“I look it,” I agreed, but left it there.

“This is not a job for a child.”

“Would you like to see my identification?”

I held the woman’s skeptical gaze firmly, secretly praying she wouldn’t ask for it. Nineteen was an adult, according to law. Old enough to live on the streets, to starve daily. But not, in my experience, old enough to be taken seriously by the elder generation. The less she could judge me on, the better.

“Well … you’re a skinny little thing,” she said, as if the fact was both important and relevant. She opened the door wider and I stepped inside the frigid castle, forcing myself not to rub my shivering arms. “Then again, the grander-looking debtera didn’t do us much good, did they?”

So, she did know my true title, though she pronounced it so strangely I barely recognized the word—deb-TAIR-a, with the accent on the second syllable instead of the first.

The woman shut us inside and, instinctively, I glanced around for an alternative exit. “I’m Peggy, Mr. Rochester’s caretaker. Mr. Rochester will insist you call me that, even though I’m your elder and it should be improper. No, keep your shoes on, child. You never know what you’ll step on around here.”

I stood on one foot to hook the heel of my sandal back on, a violent chill-like pain running through my hand as I leaned against the wall for support. The stone felt like ice. The presence of evil spirits tended to cool down a room, but I’d never felt it to this extent.

Peggy led me through the dim, candlelit hall, the filmy windows only offering a bit more visual aid with the faded sun. I rubbed my arms, then gripped the silver amulet around my neck. It tended to gently pulse when there was an excess of Manifestations nearby—physical proof of the Evil Eye—but it’d never done it as consistently as today. I could practically feel the movement of Manifestations on the high, shadowed ceiling, like a mass of roosting bats, shifting away from the pulse.

“We only have a few hours to get you accustomed to things before curfew,” Peggy said, leading me up the stairs. I slowed to match her pace. “The Waking begins at ten o’clock sharp, and everyone must be locked in their room by then. No exceptions. If you aren’t, only God can help you.”

I supposed the idea of a cursed house was scary to someone who didn’t know how to cleanse it, but I’d never met a Manifestation that could withstand even one of my weaker amulets. “Late at night is when I can do my best work. It’s easier to gauge the Evil Eye when I can see it in action.”

Peggy dipped her chin, peering over her glasses. “You said you’ve done this before?”