Her teeth were chattering as she forced herself onto shaky feet. While she would have loved to stand tall before the woman, she had to draw a blanket from the floor and wrap it around herself as she walked, desperate for the mere promise of warmth. She swayed, and while she wasn’t coughing up blood this time, a glance out of the corner of her eye revealed that the color was leaching from her hair, once again turning it silver. She’d have to worry about that later.
Having been focused solely on trying to save her own life, Signa hadn’t gotten the best look at the spirit. As she stood before her now, the woman wasn’t quite as old as she’d thought, perhaps in her sixties. She had an intense widow’s peak, and a permanent scowl that created deep crevices around her lips and forehead. Her shrewd lips were painted crimson, and the look in her eyes was nothing short of contempt as Signa approached and asked, “Who are you?”
“I have waited twenty years for you to walk through those doors.” The spirit’s voice was tight and cruel, and it reminded Signa so much of her late aunt Magda that her stomach flipped.
“You have two options,” Signa began, allowing herself to lean in to how natural the words felt, riled by the threat and the powers coursing through her. “You will release your grip on this world and move on to the afterlife, or you can be removed by force. Should you choose the second option, know that your soul will come to a permanent end.”
The spirit didn’t drop her gaze from Signa’s as she said, “The moment he releases his hold on me, I will try to kill you again and again, until you join me on the other side.”
Signa was grateful for the blanket draped around her and for the fact that she was already shivering so that the spirit wouldn’t know the effect those words had.
Perhaps she’d been a fool not to inspect the remainder of the manor before she slept. With the presence of her parents lingering in every inch of Foxglove, she’d wanted to crawl into a space of her own and settle. But it wasn’t only herself she had to think about now, and with a start Signa thought of Elaine, alone in the servants’ quarters without a soul to help her.
Right then Signa did not feel the stirrings of Life’s powers within her. She felt every bit a reaper as she looked upon Death and commanded, “Take her,” before she fled the room without waiting to see his scythe fall.
Signa dropped the blankets somewhere behind her and ran to the servants’ quarters. With the storm raging outside, the sky was so dark that Signa hadn’t the faintest clue what time it was as she raced down the stairs. The cold floor against her bare feet did little to ease her shivering, but nothing could slow her until, finally, she saw Elaine seated at a table near the kitchen, still in her nightgown as she sipped from a steaming cup of coffee. The woman half yelped when she noticed Signa.
Alone. Elaine was perfectly, wonderfully alone.
“Miss Farrow!” Elaine held one hand to her heart, the other nearly spilling her coffee. “You gave me a fright!” She must have noticed Signa’s shivering then, for her eyes narrowed. “Has something happened? Heavens, what have you done to your hair?”
Signa tried to push silver strands back. “Yes,” she answered slowly, not having thought this far ahead. She’d expected that if she were being harassed, then surely Elaine would be, too. Signa had to shake her head to right herself, worrying her bottom lip. “I apologize for barging in. I heard an awful noise and needed to check that you were well.”
Elaine’s face relaxed. “I’m sure it was only the wuthering that you heard.” She started to reach for Signa’s hand, but Signa flinched back. She had been using her powers only moments before—if any effect of them remained, the last thing she wanted was to harm Elaine.
“The manor is large,” Elaine began gently, not seeming at all offended. “And it’s new to us both. I admit that I didn’t sleep as well as I should have, either. But one day soon I’m certain we’ll both feel comfortable here, especially once… Miss Farrow, do you hear a piano?”
Sure enough, there was most certainly the distinctive sound of an untuned piano playing above them.
Signa felt every bit like one of Fate’s marionettes as she forced an unwilling smile to her lips. “As you said, I’m sure it’s only the wuthering.”
“Shall we investigate?” Elaine asked with grim severity, beginning to stand. Signa quickly waved her back down.
“I would much rather you begin breakfast once you’re done with your coffee.” It was far too early, and her stomach much too queasy for food. But she had to keep Elaine occupied while she sought out the source of the sound.