a moment to clear away weeds that had started to grow in his absence and to say a silent goodbye to Annalise. He didn’t know if he would be able to help her. He had a theory that she stayed because her mother was trapped, and that once Eliza’s ghost was free, Annalise would follow. If Mrs. Kirshner’s account was accurate, it sounded like the mother and daughter had formed a close bond.
But if freeing Eliza didn’t save Annalise, Daniel would have to play the situation by ear. There were no locks, salt, or binding runes on Annalise’s door. Maybe the girl herself didn’t even know why she was trapped on earth. If that was the case, there might not be anything Daniel could do for her. She seemed so friendly and curious, he hated the idea of her being left alone with a man as evil as Bran.
Focus. One step at a time. Look after Eliza first.
He cleared up a few fallen leaves from the front of the tomb then stepped back. He wished he could warn her about what was coming, but he bit his tongue. It would be dangerous to show his cards too soon. Annalise was still loyal to her brother.
Daniel returned to his cottage. He focussed on keeping his routine as mundane as possible. Not much of the house was visible from his window, but for all he knew, Bran might be watching him, unseen, as a crow in the trees. He kept the window’s curtains open as he washed up, prepared dinner, and ate. Then he changed into his bed clothes, pulled the curtains, and blew out the lamp.
He sat on the edge of the bed for hours. The clock’s hands were barely visible in the darkness, but he watched as they crept past nine then ten. Finally, at eleven, he rose and changed into an all-black outfit.
If Bran had been watching the house, he would think Daniel had fallen asleep after dinner. With luck, he would have gotten bored of watching the cottage hours before. Still, Daniel kept his movements small and light as he turned the cottage’s handle and crept through a narrow gap in the door.
There was no sign of the crow or the cat. Daniel kept his senses alert as he slipped through the shadowed garden. Day birds had fallen silent, but the bats and night animals chattered. Instead of taking the easiest routes, Daniel deliberately kept to the thickest and darkest parts of the garden as he approached the gate.
He found the bag he’d hidden in the bushes and dug through its contents for the watch and binoculars. Then he slung the bag over his shoulder and began climbing through the trees.
He found a nook between two trunks with ferns growing around. It offered him a view of the cottage without having to get to close, and the ferns helped shield him. He leaned his back against one tree and tucked his legs in. The space was so gloomy that he felt certain anyone looking in his direction would miss him, but it was still hard to repress the impulse to curl into a ball.
He kept the watch out as he waited. Every few minutes, he shifted position to keep his legs from falling asleep. Time crept by painfully slowly, and tiredness began to make him drowsy. He pinched his arms until they were blue to keep himself alert.
Eventually, his watch ticked over to midnight, and Daniel lifted the binoculars. He could see the cottage’s front door and the small cleared space around it. He panned the lens across the space, looking for signs of movement amongst the plants. It was hard not to feel paranoid. By ten minutes past midnight, he was sweating. At fifteen past, the paranoia morphed into a dogged fear that something was creeping up behind him. It took all of his self-control to keep his eyes focussed ahead.
Finally, at twenty past midnight, a glimmer of motion darted between the trees. Annalise frisked towards the cottage, her dress and hair streaming behind her as she leapt over fallen logs. She was so fast and faint that Daniel had trouble keeping the binoculars trained on her.
Daniel was tempted to watch the girl frolic, but she wasn’t his primary concern. He turned the binoculars towards the tree boughs and panned across them. A flurry of motion in a large pine twenty meters from the cottage caught his attention, and Daniel had to bite his lip to keep a cheer inside. As he’d hoped, Bran had left the mansion to watch over his sister’s play. The great crow alighted in the pine tree and fluffed its feathers as it settled.
Fresh nerves shook off the last hint of Daniel’s tiredness. He simultaneously felt the press of limited time and paranoia that moving too soon would attract Bran’s attention. He watched as Annalise tapped on the cottage door. She tilted her head to the side, waiting for Daniel’s response. When the door didn’t open, she skirted around the building and began tapping on the window and walls.
The massive crow sat as still as a statue. His attention seemed focussed on his sister, and he showed no sign of impatience. Daniel finally dared to pack away the binoculars and crept backwards, deeper into the forest. He clutched his bag of supplies close as he wove towards Craven Manor.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Daniel’s progress was agonizing. He was afraid that if he moved too slowly, Bran would return to the manor before his task was finished. But if he went too fast, he risked making too much noise. He was breathless and shaking with tension by the time he reached the manor’s stone steps.
Crows shuffled above Daniel as he jogged up to the front door. He didn’t think they were sentient enough to communicate with Bran, but he kept one eye on them. Too much chatter or the flap of wings as they flew away would be enough to alert Bran to the intrusion.
He released a held breath as he passed through the doorway and into Craven Manor. It was nearly impossible to see without a light, but Daniel couldn’t risk burning any of the candles. He had to make his way by touch and memory, helped by the thin portions of moonlight glinting through the grimy windows.
Leaf litter crunched under his feet as he crossed the foyer. The fire had gone out long ago, but its embers still released warmth into the cold night air. Daniel found the stairs and began climbing. He cringed as the aged wood groaned under his weight.
Two eyes watched him from the landing. Daniel’s breath caught as they affixed on him, then he pressed a hand to his heart as he realised he was seeing the portrait. Not much of the painting was visible—just the eyes and a hint of the nervously smiling lips.
On the landing, he turned towards the stairs to the third floor. The higher he went, the harder it became to see anything. Spiderwebs made him twitch as his questing hands brushed through them. A creak echoed from deeper in the house, and Daniel had to force himself to keep his eyes ahead. Just a board flexing as it cools. That’s all.
He hung close to the bannister as he ascended. Even before he saw the door, he heard the noise of fingers being scraped over wood. It had filled him with horror before, and its effect was no less potent that night—but for a wholly different reason. Instead of fearing what would happen if the woman was allowed out, he felt sick to think of what she’d endured. For two centuries, she’d been trapped in that tower, clawing every day to be allowed out, but never heard or seen. He risked a whisper. “I’m here, Eliza.”
The scrabbling seemed to grow louder as he stepped into the landing. The hallways extended to the left and the right, swallowed in shadows. The stone pathway ahead was a pit of oppressive black. Only the noises floating out of it proved it still existed. The gasping, urgent breaths had become audible beneath the scratching.
Daniel finally dared to take the torch out of his bag. He turned it on and pointed it down the passageway. The beam was small and pale—he’d deliberately chosen a cheap LED torch to keep its light subtle—but it picked out flashes of the black door, the white cross, and the bronze lock.
“Eliza?” He hadn’t heard any sounds to suggest Bran had left the gardens, but Daniel still kept his voice quiet. The clawing was definitely louder. The gasps sounded hungry… and desperate. Daniel lowered the bag to the ground and dug through it. “Just a moment, Eliza. You’ll be out soon.”
He found the bottle of water, unscrewed its cap, then knelt by the edge of the door. The line of salt was clear and bright in the torchlight, and Daniel drenched it with water. It was the only thing he’d been able to think of to get all of the salt out of the textured stone. He spilt the entire two litres over it then used his hand to brush the liquid away.
