Spiders weren’t horrible, but I wouldn’t be sleeping with them. And I was too scared of both ghosts and the spiders themselves to escort the critters outside tonight. Not even through the high, narrow, frosted-glass window in the corner of the room.
With darkness descending fast, I did my business and set up a bed in the bathtub. Beside the tub I had a heavy porcelain jug, the kind used for holding water to rinse hair. The weight of it made it difficult to hold — I couldn’t imagine holding it with water in it — but with the help of adrenaline I could pick it up and swing. A passable last resort weapon.
I’d been intending to stay up all night, brave the darkness and prepare myself mentally for the day ahead, but the plan didn’t last long. Staring wide-eyed at the locked bathing room door, my eyelids began to droop and it wasn’t long until I was fast asleep.
Chapter 2
Myneckached,andmy legs were tingling with numbness. For a moment, I was confused about why — my mattress may have protruding springs and some spots where it dipped concerningly low, but my pillow was a heavenly feather down — until the reality settled over my chilled skin.
House. Storm.Ghosts.
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, let alone sitting up in a bathtub huddled in every blanket and sweater I currently owned.
“Oh no, I wonder if she’s alright…” a voice said, sounding too close for comfort.
Eyelids flying open, I reached for my last resort weapon on instinct, wielding the jug in front of me like a sword. My grip on it didn’t last, though, terror making my entire body tremble and a scream rip from my throat when I saw the person who was in the bathroom with me.
A ghost.
Instead of having a corporeal form, it shimmered in and out of existence. It was hard to explain what a ghost’s body was made of. Some kind of smoke or fog, but more tangible, in a faint blue-white colour. I got flashes of ghostly hands and faces all the time, and I hadn’t been able to give what they were made of a name.
The jug hit the ground with a clunk and a small broken piece skittered across the floor. The ghost glanced down at it, then back at me. My chest was tight and empty of air, my body somehow managing to hyperventilate and scream at the top of my lungs at the same time. His face came into focus for me, all soft features and concern, but before I convinced myself he was harmless, he reached for me.
My little box of memories burst open and the hand morphed into a gnarled vision of claws, covered in blood. Droplets dripping off it, my skin ripped to shreds. The scream I was letting out melded with my memory of the ghost’s rage-filled shriek, sending me scrambling to my feet and huddling back into the corner of the tub. This time, my instinct wasn’t to defend myself. Instinct said to make myself as small as possible and cover my vitals until the attack was over.
Vaguely, I felt tears dripping down my cheeks and snot running from my nose, but all I could focus on was the hand. Ghostly claws, appearing to tear through me but disappearing into that intangible smoke before I was able to fight back. My entire right side ached and throbbed, and I closed my eyes against the coming assault, hunching to protect myself.
“Oh Ixaris, I’m so sorry. I’m going to… um, I’ll go.”
The ghost’s voice broke through the fog, but I didn’t believe him. A trick. To get me to give him better access to rip my intestines from my stomach. When I’d been attacked, the ghost had come perilously close to doing just that. A part of me recognized the memories weren’t my current reality, but they’d assaulted me so strongly I couldn’t believe it.
My screams didn’t stop until my throat was rough and sore. I had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like hours, but had probably only been minutes or seconds.
But I hadn’t yet been attacked, and in my experience, vengeful ghosts didn’t waste time making their indignation known.
Cracking my eyes open, I blinked a few times to clear the film of tears. No ghost stood in front of me. There was no one but me in the bathroom. My grip on my side loosened slightly, and my body relaxed enough for me to draw in a deep breath. Ghosts could go fully invisible, but they weren’t dangerous when they did. And if you put a hand through a ghost’s body, you’d feel a chill.
Unsure if I would feel the chill when I’d been sleeping in the cold all night, I tentatively waved a hand in front of me. Nothing more than the air. When I stepped forward once in the tub, my legs threatened to give out beneath me, but I grabbed onto the high edge for support. My other hand waved in front of me. No chill. I was alone.
“Good job, Hadley,” I whispered. “You screamed so loud you scared off the ghost. Or you imagined the whole thing, which wouldn’t be far-fetched.”
I wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. I was trying to encourage myself to move after the lingering attack, but it soundedreallysarcastic. Huffing a laugh, I cautiously stepped out of the bathtub. Whether of not the ghost had been real, I wasn’t staying another second in this house. All I had of importance were my keys and aristerite stones, shoved into my small purse. The suitcases stayed. I’d come get them when I had someone with me who wouldn’t panic at the mere possibility of a ghostly presence. Solstice would take the train to Laford if I sweet-talked her into helping me. She was a sucker for tears, and I wouldn’t have to put in effort to cry. When I heard her voice, they would burst out as I detailed this ordeal, welcome or not.
Pulling down the hem of my top sweater and glancing down at my five layers of clothes, I took a deep breath. Breathing helped. It centred me. I needed to open the door before my lack of screaming drew the ghost back in my direction, if he’d existed. My hand reached the lock and my fingers cramped, fighting against turning it. “You’ve got this, Hadley. All you have to do is get out of the house. It’s like thirty steps to the exit, and you don’t have to open another door after this.”
The pep talk worked. I undid the lock and, with hesitant fingers, opened the door, only to freeze when it was halfway open.
There was no ghost outside, but there was something else. And I didn’t know how to react.
A bare expanse of green skin stretched out in front of me, blocking most of the bathroom doorway. Defined abs were at face level, and a quick glance down confirmed the beast was wearing pants, fitted tan trousers with a bulge at the crotch. Too big of a bulge. My gaze darted away, moving up. His chest was as defined as his abs, and I had to strain my neck to see his face. He was taller than the doorway by at least half a foot.
Scream building in my throat, I watched his jaw clench and unclench, twin fangs somehow glinting in the faint sunlight filtering down the hallway. His underbite was only slight, but made him look dour, and the pointed and pierced ears added to the scary image of a grim man. Yellow eyes stared down at me from a half bald head, black hair sticking up on top.
Why, in the name of Ixaris, was there an orc in my uncle’s house?
I wasn’t about to wait around and ask him. Not when one squeeze of his hand would crush my head like a cherry tomato. Swallowing my scream and the fear — not debilitating, unlike when I’d seen the ghost — I darted through a small gap between him and the door frame and set out at a dead sprint for the front door. “Wait!” he yelled from behind me, his voice husky and deep.
My feet didn’t stall at the command. However, theydidstall when I ran head first into what felt like a wall. Jolting back, pain exploded in my nose as it leaked blood all over my clothing. I’d lost my balance the second I hit, and I fell back to land hard on my tailbone.
