Page 43 of An Inheritance of Monsters

But he took my hand again. “I’m serious, Juno—keep it going. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” I whispered. “Call me as soon as you can, okay?”

He nodded, but the medic was already injecting something into his arm, and a sleepy cast came over his face. “Nos vemos.”

I stood back, wrapping my arms around myself, as Sierra trudged back towards the manor.

Soon the boat was heading back towards the distant horizon… across a bay that was beginning to glimmer with new sunlight.

I frowned at the water as the boat vanished from sight.

“Odd, isn’t it?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized Mrs. Marsh had not left with Sierra. She stood next to me, looking out at the bay. Raindrops glittered in her white hair.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” I didn’t bother to keep the grudging tone out of my voice. It really had been like the storm had stuck around long enough to hurt Crispy, and once its plan was fulfilled, that was it.

“We should return. Your friend is in good hands, but there’s a chance it’ll begin raining again—ah, there it is.”

She held out a hand, and rain began softly pattering down once more, the clouds overhead coming together to block out the sun.

We returned to the manor together, and by the time we reached the doors, the rain was coming down steady and hard.

Mrs. Marsh’s white hair had come free from its bun and poured down her back in a thick wave.

In the dim light, as she turned to look back at me, I had the sudden impression that she was ayoungwoman leading me back to the manor, her eyes blue as the sea, hair like spun silver.

We passed under a lamp in the front gates, and the illusion faded. She was an old woman once more.

I didn’t want to say this place was playing tricks on my mind… but perhaps it was.

“Come into the kitchen, love. I’ll put on some fresh tea.”

I didn’t have the energy to protest. My shoulders and back ached, and something had occurred to me on the walk back.

With Crispy gone, I no longer had a single friend on the island—only a circle of enemies, each one with a good reason to drive a knife in my back.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Mrs. Marsh sat me at the table, where Crispy’s camera lay discarded, and as she bustled around the kitchen, I reached out for it and flipped it on.

It was functional, at least. His coat had protected it from the driving rain.

But when I tried to pull up the footage from this afternoon, I found nothing. The entire memory card had been wiped clean.

A harsh laugh grated out of me as I tossed the camera back on the coat. Who could say which one had done it?

Carson and Jack seemed most likely, but I wouldn’t put it past Eloise or Porter. Rosalie had nothing against us, it seemed, but looks could be deceiving.

And yet there was no way to prove who had erased half a day’s worth of footage. I’d have to start all over without Crispy’s perfectionistic tendencies to guide me.

“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Marsh slid a saucer with a steaming tea cup in front of me. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with chamomile and rosehips.

We were alone. The occasional echoing voice carried to us, but… alone.

“What aren’t you telling me about this island, Mrs. Marsh?” I asked bluntly. “Do you know I see ghosts? It’s not something I bring up on our channel, so it shouldn’t be common knowledge. I see them on your island—but only around those statues. I see… other things, too.”

I wasn’t yet willing to say the word ‘monsters’ aloud. Ghosts were one thing, but monsters?

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