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Clover and Kerrigan looked at each other. Then they both shrugged. It was as close to a yes as they’d get.
Fordham sighed. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here. There’s dust on the front steps.”
“Maybe we should go through the back?”
Clover squeaked.
“Why don’t you be the lookout?” Fordham suggested to Clover.
She visibly relaxed at the suggestion and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be the lookout.”
Kerrigan followed Fordham to the back side of the enormous black house. The black paint was chipping, some of the windows were busted, and the house groaned loudly in anticipation of their arrival. Goose bumps erupted on her arms, and she tried to tamp down her mounting fear.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” she whispered to Fordham as he took the first step up. She latched on to his arm to stop him. “Maybe I heard what they said wrong.”
“You didn’t hear wrong.” His eyes bored into hers. “Do I have to go in there alone?”
“No,” she said. “No, I’ll go. You just didn’t grow up with fear of this place.”
“Then aren’t you lucky I’m here to dispel your fears?”
“I guess,” she muttered as he tugged her up the stairs.
Once they reached the wobbly porch, she released him and tiptoed across the boards to the back door. This was as far as she had ever made it at Black House. She had touched the front door, not necessarily the back, where the shadows were darker and deeper.
“There’s no one inside,” Fordham whispered, peering into the window. “It looks empty.”
“Maybe they just house the weapons here?”
Fordham went to the door. “This is a new lock.”
“That’s promising. Need me to—”
Before she could ask him if he needed help with breaking in, the lock clicked in his hand, and he pressed the door open. Fordham entered first, igniting a small flame in his palm and stepping over the threshold.
Kerrigan gulped. The hair rose on the back of her neck. But she pushed through, determined to master her fear. That was what she had been doing every day of her life since she had spoken with Cyrene. If she could just master her fear, she’d do great things. She’d taken that to heart, lived by it. And she needed it now.
The inside of Black House looked like… a house. An old, dilapidated, musty, half-destroyed house but still just a house. She straightened her spine and continued forward into a large, empty den. She followed close on Fordham’s heels into a formal dining room, complete with an eerie chandelier missing most of its grandeur.
“There’s no dust in here,” Fordham acknowledged, his voice still pitched low.
Kerrigan blinked and held her own flame out in front of her. Despite the ramshackle exterior, the inside actually was relatively clean. That was strange.
“None in here either,” he said from the next room over.
She heard him stomp around the rest of the floor while she remained in the formal dining room, confused and more than a little creeped out. A phantom breeze brushed across her neck. She shivered and swatted at it, using her magic to stop it… but it didn’t stop.
“Fordham,” she whispered.
He clomped up the unstable stairs. She cringed.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped precipitously. The farther up the stairs he went, the colder it got. Until her fingers and lips were numb. She breathed out in front of her and could see the cloud of smoke from her breath. It was the beginning of summer.
“Fordham,” she said, louder this time, her voice full of panic.
A giggle rang out behind her. Kerrigan whipped around, but there was nothing there. Then, she felt a tug on her hair. She turned around again …but still, nothing there.
She backed up until her back hit the wall in the dining room. Her chest heaved painfully up and down as her heartrate skyrocketed.
The wind picked up until she felt like she was outside. The torrent whipped her hair into her face and tried to lash her off the wall. But she held firm, paralyzed by her own fear. She had tried so hard to appear unmoved by all of this. To pretend as if she didn’t truly believe. Yet here she was, in Black House… being haunted.
“I mean you no harm!”
She willed her eyes shut and muttered nonsensically to herself as the wind swirled. She heard something break through the noise. Fordham was coming back downstairs.
Just as he reached the last step, the wind disappeared, and Kerrigan felt the presence in the room leave with it.
Fordham strode back in with a shake of his head. “It’s empty. The whole place is empty.”
“Empty,” she whispered.
“It looks like there might have been weapons here once, but they’re gone.”
“Right.”
“And no ghosts,” he said with a smile that would have made her knees weak if they weren’t already ready to collapse. His smile faltered. “What happened?”
“Uh… nothing.”
He frowned. “Let’s get you out of here. This is a dead end. No closer to finding out who killed Lyam or why they want you dead.”
