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The snowfall thickens and the wind bites harder with every passing minute. My breathing grows shallow. My legs feel weak straddling the motorcycle. I feel tired.

“What is this strange world?”

By the time the iron gates come into view, my vision is blurring. The moment I cross the threshold, the dizziness loosens its grip. I slow the motorcycle and glance back down the long road behind me. One thing is for sure, Sheriff Valen had been waiting for me as if he already knew I’d be exploring.

SEVENTEEN

September 24, 2010

“Show me your dark and dreadful bones and I will show you my wounded heart.”

— EXCERPT FROM SARA’S WRITINGS

Night descends upon the estate like a hellhound hungry for souls. And like clockwork, the Sheriff’s silhouette can be seen against the battering snow drifts.

He has been out there for the last five days, but he has never approached the house. I want to confront the man, the only one who could supposedly help me with answers. But something tells me to be careful. Of whom? I don’t know.

My feelings could be unwarranted, but I both wanted to leave and stay with the comfort I found myself in. The house’s initial chill had slowly receded over the last week as I explored dark corners. The same cannot be said for my mind. I had many questions. For one who tended to me while I was unconscious? And repeatedly, I questioned why they hadn’t taken me to a hospital. Then I made sense of the situation. I had escaped drowning with little to no injuries; there was no need. Still, it was curious no matter which avenue I rationalized it down.

Daisy had kept me in steady company, and even Arik had stopped by a few times for more vitals to ensure my blackouts weren’t affecting me more than they should. My blood trickled easier each time around, filling the vials in no time. But Arik showed no emotion about the matter.

Another curiosity playing out was the image of the mystery man. Who was he? What was he to me? With these questions, I find myself drawn to the man who lived hidden in the shadows beyond the trees. The night I encountered him on the motorcycle, he appeared to have been patrolling the town. Was he the only form of law enforcement in the area? And if so, what did he hunt at night? What dangerous creatures lurked within the forests of Devil’s Bay that the Sheriff himself needed to eradicate it?

The weapon he’d brandished resembled a sword. Its silver had glimmered ethereally beneath the snow and moonlight. He was a new mystery I’d like to unravel.

Meanwhile, Kieran has been gone for a few days. The disappearances grate on my nerves and leaves me without direction. Everyday I tried to count the time passing. I knew I was bored. Stuck in an empty cycle. But I made myself useful. I trailed around the kitchen and poked myself into tasks that Tania would rather not have me do. Picking her herbs. Misting water on the misfit plants in the solarium. Interject in her baking. I’ve convinced her that being on my feet and engaged is what will help me recover, not hiding away in a bedroom that isn’t my own.

I’ve caught her opening and closing her mouth as if wanting to say something to me, but she remains hushed most of the time. She’s refraining from being herself.

By night, Daisy and I play the piano, and she’s filled me in on whatever she could about Kieran’s family. With her by my side, I could sleep. It was the perfect routine, except I was feeling restless, and idle hands always got themselves into trouble.

There were parts of the house Kieran and Tania hadn’t told me of, purposely, I gathered. Just like the last few days, she’s been quiet as a mouse, keeping me out of the secrets she holds in her mind.

But both Kieran and Tania had insisted I make myself at home. So here I am, walking into the darkness of the abandoned wing with Misty by my side.

A few days ago Daisy told me of the abandoned East Wing, which had been slightly destroyed in a small fire. I couldn’t resist. There was no danger in simply exploring. Right? No one had to know, just like I hadn’t told a soul about my motorcycle adventure from the other night.

The West Wing—which we inhabited—was divided from the East Wing by a cavernous pool room with a glowing abyss of clear water. In the daytime—magical. At night? There might as well be a creature lurking in its depths.

The pool room resembles the giant maw of a nether worldly creature, and I expect teeth to materialize and close in on us. I search for a light switch but there is nothing to chase the shadows or console my thundering heart as I venture once again into the unknown.

The past few nights I’d kept a keen eye on the feel of the house. It embraced the darkness of night, almost exhaling a breath as the sun retreated and the tenebrous hands of night encroached upon its creaking bones.

As I reach my way around the darkness, something flits by in my periphery. It’s tall, gliding uncannily to be in reality. I gasp, whirling. The room fills with the scent of rotting fruit and foreboding, stifling my senses. It isn’t until I notice Misty, frozen and ears pricked toward the dark hallway beyond the pool, that I truly see it. A figure lingering in the shadowed threshold of the East Wing. Its body gently swaying like a marionette suspended on frayed strings.

“Hello?” My voice bounces off the walls, returning distorted. The sound causes a chill to spread along my chest. Cautiously, I crouch to Misty’s level, hoping to calm the growling emitting from her chest.

“Misty, it’s okay, girl.” I run my hands through her midnight black fur. She is all wild-eyed and sharp canine teeth that snap against the cold air.

The figure across the room mirrors my height.

Scrounging up the courage, I make my way around the perimeter of the pool. I could let nothing intimidate me, even if it is some weird ghost of the house.

Side to side it sways as I slowly approach. Misty barks again, sharp and jarring, enough to scare off anyone. But this thing isn’t anyone.

It disappears, blending into the shadows—dissolving like snow beneath human contact. “Am I seeing things now?” I try to reset my staccato breathing. Did the injury cause any residual damage to my brain? It could explain why I was hearing things in my sleep and seeing shadows at the edge of my periphery. I straighten my shoulders and study the room for any more intruders because I am not a weak woman. Imaginary beings, only found in stories, did not incite fear. I say this to bolster myself, yet my fingers tremble, my lips tingle, and ringing in my ears dominates any sound I can hear.

Around the room, more shadows appear to warp and blend with the twilight, further making me question the soundness of my mind. If things like this happened in the house, I can only imagine what awaits me in the real world. Misty rests her head against my leg. Her one eye peers up at me. “Should we keep going?” I glance down at my fearless companion. She huffs in response.