Page 75 of From the Darkness

“Go,” he ordered, while he had the strength to send her away. “And make sure Martindale and Graves don’t see you.”

“Yes. All right.”

She was magnificent, he thought. Doing what he asked without hesitation.

Her coming here had made the difference for him. She’d pulled him out of his long lethargy—made him feel real and alive. Today she was making it possible for him to set the balance of things right.

He watched her run back toward the house. When she had disappeared, he focused his attention elsewhere—calling up the wind and the storm clouds in preparation for his part of the drama that was going to be enacted here very soon.

***

Bree stumbled toward the house, tears choking her throat and blinding her vision. Desperately, she tried to outrun Troy’s words.

They weren’t true. They couldn’t be true.

Not now. Not when the two of them had finally found each other again.

But deep in the secret, hidden part of herself, she couldn’t deny his logic.

As she ran through the garden, the dark clouds grew more ominous in the sky.

It was going to storm, she thought with one part of her mind. Yes, a bad storm was brewing. Just like Troy had told Dinah.

As she reached the back door, she stopped and wiped her eyes before pulling a tissue from her pocket. Troy had asked her to cut off the electricity. He had asked her to do it without Graves or Mrs. Martindale seeing her. Cautiously, she approached the back door, then peeped in the window, looking for the housekeeper.

When she saw the kitchen was empty, she opened the door and stepped inside and took a moment to get her bearings. She’d never been in the pantry, but maybe it was on the other side of the room, behind the closed door.

She had almost reached the door, when she heard footsteps behind her. Every muscle in her body froze. Then slowly, deliberately, she turned and found herself facing the housekeeper, who was looking at her with a dangerous expression on her wrinkled face. “I went up to the schoolroom, but you weren’t there. Now what are you up to?” she asked, her voice sharper than Bree had ever heard it.

For a moment, her mind went blank. She felt like a kid who’d been caught hooking school. Only this was a lot more serious. If the housekeeper knew she was up to something, Graves might be called on to take care of the problem, the way he’d taken care of two other problems this morning.

As she stood there, struggling not to let her fear show, words popped into her mouth. Widening her eyes, she said, “I . . . uh . . . didn’t get any breakfast, and I was hungry. I was coming down here to look for some of those hot cross buns you mentioned. Isn’t this the pantry?” She gestured toward the door. “I thought maybe I’d find them there.”

The housekeeper’s tense expression eased. “Yes, that’s the pantry. But the buns are in the bread box.”

She crossed the kitchen, opened a metal box on the counter, and took out a plate with the buns.

“Could I have two?” Bree asked. “You made them sound so good.”

“Yes. Of course.” Mrs. Martindale put two buns on a plate.

“And, uh, would it be too much trouble to get a cup of coffee?”

“No.” The housekeeper produced a mug and poured in coffee from the pot in the machine on the counter. “Milk and sugar?”

“Just milk, thanks,” Bree said politely, as though she had nothing more on her mind than her missed breakfast.

She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, taking a bite of her bun, then a sip of coffee. Looking out the window, she watched the clouds darkening.

“It looks like a storm’s coming up,” she murmured as she sipped her coffee, keeping her head bent so that the anxiety she knew was on her face didn’t show.

“Yes.” She felt the housekeeper’s gaze drilling into her and wondered how long she was going to stand there watching.

When the buzzer on the stove rang, they both jumped.

“Something in the oven?” Bree asked, although she didn’t smell anything cooking.

“No. I need to put the wash in the dryer.”

---