The east wing door. The very one Mrs. Ashby had forbidden me from approaching.
The tarnished brass handle gleamed faintly as I reached out. Its cold metal bit into my fingertips, groundingme. “Ridiculous,” I murmured, forcing air through tightening lungs. “It’s only drafts… nothing more.”
A low voice answered from somewhere above my head.
“Quoth the Raven!”
I screamed, stumbling back.
A black shape dropped from the rafters and landed on the banister—wings spread, feathers glinting blue-black in the dim light.
“Poe!” I gasped, clutching my chest. But still a laugh escaped me as the raven shook out his feathers.
“You… you nearly frightened me to death!”
He tilted his head, dark eyes catching the faint gleam of a candle. Then, with deliberate slowness, he hopped closer along the rail.
“It was open—wide, wide—open,” he muttered between squawks, “and I grew furious as I gazed upon it!”
“More poetry?” I frowned, half in disbelief, half in morbid curiosity as I glanced at the door.
Poe fixed one eye upon me, then upon the handle, and uttered in a mournful sigh, “Darkness there… and nothing more…”
I pressed a hand to my chest to calm the sudden unease. Was it possible, the bird was trying to tell me something? Had the door been open? Had I wandered through it the night before?
I shook the thought beforeit could fully materialize.
No, of course not. He was just a bird… and he was only reciting words from memory… nothing more.
The bird preened a wing, as if uninterested in my plight.
“Men have called me mad.” His voice, harsh and melodic, human yet not, made my skin crawl and my heart ache all at once.
“Yes, well,” I exhaled shakily, “they’ve said the same about me.”
His beak clicked thoughtfully. “No exquisite beauty,” he crooned, voice lowering, “without some strangeness in the proportion…”
A faint, reluctant smile touched my lips. “Indeed.”
The raven hopped closer, lowering his body to peer at me. I reached out slowly, scratching the top of his head.
“My Lenore,” Poe lamented quietly.
I smiled and shook my head. “I’m not Lenore, silly. My name is Lucy.”
He gave a jarring, unsettling laugh as if I had spoken nonsense, then tilted his head sharply, focusing once more on the sealed door.
“Why were you knocking?” I asked softly, following his gaze.
“This mystery explore,” the raven replied, bobbing as though encouraging me forward. “This mystery explore.”
My blood suddenly turned cold as I stared down at him. His replies were cryptic, yet made just enough sense to stir unease.
“What mystery, Poe?” I asked, wondering if he was far more intelligent than anyone believed.
Poe turned his head toward the door once more, tapping the brass handle with his beak.
“Tis some visitor tapping at your chamber door,” he replied, his voice soft as if he were trying to whisper.
