Maybe the storm had masked any sounds we’d made, or maybe the raindrops provided the perfect white noise Laura needed to sleep through the night, but whatever the reason, she didn’t wake up. Barrett and I purposefully minimized our goodbyes—no meaningful looks or thoughtful discussions, thanks, just a quick wave and turning our separate ways—and then I found myself safely back in the nursery.

I glanced at Agatha’s bed, confident that I’d find her sleeping soundly. To my horror, the bed was empty, the sheets and blankets hanging off the side.

“Agatha?” I called, and as my eyes swept over the room, I saw her motionless figure sitting at the window.

She didn’t turn when I said her name, but when I walked over to her, her eyes made a quick motion to acknowledge my presence before returning to the view.

Out this window, you could see the walk that led to the garden.

Had she seen us outside? She must have.

Did she know I’d used her key? Did she know what lay behind that gate? “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Go back to bed now, okay?” Then I went into the bathroom to dry off and change.

When I emerged from the bathroom, she was in her bed, with the covers neatly pulled over herself—just the way Laura would have arranged them. Her eyes were closed, but I whispered, “Good night,” and went into my own room.

Once I was in there, I looked around blankly. It was a disaster. There were clothes everywhere, the bedsheets were tangled, the teacup was on the floor in pieces. On the far wall, the small window was wide open and rain and wind were blowing inside, filling the air with the smell of wet stone and moss. The dresser drawers were open, all of them—it was a miracle the dresser hadn’t face-planted onto the foot of the bed.

But the worst thing was the wall next to the dresser.

In streaky black letters two feet tall was written:

GO

CHAPTER

15

“YOU’RE SLEEPY TODAY,” Laura said as I tried in vain to stifle a yawn.

Yep. I was. It had taken me an hour to get the room cleaned up, the floor dried, the wall wiped down. And then I’d lain in bed staring at the ceiling, too wired to sleep, too curious, too freaked out, too everything. I knew I’d managed to drift in and out of a light, fuzzily dreamless state, but I basically felt like I’d been awake all night.

Now Laura studied me. “You look pale, too,” she said, worry creeping into her voice. “Maybe you’ve been working too hard this week.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not that. I just didn’t sleep well last night, for some reason.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, unconvinced.

“Maybe I’ll take a nap or something, while Agatha does her homework.”