It was very faint and he strained to hear then followed what he thought was the sound of crying.
“Samantha was not in the vault,” Petra said coming up behind him.
“What is that?” he asked and pointed to an open door that led only to darkness.
Petra sucked in a breath and stepped back.
“What?”
“That door has never been opened. In fact, it has always been locked whenever I have tried.”
His stomach tightened further. Nightshade Manor was a magical place but dangers could still exist, especially if some items in the magical vault were involved. Except, this wasn’t a vault but a room that was usually locked.
Cassian walked slowly toward the open door, ready to run if he were being honest because one never knew what to expect, and just as he neared the threshold, he strained to hear. The sound was faint.
“Are you going in?” Petra asked.
“Shush.”
“What?”
“Do you hear crying?”
She grew silent and listened then shook her head.
“I do and it is coming from in there.”
“Stay here,” he ordered then stepped inside.
Strange! When he had been just outside the door, the crying sounded far away, faint but once inside, the cries were very close. Only a few feet away.
“Cassian?” His name was barely a whisper.
“Samantha?” he said into the darkness.
“It is so very dark in here, could you please light a candle?”
“Why are you in a dark room?” he asked. “Do you not already possess the gift of light?”
“My powers are now useless, I fear.” Her voice broke on a sob.
He stepped further into the room, raising the lamp to see better. Cassian would have lit the candles in the sconces and candelabras but they had all burned down until nothing was left but the hardened wax that had dripped and cascaded down the sides.
There had to be candles in here somewhere, so Cassian searched each drawer and cabinet until he found some and replaced those that had burned, lighting them as he went until the room was bright. But still no Lady Samantha.
“Where did she go?” he murmured to himself.
“I am still here.”
He strained to see into the space from where her voice had come. It was near an old piano.
As he watched, one of the keys appeared as if it was pushed down and a note was struck.
“Are you a ghost?” Please do not let her be dead.
“I am not certain.”
Her voice was weak, but her image was becoming clearer as if she were shrouded in fog.
