beloved lighthouse had been the last thing he saw before shutting his eyes. Tears welled in my own as I remembered his crooked smile and gruff bark of laughter.
Cassius felt for Silas’s pulse, a cursory gesture, before raising the quilt up over his face. We tiptoed out of the bedroom and carefully shut the door behind us, as though we might wake him.
“We’ll have to send the High Mariner out at first light,” I said once we were downstairs. My voice quavered, thick and sad. “And Fisher too, of course.”
“I’m sorry he’s gone, Annaleigh,” Cassius said, squeezing my shoulder gently. “But it looked as though he lived a good, long life.”
“You don’t think he suffered, do you?”
He wiped the tears from my cheek, pulling me into a hug. “I’m sure he didn’t.”
“Old Maude must have run out of kerosene, and the beacon went out.” I reached into my pocket, feeling for the keys.
“You know how to refill it?”
I nodded. “Silas always had me carry the bucket of oil up the steps. He said young knees could do it in half the time with half the exertion.”
“We ought to hurry, then. Once the storm hits, I won’t be able to get us back to Highmoor.”
I drew my scarf up over my head once more, securing the ends so it wouldn’t blow away. “You can’t travel in storms?”
“Not in lightning. It’s too unpredictable.”
“Then let’s not waste any time.” I palmed the doorknob, poised to run to the supply shed. Silas kept large drums full of kerosene oil there. “Are you ready?”
We stepped out into the wind. The air was even colder now, whistling across the island and whipping snowflakes in our eyes. I unlocked the door, found an old tin bucket, and filled it three-quarters of the way up. The sharp aroma of kerosene burned my nostrils.
“Won’t you need more? I’ll carry it up. Don’t worry about the weight,” Cassius said.
“The tank won’t hold more than this,” I said, shutting off the kerosene spigot. “This will keep the flame going for a handful of days, at least until Fisher can return. Come on.”
We made our way out toward Old Maude, careful to avoid patches of ice on the cliff’s steps. I paused at the threshold, brushing a bit of flying grit from my eye. A gust of wind raced past the lighthouse and slammed the door shut with a loud crash. Startled, I dropped the lantern. The globe shattered, flames greedily flickering across the fuel. There was a burst of light, and we were left in utter darkness.
“I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, reaching out to feel for Cassius. “The door hit me and—”
“It’s all right,” he said, finding my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure there’s another one back at the cottage?”
“We don’t have time. The storm is almost here. There’s a lantern midway up the stairs. I’ll go up and light it. Stay here so we don’t spill any of the fuel.”
Faint starlight filtered through the lighthouse from the gallery windows above. The spiral staircase’s railing was barely visible. I grabbed it and felt around with my foot for the first step, then the next, and the next after that.
Keeping one hand on the railing to secure myself in the dark void and the other on the rough stone wall, I felt around for the lantern.
I was about twenty steps up when something grazed my hair, a phantom caress that jerked me to a stop.
“Dance with me,” whispered a soft voice just behind my ear.
“Cassius?” I called out. Had he decided to come up too, rather than wait on the light?
“Yes?” His voice came from below me, in the center of the shaft.
Gripping the railing, I waved my other hand around in the dark, certain I would hit another person’s—another thing’s—body and scream. But there was nothing, only the cold, moist air.
“Dance with me,” the voice repeated beseechingly.
“Do…do you hear that?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice level.
“I can’t hear anything over that wind,” he answered. “Should I come up?”
When my fingers brushed against the small globe of glass, I wanted to cry with relief. I fumbled open the lantern door and found the wick. Just before I struck a match against the wall, I had an awful premonition when I did, the Weeping Woman would be there in front of me. I pictured myself, startled, falling down the metal stairs and ending in a jagged pile of broken and bloody limbs.
But it was