Chapter 2
SAGE
When I’m almost there, close enough to see the spires, the moon brightening Grayfleet against the darkness, I hear it. A scrape against stone as I near the front steps.
Suddenly, every instinct whispers that someone is behind me, that I’m being stalked by a ghost I don’t believe in.
A nervous glance over my shoulder reveals nothing but shadow and mist until a silhouette moves near the hedgerow.
Just a flicker of something moving out of the corner of my eye, but it’s enough to freeze me.
Beneath one of the old gnarled oaks. Tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakable is the dark outline of someone just standing there.
Watching me.
Then, lightning zaps the sky, revealing his features. And for a split second, I see a demon face with burning red eyes covered in…blood.
My breath stalls in my throat.
Every nerve in my body screams at me to run.
I stumble back, tripping over my case as I fall, slashing my hands on the sharp gravel, scrabbling to my feet. But I don’t care about that. I need to move.
Heart hammering, I hurry along the path to the doorway and rap on the thick wood, quick and desperate. There’s no answer, so I pound again and again.
Still, no answer.
No lights come on. There isn’t any sound of movement coming from within, only the rapid beat of my heart pounding away inside my ribcage.
When I look back at where the nightmarish figure was standing, there’s no one there. I twist around, looking all around, but the shapes of trees and hedges all look menacing now that the moon has dipped behind dark rain clouds.
Was it real? It can’t be. Demons don’t exist. It must be fear playing tricks on my mind, conjuring the ghosts I’ve heard about. But I spin again, searching the garden’s edge, gravel path, and stone steps up to the main door. Nothing. Not even footsteps.
Just the wind dragging through the trees. I imagined it. I’m just tired, cold, and desperate for answers.
But as the wind lifts, that’s when I see it, in front of the main entrance, carved onto the old stone fountain, barely visible through the ivy growing over it. A stone swan with its wings spread, head bowed, floating on a sludge of black water.
I swear, for a moment, it looks like it’s bleeding.
Now, I am too nervous to leave the porch, so I keep knocking, banging my knuckles until they hurt. But no one’s home, or I’m not hitting hard enough. There’s no doorbell, so I’m at a loss as to what to do next.
My throat feels tight, and my hands are shaking so much that I have to hold them to stop. No one is there behind me, I tell myself. There’s no ghoul out there slinking in the darkness. No demon with blood all over his face. A damn owl hoots again.
And then…
A groan.
I jerk back as a smaller side door to the left of the main door, almost lost beneath the tangle of ivy, shudders open. A white-haired, elegant-looking lady opens the door and peers out, frowning.
“Who is it?” Then her eyes lock on me. “Who are you? How did you get here?” Her voice is sharp, quickfire and hostile.
“I’m…” I hesitate, breathless. What do I say? The backup fiancée? The other sister? I grit my teeth. “Sage Lovett. You’re supposed to be expecting me.”
“Oh, you’re the Lovett girl?” The woman narrows her eyes, looking me up and down, frowning, probably because of how rude I’ve been. Nell would be proud. “Mr. Severin didn’t tell me you’d be arriving so late. Actually, he didn’t tell me at all.”
“No one told me either.”
She gives me a long, unconvinced look and then looks out into the darkness as if Troy Severin is going to materialize over my shoulder. When he doesn’t, and I don’t slink away like a stray, she sighs and steps aside, opening the door wider. “Fine. Come in, but do it quickly!”
Now, I hesitate.
Was running to the main house a good idea? What if it’s worse in there? It’s where Severin lives, after all.
Unimpressed, the lady rolls her eyes. “In now, you’re letting the heat out.” She shoos me inside. Then she bolts the door dead behind us.
One lock, two locks, and then another.
Three locks? On an island?
I wring my hands and glance around at the neat, polished stone-gray kitchen under the warm glow of a single lamp. It seems homely. No murderers lurking here.
“Where are your belongings?”
I turn and stare at the petite, older woman, not much taller or heavier than me, dressed in a wrap dress with tights tucked into leather boots, trying and failing to reconcile what she just said.
“I…” My hands feel light. I glance down. My heart drops. Shoot. “I think I left my case and vanity on the driveway.” Actually, I know I did. I didn’t bring much as my father gave me zero time to grab anything, but I had the essentials.
“I see. I’ll get Mr. Mundel to retrieve them for you. But please know, Miss Lovett, I dislike things out of turn. You should have called ahead,” she interrupts.
I grit my teeth again. “I would have, but I didn’t know. My father just told me someone would meet me at the dock, but there was no one there.”
“Of course there wasn’t.” She sniffs. “Since I wasn’t informed, a room isn’t prepared.”
“I’ll sleep anywhere. I don’t mind.”
She gives me a look of disgust. “Why would you do that? Are you a cat? No, you’re a young lady who needs a bed. I’ll have to make one up, but it’s very late.”
If it’s so late, why is she still fully dressed? I go to look at my phone to check the time and see how late it really is, but then I remember it’s in my handbag, which is currently outside on the driveway getting soaked.
When I don’t say anything, she rolls her eyes and sighs. “I suppose, if you would sleep anywhere, you can sleep in the master suite.”
I blink at her, my mind is whirling. I assumed I would at least get my own room until the wedding. “You mean share a room with Mr. Severin—” I almost choke.
“Master Troy isn’t here.”
“But what if he comes home?”
“He hardly ever stays here.” She sniffs, seeming offended personally by that fact.
Where does he stay? But the words don’t come out.
“Now come along. Try not to lean on the furniture in your damp clothes.” She leads me through the dimly lit house, the wall lights humming softly, casting long shadows.
Dutifully, I follow, my focus drifting as we move through twisting passageways and past shadowed tapestries.
I’m overtired and ready to sleep on my feet.
I take extra care on the sweeping staircases, because wouldn’t that be poetic?
Falling to my death before I even say I do.
That’d be one way to get out of a wedding night with Severin.
Don’t lie. You can’t wait to have him all to yourself now that I’m dead and gone, my sister laughs, making my cheeks burn.
I hate her intrusions sometimes.
A gallery stretches out at the top of the stairs, offering a view of a grand hall below: black and white tiles, a hearth, and another corridor leading off to the side. I peer over the balcony.
“Miss Lovett?”
“Yes?”
She sighs. “Try to listen. I do hate repeating myself. I was saying you need to be careful. There are parts of the house that are off-limits. The east wing, for instance.” She gestures toward the room below.
“Off-limits? Why?”
“There was a fire there ten years ago. Master Troy is still replacing the foundations on that side of the house.”
“Oh, I heard there was a fire.”
I must look worried, because she adds, “Don’t worry. Grayfleet isn’t going to fall down. This side’s been rebuilt, and there are supports in place to keep the rest of the walls from doing just that.”
I stare down at the grand room. There’s nothing to suggest it had been rebuilt. It looks perfect.
My hostess tuts. “But I wouldn’t lean over like that, just in case.”
Trying not to chew my lower lip, I nod. Everything I was taught—manners, how to act, what to say—has eroded to nothing. I feel raw and on edge.
But either she doesn’t see, or doesn’t care, because she doesn’t wait for a response. She barely glances at me as she unlocks a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, then ushers me inside, flicking on the lights as she does.
The room glows with just the right amount of mood lighting I’d expect from a billionaire who buys cursed houses no one else will touch.
I walk in and… just… stare at the space.
“As you don’t have your luggage, I can lend you some things.
” I hear her moving behind me, but I’m too busy taking it all in.
The master suite is enormous. On one side of the room is a blue velvet sofa and a widescreen TV, with French doors leading to a balcony.
On the other side, a four-poster bed, and beyond it, through an arched doorway, a large, gleaming bathroom.
All luxuriously decorated.
It’s not what I expected at all.
A sigh behind me draws my attention. “Here you are.”
She places a bag of toiletries and a set of slinky-looking garments onto the bed, and then continues her spiel, but I’m no longer listening.
Exhaustion and despair threaten to creep in, pressing hot behind my eyes.
“…there are fresh towels in the ensuite, and breakfast is at ten…” I nod along, barely taking in a word.
“Miss Lovett? Are you okay? You look tired. Do you need anything? A mug of hot milk, perhaps?” She asks gently all of a sudden, as if realizing I might break.
“No. I’m fine,” I croak.
She studies me, unconvinced.
“I’m just tired, like you said,” I add, which seems to satisfy her.
“As you might have guessed, I’m Master Troy’s house manager, Mrs Oakley. I’m on the third floor if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re sure no one will be using this room tonight?” I ask quickly, before she leaves. “There was someone…” I take a breath. I can’t say it was a demon. She’ll think I’ve lost it. “There was a…man outside on the driveway. Could it have been Mr. Mundel?” I remember she mentioned him earlier.
“Elias? No, he’s down in the cellar dealing with the mess the storm has brought.”
“What about Severin?”