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The Daily Hollow
The Clock Tower
Article by Geneva King
Winter is upon us, among other things. While we fight to keep our eyes open at night, time appears to be shivering. The clock tower stopping in Town Square wasn’t the first time, and it certainly won’t be our last. I’ve spoken with the high priest of Norse Woods and the high priest of Sacred Sea. While they were both reluctant to talk with me, they both could agree that their main goal is first to protect the townspeople from the Shadows. Regarding the clock tower, the two have drastically different theories as to why time is shaking. “I believe it all comes back to the Shadows.” This was said by Augustine Pruitt. While Clarence Goody firmly believes these are two separate issues: “Time has always been unstable here. It is imperative that the town focuses on staying safe during these desolate times.” Desolate times mean refer to those who have fallen. In a span of one week, we have lost five more bodies at the hands of the Shadows.
CHAPTER 22
ADORA
That night,Viola sat with her legs crossed and her body slanted—seemingly both uncomfortable yet natural—on the opposite side of the room she referred to as her parlor.
The wingback couches and chairs were Victorian and made of walnut and ivory cloth. It was after dinner, and I ran my fingers along the edge and felt the scrolls carved into the body of a chaise.
“I bet it’s Norse Woods Coven messing with time,” she said in a disapproving tone, folding the newspaper and setting it down at her side. “Magic is not child’s play. Whatever they’re doing in those woods must stop. They need to leave it to us.” She paused and looked at me with worry gathering on her face. “Do you not like your wine, Adora?”—Alice stepped into the room— “Alice, bring Adora something lighter. Perhaps a Riesling would do.”
“This is fine,” I assured her.
“You have yet to drink it.”
“I said it’s fine.”
She returned her gaze to Alice. “Then bring a tray for Adora to set her drink on.” She snapped her finger and cut her smile back to me. “What do you think of the seating arrangement? Gabriel finally moved the couches from the attic, and we’re still debating their placement. Aren’t these pieces lovely?”
I was sitting across from my future mother-in-law and fiancé days after having sex with a strangely handsome and wounded man I was hiding on Bone Island. Another week had passed since Lena’s death, and she was not mentioned in the obituaries. On top of this, Shadows were hunting, people were dying, and she was worried about furniture placement.
But I suppose I wasn’t any better, considering my recent affair.
While I was drinking sherry wine in a parlor, the sleep deprivation was only getting worse in Weeping Hollow. Some were staring at clocks and seeing things, and some were throwing punches and busting jaws.
My stomach churned, suddenly ashamed of myself for escaping to Bone Island. What kind of a person did this make me?
“Adora?”
My attention snapped into place.
The furniture. “It’s ... unique,” I said, running my hand across the stiff fabric. It hadn’t been broken into. Not enough love had seeped into the stitching. “And uncomfortable.”
“It’s Victorian,” said Viola defensively. “Historic and shipped across the Atlantic. It was crafted in the seventeenth century by our ancestors.”
She didn’t want an honest answer. She only wanted me to agree with her.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“I’m sure, considering the way Ivy raised you.” I bit my tongue to fight a caustic remark, and she continued, “Did you know they had once called the chair you’re sitting on a fainting chair?”
My brow peaked. “For when men drink too much whiskey?”
Viola scoffed.
Cyrus’s mouth quirked on its end.
Alice set a small table beside me.
“For women, Adora. Have you ever worn a corset?”
