a sense of relief hung in the air as I excused myself to head back upstairs, but beneath that relief lingered dread: the good days, we all seemed to silently sense, are always followed by the bad.
“She’s not sleeping.” I pictured her sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress pushed aside and her fingers sifting through the dirt beneath, the warm dampness of it inching up her arm, a welcoming thing. “Have you ever seen her eat?” I asked.
“She eats dinner with us every night.”
“No, I mean have you ever really seen her eat?”
Matilda thought about this for a second. “I . . . I don’t know. I suppose not, but I’ve never paid much attention. Are you implying that she doesn’t?”
“She pretended to eat tonight.”
“She didn’t feel well. You, of all people, know what it is like to try to eat when you are ill. Perhaps she feigned it to spare Ma’s feelings. She probably doesn’t want her to believe she didn’t like the soup.”
My arm itched, and I scratched at the tender flesh.
“Let me see that,” Matilda said, setting down her sketchbook and reaching for my shirtsleeve.
I pulled away. I wasn’t sure why, only that I didn’t want her to see. I felt as if nobody should see. That if someone did, only more questions would be raised. Questions I could not answer.
Matilda stared at me. “Bram!”
“It’s disgusting, Matilda. I don’t want you to.”
“I’ve seen your leech bites before. Come here.”
Again, I pulled away, backing up until I found myself at the wall.
“What has gotten into you?”
I shrunk back against the frigid wood, prepared to push her away, wanting to squeeze through the plaster and siding to the icy air, then—
“She’s outside,” I said softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Nanna’s outside.”
Matilda went to my door and edged it open only enough to peek into the hallway. “How could she be outside? She hasn’t left her room. We would have heard her.”
“I don’t know, but somehow she’s outside.”
“How do you know?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. I was not sure how I knew, only that I did.
I crossed the room to my little window and stared out into the darkness.
A crescent moon dangling in the sky offered the thinnest of illuminations, bathing the world in nothing but faint outlines, silhouettes, and shadows. The tower of Artane Castle was barely visible in the distance, lost behind rolling hills and farmland dotted with the small homes of our neighbors. Beyond that were the hazel and birch trees of the forest, their inky branches scratching at the night sky in anticipation of a pending shower. I stared out upon all this with awe, not because I had never seen it before but because I shouldn’t be able to see it now, not with so little light. Yet I did. I could see all of it.
“There!” I pointed north towards the tower of Artane Castle, just beyond the barn.
Matilda joined me at the window and peered out. “I don’t see anything.”
“She just passed the pasture. She’s coming up on the Roddingtons’ home. Looks like she is wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled up over her head.”
“If she’s wearing a hood, how can you be sure that is even her?” Matilda leaned out the window now, her eyes squinting.
“That’s her. I know it is.”
“I still don’t see anything.”
I tugged at her arm, pulling her towards the hallway. “Come on; we must hurry.”
“Where are we going?”
“I want to follow her.”
Matilda planted her feet firmly on the floor. “Do you realize what Ma and Pa would do to me if they found out I let you out of this house?”
“Then we shouldn’t tell them,” I replied. “Come on.”
NOW
Bram shuffles back from the door. The silver cross in his hand grows hot, burning his flesh, the edges becoming sharp as blades. He drops