ome and more a palace, a sprawling stone behemoth that loomed against the stormy sky. As the car door opened,

ico stood the butler, Mr. Graves. He was a tall, severe man in a perfectly tailored suit, h

g wind. Mr. Graves raised his hand, a white-gloved gesture of absolute autho

is voice as cold as the wind. "The main house was Miss V

t he was already back in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to

s trimming a nearby hedge. "Take the... new Mrs. Sinc

o mercy to be found here. She turned and followed the gar

rts and the shimmering pool house. The path devolved into a dirt track, overgrown with we

ate. There, half-hidden by overgrown ivy, stood a small, dilapidated stone b

g, screeching sound. He gestured for her to enter and then, without another w

e smell of mildew, damp earth, and the faint,

ety wooden dresser. And a thick layer of dust and grime covering everything. A pane of glass in

faucet. The pipes shuddered and groaned, finally spittin

thing. She pulled on the top drawer, but it was stuck fast. She yanked harder. W

nd shattered on the stone floor, scattering shar

arger pieces. Her hands were numb with cold, her movements clumsy. A sha

rk red blood. The cut was clean, deep. Blood dri

wave of dizziness washing over her. She had to st

long, agonizing walk back to the main house, cradling her bleeding hand to

tchens, and pressed the buzzer. After a long moment, the door open

st, dripping from her fingertips. "Please," she said, her voi

medical supplies are for the family and staff. Not for criminals." He then glanced at the drops of her blood on the p

hock and fear burned away, leaving only cold, hard ra

ev

mile vanished.

in her face. The click of th

bbing, insistent drum. She looked down at her ruined dress. With her good hand, she

shift bandage tightly around her bleeding palm. It was a

lked back into the darkness, a solitary, ghostly figur