The brilliant sun doesn’t match the November chill in the breeze. The small alley behind the inn is lined with refuse. I run the long way around, the way he won’t anticipate, so I won’t pass the windows the gentlemen sat in front of.
The way back to the boat is a blur. I have no idea how I evaded him, or any of his accomplices, especially while holding my bags. Perhaps I haven’t. How easy would it be to follow me, unseen, so I can show them to my own front door?
I will kill Bridget. I will collect Liney. We will be done with the Devil, and we will leave this place for good, before Thomas or Mr. Pratterman or any man who dares grip my will can catch us.
The boat is still hidden in the brush outside of town. Setting my bags under the thwart is near rapturous to my muscles, but they won’t know rest for hours yet.
All I can do is act out each next step, one at a time. Then the horrid business will be over.
Terror doesn’t require cruelty, only commitment.
27Liney
To Open
I’m combing through the nooks and crannies of the lighthouse searching for the key to the basement when Bridget hollers in victory.
“I found it! One second I’m pacing, the next it’s sitting on that shelf exactly where I’msureI looked earlier,” she says, grinning as she presents me with an old iron key.
I’m surprised Elle would put the key in plain sight. I inspect the bookcase—it’s full of the last lighthouse keeper’s books. There’s no outline where Bridget found the key. It hasn’t been there long enough to accumulate dust. Did Elle move it? Make a quick trip down there and forget to hide it?
“Elle can’t know we’ve been down there,” I warn as Bridget wastes no time and kneels down to unlock it. “We’ll put it back exactly where we found it.”
“That’ll be hard to do with this.” Bridget shows me a small white ribbon that had been hidden within the lock, now poking out fromthe key’s prodding. It’s singed on one end, likely had only a couple of strands left to hold it together before it broke off. “Elle’s, I presume?”
I gave her the ribbon years ago as a birthday gift. She used to wear her hair up with it. Now she’s used it to signal my betrayal.
I can’t bring any fire down with us given the quantities of oil downstairs. We could blow the whole building up with one misplaced step. Instead, I find a sample I’d collected a few days back while combing the beach. It’s a microscopic alga that glows a beautiful cyan at night. Placed inside a lantern with water, it emits a soft glow.
“Like an anglerfish,” I mutter as we descend the old ladder into the basement.
It’s a smaller room than I imagined. I place my feet squarely on the floor, then move out of the way for Bridget. She jumps off the third-lowest ring of the ladder.
“Careful,” I whisper.
The room isn’t full of drums of oil. There’s no smell of vapors. This isn’t a recent change.
“You said there were—” Bridget begins, turning to me, but I shake my head before she can finish.
The light pulses in my lantern, its water disturbed by my movements. It illuminates the stone around us, but not much else. I reach out to one of the walls and trace over the rough surface. The air is dank, but the walls aren’t damp.
“But if there’s no oil, what’s fueling the light?” Bridget asks.
I’m as perplexed as she is. I’m halfway across the room when I spot something in the back corner. It’s white against the dark floor, a spiked lump.
“Something’s there,” I whisper, pointing. “See?”
Bridget strides forward, then freezes a foot from the pile. She reaches back and offers me her hand. I take it, shuffling closer.
“I don’t think the lighthouse keeper drowned,” she whispers, a quiverin her voice.
It’s bones. A pile of them, gleaming in the cool light. There’s the curve of ribs, holes through the pelvis, and a skull atop the rest. Bile collects at the back of my throat, making me cough. I’ve never seen a human skeleton. I want to clamber out of here, shut the door, forget this.
Elle has always been my savior with an edge. How could I know that edge was a knife?
My stomach turns. The kitchen knife. She’s so protective of it. She’s been serving me cod and preserved peaches with a murder weapon all these months. She forbade me this room so she could hide him from me. Lied to me. She knew I wouldn’t ask questions. Her good little sister would never go snooping where she doesn’t belong.
That night, while I was shivering in the boat, these white pieces were a man. Did he welcome her? Resist her? Threaten her? Or did Elle take advantage of him?
