Laughing in my mind sinks rage into my bones. The necromancer has his claws in me. Nothing good is going to come of this, and some way, somehow, I must dislodge this asshole from my psyche.
No one can help me. No one can know. Pandemonium would break out if the city of Dread knew the resident master vampire was under the control of a necromancer.
My arm twitches involuntarily. He’s testing out his false skin—my body. His presence sinks into me, and I’m standing without having been the one directing myself to stand. It’s disconcerting to be his puppet. He commands my right leg to take a step forward, and I fight the motion. I only manage to shorten my stride. Another step, another short stride.
“Stop,” I growl.
Again, laughing.
All my anger, hate, and desperation goes to contracting my muscles. Rooting myself in Annabell’s room, I push. I can feel the spiny wisps of his thoughts clinging to pieces of my brain, ripping gray matter as he goes. There is nothing like having someone poke around inside your brain with a scalpel.
The necromancer makes me pay for my insolence. Then he releases me for whatever reason, and it’s only me controlling my actions.
This is getting worse.
I have to find the necromancer and kill him before he takes control of me and I can no longer kick him out.
♀♥♂♂♂♂EVERLY
Tink, tink, tink.
Unicorn and heart comforters are actually very cozy.
Tink, tink, tink.
Thankfully, the wet draft from downstairs doesn’t seep into my room, and a gray, hazy light gently wakes me.
Tink, tink, tink. I stretch and try to snuggle into my pillow.
Tink, tink, tink.
Nothing like a warm… tink, tink, tink.
Finally, the window tapping annoys me out of bed.
Tink, tink, tink. A vine waves in the wind, outside the windowpane like an arm waving hello.
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” I rush to open the glass. Sure as the morning, several strands of ivy have double-timed it up the wall, scaling the beautiful castle stone.
“Go back.” I scowl at the vine. “It’s not appropriate for you to bust windows and climb walls. I’m not in danger.” Though I can understand why nature feels I’m in trouble. I know I’m in the wrong place, although the count’s beautiful gesture of giving me a forest to play with during my stay is sweet and thoughtful. He did mention I’d be safer in his forest, and I have to admit it’s tempting, but I have a feeling I’m needed here, in the castle. But, I’m not sure why. A dryad’s affinity for being where they are needed is also dangerous. Most of my kind pay heed to this feeling with their lives.
Despite my words, the vine stays where it’s grown. I sigh, content at watching the overhead view of the silent garden. The forest disperses the ominous overcast gray clouds and brings color to the sky. From this height, I can see beyond the hedges at the large garden beyond the inside border. There are no birds singing, no critters in the underbrush, and the lawn spreading across the width of the castle is eerily quiet. Though there isn’t any wildlife, there’s still something… else that’s off about the herb garden…
The statue.
My heart jumps.
The wolf from last night is transformed back into a man, but not only that, the statue is turned around, facing the castle... and his stone eyes look directly at me. I gasp in shock and immediately shove the loose vine away and close the window, backing away from the wall.
“Okay,” I clasp my elbows, weaning off my panic. “So, the count has a statue that changes and turns around. Magic. The world has it, Everly. And you don’t know this sort of magic—shadow magic. That’s why you need to get back to the train station and explain that you aren’t meant to be here—you’re meant to be in Arcadia.” My pep talk sucks and doesn’t give me any sort of pep. Tears form in my eyes, and I can’t help but remember the warmth of my mom’s arms the last time she hugged me. Did I only leave her yesterday? What if I never see her again?
A quick rap at the door makes me jump.
“Um… hello?” I wait.
When nothing happens, I step forward, taking steady, measured paces and open the door.
Stregen stands at the threshold, holding a tray, looking bored as ever. He’s brought me fruit, granola, yogurt and orange juice.
“Thanks, Stregen,” I say as I step aside and let him in, nervously looking back at the window as if the stature is going to climb up the wall and come in. The vine swings in the breeze, tapping at the window every so often.
Stregen places the tray on my desk and stands at attention, or as much at attention as a ghoul can. His eyes aren’t looking at me so much as through me.
“Sorry about the vine.” I swish my hand towards the offending little limbs, which are still trying to peek inside. Though I feel bad saying it, I know ivy left unchecked can damage stone. “You have my permission to cut it down.”
And, of course, there’s suddenly no more ivy bothering to come inside.
Stregen says nothing.
“So, Stregen, do you know anything about the… the statue in the garden? It is supposed to be able to change shape? Because it was a statue of a man when I got here and then it turned into a wolf. And back to a man again.”
Again, all the input I get back is a blank, far-off gaze.
I nod and figure it isn’t Stregen’s fault that he’s mindless.
“I’ll be ready to leave in half an hour,” I say.
Nothing.
“Oh, thank you for the food.” I smile and tuck a strand
