She looked for the crow, but the bird had flown.
An aggressive caw resounded from behind her. Her fingers fell away as she spun.
“Which circle of Hell is this?” shouted a voice in outrage.
Lux crept around the brambles’ edge until she could make out what happened down the lane. Until she could see the crow circled a giant of a man in collectors’ garb, his hands outstretched to swat it away. His hood fell back.
The crow descended again, and this time its talons made contact, scraping along the man’s hairless head. He roared. Lux stepped onto the path, her back to the door. She’d never knowna crow to behave this way outside of a singular time, and that crow’s eyes had been murky, revived beyond what it should have. This one was not like that.
“Crow!” she shouted.
The bird paused its attack. It cawed again—rather irritated, she thought. Then it lifted higher into the sky and was gone.
The man didn’t turn at first. With his back to her, Lux saw angry lines had been carved into his—rather unsightly—pale skull and his shoulders heaved. His gloved hands lifted to his hood as he shifted to face her, and Lux startled at the glimpse of his features before they were hidden. Sagging, mottled, and with grey undertones, his skin seemed to have forgotten it was alive. His gaze pierced her, a blue so light it could be called silver.
She watched his chest rise with a deep inhale, and then he laughed. “A necromancer and a friend to crows. What other beasts have you befriended?”
Lux recognized his voice. “Befriended is probably too strong a word. Tolerate, maybe. Are you injured, Lord Kent?”
His hood shifted, dipping down her person. “I’ve survived worse attacks in my lifetime, Ms. Thorn. Please don’t worry over me.” Finishing his assessment, he added, “The color suits you. I knew it would.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
When he neither moved nor said anything further, she fought not to glance behind her. Toward the locked door she’d been about to force herself around. But she couldn’t help asking, “Does the door on this end lead to another cliffside trail?”
Kent’s hood shifted. “Indeed, it does. But that one is unusable due to erosion of the landscape. We keep it locked now. For safety.”
“How sad. I would have liked to have seen it.”
“Well, come along then,” he said, and Lux’s eyes widened. “I’ll allow you a glimpse.”
“You’re serious?”
“You’re wearing my dresses. I’d love for you to wear mygowncome the banquet. A fair exchange?”
Fairer than I thought.“Yes, I think so.”
He paused for a moment. “You’re a serious one.” A soft laugh left him as he made his way toward her. Then he passed her by.
Lux was slow to turn. Once she did, his exceptionally broad shoulders blocked her view of anything. She heard a click but couldn’t see how it was made. She’d not noticed any keyhole when she’d stood in front of it before, but apparently she’d not looked hard enough. The door swung inward with a protesting screech.
“There you are,” he said and stepped aside.
Lux moved to fill the space, her hand reaching reflexively toward the frame once she did. He’d been honest; the path crumbled sharply away. Her breath caught over the disconnect between the narrow lane behind her and the sudden openness outside the door. She felt strangely if she were to step through, she’d walk clean into another world.
A world of drowning waves and slow deaths,her macabre mind granted. If she’d even survive the fall first.
Her eyes snagged on something then. A protrusion from the cliff. A cone-shaped roof, black shingles in disrepair. She spun back to the collector.
“What is that?”
His hood shifted, and she knew he followed where she pointed. His voice rumbled, “That would be Grimrook House.”
Her brow furrowed. “House? I thought the family lived in Mothlock.”
“They did. Eventually. When the erosion worsened. Come back from there now. There’s a chill in the air and we wouldn’t want you uncomfortable.”
