you should be better. You just need rest. Not like you’re going to do that.”
“Probably not.”
“But you made it through to the final task.”
He lifted himself up and swung his legs off the bed.
Kerrigan made a yelp of protest. “What part of rest don’t you understand?”
“I’ve rested,” he simply said.
“Your magic.”
He blew her hair out of her face with a small puff of air. “Is back.” His eyes found Clover’s. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” she said with a grin.
He looked back to Kerrigan. “Are all your friends like this?”
“Pretty much,” Kerrigan conceded. “And she’s here because we didn’t show up at the Wastes last night. Now, she’s trying to convince me not to go to Black House.”
He put his head in his hands. “What’s Black House?”
“It’s where Clare said they took the weapons last night. I think it must be their headquarters,” Kerrigan told him.
Clover shook her head. “It’s an old, haunted orphanage, where they experimented on children and then drowned them in bathtubs.”
Fordham looked up skeptically. “That sounds pleasant.”
“It’s all superstition.”
“For a reason,” Clover shot back.
“Are you saying there are ghosts?” Fordham asked. “Real ghosts?”
Clover shrugged. “No one goes inside, but the house makes weird noises, and on the Night of the Dead, anyone who walks in there… doesn’t come out.”
Kerrigan laughed. “We’ll be fine but only after you’re rested.”
Fordham rose to his considerable height. “I’m rested,” he repeated.
“Sinead said—”
“I’m rested,” he growled.
“All right,” she said with an arched eyebrow. Then, she stepped forward and kicked him in the shin.
He cursed sharply. “What the hell?”
“Don’t scare me like that,” she told him.
He just looked down at her, and something passed between them. Whatever joking anger had always been there was replaced by something she couldn’t explain. That same feeling she’d had in the thunderstorm last night and when she’d reached for him before the start of the tournament. Heat.
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.
Clover cleared her throat. “You two are actually going to go into Black House… at night?”
“You don’t have to come with us if you’re scared, Clove,” Kerrigan told her.
Clover crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not scared.”
“Then we’ll go tonight,” Fordham said.
And neither of them disagreed with him. Though neither could keep from shivering at the prospect.
32
The Black House
Despite all her bluster about not being afraid, Kerrigan had never been reckless enough to go into Black House. Certainly not at night. Lyam had dared her on more than one occasion, but even Lyam hadn’t followed through with it. The farthest they’d made it was up the creaky stairs to touch the door. And even that felt impossible tonight with the clouds obscuring the moon and the stars. Darkness swept in, total and absolute.
“This feels like a big mistake,” Clover whispered from the front lawn of Black House.
It used to be a reputable area, somewhere between the Dregs and the Central, but since it had fallen into legend, the Dregs had swallowed it up.
“It’s going to be fine,” Kerrigan bluffed.
“You two actually believe there are ghosts?” Fordham asked again in disbelief. Apparently, ghosts were too far-fetched for him. He hadn’t heard the entire house rattle on the Night of the Dead.
Clover and Kerrigan looked at each other. Then they both shrugged. It was as close to a yes as they’d get.
Fordham sighed. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here. There’s dust on the front steps.”
“Maybe we should go through the back?”
Clover squeaked.
“Why don’t you be the lookout?” Fordham suggested to Clover.
She visibly relaxed at the suggestion and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be the lookout.”
Kerrigan followed Fordham to the back side of the enormous black house. The black paint was chipping, some of the windows were busted, and the house groaned loudly in anticipation of their arrival. Goose bumps erupted on her arms, and she tried to tamp down her mounting fear.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” she whispered to Fordham as he took the first step up. She latched on to his arm to stop him. “Maybe I heard what they said wrong.”
“You didn’t hear wrong.” His eyes bored into hers. “Do I have to go in there alone?”
“No,” she said. “No, I’ll go. You just didn’t grow up with fear of this place.”
“Then aren’t you lucky I’m here to dispel your fears?”
“I guess,” she muttered as he tugged her up the stairs.
Once they reached the wobbly porch, she released him and tiptoed across the boards to the back door. This was as far as she had ever made it at