All he wanted to do was to get away from the body. So he nodded. But some part of him wanted to stay too. This is what you did, a voice inside him chirped. This is what you did, and you want to run away? What gives you the right?

Edmund ignored the voice, and let himself be led upstairs by Tim. Pru, Robert and Rachel followed behind. Amber was the last to go up. She heard the door close behind the others and she went to the body. She looked at the woman with something like admiration. “How does it feel?” she whispered, wishing the woman could answer. “How does it feel to be broken? How does it feel to be without hope?” She reached over and threw another log on the fire, replacing the fireguard in front. As she passed, she drew her wrists over the woman’s eyes, which flickered in a small and imperceptible motion. “How does it feel to be dead?”

Amber shrugged. “Sucks to be you.” And smiled.

She took the stairs two at a time and paused at the door at the top—the basement was laid out so when you were at the very top, you couldn’t see down into it anymore.

A rustle. Amber listened, not even sure if she had heard it, or if it was just another noise made by the crackling fire. She waited a few more moments, heard nothing else and shut the door.

In front of the fire, no one noticed that the woman’s eyes had opened.

Her right index finger twitched.

Chapter Sixty

Three years ago...

The last person. A black hound and a horse head. Why did she remember that?

Because there was only... Darkness.

Pain. Everywhere. Arms. She couldn’t feel her arms. She tried to move them. Left twitched, but her right wasn’t there. Or rather it was, but it wouldn’t move. Her legs—there was nothing, no movement.

She felt hot, blazing hot. That kind of whole searing hot that came with a bonfire. Or a fireplace. She tried to open her eyes. Her left opened but her right stung with something, a red liquid that came pouring in. She smelled it—blood. Her left eye was fuzzy, couldn’t focus on anything. But as she blinked, things started to come into focus.

Confusion. What happened? Where was she? The last thing she remembered? Train. A train—she was on a train. But she got off the train, didn’t she? Yes, she had been walking somewhere. It was dark. Something ran out of battery, and it had got darker. Her phone. And then, a sound. The sound of a—car. Oh God, it had hit her—and then—she had hit the ground. She had thought she had died, but—then here.

A few more blinks and a scene presented itself. A basement—tables, a fireplace, chairs, a rug she was lying on.