Chapter 11
I wanted to return to the goat pasture without Voss. But later that morning, when I was escorted inside his quarters to perform my daily duties, I once again spotted the herd, from Voss’s balcony windows. That made me realize that he had a clear view of the goat pasture.
And I sure didn’t want him spotting me out there.
Better to sneak to the goat pasture when Voss was in town or otherwise occupied. He spent most of his days inside his quarters, so finding a chance to get back to the aegis border might be tricky.
Two days later, luck smiled on me.
In the afternoon, I was called to the master’s chambers to treat a coughing attack.
I was pleased to see that his coughs were still not yet bloody, but the attack sapped his strength.
And once I’d given him an extra dose of the boozy red cough syrup, he retired to his big bed and fell asleep before I’d even packed up my medical bag.
Now’s my chance!
After stowing away my tools inside my room, I took the back stairs down and sneaked through the servants’ wing to exit through the kitchen door, just as Voss and I had done.
October sun glittered upon the Hudson’s choppy surface this afternoon, and though the air held a chill, after I began hiking up the path, the bright sunshine warmed my wool shawl. It felt good to be outside again.
I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for out here.
The man in the top hat? I guess I just wanted to see whether Crypt Boy was lying about the dangers of the aegis.
But when I got to the fork in the path, where Voss had taken the right side to get to the goat pasture, I glanced up at Voss’s balcony and got nervous.
It stood to reason that the border of stone obelisks circled the entire manor. And all I’d seen on my walk with Voss was the eastern side of the property.
So I took the left path instead. Toward the western side.
A good nurse learned how to adapt to all sorts of extreme situations: late-night surgery, gunshot wounds, a train derailment causing the hospital to fill up with patients that were dying and in pain—the most chaotic, stressful night of my life.
So, in some ways, being here at Riverbend was merely another night walking the wards.
I just needed to stay sharp and pay attention to my instincts.
Those instincts were now screaming to get a move on, see what I was going to see, and hurry back into the house before the master sent someone to find me.
I hiked around the corner of the house and made my way to the back side, a wide stretch of land between the manor and the bluffs over the Hudson.
A formal garden took up much of the backyard, fanning out from a wide stone patio that extended from the back of the manor.
The patio looked like it had once been accessible from inside the house, but now its doors were boarded up.
Winter preparations…? I wondered. Maybe I could ask one of the servants.
I surveyed the garden area. There were no flowers blooming in autumn, only a few ornamental evergreen trees in neat, brick-lined beds, and paths of crushed pebbles stretching between.
This was all probably lovely in the summer—the view of the Hudson was spectacular—but currently, it felt sad and neglected.
Yet, when I shaded my eyes with a gloved hand, I spotted a line of pyramidal obelisk needles near the bluffs at the edge of the river. That was where I wanted to look around, so I headed down one of the pebbled garden paths, nervously tossing glances over my shoulder at the back of the manor.
The aegis border on the Hudson was maybe a quarter mile away, and there was a stretch of wild grasses between the formal gardens and the bluffs.
But there were other things at the edge of the garden that caught my attention.
The first was a lovely greenhouse with condensation fogging up its glass panes.
I wanted to go inside, but before I got there, I passed what I first assumed to be a fancy, old brick outhouse with a slanted roof and a wooden door with peeling paint.
Other than the fact that I’d never seen such a pretty door handle on an outdoor toilet—moons and stars were molded into the metal—there really wasn’t anything else remarkable about it, and I would’ve just walked on past.
If it weren’t for the bird.
A bright red male cardinal with black eyes swooped at me from his perch on the roof of the outhouse, nearly colliding with my face.
It came so close, I felt the wind from its flapping wings as I jerked to avoid it.
It squawked, circling back to the roof of the outhouse, and tried to dive-bomb me again.
“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!” I shouted, swatting the air. “Damned bird, what is wrong with you?”
Hadn’t the master complained about birds on his balcony?
Maybe this little fellow was the culprit.
Or maybe Voss’s sister, Agnes, had kept the bird population under control here with all her hunting and had killed this cardinal’s mate.
I could think of no other reason why a male bird would be guarding a decrepit, old outhouse, even one with a fancy handle.
“Maybe there’s a nest inside, huh?” I said to the agitated bird. “I’m just going to take a peek, now. Don’t peck out my eyes, yeah?”
But when I cracked open the door, I didn’t find a nest of birds or a bench with a hole in it.
It was a stairwell.
Stairs descending underground.
They’d been cut into the hard ground, and rough lumber had been set into them. I could feel the dank, cool air rising, and a little shudder went through me. Where could this possibly go? Underground storage? Maybe a crude root cellar to store vegetables from the nearby greenhouse?
Maybe it went down to the crypt.
To him…
My heart thudded as I gazed into the blackness that shrouded the bottom of the stairs. I leaned into the little building, squinting, and dared to take a single step.
A strong hand grasped my upper arm and jerked me out of the structure.
I gasped in surprise, swinging around while tugging back my arm—
Only to find the boy from the basement towering over me wearing a grimace on his face.
His dark curls were messy, as if he’d just raced a mile to get here, and he was furious.
He was also in great pain. I knew that look anywhere.
“It’s you,” I mumbled. If I’d once thought him a ghost or even had doubts after he’d passed my tests—eye glint, shadow—I now knew for certain he wasn’t.
He touched me. He’s flesh and blood.
“What are you doing out here?” he barked, anger lining his face.
“I’m taking a walk! Hey—!”
He’d grabbed me again, this time not as hard, but hard enough that it shocked me. “We’ll be seen, come on,” he commanded.
“Get your hands off me!” I shouted, pulling away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His face pinched up, and he shut his eyes briefly.
He’s in pain, I thought again. He glanced back at the manor, and then glanced around us.
“In there.” He strode to the greenhouse, opened the gable end door, and stepped inside.
My nerves went haywire, and my stomach felt tight.
I briefly considered running back to the house.
But curiosity was a stronger pull.
So I scurried into the greenhouse before the door could shut.
Warm, humid air filled my nostrils, along with the sweet scent of flowers.
I walked upon a rugged stone floor between lush plants that lined the long structure.
It was more a conservatory than a practical greenhouse, with exotic palm trees stretching to the high, arched ceiling and a pair of wrought-iron benches.
It was stunning, and had I discovered it on my own, I would have marveled at all the orchids and tropical plants.
But the only thing I could marvel at was the boy.
He did not share my interest when he spun around to confront me.
“I told you two things,” he said, holding up a couple of fingers to underscore his words. His face was flushed with anger, his brow dark and low. “Stay out of the crypt, and stay away from the aegis.”
“How could I have been in the crypt? They keep the gate locked. And we are nowhere near the aegis—you can see the obelisks in the distance, and they’re a good quarter mile away.”
Disbelief contorted his features. “Had I not pulled you out, you would have strolled right down the garden stairs and paraded yourself into the crypt.”
I squinted at him. “So, those stairs do go down to your crypt, then?”
“Mine?” he scoffed. “It’s not my crypt. I didn’t ask to be summoned here.”
“The master asked you to come here?”
The boy sighed heavily. “Not that kind of summons.” He avoided my gaze, shaking his head. “I was brought here against my will. You wouldn’t even begin to understand.”
“Try me.”
“How can I, when I barely comprehend myself? It is too strange.”
His eyes found mine. We stared at each other until my chest felt warm, and it became… awkward.
I blinked, looking away, and tried again. “I know there’s something different about you. And you already know there’s something different about me—you know I see ghosts. What could be stranger than that?”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio…”
“Horatio?”
He grunted and rolled his eyes. “That’s right… You fell asleep in class during Hamlet.”
My heart thudded wildly inside my chest. That was earlier this year, back in January, I thought. But I hadn’t seen him since last year. “How do you know that? Have you been watching me? Who the hell are you?”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“Make time!” I shouted in frustration. “You know my name and my mother’s. You know that I fell asleep in Mr. Smith’s literature class. All I know about you is that I’ve been seeing you since I was a kid, and you haven’t aged. But you aren’t like other ghosts, either!”