Page 7 of An Inheritance of Monsters

I whipped around, my eyes wide, but nothing was there. Just an empty, slightly dusty corner. “Hello?”

Nothing answered, but another soft touch brushed my ankle. The darkness was encroaching, as though the sun itself had gone out and the clock had flipped directly to midnight.

I barely breathed as the winding contact trailed upwards, exploratory touches caressing my calves, then my knees… and finally my thighs, tickling the inside of my legs.

It was like fingertips stroking against me.

I couldn’t see what it was, only the pervasive black that pressed in on my eyeballs.

I hadn’t seen a single ghost since I’d stepped foot on the island. But whatever this was, it was no ghost. It was real.

This was aphysicaltouch, something slithering along the floor as it reached for me—and there was a vague sense of cool appraisal, as though whatever was making contact was assessing me.

Examiningme.

I closed my eyes, reaching out, and took a step away from the searching shadows. Then another.

Something hissed, a displeased exhale that stirred the hair near my face, and the shadows seemed to grip me, trying to hold me in place. They clung to my legs, plucked at my clothes, my ponytail swinging in invisible hands…

Then I felt the open door, and practically stumbled through. The other side of the hall met my hands and I finally opened my eyes.

The lights were back on, the sun filtering through a window at the far end of the hall.

Mrs. Marsh and her group were at the other end, all of them staring at me. Porter wore a tight, smug smile, as though already picturing his next takedown.

Carson let out a soft laugh. “Seeing ghosts already, Juno?”

Whatever had touched me had been no ghost. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that.

But Mrs. Marsh just smiled. “There are a lot of mysteries surrounding this house.”

Something in the room behind mebreathed. And it sounded like my name.

Juno.

I hurried after the group, back into the sun.

Chapter3

Juno

The manor was an insane warren.

Mrs. Marsh led us all over, giving us a brief overview of the history behind it. And for every room with a point to it—such as the glass greenhouse packed with orchids, where Ruby Marsh had vanished into thin air over 150 years ago—there was a feature with no point at all.

Such as the door in the kitchen that opened up onto a solid brick wall—behind which was the cellar, so it had been unnecessary to warn us away.

Or the beautiful spiral staircase above the foyer.

We walked up that one three abreast, expecting a grand ballroom at the top. But Mrs. Marsh pushed open a door that led into pure darkness.

There was nothing but a shaft behind it, dropping down a sheer four stories.

That door came with a warning not to fuck with it, phrased in much nicer terms.

As Mrs. Marsh told us, it was said that Aston Clarke, the fiance of Ivy’s daughter Beatrix, had walked through those doors shortly after Beatrix had broken off their engagement.

When his body had been recovered, his bones and organs had essentially been liquified from the force of the fall.

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