“You have my word.” He stuck out a hand. “What say you?”
“We have a deal,” Wallace replied, shaking hishand, not surprised by how icy cold it felt. He began regretting it almost at once.
The barefoot man smiled. “Excellent. All you have to do is persuade her to unlock this dungeon door with her silver key at exactly midnight. Simple enough, yes?”
Wallace nodded. “Unlock the door with the silver key.”
“Exactly. Hurry back.”
Wallace did not hear him. He was already laid on the floor, his eyes seeing nothing. The barefoot man looked down at his corpse.
“Enjoy the journey,” he said, smiling to himself. He turned to face the men in the doorway. “Now we wait to see if he manages it. Lock this door until their return.”
He passed through them, heading up the stairs and out into the blood-splattered courtyard.
Wallace’s body lay where it fell. It was many hundreds of years before it was again seen by human eyes.
4
Natalie picked up her cellphone, confirming yet again that Greg hadn’t messaged or rung. Nothing. Not even robocalls. Even the telemarketers didn’t want to talk to her.
She sighed, dragging over her chair and sinking into it, looking out the window once more. Something strange was going on, she just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
If her housemates were in, she might have been able to ask them for some advice. They’d been gone all morning, disappearing together in their yoga gear while she sat at her desk, trying and failing to get moving with the book.
She was worried. She had a lot to worry about. All she had in the world was a couple of thousand. It was enough to keep her going for three months, maybe six if she was careful. She needed another job. She needed another house. She needed another life. This one wasn’t exactly working out brilliantly.
Not for the first time she wished her parents were still alive. She felt envious of those who could turn and confide in mom and dad. She had no one. She looked at her cellphone again, jumping as it suddenly started ringing.
“Hello?”
She didn’t recognize the man’s voice on the other end. “Natalie MacCallister?”
“That’s me.”
“Hi, I’m Alan Hansard at Time to Move. I believe my colleague rang you about MacCallister Castle.”
“That’s right. Three o’clock today. I’ll be there.”
“About that, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel.”
“What? Why? Has it been let?”
“Well, no but-”
“Then I can still look around, can’t I?”
“No, it’s not the right kind of place for you.”
She frowned. “How would you know what kindof place is right for me? If you’re worried I can’t afford it, I could always pay for a couple of months up front.”
“It’s not about the money. It’s just…not the right place for you.”
“You keep saying that but let me explain something. I need somewhere to live. You’ve told me money isn’t an issue. You’ve told me it’s not already been let. I made an appointment in good faith for three o’clock today and I intend to be there.”
“Miss MacCallister, I really don’t think-”
“That it’s right for me, I get it. Well, do you want to let the place or not.”
