Chapter 3
The iron gate of the Ravenel estate shrieked open, like a mechanism built to turn people away.
I stood in front of it, the reference letter Dr. Farrow had given me damp with sweat in my hand.
The housekeeper, Winnie, drew the gate back, a flicker of appraisal in her eyes.
She scanned my unfamiliar face, her gaze pausing on my eyes for half a second before it darted away.
"This way," she said, stepping aside stiffly. "Ms. Delphine is hiring a nanny. But her standards for the background check are… severe."
She led me through the gallery without a word of small talk.
But I noticed her hand twitch, just slightly, as she passed the old wall lamp.
That was where we used to hide the spare key.
"This is the nursery."
Winnie pushed open a door on the second floor and walked off without looking back.
The room was dim, almost frightening, the curtains drawn tight.
Posy was curled up in the shadows of a corner, knees pulled to her chest.
She was clutching a battered rag doll with one eye torn off — the last one I'd sewn before I vanished.
At the sound of the door, her whole body flinched, like a startled animal. She didn't even dare look up, just buried her face in the doll and let out a smothered whimper.
I held my breath. My heart wrung itself out.
The drawing pad by her bed was blank. The crayons scattered on the floor had all been snapped in half. Even the drawing paper had been crushed into a ball and thrown into the corner like garbage.
She was afraid to draw.
I didn't move closer.
I knew any sudden approach would break her.
I stayed where I was, and began, very softly, to hum.
It was "The Song of the Stars."
The melody was low, carrying that faint tremble I used to sing her to sleep with.
Posy's body went rigid.
Slowly, she raised her head. Those dead little eyes flickered, as if a spark had caught somewhere inside them.
She stared at me. The look moved from wary, to confused, to something close to desperate hope.
Trembling, she stood, and walked to me on bare feet — but didn't dare reach out.
And just as she came close, the last bars of the lullaby slipped from my lips.
Posy's tears finally broke loose.
She didn't say anything. She just threw herself into me, her thin arms locking around my neck so hard I could barely breathe.
"Mommy…"
Her cry was cut off by the sudden bang of the door.
"Nanny!"
Delphine's heels came storming into the room. Those sharp eyes flicked between me and Posy.
She saw Posy holding on to me, and her brow twisted into a shape that turned my stomach.
"Let go of her," she ordered, disgusted. "Does this child have something contagious? Who told you to touch her?"
Posy shrank against me, instinctively trying to bolt back to her corner — but her hand kept a death grip on my sleeve.
Delphine walked up to me, a cloud of aggressive perfume arriving ahead of her.
She lifted one blood-red fingernail and tipped my chin up with it.
Those narrow eyes went to slits, studying every line of my face.
"Wren, is it?"
She gave a cold little laugh and dropped her hand, suspicion open in her voice. "I've seen a lot of applicants. Those eyes of yours… remind me of someone I really can't stand."
She didn't leave. Instead she bent down suddenly and dropped her voice against Posy's ear. "Little monster. Tell her — if I hear you sniveling again, I'll throw that doll of yours into the incinerator."
She turned for the door, and just as she crossed the threshold she stopped short, without turning back, and added coldly:
"Every stranger in this house learns to follow the rules. I'll be watching you, Wren."
The door slammed. The bolt echoed through the silent room.
Posy was still shaking. She fished a crumpled sheet of paper out from under her pillow and pressed it into my palm.
It was a drawing, only a few strokes.
A cliff. A black circle at the bottom of it. And beside the circle, a figure in a pointed hat — "Aunt Delphine."
Out in the corridor, the footsteps faded.
My fingernails bit into my palm.