was born, and Alaine could no longer accuse me of anything. But the quiet I expected to return to the manor never came — Rose was born too soon to a world where there was no sustenance.
I no longer experienced blackouts, no matter how much I’d drink. The Lord knows how far I tested my own tolerance, desperate for that sweet oblivion.
I’d been drinking the night of the fire. Even in a drunken haze, her wails had been too much to endure. I’d instructed Mrs. Potter to take her away, and I can only assume that she took her to the nursery.
Later that night, smoke dragged me from a leaden, drunken sleep. An impossibility, thinking back now, since I’d been in my apartments and far away from the nursery.
Perhaps, back then, God was still watching over the manor.
“I…tried to save her,” I mumble through numb lips. I lift my disfigured hands. “I was trying to save my baby.”
Norm throws his head back and laughs.
I reach up, grab a handful of his disgusting bone chimes, and I lunge at him.
He doesn’t have a chance to scream, to fight, to stop me wrapping those cords around his neck. Bits of bone bite into his neck, scrape his jaw, disappear into the flesh of his palms as he struggles to unwind them.
A cord snaps, but there are several more cutting into his skin. The socket of a bird watches me as trapped blood turns the beast’s face into a ripe plum.
The sound he makes is inhuman — as animal as a rutting pig.
My shaking arms only relax when I become aware of a sound behind me.
A whimper. A small whine. Both muffled.
Norm’s lifeless body collapses to the floor, his bone-motifs clattering when they strike the ground. I fall to my knees beside Pippa, and gently push her aside. She flops onto her back, blood tracing a dark line down her forehead from the dent in her skull.
Rose lifts a hand and grasps weakly at the air.
At me.
Reaching for her father.
I summon every bit of reserve I have, and force myself to pick her up. I fall back, my legs bent at the knees as I cradle my child to my chest and weep over her cold little body.
“We have to get her warmed up,” Mrs. Potter says behind me.
I let the old woman take Rose from me, and watch as she wraps the babe in some dark fabric. She heads out, face bleak and mouth trembling, but I catch the hem of her dress, halting her.
“She stays here. In my sight.”
“I need to clean—”
“In my sight at all times.” It’s hard to breathe in this space, in this corpse-dank air. But I have to make sure he’s well and truly—
I twist as a small gesture catches my eye.
Pippa.
I stare at her until she does it again. Her fingertips twitch as if she’s beckoning me closer.
“Give her to me,” I say, not looking away from Pippa’s face as I gesture at Mrs. Potter. The old woman places Rose in my arms, a reluctant pout on her mouth. “Bring me more blankets.” When she doesn’t move, I yell, “Now!” and she scampers away with a hitch in her breath.
I move beside Pippa, lift her head, and cradle her in my lap. This way, I can see Norm and the doorway.
No more surprises.
No more unexpected guests.
If Pippa makes it out of this alive, that’s something I’ll promise her. But I already know she’ll be gone come the sun. Either in a casket, or a coach — snow or no snow.
No one in their right mind would want to stay in this damned place. Only devil kin can find comfort under these eaves…and I hope to God I’ve just slain the last of them.
Epilogue
The world outside our townhouse is white with freshly fallen snow. Everything is silent and calm. Even my head is done with its pounding…for now, at least.
Boots thump on the floor. I carefully turn to face the doorway. I’ve learned that caution is best — if I dare move too fast, my head whirls like a spinning top.
“Thought you might be hungry,” Brandon says. As soon as his eyes have scanned my face, they dart to the crib in the corner of the room.
He always does that these days. Checking on his girls, he calls it. Does he fear that he’ll walk in one day and we’ll both be gone?
The master bedroom is much smaller than the one in Dunnwood Manor, as is the