attic, surrounded by thousands of things for which the household had no immediate need—stacks of beds, wardrobes, and mirrors stretched in all directions.
He heard a scraping sound and found Susan reaching into a space beneath a floorboard. From there she removed Eleanor—the corncob doll Yorik had made for her years before. She stroked the worn yarn of Eleanor’s hair and gazed out a garret window into the night.
Yorik crouched, hidden in a wardrobe, watching.
The two Dark Ones crept near Susan.
You are all alone in the world, girl
.
Susan began humming softly.
You should have stopped him from killing your brother. Your brother’s death is your fault
.
With gentle fingers, Susan combed Eleanor’s hair.
Yorik stood, putting a hand in his pocket. A few of Erde’s mud-balls were there, made by her for his protection.
You are only a weak little girl. Your master is going to turn you out into the snow
.
Yorik withdrew two mud-balls.
You should slip the poison into his drink!
the dark voids hissed.
Yorik put one hand back to throw, then stopped as he saw his sister’s soft smile. She continued humming as she carefully straightened Eleanor’s homespun dress.
The Dark Ones bristled and pulsed. Then there were more, four more, fading in from the corners. Too many for Yorik’s mud-balls. They gabbled and cried, surrounding Susan and chanting horrible fears at her. He had seen them do the same thing with Thomas, to deadly effect.
And then Susan sang. In a clear, high voice, she sang, looking out into the night. Yorik knew the song—a lament their father had taught them, an old song in a dead language from across the sea.
The Dark Ones’ babbling taunts faded away. Slowly, silently, they disappeared back into the shadows.
Susan kissed Eleanor, laid her beneath the floorboard, and crept away.
Not that night, nor on any night to come, did they gain control of Susan. They failed, just as they had with Yorik in the water garden. Gradually, they gave up trying. Yorik watched, and wondered why this was.
The Dark Ones did not fail with others in the Manor. Gradually their control and their numbers increased. Yorik noticed that some of them had even stationed themselves in a scattered circle around the aviary glade.
The Princess wasn’t worried. “They know better than to get too close,” she sniffed from her sycamore throne. “By the way, if that other boy is coming back, it should be soon.”
“Won’t he be in danger?” asked Yorik, remembering what happend to Doris.
“I should say so,” chuckled the Princess, chewing absently on the end of her twig. “Sounds like theypossessed him once already. He’s forever vulnerable now. They’d only have to touch him to get him back.”
And so Yorik began to wait below the balcony where Master Thomas had fallen.
Chapter Ten
A summer breeze swirled through the courtyard. Yorik waited, crouched on the balls of his feet. Nearby, Hatch paced relentlessly, sniffing the wind.
This was the sixth night that Yorik had waited below Thomas’s balcony, arriving after sunset and waiting until dawn. He found that being dead gave him patience enough to do this night after night, while Hatch stood guard.
The hound stopped pacing. He growled into the shadows.
Yorik tensed. From around a corner of the courtyard, toward the front of the Manor, electric torch beams sliced through the darkness, and voices argued.
Yorik relaxed. Whatever it was, it was the business of the living. He turned his attention back to the flagstones.
A ghost lay there, where moments ago there had been nothing.
Thomas opened his eyes.
“Welcome back,” said Yorik, not quite able to keep the anger out of his voice.
Thomas attempted to sit up. His hands waved helplessly over the flagstones. “Wh—” he said thickly.
Yorik eyed the struggling boy. “It’s not so bad. Just one broken neck, that’s all. I broke that and more when I fell. Anyway, the Princess will fix you.”
“B—”
He heard a scraping sound and found Susan reaching into a space beneath a floorboard. From there she removed Eleanor—the corncob doll Yorik had made for her years before. She stroked the worn yarn of Eleanor’s hair and gazed out a garret window into the night.
Yorik crouched, hidden in a wardrobe, watching.
The two Dark Ones crept near Susan.
You are all alone in the world, girl
.
Susan began humming softly.
You should have stopped him from killing your brother. Your brother’s death is your fault
.
With gentle fingers, Susan combed Eleanor’s hair.
Yorik stood, putting a hand in his pocket. A few of Erde’s mud-balls were there, made by her for his protection.
You are only a weak little girl. Your master is going to turn you out into the snow
.
Yorik withdrew two mud-balls.
You should slip the poison into his drink!
the dark voids hissed.
Yorik put one hand back to throw, then stopped as he saw his sister’s soft smile. She continued humming as she carefully straightened Eleanor’s homespun dress.
The Dark Ones bristled and pulsed. Then there were more, four more, fading in from the corners. Too many for Yorik’s mud-balls. They gabbled and cried, surrounding Susan and chanting horrible fears at her. He had seen them do the same thing with Thomas, to deadly effect.
And then Susan sang. In a clear, high voice, she sang, looking out into the night. Yorik knew the song—a lament their father had taught them, an old song in a dead language from across the sea.
The Dark Ones’ babbling taunts faded away. Slowly, silently, they disappeared back into the shadows.
Susan kissed Eleanor, laid her beneath the floorboard, and crept away.
Not that night, nor on any night to come, did they gain control of Susan. They failed, just as they had with Yorik in the water garden. Gradually, they gave up trying. Yorik watched, and wondered why this was.
The Dark Ones did not fail with others in the Manor. Gradually their control and their numbers increased. Yorik noticed that some of them had even stationed themselves in a scattered circle around the aviary glade.
The Princess wasn’t worried. “They know better than to get too close,” she sniffed from her sycamore throne. “By the way, if that other boy is coming back, it should be soon.”
“Won’t he be in danger?” asked Yorik, remembering what happend to Doris.
“I should say so,” chuckled the Princess, chewing absently on the end of her twig. “Sounds like theypossessed him once already. He’s forever vulnerable now. They’d only have to touch him to get him back.”
And so Yorik began to wait below the balcony where Master Thomas had fallen.
Chapter Ten
A summer breeze swirled through the courtyard. Yorik waited, crouched on the balls of his feet. Nearby, Hatch paced relentlessly, sniffing the wind.
This was the sixth night that Yorik had waited below Thomas’s balcony, arriving after sunset and waiting until dawn. He found that being dead gave him patience enough to do this night after night, while Hatch stood guard.
The hound stopped pacing. He growled into the shadows.
Yorik tensed. From around a corner of the courtyard, toward the front of the Manor, electric torch beams sliced through the darkness, and voices argued.
Yorik relaxed. Whatever it was, it was the business of the living. He turned his attention back to the flagstones.
A ghost lay there, where moments ago there had been nothing.
Thomas opened his eyes.
“Welcome back,” said Yorik, not quite able to keep the anger out of his voice.
Thomas attempted to sit up. His hands waved helplessly over the flagstones. “Wh—” he said thickly.
Yorik eyed the struggling boy. “It’s not so bad. Just one broken neck, that’s all. I broke that and more when I fell. Anyway, the Princess will fix you.”
“B—”
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