this murder. I already suspect Harold of Eliza and Cordelia’s deaths. What do all three have in common? They interfered with Harold’s favorite, his young master. They pestered William and would not leave him be, and while no sane person would kill for that, it’s a motive if I need one.
There is another suspect, though . . .
In my mind, I replay the visions, seeing August watch Cordelia and Eliza go into the moors, seeing him seem to tell Harold that he’d take Teddy to Cordelia.
I shake off the thought. Right now, none of this matters. Teddy may not have died trapped between these walls, but I’m trapped here now. While Freya is coming for tea tomorrow, she knows I can step between worlds. If she finds an empty house, she’ll presume I’m with William. If I never return, she’ll think I stayed with him.
I’m not the only one trapped, either. I locked Enigma in my room. I do keep a water bowl upstairs, but it was empty this morning, and I forgot to refill it.
How long will she live without water?
How long will I?
Stop. Just stop.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I push to my feet, I forget to take it slow. Pain rips through me, but by that point, I’m upright, and if I’ve damaged anything, it’s too late. Yes, everything hurts, but everything works, and that’s the important part.
I shine the flashlight around. I’m trapped between the inner and outer wall. I’m also between two upright studs, about eight feet apart. A sliver of space so narrow I can’t turn sideways.
Deep breaths. The pain in my ribs is subsiding, and I can breathe. Good enough.
It doesn’t take long to explore my narrow space. There’s a solid stone wall on the outside, thick beams on each end and the interior wall in front of me. Above is the hole I fell through . . . fifteen feet over my head.
I eye the interior wall. If there’s a chance of breaking through, this is the spot.
I slam my shoulder into it . . . and hiss in pain, the sound echoing through the empty space. I kick with everything I have, but there isn’t room to draw my leg back more than a few inches. I slam my fists into the wall, and I don’t even dent it.
I need a tool, and there’s only one here. My stomach clenches as I pick up a thigh bone, and I stop several times, unable to do it. But then I remember Enigma, trapped in my room. I swing the bone against the wall . . . and it snaps in two, and I stand there, holding the broken pieces, realizing I’ve desecrated Teddy’s remains, and I slump to the floor, hot tears streaming down my face.
I scream, then. I scream because I am not alone. A spirit pushed me into that hole, and it’s here, watching me, gloating, and I curse and scream at them until my throat is raw.
“Show yourself!” I shout for the dozenth time, my voice a raspy whisper.
A cry answers. Not a human one. Enigma hears me shouting and banging and calls back a yowl of fear. Then a bang, as if she’s thrown herself against the door. Another bang, and fresh tears come as I whisper for her not to worry about me. Just be calm. Please be calm.
The yowling stops, and I exhale in relief. Then I square my shoulders.
“Show yourself,” I say. “I know you’re here. You pushed me down that hole.”
The air ripples beside me, and I jump. I shine the flashlight to see nothing but blackness. Then I make out a form. Black on black, only half materialized.
“No,” the word comes soft.
“No?” I look where her eyes should be, behind the shimmering black that shrouds her. “So, you didn’t push me?”
“Never.”
This is not Cordelia. So, who could it be? The answer comes in a heartbeat.
“You have reason to want to harm me, though,” I say.
“I could. Yet I do not.”
I stand tall and say, “I name you Eliza. Lady Elizabeth Stanbury.”
The figure shimmers, and the blackness enshrouding her falls away until I see the young woman from the engagement photograph, slight and fair, dressed in the blue dress she’d worn, fleeing her killer on the moors.
I open my mouth to ask what happened to her. Before I can, she cocks her head, gaze shifting as if listening to something I can’t hear. Then she smiles. “The kitten. Of course. Clever kitten.”