“Thank you, Mr. Fielding,” Attie said. “This is more than enough for us.”
“Yes, thank you.” Iris smiled, but her stomach churned as she sat down. She met Attie’s gaze from across the table. She was thinking about the myth she had just sent with Tobias. A myth full of winding tunnels, deep in the ground.
This is a test to ensure the strike bars E and R are in good working condition.
ERERERERER EEEEEE RRRRRRRRRRRRR
RERERERERERE REEEEEEE?
* * *
Test confirmed and easily passed. （Although I thought we had agreed that I was to write first, Elizabeth.） Regardless, you are quite lucky that you found me in a quiet moment. This rain has delayed the move to our next destination.
—R.
Dear R.,
I’m writing to gain your insight on a strange matter. Last night, I sensed something odd. There was a clinking in the floor beneath me, followed by rumbles, like thunder. My host says that this has been happening in town for a week now, and none of them can explain it. But I sense that it may be something sinister, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this save for my fervent hope that you may have an answer or advice?
Yours,
E.
Dear E.,
I’m afraid I don’t have an answer at the ready but give me a day. I may be able to find one for you.
In the meantime, remain on guard.
I’ll write soon.
Yours,
R.
The rain continued to fall hard the following day, turning Bitteryne’s streets into creek beds. Iris and Attie spent the afternoon going door-to-door, gathering reports and stories from the townspeople. But there wasn’t much new information to glean. Rumors swirled that Dacre had finally left Avalon Bluff and was now stationed in a town called Merrow. Why was he taking his time moving eastward? What was he waiting for?
Iris didn’t know, although she sensed Roman might. She was anxious, waiting for his reply, but as the afternoon waned into a stormy eventide, he had yet to write.
She decided to sit in the dining room with Attie and work after dinner. They spread their notes out on the table, sharing a pitcher of chilled cider while a fire crackled in the stone hearth. Iris was halfway through with her article when she realized that Attie had gone still, her gaze fixated on the back door.
“What is it?” Iris asked. “Is it the ground again?”
“No, it’s Bexley,” Attie replied. “He said he would be back by now.”
Iris was quiet, listening as the rain continued to pour through the night.
“I’m sure it’s just the storm slowing him down,” she said, but she was anxious about Tobias driving through such weather. “And it’s only evening. He may still arrive tonight.”
Attie sighed and resumed her typing, but her words seemed to come slower. Her eyes continued to dart to the back door, as if she expected it to swing open any moment.
The hours melted. The storm only grew stronger.
The electricity flickered and eventually went out. Iris and Attie worked by firelight, bidding Lonnie Fielding goodnight when he ensured they had everything they needed.
But when midnight struck, the girls finally packed up their typewriters and notes, returning to their rooms.
Tobias Bexley had failed to return.
{16}
Nine Lives
Iris woke to a clap of thunder.
She opened her eyes to the darkness, uncertain where she was. Her heart was pounding as she sat forward, lightning illuminating her surroundings with an impatient flash.
You’re in Bitteryne, she told herself. Everything is fine. It was just the storm that woke you.
She waited for the next clap of thunder, but it never came. The lightning was bright but silent, and Iris could hear the clink, clink, clink below the foundation followed by a startling boom in the house, just down the hallway. It sounded like the back door had blown open.
Iris threw off the blankets, rising in a breathless rush.
Remain on guard, Roman had told her.
She grappled in the dark, remembering the electricity was out. Slowly, she opened her door and peered into the hallway. It was pitch black, but she could hear someone walking through the house. The floor creaked beneath their steps.
“Mr. Fielding?” Iris said, her voice thin.
“Iris.”
She turned, sensing Attie’s presence to her right.
“Did you hear that noise?” Attie whispered.
“Yes. I think someone’s in the house.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder and listened. A clatter, like a bowl had overturned. A deep-pitched curse. A chair scratching along the floor.
Attie began to stride down the hall, fearless. Iris hurried after her.