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Back Gallows Hill Save as PDF
Chapters (45)
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That was less than twenty minutes away, by her calculation. She hated the thought of being left alone, but she’d also feel better if she knew Kant was sheltered in his own place for the night. “Thanks, but I’ll be all right. I’ve got a lot to think over. Can you update Andrew on everything? And make sure everyone gets somewhere safe before nightfall?”

“I’ll do that. Call us if you need us.”

She made to step away, then hesitated. “Kant?”

“Yes?”

Heat rose across Margot’s face. She didn’t know where to look. “Could I…have one of your buttons?”

His eyebrows rose lightly. He fixed his hand around one of the large, black sweater buttons and pulled. It broke free from its threads with a snap, and he passed it to Margot without comment.

“Thanks,” she managed, holding the button tightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” he said as he and Andrew turned back to their homes. “Good luck, Margot.”

42

Margot paused on the threshold of the Gallows Hill house. She held her good hand tight against her chest, the button clasped inside as though it were a gem. Treat the items with care, Witchety had said. She intended to.

Ahead of her, the hallway stretched, growing dim as the closed doors and curtained windows blocked out all natural light. Far in the distance, she thought she caught the glint of something. Two lights, very much like eyes, hidden in among the shadows. She blinked and they were gone.

“Ezra Hull,” Margot murmured to herself. “Killed in his hallway with an axe.”

She began to walk through the house, speaking out loud. “Louisa Hull, killed in the shed. Jeremiah, attempting to run to town, caught and killed in the trees.”

She remembered seeing a hint of movement in a block of trees, near where she’d found the axe. She’d been so focused on it that she’d misstepped and fallen into the underground passageways.

The axe she’d found hadn’t been used to kill him. It was old, but not enough to have lasted outdoors for two hundred years. That was a very small relief. She wouldn’t have wanted to think about it being in her bedroom, otherwise.

She reached the laundry and paused there, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. “Constance?” she hazarded. “Or Giles?”

The room was silent, but she could still remember the rapid breathing, the muffled whisper of I don’t want to die. Giles, she thought.

She turned back to the hall, and as she traced her path back to the kitchen, she turned her eyes toward the ceiling.