“Are you all right?” I whisper.
“I will be.”
“Come here.” I tug at him, and he scoots closer. I hold his fingers against my chest and endure the chill for the sake of warming him.
We awaken like that, face to face, with our hands on each other. We were so dead tired we didn’t change positions for the rest of the night. And we would have slept even longer, except for the gentle rapping at our bedroom door.
“Master Beresford?” The woman’s voice is timid and muffled. “So sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a lady downstairs in great distress. She’s here to see her daughter. Says it’s terribly urgent.”
“My mother is here?” I exclaim, my legs thrashing as I try to untangle myself from the sheets. I tumble out of bed and grab my robe from its hook.
I expected my mother to come by today, but I didn’t anticipate the urgency. Something must have happened. Maybe she told Anne about Beresford, and my sister didn’t take the news well.
Beresford is getting up too, only slower. I don’t wait for him; I burst out of the bedroom, nearly crashing into the servant who roused us. I fly down the stairs to the entry hall, where my mother stands, pale and stricken, holding a piece of paper.
“Mama? What’s wrong?”
“Your sister is gone. When she didn’t come down to the kitchen this morning I went to check on her. I thought maybe she was ill. And I found this on her pillow.”
She holds out the paper, and I snatch it.
There are only three short sentences, written in an elaborate script.
I propose an exchange. One sister for the other. Do not delay.
At the bottom is a semi-circle with three crooked lines and a small triangle. The symbol of the Barrow-Man.
The floor drops from beneath my feet, and the ceiling spins over my head. I have to sit down on the lowest step to keep from falling over.
Beresford descends the stairs behind me. “What happened?”
“He took her,” I choke out. “The wight took my sister. I thought he couldn’t leave the Barrow. How did he get to her?”
“There were footprints.” My mother’s voice wavers. “Footprints of creatures like your little demons, Sybil. But they never hurt us before.”
“These could be other demons from the wight’s lair,” Beresford says. “There were some creatures that he considered successful experiments—hybrid animals that he could control. The Barrow may have opened when Sybil called his name in Wormsloe. The wight can’t pass through himself, because an offering wasn’t made to complete the ritual, but he could have sent his creatures in his place. And they dragged your sister back with them to the other side.”
“He wants me.” I hold up the paper. “My life for hers.”
Beresford snatches the message. He mutters the words to himself, then crumples the note angrily. “You’re not going. It’s out of the question.”
“Beresford—”
“No.” His voice is violence incarnate, threaded with dark pain. “He will do worse than kill you, Sybil. He will keep you as a pet, as a project. He and the former Beresford may have been two different species, but they were alike in their lust for pain. The Barrow-Man is a wight, Sybil. I told you what that means. He is alive, but he does not possess a soul. No mercy, no empathy. The only way he can feel anything is through the extreme suffering of others or through the triumph of creating twisted things. He will study you, hurt you, and eventually kill you. I was his prisoner for decades. I know how his mind works.”
“I can’t leave Anne with him, Beresford. I can’t.” I grip the banister and haul myself to my feet. My legs feel weak and watery, and my eyes are brimming with tears. “What do you want me to do? Abandon the sister that I love?”
“You love me, too. Would you abandon me so easily?” Devastation and confusion swirl in his gaze, and I remember that he doesn’t fully comprehend family bonds. How could he? He never had them.
I gather his hand and hold it to my heart, beseeching him with my eyes, hoping he will try to understand. “I love you with all my heart. But my sister is my family. I can’t leave her to suffer. If I did, I’d be worse than the Barrow-Man himself. I’d be a cruel, callous woman. How could I be happy with you, knowing she was living in misery? You wouldn’t want a wife who was so merciless and unfeeling, would you?”
“No.” His eyes glitter with keen purpose. “But the choice won’t be yours. It will be mine. You’re staying here. I will not let you go.”
The sudden darkness in his voice turns me ice-cold with fear and red-hot with anger all at once.
“You can’t fucking stop me.” I turn to run, but he catches my arm. His grip is unbreakable, strong as iron.
“He’s right, Sybil,” my mother says, her voice breaking. “You can’t give yourself up. Maybe Beresford and I can go to the Barrow and see if he’ll make a different bargain.”
