Craven Manor(9)

He wanted to look through his supplies, but the daylight couldn’t penetrate the overcast sky, tree cover, and fogged windows of the shed. A lamp and a box of matches on it sat on the desk under the cottage’s window, apparently laid out for the exact situation Daniel had encountered. He shook out a match and used it to light the lamp. Once the flame stabilised, he returned to the little shed attached to the house.

The metal door was stuck, and he had to heave on it to wrench it fully open. While the cabin had been cleaned and stocked recently, the shed clearly hadn’t seen attention since the mansion had been inhabited. Everything in it was coated in grime and spiderwebs, and the metal implements were all rusted beyond help. Their designs were antiquated, too. Daniel didn’t know history well enough to nail down the exact time period, but he’d seen similar tools in movies set during the Regency era.

More than a hundred years—it’s unbelievable that this house would be abandoned for so long. But not implausible, looking at how dirty everything is.

He picked through the tools, deciding what he could salvage and what would need to be replaced. In the end, there was very little he could keep. A few of the clay pots were still uncracked, and the shovel had held up better than most of the other tools, but the rest were useless.

Bran said I could ask for new tools by placing a note on the fireplace’s mantelpiece. Daniel stepped out of the shed to peer at the manor. As far as he could see, none of its lights had come on. Does he drop by once a day for messages? Once a week? What if he never comes back? I guess I can buy stuff myself if the coins are worth enough.

Inside the cottage, Daniel found a notepad and a pen in the desk. He pulled out the chair and was surprised by how heavy it was. He’d grown used to Kyle’s house, where everything was a cheap wood or flimsy aluminium. His cottage’s furniture was all made from solid timber, and he found he liked it a lot.

He spent a moment with the pen hovering above the paper, wondering if he should include a message thanking Bran for offering him the job or whether that would be weird. He decided to keep the message professional and simple, as Bran had with his. With luck, he might meet his mystery employer within a few days. Speaking to him face-to-face would give Daniel a better sense of what behaviour was expected of him.



Bran,

These tools would help with my work.

Wheelbarrow

Shears

Saw

Work gloves

Shovel





He signed his name and folded the paper in half. A half dozen other tools would have been useful, but Daniel didn’t want to seem greedy or demanding on the first day. He clutched the paper in one hand and the lamp in the other then began picking his way through the choked gardens.

Crows circled above him, their mournful calls ringing across the estate, as though they were waiting to descend on a corpse and scavenge its flesh. He kept his head ducked and moved as quickly as the environment would let him. He was breathless by the time he climbed the three stairs to the mansion’s arched entryway.

Resting a hand on one of the wooden doors, he extended the lamp inside. Its glow struggled to reach the massive foyer’s corners, but it was easier to see than it had been the night before. He shifted the lantern, trying to dispel the shadows lingering around the fireplace—and two orange eyes stared back at him.





Chapter Five





Daniel gasped and staggered away from the door. His back hit one of the pillars supporting the overhang. He clung to it for a moment, his mind fighting his impulses, then took a cautious step forward.

The eyes had been low, near the marble floor, in the space between the chairs clustered around the fireplace. Daniel leaned through the door’s opening, breath suspended, and held the lamp farther ahead of himself. The eyes were gone, and the space where he’d seen them was empty.

“Hello?” His voice echoed through the building, bouncing back from a dozen different angles. He licked his lips as he waited for a response then took another step into the house. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude—”

A flicker of motion startled him. A liquid shadow moved along the wall beside the fireplace, then the shape resolved itself into a small black cat. Blinking orange eyes, it stared at him.

Daniel released a shaky laugh as the tension seeped from his muscles. “Hey there, little guy. You startled me. I guess I probably scared you, too, huh?”

He crouched and placed the lamp beside him then extended one arm to see if he could coax the cat forward. It wasn’t hissing or bristling its tail, which was a good sign, but it also seemed wholly indifferent to his invitation. It sat pin-straight, tail wrapped around its feet, and stared at the wall behind Daniel.

“Shh, shh, I’m a friend.” He kept his voice sing-song as he crept closer. “I just want to say hello, little cat. Don’t be afraid.”

He got close enough that a few more steps would let him touch the creature, but it stood and sauntered away. Its tail was down and its ears swivelled slightly in his direction, but it didn’t run for shelter. Instead, it stopped near the staircase and resumed its earlier pose, tail wrapped around its feet protectively.

Daniel’s heart lurched. When the creature walked, he could see just how thin it was. Bones jutted out in sharp angles, and its ribs were clearly visible under the skin. No one was feeding the cat, and it wasn’t catching enough prey to sustain itself. The thought made him sick.