by Lindsey Duga
The corridor was long with few windows letting in daylight, so the gloom toward the end of the hall was concealing and mysterious. Emily wanted to back away, but she forced herself to move forward. It made her feel better that Archie wasn’t whimpering or growling.
Three steps farther and she could see a shape; one step farther, and she could distinctly make out the form of a woman.
Emily gave a start. Mrs. Thornton!
But Emily had barely seen Mrs. Thornton beyond the first floor and a few rooms on the second floor, including her own. What was she doing so far back here?
The light shifted beyond the windows, making something in Mrs. Thornton’s hands sparkle. In fluid movements, like Mrs. Thornton had done it a thousand times, she stuck the item in her hands into the door, turned it, then withdrew it and reached back, clasping the object around her neck.
For a moment, Emily was simply stunned. The strangely shaped pendant that Mrs. Thornton always wore and fiddled with was a key. She wasn’t sure why she’d never realized it before. Maybe because it was so different from any other key she’d ever seen. But now that she thought about it, it had teeth like keys, and the size and shape were right.
Relieved that the mysterious figure hadn’t been something else, Emily started down the hallway. “Mrs. Thorn—Mama!” She called.
Mrs. Thornton looked up, surprise sharpening her lovely, delicate features. Emily noticed immediately she didn’t look as strong or as happy as she had the evening before, when they’d been going over Emily’s wardrobe. Instead, Mrs. Thornton was pale, with dark circles under her eyes.
“E-Emily, dear.” Mrs. Thornton stumbled over Emily’s name, her smile shaky as she looked down at her adopted daughter. “What are you doing up here? Haven’t you had enough of this floor? I swear, it’s as if everything is falling apart.”
“What?” Emily asked. She hadn’t even mentioned the well to Mrs. Thornton yet, but besides that and the bookshelf, what else was falling apart?
“Nothing to concern yourself with, dear.” Leaning down, Mrs. Thornton patted her shoulder. “Come, let’s steal a few almond scones with honey from Miss Greer. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
Of course Emily wouldn’t say no to a treat like that, but she couldn’t stop staring at the shiny skeleton key about Mrs. Thornton’s swanlike neck. “Is that a key, ma’am? What does it open?”
The reaction was stronger than Emily had been expecting. Mrs. Thornton drew back, her thin hand clawing at the strange pendant and squeezing it tightly. “This is—It’s a special key, Emily. I must always have it with me. Do you understand?”
Emily didn’t understand, but Mrs. Thornton gripped her shoulder in a way that made it clear that no more questions should be asked.
The next day Emily didn’t go on the third floor. In fact, she didn’t explore the manor at all. She sat curled up in a chair in the scullery, watching Miss Greer cook. Occasionally she helped out with simple tasks like washing the vegetables or shucking the peas, but Miss Greer wouldn’t let her do much more than that.
“Miss Emily, are you sure you don’t have someplace else you’d rather go play?” Miss Greer asked for the fourth time.
The truth was that there were dozens of things she’d rather be doing and exploring. There were still easily fifty more rooms she hadn’t seen—including, of course, the forbidden room at the end of the west wing on the third floor—but she also felt like there was a dark cloud of bad luck hovering over her head. She worried that whatever room she would visit, she’d break something or rip another one of her dresses. It was superstition, but she couldn’t help but want to stay in the safety and the sunlight of Miss Greer’s scullery.
That, and she feared the shadows lurking. Waiting for her, in her mind or in the house, she wasn’t sure which. But she didn’t want to see them again. Even her own room felt foreboding at times. Especially at night, when it would get so cold and the noises from the mysterious room above her would be loud enough for Emily to hear, but soft enough never to be sure what they were.
So Emily just shook her head and spent the day peaceful, albeit a little bored.
By the time supper rolled around, Miss Greer insisted that Emily not stay in the scullery the following day. She claimed young girls needed their exercise, but Emily suspected she was simply annoyed by all of Emily’s questions and musings.
“The Thorntons will be visiting some friends tomorrow, so you will need to find another way to occupy yourself. And don’t worry, Mrs. Thornton has already requested a governess, so come September you will have studies to attend to.”
Emily wished that it was already September. It wasn’t that she was excited to have a governess or studies again— not that she particularly minded them—but then it would mean that there was someone with her instead of being alone in this great old house that already seemed to dislike her.
Not that a house could have feelings.
Of course the thought crossed her mind to spend time with Kat, but the truth was that bad things seemed to happen with her nearby. It was as if Kat were a bad luck charm herself. Plus, she didn’t know how to find Kat or even where she lived. The girl just seemed to pop up out of nowhere.
The following day, with Mr. and Mrs. Thornton off in London visiting friends, and Miss Greer working on laundry, Emily and Archie sat in a drawing room a few doors down from Mr. Thornton’s study. It was one of the few rooms in the whole house that wasn’t covered head to foot in dust and cobwebs. According to Miss Greer, it was where Mrs. Thornton spent a lot of time doing embroidery and sketching. Emily had even found some paper and a charcoal pencil to use.
“Sit just there, Archie. Now stay,” Emily commanded, signaling with her palm to make Archie stay.
But the lazy bones wasn’t going anywhere. He was curled up in the middle of the rug with his eyes closed and was practically snoozing in the late-morning sunlight coming through the window.
Tongue between her teeth, Emily began to sketch the rough shape of Archie on the floor. A few minutes into her sketching, she realized she didn’t have a talent for it at all.
Suddenly a voice said, “That’s rubbish, isn’t it?”
Nearly jumping up, Emily jerked around to find Kat leaning over the back of the chair and looking at Emily’s sketch with a small smirk.
Emily gave a nervous laugh as Archie lifted his head from the rug, a growl starting in his throat as his tail thumped heavily on the carpet.
“You startled me!”
“Maybe you were concentrating too hard, but I’m not surprised you didn’t hear me. I’m quite good at sneaking up on people.”
Emily didn’t doubt it. Quickly, she tried to tuck away her awful drawing, knowing that Kat would make fun of it. But Kat was too fast and snatched the drawing away.
“Oh, yes, that’s just dreadful,” Kat critiqued.
Emily’s cheeks grew warm and she scowled. “I know. It’s my first time.”
Kat handed her back the drawing with a thoughtful look. “Do you like art, Emily? Do you want to see some beautiful paintings?”
“Sure,” Emily answered. She had her doubts, going exploring with Kat again, but she knew that everything that had happened were just accidents and Emily couldn’t blame her one and only human friend for a bunch of bad luck. Besides, she was rather excited at the prospect of seeing paintings. Even though Emily had rarely dealt with the arts like painting, music, or works of fiction, she’d always admired them and the people who could create them.
Getting up from the chair, Emily turned to Archie. “You coming, boy?”
“Leave him here,” Kat instructed. “You don’t want him to knock over anything that’s priceless, do you?”
But Emily wanted Archie with her. She felt better with him by her side. So she folded her arms and frowned. “Archie will be fine. He’s a good boy.”
Kat waved her hand as if she couldn’t care less. “Fine, fine. Bring him along, then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
; Archie followed the two girls, and when Kat seemed to get too close to him, he would growl, his lips peeling back to show his teeth. Emily couldn’t understand why he didn’t like Kat so much. Maybe it was because Kat reminded him of someone from the orphanage or the streets of London who he didn’t like. Whatever the reason, he kept his distance from her.
They walked through the manor for a long time, Emily following Kat down the hall of the first floor deeper into the west wing than Emily had ever been.
After Kat instructed Emily on which key to use, they entered the room at the very end of the hall. It had great big bay windows with sunlight shining through, highlighting all the dust motes dancing in the air. There were dozens of large portraits leaned up against the walls, covered with sheets, and columns with ceramic vases, and busts of older lords and ladies that must be ancestors of the Thorntons lined the walls. Maybe they were even the original owners of Blackthorn.
For a few minutes, Emily forgot Kat had come along with her and Archie. The room was quiet and so bright and beautiful, it was as if she’d entered another world all on her own. In somewhat of a daze, Emily drifted over to one of the largest portraits and started to pull back the sheet that covered it. Emily barely caught a glimpse of what looked like a young child on a rocking horse before Kat tugged the sheet back over it.
“Not that one!” she snapped, and then she pushed Emily toward another set of paintings. “Look at these.”
Confused, but not wanting to get into an argument, Emily drew the sheet back on the other paintings. The sheet made a rustling sound as it slid away from the frames, and Emily could’ve sworn she heard a voice through the sound. “Look here, Emily.”
But this time the voice didn’t bother her. It was as if the paintings themselves were vying for her attention so she could admire their beauty. They were all oil paintings of forests, and they were absolutely magical. Big trees with large evergreen boughs, so grand and mighty that Emily would’ve bet that unicorns lived in those woods.
While she was absorbed in the artwork, completely enchanted by the rich colors, her fingers started to grow a little numb from the cold. Once again, the strange chill had returned, and Emily, startled at the sudden and intense drop in temperature, glanced around, about to ask Kat if she felt it, too.
Suddenly, Archie yipped in panic.
Emily turned to check on her friend just in time to see a massive ceramic vase just behind her wobble on its stand and then—
CRAAAACK.
Amazingly, Emily ducked out of the way at the exact last moment, but the vase still shattered, hitting the floor and bursting into a thousand pieces.
Emily stood there in shock for she wasn’t sure how long, the room completely empty. Kat had vanished. Eventually, she became aware of Archie licking her hand and the footsteps and call of Miss Greer from down the hall.
Miss Greer burst into the room; took one look at the shattered vase, Emily, and Archie; and gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Emily! What on earth—”
“Uh … u-um …” Emily stuttered. She couldn’t speak.
The housekeeper glanced from her, then to Archie at Emily’s side. “Emily, did Archie—”
“No!” Emily cried. “It was me, Miss Greer. I did it.”
Miss Greer fixed Emily with a cold, level stare. “I see,” she said slowly. “Go up to your room, Emily. Your parents will deal with you when they get home.”
Needless to say, Emily spent most of the evening trying hard not to cry. She let a few sniffles escape here and there, which were more of a result of frustration than anything else. It wasn’t her or Archie who had knocked over the vase, and yet she was going to get the blame for it. It was like being back at Evanshire’s with Agatha all over again. Emily couldn’t stand the unfairness of it all! And as much as she wanted to blame someone, she couldn’t blame Kat, either. The girl had been nowhere to be seen when the vase fell over. How could she have run away so quickly if it had been her?
Even though she was frustrated, it didn’t stop her from being terrified when there was a knock on her door that evening after an awkward and silent supper with Miss Greer.
It looked as if her parents were home at last. Would she get a beating? What would the Thorntons do to her?
“Emily?” Mrs. Thornton said softly as she entered the room.
Emily sat on the bed, with her arms around her legs and her chin tucked on top of her knees. “Yes, ma’am?”
Archie raised his head from the rug that he’d been lying on as Mrs. Thornton crossed to the bed and sat next to Emily.
“Miss Greer told me you broke a vase.”
Emily didn’t want to look at Mrs. Thornton, but from her tone, Emily couldn’t tell if she was angry or disappointed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry, ma’am.”
“Look at me, Emily.”
Reluctantly, Emily looked up at her adoptive mother with red-rimmed eyes. Mrs. Thornton took Emily’s cheeks in her hands and wiped away any lingering dampness with the pads of her thumbs. “Was it an accident?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then we must be more careful next time, mustn’t we?”
Emily sniffed. “Yes, ma’am.” Her voice was shaky, but she felt relief more than anything else.
“All right, dear.”
Then Mrs. Thornton kissed her forehead and said kindly, “Accidents happen, darling. I forgive you. Now get on to bed.”
Still somewhat in shock that a woman could be that kind and forgiving, Emily got into bed, and Mrs. Thornton tucked her in. She was still in a state of elated relief when Mrs. Thornton blew out the light and closed the door after her.
She was just beginning to fall asleep when her name was whispered through the darkness.
“Emily …”
Emily sat up in bed, heart pounding. “Who’s there?” she called into the gloom.
Archie growled and jumped on the bed with Emily, standing over her protectively.
“It’s me—Kat.”
Emily squinted and she could see the small figure of a girl at the edge of the bed. “Kat?” she asked, getting out of the bed and letting her bare feet touch the cold, cold floor.
As she came around the bed, Archie glued to her side, she did in fact feel a presence, but she still couldn’t make out a face. “I can’t see you,” Emily said.
Just as the words passed through her lips, the fireplace roared to life right next to her. The flames were so big and intense that the flying embers burned the hem of her nightgown. Emily gave a short cry of alarm and stumbled back, falling on her backside onto the rug. Archie licked her cheek and whined beside her.
In the light of the fire, Kat stood a few feet away and rushed over to Emily’s side. “Emily! Are you all right?”
Blearily, Emily batted at the smoking holes in the hem of her gown and let Kat help her to her feet. “I … I think so.”
“I wanted to come check on you, because I saw the vase.”
Even in the heat of the roaring fire, Kat’s hands were like ice. Emily extracted herself from the girl’s grasp and stared in wonder at the fire, which had seemed to ignite all on its own. “I’m all right, I think. Thank you for checking on me.”
Kat shook her head. “You need to be more careful, Emily.”
Everyone seemed to be telling her that. The only problem was that she never saw a reason to be careful until it was too late.
Several days passed in a state of ups and downs. One moment, Emily couldn’t believe her luck and happiness in finding a family such as the Thorntons, and then the next, she couldn’t be more terrified.
There were … things happening throughout the Blackthorn estate. It was as if the house itself were rejecting Emily. The bookshelf almost crushing her, the well crumbling away beneath her, the vase almost falling on her head, and the fireplace suddenly flaring to a roar and nearly scorching her nightgown.
In all of these accidents, Kat never noticed a thing, which led Emily to think that maybe it really was her imaginatio
n. But the bookshelf remained broken, the well half destroyed, the vase shattered to pieces … all those things were real. They happened.
And deep down, Emily knew the shadows were real, too.
She’d taken to calling them shadows even though they felt like more than that. They were alive—she just knew it. They called to her, haunted her nightmares, made Archie bark, growl, and snarl. She wanted to be as ferocious as her friend, but her courage failed her every time. When she thought she saw them wiggling in a dark corner, her blood would freeze and wouldn’t thaw until Archie licked or nuzzled her frozen hand.
The forbidden room above her bedroom also made strange thumps and footsteps that made Emily’s skin crawl. She could write off the footsteps as maybe the Thorntons walking around in their private room, but she sometimes heard soft weeping and, more than once, she saw the living shadows congregate on the ceiling in broad daylight when she was brushing her hair.
Then there were the giggles and the voices, too. Just small, distant whispers, so soft that many times Emily would ask herself if she’d heard anything at all. But then the cold would come and Emily would know that the words had not been inside her head.
“Emily? Emily, dear?”
Emily’s head jerked downward. She’d been staring at a corner of the ceiling, far away from the chandelier light. She could have sworn she saw a moving shadow ripple across the molding.
Mr. Thornton sat to her left, frowning behind his dark mustache. “Emily, are you quite all right?”
She swallowed. The chicken she’d been chewing slid down her throat, a tasteless lump. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Perhaps you should go to bed early tonight.”
Emily glanced at Mrs. Thornton. She was moving food around on her plate, barely eating anything at all. She, too, looked pale and tired, but Mr. Thornton was maybe used to his wife looking like that.
“Yes, I think I’ll do that,” Emily said, her voice meek. She tried not to look back up at the ceiling.
“She probably hasn’t been getting a lick of sleep,” Miss Greer boomed, coming around behind Emily’s chair and dropping another steaming roll onto her plate, even though Emily clearly didn’t have an appetite.
