Page 84 of Lost in the Dark

The bird tipped its head from side-to-side.

Slowly, she reached out and trailed her finger along a smooth wing. For a moment, she basked in the bird’s extraordinary trust. “Gods bless you, little dove. I hope you fly away from this place, for there’s no shelter here.”

She stayed beside the bird until it had eaten its fill and flown away, then she closed the window.

She didn’t bother to pull the curtains.

Instead, she took off her dress and laid it carefully on the foot of her bed, the skirt brushing the drops of dried blood dotting the floor. She thought about taking off the jewelryhe’dgiven her, but no, she’d keep her word and leave the piece at her throat while she denied him the pleasure of her death.

Clad only in her chemise and necklace, she placed another log on the fire, ensuring it would burn well into the night.

“I’ll look my fate in the eye before I die,” she whispered.

Climbing onto the bed, she laid on top of the blankets. Flat on her back, arms and legs spread. She was done fighting. Done cleaning and struggling for a place she’d never hold. She’d walked into the dining room and seen the monstrous, trollish forms of his Lordship and Enulf.

Now, she would face the mora.

***

Anna woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of a strange sound. A gurgle, perhaps. Like the slow, desperate pump of a fallen deer, its insides exposed to the world as the hunter readied the knife over its heart.

Breath stilled in her chest.

“You’re here,” she said flatly.

We come, a voice replied. Or perhaps it was two? Melding and twisting through the air like a cold draft.We are here.

The mora had come to claim her, and she would oblige.

“Then be welcome.” She opened her eyes and stared at the firelight flickering on the ceiling. “I’ve no more desire to hide. No husband. No home. I’ll make a poor meal, spirits. But take what’s left of my life and be done with it.”

To the demons with Lord Rathbytten and his brother. Their toll had decided to deny them her suffering.

Make you a queen,one of the mora whispered.

Lies, lies around your neck, said another, voice like the rustle of long grasses in the wind.

Trapped us, all of us, a third cried, sounding like the child who’d pleaded with her last night.

Her brow furrowed.

Why had they not struck already? She was easy prey—exposed, lying atop her sheets in passive acceptance. Why did they wait? She slowly lifted herself onto her elbows and faced the end of her bed.

Three figures stood there.

No—four. Five.

Six.

Six shadows formed of dust and fractured light. All clad in long, tattered gowns, they seemed to drift about the floorboards, hovering as might a bird on a breeze. Some were so faint they disappeared in the flicker of firelight, while others appeared as solid as her sisters in the room they’d shared.

Anna swallowed hard. “What…what do you want from me?”

Listen, they whispered.Listen, listen, listen.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she studied the spirits at the foot of her bed.

They looked like banshees, with the shades of their faces more skull than person and hair floating around them, tendrils waving as if alive. Yet she caught glimpses of who they’d been in life—beautiful women, with skin every shade beneath the sun—and none appeared angry. No. They seemed…sad. Wistful. And unlike Rathbytten, they made no move against her, showed no claws or fangs.

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