The house itself is a simple structure, a door right there in the middle, a slanted roof that has stains of calcium streaked through it, and a puddle on the ground that seems to have sagged the stone floor beneath the eave’s edge. I’m not sure what color the stone bricks really are that make up the structure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they soaked in the glow and began sprouting their own light.
Slade gives me a moment to take it all in, and then we’re moving again, heading straight for it. Except…
That buzzing sound is still in my ears.
Either my time outside that cell door traumatized me more than I realized, or…
No. It’s not the buzzing sound of flies rooting for a putrid meal. It’s an incessant, low hum, and it’s very much real.
“What’s that noise?” I ask, but my body has turned, feet still moving, heading around the house instead of toward it. The noise is coming from somewhere back there, somewhere past the curve of the cave where I can’t see. It’s louder now, a sound so low that I can feel it from the bones in my feet to the skull of my head.
Closer. I need to get closer. I need to get to—
A hand stops me, snapping me out of my daze. “Come this way, Auren.”
Slade’s voice makes the hum’s pitch turn to near nothing.
I shake my head at myself, letting him bring me back toward the house. Yet the strange pull I feel makes me look over my shoulder, and when I do, the hum rises ever so slightly.
I wrench my head to face forward again, my pulse pounding. “What is that?” I ask, drawing my hands up to ward off a chill that’s spread over my entire body.
“One thing at a time.” Slade glances down at me just as we reach the door of the house. “Ready?”
“How can I be?” I ask frankly.
“Fair point,” he concedes, but then he takes my hand in his. My stomach jolts at the gesture, and I look down at our entwined fingers, as if I’m making sure he really did it. If we were about to go to a lover’s house or a secret wife or a favored saddle, he wouldn’t hold my hand…
Right?
Before my stomach can churn itself right up my throat, Slade opens the door.
No knock. No calling out. Just turns a creaking knob and lets himself in. The heels of my shoes seem to stick with dread as I enter, and I try to prepare myself. Try to shove away my emotions and raise walls so that no matter what hits me, I’ll stay standing.
The first thing I notice is the warmth and the comforting firelight. It permeates the entire open floor home, so I can see everything from one end to the other. Which isn’t surprising, considering there’s a huge fireplace that dominates the wall directly ahead of us, and the whole house comprises one large square space.
There’s a bed in the far corner, with a carved partition placed in front of it so that only the foot is visible, a bright yellow knitted blanket flung over the mattress. Directly across from the bed are two cushioned chairs on a rug before the fire, and a small round table between them where a teacup sits on top.
To our left is an open kitchen with a narrow shelf countertop and an iron stove that’s gone cold, with a washbasin directly beside it. Just past the small round dining table is a set of shelves no higher than my shoulders, every inch of them taken up with books.
For a moment, I’m so caught up in tracking every little detail in the house, that I don’t even see the person sitting in one of the chairs in front of the fire until I catch movement. All I can see is the back of a head at first, and my fingers dig into Slade’s hand.
Slade clears his throat, and the head tilts in a movement of acknowledgement, but not startled. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you.”
The person in the chair turns, and my fingers squeeze Slade’s hand even harder when they get up and turn to face us.
My eyes go wide.
She’s beautiful.
She’s young, maybe around my age, yet petite, like every single bone is delicate. She has pale skin and big eyes, black hair tucked back into a loose ponytail that rests at her nape. She looks to Slade, and her face splits into a smile that drives a knife through my chest because of how heartbreakingly joyful it looks.
She crosses the room and throws her arms around him, me yanking my hand from his with only a split second to spare.
I watch as they embrace, feeling completely out of place, like I’m watching something too private.
She pulls away, beaming up at him, and while Slade takes hold of her fragile hand, he turns to me. “Auren,” he begins, and my heart feels like it’s going to either burst or break, I’m not sure which. “I’d like you to meet my mother.”