“The full moon will drive you mad, and Gabriel needs you conscious and reasonably sane. The new moon will be unpleasant, extremely unpleasant, but you’ll survive and be stronger at the end of it.” She opens her cigarette case and picks one out. “Of course I could be completely wrong; there’s always a first time. However, I believe that this is right for you. It’s an instinct. It’s my Gift, Nathan, and I trust it.”
I’m not sure about the whole idea but I have no other option. The last time I was inside overnight I was sixteen. I hadn’t received my Gift and it was bad. I don’t often think about it, and whenever I have, I’ve not been able to work it out. As much as part of my brain was saying, “This is stupid, you’re just inside, you’re fine,” my whole body was in agony and soon all I could think about were the noises and the fear and my screaming to get out.
I spend the day in the forest on my own, resting. The animal inside me seems to be resting too. I’ve not felt him stir since I spoke with Gabriel. I lie on the ground and watch the sky turn from pale blue in the morning to deep blue at midday and then briefly in the evening to violet before going gray. I’m hungry and thirsty; my stomach grumbles, which feels ridiculous given what I’ve got to go through. I’m sure I can do it. I want to, for Gabriel, to show him that I know he’s making a sacrifice for me and I’ll do what I can for him. It’s only one night inside.
It’s getting dark as I walk up to the main door of the castle. Van opens it immediately. She must have seen me coming across the lawn. I wonder if she’ll say anything but she doesn’t; she just leads the way through the entrance hall, down the corridor, wooden floors dark and echoing, to a door at the end. I follow her through the door and that’s when I stop.
There are stone steps down.
“The cellar,” Van says.
I wonder about the animal in me but he doesn’t stir. Van leads the way down into an empty room with a stone floor and brick walls and one faint light in the ceiling. It’s more cell than cellar.
“Nesbitt will be at the top of the stairs. The door will be locked but if it’s too hard for you he’ll let you out. He’ll check on you every hour.”
I don’t say anything. Already the room feels oppressive. I sit on the cold floor and watch Van climb the steps. Then the door shuts and I hear a key turn in the lock.
I know the animal isn’t going to appear. It’s too harsh here. He’s hiding. I’ve only been inside for a minute, two at most, and I feel sick and dizzy but that’s not so bad and this is for Gabriel. And for Annalise. I get up and walk to the far wall and back, and I do it again, but already that isn’t good. The room feels like it’s tipping up so I sit back down, and the walls are falling in on me. But I know they’re not. They are not! They’re walls and they’re upright. I’m OK. I’m feeling sick. And I have a stinking headache. It isn’t pleasant but I’m OK. I sit still and concentrate on my breathing and not being sick.
I hear the door open above me. An hour has gone by already.
“You OK?” Nesbitt shouts.
“Yeah. Fine,” I shout back, making my voice sound stronger than I feel.
The door shuts.
I sit there another minute or two and tell myself I’m fine, I’m fine, and then I retch and I’m sick on the floor and my stomach is in a knot and all the muscles in my body cramp up. I feel the walls coming down on me but I know, absolutely know, they can’t be. Walls don’t do that. They don’t. I’m hot and sweat blossoms out of me and I retch again and again and my stomach is agony and nothing more comes out when I retch but my stomach keeps doing it and I’m curled up in a tight ball.
Then Nesbitt is standing over me. Another hour must have gone by. And I look for him again but he’s gone.
I’m shivering now, my body cold. And I’m retching again. There’s not much to come up but my stomach seems to be determined to turn itself inside out. I’m still lying curled up at the bottom of the steps. And that’s where I stay. I can’t move. Can’t stand. I can’t even crawl. But I can cope with it. I can do it.
That’s when the scraping noise starts. It’s quiet at first but builds up until it fills my head and then suddenly stops. Silence. And I wait, listening for it; I know it’ll start again. While it’s quiet I tell myself it’s not real: I’m in a cellar; there’s nothing here to make a noise. It’s not real. But then my head is filled with a scraping sound like nails down a blackboard and I wedge my head against the steps and shout. Shouting helps. And cursing. If I shout loud enough I can drown out the scraping noise. Then it goes silent again. And I can breathe and I wait for the scraping and it starts again . . .
Nesbitt is here. He’s patting my shoulder and I look up at him and then he’s not there and I’m not sure if he ever was. The scraping has stopped. It’s quiet and all I can see is the floor, which is changing from gray stone to red. Dark red. And everywhere I look I see red. Red all around me so that I feel it’s choking me. And I’m screaming at the red and choking and clawing at my throat to breathe.