Esmer.
Esmer.
“Father?” I called out.
But Father didn’t move. The voice was inside my head.
I swore, hands shaking as I relit the next three torches. Maybe a demon had finally curled itself around my mind, sinking its claws nice and deep as it waited to claim territory upon my soul. I swore again, muttering under my breath. Maybe it would be better if I just—
“It’s me,” called a tentative voice. Elliot was standing in the middle of the clearing, smiling sheepishly. Rather than wear a sweater or a cloak of his own, he had wrapped himself in a blanket. “Thought you looked lonely out here, but it turns out you can talk with yourself just fine.”
The voice hadn’t been inside my head. It had been Elliot all along.
I lunged for him, pretending to be upset, but he made a quick, dance-like spin, avoiding my hands as the blanket swished around his ankles. “This is how you repay me for helping, huh? Sort of rude if you ask me.”
“If you askme, I never requested your help,” I said, lighting the next torch. It wouldn’t take long to finish, but I secretly welcomed his company. “But if you want to be useful, you can carry this bucket. I also need to check the bells.”
A hand darted out from underneath his blanket, snatched the bucket, and pulled it to his side. “Fine by me. Once Father’s back, though, I’m going to bed.”
“Once he’s back?”
“Really hoping my bed isn’t cold now. Don’t know when we’ll—”
“Elliot,” I said, grounding him. “What did you mean by ‘once Father’s back’?”
“Oh. Um, he wasn’t in his chair when I came out.” Elliot tilted his head to the side, eyebrows creased in growing worry. “I figured he was taking a break while you finished with the torches.”
I squinted at the porch.
Sure enough, the empty rocking chair was creaking softly in the wind, knocking into the crossbow and quiver that sat discarded on the ground in front of it.
Why didn’t I hear him leave?
It was unusual for him to desert his post, especially if he saw that we were outside, but I didn’t voice my concerns. Maybe he just needed a glass of water. Or a quick trip to the washroom.
Still, I took the crossbow and quiver as a precaution, slinging them across my back.
We made quick work of the remaining torches, saving the farthest for last. I watched the smoke as it rose, threading through the lower branches of an oak tree, and threw my arm around Elliot’s blanketed shoulders. It was going to be okay.
Iwas okay.
We’d check the perimeter for any missing bells or cut strings, then we’d head back inside—
A high, clear sound rang through the trees, warbling like a distorted wind chime.
Fear doused my skin in an icy chill, instantly raising the hair on my arms and neck. Another bell chimed. Then another.Another.The bells were designed as a precaution against any wandering Corrupt; they did not chime without reason. In the dim torchlight, it was impossible to see who—or what—was creeping toward our house, but it shuffled heavily in the dark forest, carelessly snapping twigs.
“We need to get Father,” Elliot started, horrified.
“There’s no time,” I hissed. I took a deep breath, numb to the weight of the crossbow as I prepared to cock it. With shaky hands, I quicklygrabbed a bolt and affixed it to the crossbow’s groove, ensuring it fit snugly against the string. Then, with a smooth motion, I drew the string back with a click. “Stay with me. Don’t move.”
A movement caught my eye, a flicker of darkness darting between the trees. I raised the crossbow, sighting along its length with steady determination. As I aimed, my senses sharpened, attuned to the subtle sounds in the forest. The whisper of leaves rustling in the nighttime breeze, the distant cry of a bird—then it all faded into the background as my focus narrowed to a single point.
There.
With a flick of my thumb, I released the safety.
A surge of anticipation coursed through my veins, my heart a frenzied, clawing thing as I aligned my sights. I held my breath, finger hovering over the trigger.
