“The rules kept you safe,” Papa said. “But you broke them, and now that the door has been opened, you’re vulnerable. Those closest to you are the most dangerous because it will try to use them to weaken you. It will lie and trick and deceive you. You mustn’t let it. And you must never, ever return to Asher Falls.”
I lifted my head. “If it fears me, then there must be a way to defeat it. I can’t live like this, Papa. I can’t live with the loneliness. Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead.”
“Don’t say that! Don’t even think it.”
“Then help me destroy it.”
“You still don’t understand, do you?” He turned away quickly, but not before I’d seen that same look of pity and regret in his eyes.
Thirty-Four
Angus and I returned to Asher Falls that afternoon. I didn’t tell Papa because I didn’t want to worry him. But I had to go back. I had to find a way to protect myself. I had to close that terrible door, and if it could be done at all, it would be in the place where I had been born on the other side.
A weight descended the moment we entered the foothills. It was raining, and I wondered if it had poured the whole time we were away. The lake looked swollen, and the ditches were overflowing. The deluge subsided as we drove off the ferry, but the sky remained gray and bleak. For the first time, Angus turned away from the window and settled down in the front seat, resting his snout on the console. I put my hand on his head and felt the bristle of his hair.
“I know,” I murmured. “I feel it, too.”
The oppression. The weight of those mountains bearing down on us.
I heard a crack and looked up to see a boulder crashing toward us. It hit the highway directly in front of the car, releasing a shower of rocks and gravel that pelted my hood and windshield. I was so startled, I swerved too sharply and almost lost control of the wheel on the wet pavement. Righting the vehicle, I pulled to the side of the road to catch my breath and settle my nerves.
The boulder had been close. Too close. A very dark omen.
I wanted to believe it was just bad timing, but I had a feeling it was more than that. I had been warned.
“It’s coming,” I whispered and Angus whimpered.
I had decided on the drive back that if anyone could help me, it would be Tilly. I headed straight for her house, but the dirt road through the woods had washed out, and I had to park my car and hike most of the way on foot. Halfway there it started to rain again, and I was soaked and miserable by the time I stepped up on her porch. She didn’t answer my knock, so I went around back to see if she might be working with the birds. The feeders and houses were empty, the trees disturbingly silent. I might have taken the quiet for another omen if I hadn’t realized the bad weather had chased the birds away.
Angus huddled under the porch as I climbed the steps and opened the screen door. “Tilly?”
No answer.
I moved across the porch and tried the back door. It opened silently, and I stuck my head in, calling out her name.
Still no answer.
I pushed open the door and moved into the kitchen. “Tilly? Are you in here? It’s me, Amelia.”
I stopped just inside the door and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, but I’d only been inside the house once before. I might not notice if a chair had been moved or a cupboard rearranged. Something was different, though. I could feel it. Sense it.
“Tilly?” The echo of her name in that silent house was eerie and foreboding. I made myself move out of the kitchen and into the living room. Nothing out of place in there, either, except for a pair of muddy boots at the front door where Tilly had undoubtedly left them.
I walked down the tiny hallway. The front bedroom door was open and I peaked inside. It was small and sparsely furnished with an iron bedstead and an oak dresser. I saw myself in the mirror, face pale and drawn, eyes wide with fright. Yes, I was frightened. Fear had an icy grip on my spine as I inched deeper into the house.
In the bathroom, I found blood splotches in the sink and bits of glass on the floor.
My every instinct screamed for me to get out of the house, quickly, the same way I’d come in. But I couldn’t. Not until I found Tilly. She could be lying hurt somewhere. She could be—
A sound froze me in my tracks. My hand flew to my chest as if I could quell the panic that accelerated my heartbeat and drove the air from my lungs.
Someone was in the house, and I didn’t think it was Tilly. She would have answered me when I called out.
The wood floor creaked as someone slipped down the hallway toward me. I didn’t dare move for fear of giving myself away. But I couldn’t just stand there. I needed to find a place to hide.
The creaking stopped. Not as if the footsteps had moved away but as if someone had paused in midstride because they’d heard a sound or sensed a presence. And now they waited with suspended breath on the other side of the wall.
I lifted a foot, and the screech of the floorboard drew a cringe. Out in the hallway, a shadow crept along the wall.
A moment later, Catrice appeared in the doorway, and we both screamed.
“Amelia!” She clutched her sweater around her.
I stood there trembling. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in town. I saw you drive through and I followed you.” She glanced around anxiously. “Tilly isn’t here?”
“I thought your car was broken down.”
Her gaze darted away. “I…just got it fixed.”
Her nervous demeanor confirmed what I had suspected all along—that our meeting in town that day hadn’t been coincidental at all. I doubted she’d even had car trouble.
“Why did you follow me?” I asked sharply.
“I have to talk to you,” she muttered. “I just hope—”
“What?”
“I’m so worried about Tilly.”
“Why?” When she didn’t answer, I grabbed her arms. “There’s blood in here. Do you know something about that?”
Her eyes widened. “Blood? Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. See for yourself if you don’t believe me. But first, tell me why you’re looking for Tilly.”
She looked distraught as her gaze flitted around the bathroom like a frightened bird’s. “I never thought it would come to this. You have to believe me.”
“Come to what? Is Tilly in some kind of trouble?”
Her brown eyes filled with tears as she nodded. “I’m afraid she might be.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Bad trouble. I think she’s in danger.”
“From whom?”
Catrice closed her eyes. “From Freya’s killer.”
My heart jumped. “Who killed her?”
“It could have been any one of us,” she whispered. “We were all there that night. And we’d talked about doing it before. Luna said we needed an offering and Freya was so easy to manipulate.”
“An offering…for what?”
“It was just talk, a stupid game,” she babbled. “I never thought anyone would go through with it.”
“But someone did.”
“Yes.”
“Who was there?”
“We three girls, Hugh and Edward. Freya had told Edward earlier that she was pregnant with his baby. He was in shock. We all were, especially considering that she was almost ready to deliver. She kept to herself so much and she had such a small frame that no one suspected. And why would we? Who would ever dream that he would be so careless with someone like…with an outsider? Luna was furious because she’d always planned to have the first Asher grandchild. Hugh wasn’t exactly thrilled, either. And poor Bryn. She was the most devastated of all.”
“Why?”
“She was crazy about Edward. She would have done anything to get his attention, and there he was, sleeping around with someone like Freya Pattershaw.”
“And you?”
She drew a trembling breath. “Oh, yes. I had my reasons, too. I wanted to fit in just as badly as Freya, so I went along with the game. And all these years…” She glanced down at her hands. Her fingers had curled back as though the joints were afflicted with arthritis. “I should have come forward a long time ago but I didn’t have the courage. I’ve been such a coward.”