We are invaded.
The entire manor is an eerie forest, too still to be real, fallen leaves landing on wooden floorboards and Persian rugs, trunks towering up into and through the ceilings, branches skimming paintings.
La Baume is laughing at me. But the laughter is silent, slow, and eerie. I am on the ground floor, facing the corridor that Nori vanished down. Only now it is a forest path, carpeted and surreal. I recognize the paintings that hang from the branches as those that were on the walls.
“This… isn’t happening.”
The floor—the wooden floorboards—are now draped with roots thicker than my arm. I take a step into this strange manor-wood and feel my breath catch. I turn to Gowan.
“This can’t be… real.”
Gowan stares into the trees. “I don’t think we’re exactly in Kansas anymore.”
“I have to get Nori back. I have to.… He’s got her.”
For a moment, the world closes in—too overwhelming to live in—but then Gowan’s hands are wrapped around mine and I know I can do this.
“I’m going to find her. Find the answer. This is some kind of family… thing. A debt, maybe. A curse. So, basically, it’s all connected to Cath, to Nori. And me.”
“Are you ready?”
I nod.
He lifts a hand and points down the corridor. Into the woodland path that stretches into… I don’t know where.
“That way.”
I have no choice. No more running. It is no longer an option. I’ve hidden in this damned house for too long, afraid of the trees and of… him. Well, now the trees are here, and he’s got Nori, and hiding is not a choice. I am Silla Mae Daniels. I am sane. I am afraid.
I get to my feet.
And when I take my first step into the void, Gowan takes one beside me.
The house all but disappears into this eerie wood. It is too still to be any conventional forest, too creepily silent. There are no birds here. There is no breeze. No real life. Here and there, I spot a wall sconce protruding from one of the trunks and I know that I am in La Baume and maybe this is all just a messed-up delusion. Did I take some kind of drug—LSD maybe? Am I still back in London, hallucinating the hell out of my mind?
We walk for a long time, looking for signs, searching the carpet and bracken for footsteps, but there is nothing.
Cath is gone. And still I hear the creaking.
Only now, it’s the boughs above us. The floorboards beneath us. My stomach even creeeaaaks as it growls. It’s like I’m turning to wood along with everything else.
And the mold is still growing on me. And I still smell rotting meat.
“The smell,” I say on the third day. “It’s getting stronger.”
He nods. “Yeah. I can smell it now.” He glances over at me. “Wait. Sit down. You’re practically falling over.”
I shake my head.
“I want to ask you something. I’ve wanted to ask you something.”
I’m so tired.
“Tell me about your mother.”
I bite my tongue and sit down on the mossy, stinky carpet.
After a pause, Gowan sighs. “You always do that.”
“What?”
“Whenever I mention your mother, your face changes. I know you lied to me before. I know that wasn’t the whole story. What are you hiding, Silla? Why won’t you talk to me?”
“Because you’re… I don’t know.” Too good.
“You can’t call me unimportant or a stranger or whatever line you have in your head. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
I stare at him. “It’s just the opposite.… You’re just another thing to hurt me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just leave me alone.”
I struggle to my feet and walk away.
“No! No, I won’t skulk off this time.” He takes my shoulders into his hands. “You have to talk to me. You can’t keep running away from me!”
“Why not?” I yell, my voice barely carrying beyond my face.
“Because I’m in here with you and I’m helping you and I love you!”
I try to shake him off with some violence. “Then so much the worse for you!”
He holds me tighter. “What happened to make you so cold? Cold as stone! Your heart is like a rock in there, drumming against your body and breaking everything inside!”
“Yes!” I shriek. “Yes, it is! I got that from my father, my wonderful, abusive father—happy now?”
“No, I’m not, because you’re still hiding!” Gowan takes a breath. “All of this,” he says, gesturing around us. “It’s to do with you. Cath is gone. If she was to blame, then surely this would have stopped. It would be over, right?”
“Firstly,” I snap, “what logic are you using here? Is this something you have prior experience with? Are you following the cursed-mansion-haunted-woods-child-stealing-creature handbook?”
He gives me a pained expression.