Something’s wrong. A sense of dread passed over Clare. It started in her shoulders, tightening the muscles, then wormed its way down her back. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.
She held still, wrapped in blankets, as the dread filled her stomach and turned her cold. Light from the fire and light from the windows mixed uneasily, cold and hot, neither strong enough to remove the gloom. The wallpaper’s twisting pattern felt more insane than ever. The cornices and edging hoarded shadows jealously.
Something’s wrong. But what?
An exhale came from near the door. It floated out of the shadows, weary and rasping, and Clare’s heart skipped a beat. She slowly turned her head.
Dark furniture blended into the gloom, becoming nothing but a jagged row of menacing shapes. One shadow stood out from the others. It was moving.
The woman swayed by the open door. A dirty white nightdress clung to her emaciated body. Greasy brown hair brushed gaunt cheeks. The eyes bulged, glassy and too intense. One arm was crossed over her torso, and her bony fingers clutched at a hole in her dress. A hole in her skin. White bone poked out of dark-red flesh. The woman twitched as she swayed, unsteady on her feet, and every breath made the bones rise and fall in their sockets.
Clare opened her mouth to scream, but only a whine escaped. She felt frozen. The woman peeled back her lips, revealing cracked teeth and bleeding gums. She took a rocking step towards Clare. The trance broke.
“Dorran. Dorran! Dorran! Dorran!”
He jolted as he woke. Clare clutched at him, shaking him as she screamed. The woman flinched at the noise. The smile widened, becoming an insane grimace, as she stepped back through the open door and disappeared into the hallway.
“What?” Dorran, half-asleep, gripped Clare’s hand too tightly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“The woman! She’s real. She was there. Right there!”
Slow and ponderous, the bedroom door drifted shut. Dorran stared at it then looked at Clare. His face hardened. “Stay here.” He rose out of their makeshift bed and grabbed the poker from beside the fire.
Clare scrambled to her feet and stayed close to him, afraid to be left alone. “I’m coming.”
Dorran narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t argue. He held the poker ahead as he leaned through the doorway, looking first left, then right. Clare rested one hand on his arm to keep herself grounded. They held that position for a moment, and all Clare could hear was their breathing and heartbeats.
“Did you see which way she went?” Dorran asked.
The moment had been so frantic that Clare wasn’t sure. “I think… I think left.”
Dorran turned in that direction. He moved smoothly, keeping his centre of gravity low. His eyes were constantly roving. He reminded Clare of a stalking cat. She followed and watched their backs. The hallway seemed empty. When Dorran reached each door, he slowly, silently twisted the handle then shoved it open with his shoulder. A quick scan was all he needed to check that they were empty. They passed bedroom after bedroom, all neatly made and vacant. Then he checked a sitting room and a nursery.
At last, Dorran stopped at the end of the hallway, beside the window Clare had looked out of the day before. He lowered the poker, but the intensity didn’t leave his face. He looked at her, asking a silent question.
“I’m sure I saw her,” was all Clare could say.
“Go back to the bedroom. Lock the door. I will search the rest of the house.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
“Do not argue.” His voice was quiet, but his dark eyes held a warning.
She hadn’t seen him look so focussed and dangerous before. She let him lead her back to her room.
Dorran kept his eyes on the hallway. “I will be back soon, and I will call before opening the door. If anything else tries to come in, scream. I will hear you.”
“Okay.”
He shut the door. A moment later, she heard a click as he locked it.
Clare crossed to the fireplace and sank onto the layers of blankets and pillows. She was shaking. When she closed her eyes, she could see the woman again. The blotchy, discoloured skin. Broken teeth and bleeding gums. Long hair that had thinned into straggly clumps. The hole in her side…
Clare bent over and pulled her knees up under her chin. The hairs on her arms all stood up. She’d never seen an injury like that before. She had no idea what might have caused it… or how the woman had still been standing.
I shouldn’t have left Dorran alone. I should have insisted on going with him in case he needs help, in case he doesn’t see her coming.
A hundred scenarios, all sickening, played out in Clare’s mind. She tried to listen to the house to see if she could hear what was happening, but no noises reached her room. Clare squeezed her hands together until the knuckles ached. The wind was relentless, wearing down her patience. She stood and began pacing. She went to the window and stared across the unblemished blanket of snow that coated the landscape. The storm had cleared, and the sun was rising, but her surroundings were no easier to discern. Everything was the same shade of blurred, glaring white. Even the forest in the distance was barely distinguishable except for the ribbon of dark-brown trunks visible underneath their snowy caps.
Please, Dorran. Be careful.
She crossed to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. She went through the bathroom to the conjoined bedroom and tried its door, but Dorran had locked that as well.
A new nightmarish scenario played through her mind. What will happen if Dorran never returns? The doors were massive, and their locks were heavy metal. She didn’t think she was strong enough to beat them down. Jumping from the third-floor window would probably kill her, no matter how fluffy the snow looked. If something happened to Dorran, she would be trapped there until she starved.
Clare returned to her own bedroom. She paced from the fire to the bed and back. Dorran had left his coat hanging on a hook by the door. He would be cold without it. She chewed at the corner of her thumb. Then a soft knock at the door made her catch her breath.
“It’s just me,” Dorran called. “Everything is fine.”
Thank goodness, was her first thought, followed closely by, Did he find the woman?
The key scraped against metal as he unlocked the door. When he stepped through, he looked tired. He gave Clare a small, brief smile before crossing to the fireplace and returning the poker to its holder. He didn’t meet her eyes. “There is no one.”
“But…” She felt choked as she moved from the closed door to Dorran. “Did you look everywhere?”
“I did. Every single room.”
“What about the wine cellar?”
“Yes, there as well.” He turned to face her, held out a hand, then let it drop back to his side. “Sometimes intense dreams can seem like reality—”
“No.” She shook her head furiously and crossed her arms. “I didn’t dream it. I was awake. And this is the third time I’ve seen her. There’s someone else in this house.”
“Clare.” He closed the distance between them and grasped her forearms. His voice was very gentle. “When my family leaves for Gould, we have a count to ensure all parties are present. Every single man, woman, and child was packed and embarked on either the bus or one of the cars. Everyone.”