tiptoed into the dark hall with my flashlight in hand.
Hazy moonlight drifted in through the window at the end of the hallway. I made my way toward it, my flashlight beam brightening the hall even farther. Still, an uneasy feeling gave me the chills and I shuddered. I hated the dark. Maybe less than in the past, but it never would be on my list of favorite things.
Across from the narrow servantsâ staircase that led downstairs, there was a small alcove with a locked door. Behind that door was another steep staircase that went up to an attic and then up again to a widowâs walk. Iâd gone to the walk once before, when Zachary begged Chase to show it to me. It was a gorgeous place, perched on top of Moonhillâs highest rooftop. It also was dangerous as hell, with steep slopes on every side and no place to land except the ground, three-plus stories below.
I set down my bag and the quilt beside the door and put my flashlight in my mouth. Iâd always lived by my dadâs motto of being prepared for anything. Recently, Iâd taken it to heart and started keeping a few select tools in my shoulder bag, mostly for picking locks. Moonhill had about a million of them and my curiosity couldnât stand not knowing what they hid.
I got out a screwdriver and wire and in a second the lock clicked open. Chase had a set of keys, but waiting down here would give him a chance to beg off, though after yesterdayâs Doughnut Olympics, I couldnât see why he would. Except that there was a spark of fear deep inside me that had been ignited by the weight of his gaze and the sadness in his eyes when heâd explained why he didnât want to put off driving by his motherâs house. â I canât afford to have anything take away from my focus, not with everything thatâs going on. â I knew on the surface he was referring to his mother. But I couldnât help but wonder if he was also using this as an excuse to pull away from me, and I was quite certain my bitching at him in front of Kate and everyone couldnât have helped.
After I gathered up my stuff, I opened the door. But as I went to step onto the first tread, something touched my ankle and the air chilled. Like a ghost brushing past.
My heart launched into my throat and I leapt back from the stairwell, fanning the flashlight beam all around me and back toward the main hallway.
But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Holy shit. What had I felt?
Cold sweat iced my spine. I pointed the beam into the stairwell.
Nothing again.
Everyone claimed Moonhill wasnât haunted. But I was certain something had touched me. The temperature had definitely dropped.
Panic overwhelmed me and I froze, unable to move. But if Moonhill really didnât have ghosts, then it might have been a shadow-genie like the one Iâd seen in the gallery a few weeks ago. Olya had strengthened the magical wards in the gallery to keep genies from using that weak point in the veil as a gateway into our realm. But what if those wards had failed? Or what if a genie had gotten in through a different weak point and was wandering around the house?
A thump came from behind me.
I winged my flashlight beam toward the sound. A tapestry hanging on the wall rippled as if caught in a breeze. My pulse went wild, but my legs refused to move.
The sound of a throaty growl came from below the tapestry, close to the floor. I moved my flashlight beam downward and it trapped the misty outline of a shadow. It was low and small, and cat-shaped. It reached up and batted the tapestry, a soft thump resounding as the fabric slapped against the wall.
The tension went out of my spine and I blew out a relieved breath.
It was the tiger-striped cat from the research room, the one Kate and Olya had covered with the Methuselah oil, the one fated to appear ethereal from sunset until sunrise. Zacharyâs cat.
âSilly kitty,â I whispered as it zinged to the staircase
Hazy moonlight drifted in through the window at the end of the hallway. I made my way toward it, my flashlight beam brightening the hall even farther. Still, an uneasy feeling gave me the chills and I shuddered. I hated the dark. Maybe less than in the past, but it never would be on my list of favorite things.
Across from the narrow servantsâ staircase that led downstairs, there was a small alcove with a locked door. Behind that door was another steep staircase that went up to an attic and then up again to a widowâs walk. Iâd gone to the walk once before, when Zachary begged Chase to show it to me. It was a gorgeous place, perched on top of Moonhillâs highest rooftop. It also was dangerous as hell, with steep slopes on every side and no place to land except the ground, three-plus stories below.
I set down my bag and the quilt beside the door and put my flashlight in my mouth. Iâd always lived by my dadâs motto of being prepared for anything. Recently, Iâd taken it to heart and started keeping a few select tools in my shoulder bag, mostly for picking locks. Moonhill had about a million of them and my curiosity couldnât stand not knowing what they hid.
I got out a screwdriver and wire and in a second the lock clicked open. Chase had a set of keys, but waiting down here would give him a chance to beg off, though after yesterdayâs Doughnut Olympics, I couldnât see why he would. Except that there was a spark of fear deep inside me that had been ignited by the weight of his gaze and the sadness in his eyes when heâd explained why he didnât want to put off driving by his motherâs house. â I canât afford to have anything take away from my focus, not with everything thatâs going on. â I knew on the surface he was referring to his mother. But I couldnât help but wonder if he was also using this as an excuse to pull away from me, and I was quite certain my bitching at him in front of Kate and everyone couldnât have helped.
After I gathered up my stuff, I opened the door. But as I went to step onto the first tread, something touched my ankle and the air chilled. Like a ghost brushing past.
My heart launched into my throat and I leapt back from the stairwell, fanning the flashlight beam all around me and back toward the main hallway.
But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Holy shit. What had I felt?
Cold sweat iced my spine. I pointed the beam into the stairwell.
Nothing again.
Everyone claimed Moonhill wasnât haunted. But I was certain something had touched me. The temperature had definitely dropped.
Panic overwhelmed me and I froze, unable to move. But if Moonhill really didnât have ghosts, then it might have been a shadow-genie like the one Iâd seen in the gallery a few weeks ago. Olya had strengthened the magical wards in the gallery to keep genies from using that weak point in the veil as a gateway into our realm. But what if those wards had failed? Or what if a genie had gotten in through a different weak point and was wandering around the house?
A thump came from behind me.
I winged my flashlight beam toward the sound. A tapestry hanging on the wall rippled as if caught in a breeze. My pulse went wild, but my legs refused to move.
The sound of a throaty growl came from below the tapestry, close to the floor. I moved my flashlight beam downward and it trapped the misty outline of a shadow. It was low and small, and cat-shaped. It reached up and batted the tapestry, a soft thump resounding as the fabric slapped against the wall.
The tension went out of my spine and I blew out a relieved breath.
It was the tiger-striped cat from the research room, the one Kate and Olya had covered with the Methuselah oil, the one fated to appear ethereal from sunset until sunrise. Zacharyâs cat.
âSilly kitty,â I whispered as it zinged to the staircase
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