“It was empty for a long time before the coven took over. The council was thrilled that anyone would be willing to pay rent for it.”
Reva hums, eyes flicking up to the unlit chandelier that’s caked in dust. The only halfway shiny thing in the room.
“You fancy moving in?” I tease. “I’m sure the council would give you a good deal.”
She snorts, shaking her head. “No, thanks. Even with a deep clean, this place still feels weird. It’s got an atmosphere to it.”
I push my luck, slinging my arm around her waist, and am pathetically pleased when she doesn’t shove me off. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few little ghosties.”
This time, when she chuckles and shakes her head again, I narrowly avoid a mouthful of hair. “Not ghosts. The air just feels weirdly thick, like the walls are listening.” She cocks her head to one side. “Or maybe I’m losing it. It’s been quite the day, and it’s barely lunchtime.”
Now that she mentions it, I have to agree. There are so many dark corners, it feels as though anyone could be sitting there, waiting and listening.
“I forgot to look at your cursed safe.” The words come out right as I have the revelation. Reva came to me for help, and I completely forgot why.
“It can wait.”
“Right, of course.” Now that I’m more aware of the darkness and the atmosphere she mentioned, the air seems even thicker somehow.
“This place is giving me the willies.” I mutter. “Let’s do a quick tour and get out.”
We’ve barely stepped beyond the room’s threshold when there’s a slam from somewhere deeper inside the house. The two of us freeze, and my heart gallops in my chest like a runaway horse.
Reva grimaces as she peers up at me. “We left the front door open. Probably just the wind.”
Let’s hope so.
The kitchen has more remnants of life in it than any of the previous rooms. Crumbs. An abandoned mug. A stray head of garlic on the scrubbed wooden counter. But the large hearth is filled with ash, and the copper kettle hanging over it is cold.
There’s a tinkling of broken glass to my left, and Reva shifts her foot, making the glass clink and crunch. “Ugh, what’s that?”
Stepping closer, I peer down at the floor beside her feet. There’s a dark stain on the tiled floor.
“Is that—”
“I don’t think it’s blood.” She smears it around, and I can see she’s right. It’s too gloopy and thick to be blood. “Still no sign of Hilde’s missing customer or anything else. If anything, it just shows the witches that were here were slobs.”
There’s another ominous creak. This time it sounds like it’s coming from upstairs, and we freeze, sharing a wide-eyed glance.
“The wind again?” I murmur.
“Or Hilde’s missing customer?” Reva whispers back, although she doesn’t sound all that convinced. “Uh, Kit, why is your pocket glowing purple?”
Now that she mentions it, it feels rather hot. I shove my hand into the pocket of my trousers and pull a small circular device that’s giving off an eerie purple light.
Damn. Seems we’ll need to draw our investigation short.
“What’s that?”
“Someone’s calling me on the scrying glass back at the house.” I hold out my hand, palm up, and Reva peers down at it. It’s imbued with just enough magic to let me know when someone’s trying to contact me.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I shrug. “A gift from Finch, so that I’m always contactable when he wants me. Although he’s a nightmare when I want to contact him.” It glows even brighter, and I shove it back into my pocket with a sigh.
“From experience, he won’t let up, and it’s going to get brighter until it starts to vibrate.”
She eyes my gleaming pocket. “And you can’t just... answer the scrying glass with that thing?”
