“You have to go to sleep.” Hannah’s concerned voice came from the doorway. “You’re going to run yourself ragged at this rate.”

“I will. I just have to finish this one thing.”

“You said that about the last five things, milady. Perhaps you should at least take a break. You’re looking a little, uh…” She gestured vaguely to her eyes.

Wren could feel how swollen they were—could only guess at how bloodshot and crazed they looked. But if she tried to close her eyes, her thoughts and theories would torture her into wakefulness. Wasted time she couldn’t afford.

Wren waved her pocket watch. “I’m on a five-minute break now.”

“That hardly counts.” Hannah sighed. “How about I draw a bath for you? Wouldn’t that be nice? Or maybe—”

A low wail reverberated through the house. In the hallway, the single overhead light swelled brighter with a droning buzz—then flickered out. A chill, like an icicle dripping down Wren’s collar, seized her spine. Magic rippled up her arms in time with the wave of gooseflesh. “What was that?”

Even Hannah paled, her eyes darting fretfully around the room. “A power outage. The wind will do that sometimes.”

“As validated as I feel in my mistrust of those lights, I was talking about the sound.”

“Also the wind?”

“That was absolutely not the wind.” It sounded too human, too pained. Once, Wren would have ridiculed herself for being afraid. But sleeplessness shredded her composure and let her imagination unspool. What could be crawling in the darkness in Colwick Hall?

Or maybe someone was injured.

Or poisoned.

She was hardly prepared to heal anyone, halfway delirious and dressed for sleep. Her nightgown nearly drowned her in white fabric, frothing with ruffles at the collar and down her billowy sleeves. But if someone needed her, propriety be damned. She would sooner keel over than wrestle with corset laces right now.

“I’m going to investigate,” Wren said. “Would you take that medication off the burner when it’s time?”

“You’re going to investigate? Why?”

Wren pulled a fur-lined cape on over her gown and snatched the candelabra from her desk. “Are you worried about me?”

“Of course not,” Hannah huffed. “You’re sleep-deprived, and it’s showing. But it’s almost midnight, and if you’re not back before then…”

“If it’s only the wind, I’ll be back in just a minute. Lowry won’t find out.”

“But—”

“The forceps are on the desk next to the burner. Thanks!” Wren brushed past her and into the hallway, pursued by Hannah’s groan of displeasure.

Outside her room, there was complete, esophageal darkness, tight and swallowing. No one and nothing moved outside the sphere of candlelight, but with the wind outside, the house groaned deeply, wood straining against nails.

Somewhere below her, a door slammed.