Chapter 52 Larkin
Larkin
“Ghosts,” Salome gasps, barging into the room. Her face is flushed, eyes wide and watery.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” I ask, looking up from my book. Salome’s face twists to an expression that’s a mix of horror and desperation. She rushes to the bed, curling up in my lap. Her whole body trembles, and I look out the still-open door, just to be sure nothing is chasing her.
“Ghosts,” she sobs, raising a shaky hand to point at the suspicious painting. My throat constricts. I’ve glanced at it no fewer than a thousand times today to make sure it hasn’t changed. “Screaming Silvey. Didn’t you leave the book open to that page on purpose?”
“Wait,” I say with pure confusion. “What book? What are you talking about, Salome? I haven’t left the room at all today.”
“You haven’t?” she asks, her voice cracking as she sobs harder.
“No, babe,” I reply, rubbing her back in slow circles and encouraging her to take deep breaths.
My heart is hammering against my rib cage, but I try to maintain my calm.
Normally, Salome is the cool and collected one, so whatever she saw must have really frightened her.
“I’ve been right here, waiting for breakfast.”
Salome’s head snaps up to show me her annoyed frown, but then she explodes into nervous laughter. “I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of time, and then I felt so strange walking back that I completely forgot.”
“I almost starved to death,” I say dramatically, tossing my hand to my forehead. Salome playfully shoves me, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I had snacks in my bag, and I doubt I could have stomached anything heavier.”
“You really weren’t in the library today?” she whispers, her voice distant, almost like she’s talking to herself.
“No,” I say gently, leaning in and resting my head on her shoulder.
“Why?” I ask, even though I’m positive she’s going to tell me something I’ll wish I didn’t hear.
What I haven’t told her is that I stayed in bed all day because every time I got up, I heard the whistle of a train.
My nerves were completely shattered by mid-morning, and I’ve been rotting in bed ever since.
“Someone lit a fire in there and was reading a book. I found it open on the chair, and I was curious about what I thought youwere reading, so I picked it up,” she says, talking so fast, her words blend together.
“When I read the poem, though...when I read it, I realized it was the same as my dream—the same as that creepy fucking painting on the wall.”
She starts sobbing again, and I wrap my arms around her, bringing us both to the bed. “Maybe one of your friends was in there.”
“No,” she croaks, wiping her tear-stained cheeks. “They couldn’t have been. They were all in the parlor with me, and I was the first one to leave.”
My chest tightens like she has a vise grip around it with her words.
Deep down, I know it wasn’t one of them; otherwise, I would have heard them through these paper thin walls.
Plus, we’re the only ones staying in this area of the manor.
I flip through all the logical explanations like a rolodex in my mind, but none of them fit.
“I don’t know, babe,” I reply, squeezing her closer.
“It’s already dinner time, though. You want me to take you back to the kitchen? ”
“No, it’s not,” Salome squeaks, flipping over to face me. “It was just past noon when I came to find you.”
I pause, trying to comprehend what she’s telling me. The clock on my phone reads a quarter past six. It’s already dark outside, what’s left of the sun hiding underneath a blanket of storm clouds. “It’s past 6,” I tell her uncomfortably. “How long were you in the library?”
“No!” she cries, her body trembling. “That can’t be right. I was only in the library long enough to read the stupid poem, and then I ran straight here.”
“Maybe the clock in the parlor is off?” I ask, hoping to soothe her fraying nerves.
“Maybe,” Salome agrees apprehensively, but her shoulders soften. She yawns, rubbing her barely-open eyes. “The timing still makes no sense, though.”
“We’re tired, and we’ve both had a strange day.
Let’s go to sleep, and we can figure this all out in the morning.
” I pull the covers up around us, avoiding the details on just how strange my day was.
There’s no use in making her panic again, especially over something that can’t possibly be happening.
Trains don’t fit in houses, and there’s no train track anywhere near here.
It hasto be the pipes, just like Salome said.
“You said that last night.” Salome laughs softly, closing her eyes.
“I promise,” I say, kissing her forehead. “Just one more night.”