She climbed the stairs slowly and found her sister lying in Morna’s old room, an IV pole by her bedside, the ravens watching over her, mute and frozen. Eustace looked peaceful, as if she were only sleeping. Cordelia wanted to shake her.Wake up!she wanted to scream.Don’t you know I need you?Instead, she took her sister’s hand.
“What happened to you?” she asked quietly, but Eustace didn’t budge. Her face was a still mask, with none of its usual sly expressions. Her chest rose and fell in a sleepy rhythm, everything working as it should. But Eustace was gone. And Cordelia feared she might never get her back.
WHEN SLEEP CAMEfor Cordelia, it came heavy and without promise. There were no trenchant dreams for her to ponder upon waking, no spectral visitors from her family to tell her what to do. Just emptiness and the resounding sense that she was utterly and wretchedly alone.
She’d stayed up with her sister well into the night, murmuring in Eustace’s ear, telling her stories of when they were children,stroking her hair as the tears fell. In the end, it was Eustace’s own draught of chamomile, skullcap, and valerian that eventually put her to sleep in the armchair by the bed.
In the morning, she woke feeling groggy, stiff, and hopeless. After checking that nothing had changed with her sister’s condition, she made her way down to the kitchen, where Gordon was washing blood and dirt from his hands. The chrome flashlight sat on the counter beside him.
“You saw?” she asked.
He nodded, pointing his eyes out the window to the solarium. “It’s sick. I can’t believe that after everything your sister did for that animal, this is how it ended.”
A sob caught in Cordelia’s throat, and her hands balled into angry fists at her sides. She’d had no special bond with the fox as her sister did, but it was a part of Eustace and therefore a part of her. And it was an innocent, a walking miracle. Seeing something so callously butchered and discarded went straight through her heart. “Where did you put her?”
“She’s beneath the statue,” he said, sounding tired.
Cordelia hated that the garden ornament she’d splurged on had become a headstone. TheQueen of Seasonswould now remind them of only one thing. “Thank you,” she told him as she readied the enamel coffeepot. “I didn’t know if you’d stay.”
He turned to her. “I won’t leave you again. Not like this. It isn’t safe.”
She squeezed his hand in gratitude.
“I can stay in the carriage house if you want, but I’ll feel better if—”
“No,” she said. “My sister needs you.Ineed you. Please. You can take any room you’d like.”
“I won’t be doing much sleeping,” he told her. “I don’t trust them not to come back under cover of darkness. It seems to be their favorite way.”
“We’ll take shifts,” she agreed. She let the coffee steep while she found a mug, then poured herself a large, strong cup.
“How was it?” he asked. “Before, you know.”
She took a breath and let the memories of the night wash over her. “Perfect,” she said. “Better than perfect. Until…”
Their party had been a runaway success, but now would be forever marred by the vision of blood and guts strewn across the garden and the epic storm that raged afterward, drenching their guests and backing all the cars into a muddy, motionless knot. Her hope had been to update their reputation. Instead, she had only sealed it.
Still, they’d had a couple of victories last night. The trust was signed and witnessed. She could wire the money to Busy by that night. And the gory scene had happened in full view of the back camera Gordon placed. If nothing else, they would have footage of who was responsible. They could press charges.
“The camera,” Cordelia said to Gordon. “Have you reviewed the tape? Did you see who did it?”
Gordon hung his head, a heavy sigh on his lips. “About that…”
“Wasn’t it on?” she asked, frantic. They needed this. “I checked before the party.”
His lips tightened. “You should see it for yourself.”
Accompanying her to the parlor, Gordon pulled up the back-camera footage from the night before, rewinding to a point just after the fireworks display. Then, he let it play.
Cordelia watched as the statue stood resolutely in view, pale against the night. Beside theQueen of Seasons,her shadow seemed to elongate, growing deeper and taller, until the shape of a man could be seen emerging from behind her, eerily reminiscent of Cordelia’s dream of the shadow in the parking lot with her mother. The head turned toward the camera, wholly blank, and made a hissing sound. And then the lens cracked, and amoment later the footage zigged and zagged, rippling across the screen before turning to snow and finally going blank.
They knew. Their stalker had been watching the estate. They’d seen Gordon install the cameras. And they knew all along. But how they’d managed to stay concealed, to break the camera without ever touching it, were other questions entirely.
“They’re all like this,” he said. “I already checked. They all blink out at once.”
Cordelia felt limp, a wilting stem with nothing and no one to hold her up. Their plan had failed and cost her far too much.
They walked slowly back to the kitchen, and Gordon sat down beside her at the table. “Do you know what happened to Eustace?”
