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“So, do you often rescue beautiful damsels in distress, bring them back to your house and disappear?” I wrap my fingers around the stem of my glass then bring it to my lips and sip slowly.

What if his nighttime ritual is just a silly way of trapping you?

“Didn’t know I would be missed,” he volleys, charmingly.

I thought of what I found earlier. The idea of a ritual at the instruction of his wife. What really happened to his wife? That journal entry was from June 2010…we were in September according to Daisy. Are they separated? Did he do something to her? I study him. Really look at the way he struggles to remain awake, the streak of a past scar across his lip and the ruggedness of his hands. His clothes were frayed, disheveled, yet his shoulders remain tense, his gaze watchful and expression is reserved despite the humor.

Kieran’s eyes flick away as he seems to contemplate saying something. He clears his throat. “How has your stay been the last week? I hope you’ve been comfortable.”

There were many questions.

“What’s wrong with this place?” I start with.

“What isn’t wrong with this place? It’s old.” He shrugs. I hum, taking a bite out of the food on my plate. He does the same. I should feel more uneasy at the lack of progress I’ve made, the circumstances I found myself in—cooped away in a vast mansion. But these worries, they seem trivial. I am alive to see another day.

Kieran’s fork clatters onto his plate, the sharp sound echoing around the room. My breath stalls as he grasps the air in front of him, fingers tense with the effort to grip the handle of his utensil. His features contort with agony.

“Are you okay?” I ask, poising to reach for him.

He grits his teeth then shakes his head. The spasm suddenly stops and he’s able to flex his fingers and pick up the fork. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired, and oftentimes the cold penetrates my bones a little too deeply.” He picks up his glass of wine and swills it down in one gulp, and then haphazardly picks up the bottle and pours. Wine stains his lips and his previously calm posture is now rigid.

I decide to drop the investigation for tonight, there were already enough things piling up. There would have to be another time for inquiry.

“So, back to my week,” I say, changing the subject.

“Yes, your week.” He gestures a hand toward me.

“It’s been okay. I still remember little things, not anything monumental.”

“Tell me about them.” He kicks his feet up on another chair and buries his hand inside his coat.

“For one, I know I was born in New York City.” My features scrunch, reaching for the rest, but the names blur before I can catch them. “My family, though…that part is harder.”

“Arik likely thinks it’s dissociative amnesia.” His response is choked between gulps of wine.

Outside, howling winds surround the house blending into the ambiance of the dining room, making it feel like an empty chamber, floating alone in a dark, vast space.

“Hmm...yeah he told me as much.” I absently nod. My gaze latches onto a shadowy corner of the room. There’s a strange wisp to the dark there, reaching out then pulling back. Black matter circulating. I blink, hoping it’s a side effect of a long day. It’s gone when I open my eyes. “What’s the salt really for?” The question leaves my lips before I can register.

He gives me a puzzled look, then it dawns. “Oh. Right, I should probably warn you. The people here believe evil things lurk in the shadows.”

Just like the lake, I want I jeer at him. But I don’t. Instead I ask, “Is that why you lock every door and window?”

“Yes, and I suggest you keep your doors locked at night. Keep the fire going, it’s what will keep you safe.”

I mull over what he’s saying to me, yet all I can conclude is that I’d ended up in some religious town with freaky bedtime rituals.

“Sounds like I need a weapon.”

He laughs at my response, but I maintain seriousness.

“I think I would like to trust you first.” He swirls the wine in his glass.

“You trust me enough to allow me to stay here,” I comment, moving to rest my chin on my hand.

“Yes, I do, because it’s only right. This place…it will be hard enough to explain once you fully understand. It’s filled with dangers your mind couldn’t comprehend. And⁠—”

“And you don’t want to overload my mind,” I interrupt. He shoots me an amused look.