I snuck into Aurick’s house through the window.
He was arguing on the phone with someone about acquiring better filing systems. I figured he would be asleep, or at least that’s what I was hoping for.
I wanted to be alone for a little while before Aurick realized I was home and bombarded me with questions, so without changing out of my wet clothes, I climbed the attic ladder and enclosed myself in the only room I haven’t been in.
I stand up, observing the moonlit attic coated with a thick sheet of dust and old furniture. I curl up on a pink velvet, mahogany-framed couch, pulling out the contents of my pocket. The string that I felt first is a necklace made of leather, with a small wooden cross hanging off the bottom. I inspect the cross closely. Its edges are jagged, its ends are uneven. It was, without a doubt, handcrafted.
And since this is a clue to figuring him out, could this mean that his previous host was a believer in Christ? I pull out the piece of paper I found. Although, it’s not just a piece of paper. It’s an envelope.
To The Leather Man
This will be my last letter to you.
It is to happen soon.
I have done all I can for my sons. Their affairs are in order—I have planned for the next fifty years, and one day, they’ll find it together and put the pieces together.
You know how I’ve always enjoyed my puzzles.
I do hope you’ve done your part—for the key to said puzzle. Without it, my pieces might disappear, dissolve into my memory forever.
My last bit of advice, as parents, this is all we can do. This evil is beyond the protection of mother and father. Beyond the walls we can build to protect them. Because, my dear friend, they will grow to protect themselves. My eldest knows to never abandon the key to that puzzle. He has learned quickly and will come to you when that evil knocks on my door, and only then may I finally rest.
Teach him then to watch over the others.
Because one day, it will be them against the whole world.
Goodbye, my friend. I will wait for you in the clouds.
Okay—Really, Dessin?
I can only gather small slivers of possible clues from this letter. It’s a parent writing to a parent about their sons. Perhaps one of the sons is Dessin? Or the previous host that came before Dessin? There are no names other than The Leather Man.
The writer could either be his mother or his father, and it speaks of a great evil, preparing the sons for a puzzle. Do his troubles go back to his family?
Stuffing the items back into my pocket, I push against the door with the balls of my feet, letting the ladder fall to the carpet below so I can climb my way down. When my feet hit the floor, a cold wind blows against my damp dress, like shards of ice through the holes of the fabric. I turn around and shriek, falling against a console table, bumping into a vase that crashes to the carpet. At the end of the hallway, an abnormally tall man’s silhouette faces me, moonlight pouring over his shoulders from the window behind him.
“Aurick!” I shout, reaching my hand across the broken glass to use as a makeshift weapon.
A hoarse laugh comes from the tall man standing in the dark. He reaches out his hand in protest.
“There’s no need for that, Sky. I am not going to hurt you.”
Aurick exits the room closest to the tall man, looks at him, then follows his gaze to me. “What happened to you?”
I lift my hand from the broken glass and straighten up. My hair is still wet, my dress is ruined. I must look like a stray.
“I was caught in the storm on the way home,” I say. “I didn’t know we had company.”
“Yes.” He smiles at the company still darkened in the corner. “This is my oldest and closest friend, Masten.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he tells me, stepping into the light of the sconce. Even though he dresses like Aurick and has hair like Aurick’s, something about him makes me tense. “In fact, you frightened me when you scaled your way from the ceiling.”
Oh no. It must look like I’ve been snooping.
As expected, Aurick raises his chin, glowering at me.
“Why were you in the attic?” he asks, suspicion rising in his tone.
I open my mouth to feed him an excuse, but nothing comes out. I didn’t prepare a lie, and now I have to do it in front of an audience. I repeatedly blink, begging my mind to conjure something to offer him. Nothing. I’m empty-handed.
“Have you not set house rules for her yet?” Masten turns his attention to Aurick.
House rules? Am I a stray animal to them?
I drop my jaw and wait for Aurick’s response.
“No, I have not. I suppose leniency is a weakness of mine.” Aurick expresses with casual coolness.
“I only required a moment alone,” I finally spit out.
Aurick raises his eyebrows, and Masten laughs. “And with thirty-seven rooms to this estate, that must have been difficult to come by.”
I blow out a frustrated breath, feeling the spotlight on me and the embarrassment warming my cheeks. Shouldn’t he ask Masten to leave so we can speak about this in private?
“Might this one possibly be a little jealous? Of your deceased beloved? That could explain her rummaging through Red’s belongings.” Masten gestures to the attic.
Are Red’s belongings stored up there? Maybe I should have snooped, considering this is becoming such a big deal. I’m being accused of something I didn’t do, all because I didn’t want Aurick to ask questions about the letter and necklace I found. I wanted to protect Dessin’s privacy.
“Quite right.” Aurick nods, considering Masten’s assumption. “Well, what did you find, Sky? Anything worth sharing?”
I grind my teeth, frozen in place. What is going on? They’re acting like I committed a federal offense. I was only in the attic, for God’s sake.
“I wasn’t rummaging through anything,” I grumble, a flash of awkwardness and anger burning my stomach.
Masten approaches me, leaning his weight on a long cane, with a metal wolf’s head at its handle under the palm of his hand. I back myself into the console again, unable to sense his intentions.
“My friend is quite generous, wouldn’t you say?”
I look over his shoulder at Aurick, who shares the same look of conviction. I grip the table digging into my lower back and nod reluctantly.
“But this glorious society we live in is built on pristine presentation. And if he cannot present a pristine houseguest, well then, he should not be living in it, correct?”
He’s lowering his concrete gaze at me, waiting for a nod of understanding.
“I am not his wife,” I say between my teeth. “You cannot treat me like this.” How is Aurick letting this man speak to me this way?
“But if you’re living here, then you might be one day,” he informs me the way one would inform a child of their petty mistake. He looks over his shoulder at Aurick, who is now leaning against the windowsill with his arms crossed.
“This is why daily discipline for young women is prudent. Their hormones and monthly cycles make them most similar to wild animals.”
Masten shoots his arm forward, snatching the hair from the back of my head in his hand, bunched against my scalp in a wad. I yelp and squeeze my eyes shut as his fingernails dig into me, clenching each strand of hair until my follicles scream in pain.
“Do you understand that by undermining Aurick’s authority, as master of this house—you have undoubtedly embarrassed him in front of company?” Masten huffs into my face, his breath reeking of bourbon and roast beef.
My legs buckle, trembling as Masten invades my space, and my heart rattles inside of my chest like a drawer of loose hardware. I can’t believe Aurick is letting Masten put his hands on me. Rebuttal boils and hisses within the walls of my throat, but nothing escapes. The urge to reach for a shard of glass from the broken vase is there, begging for me to fight back, like a voice of power heavy with armor behind my weakness. But I could never hurt someone else. Not even if they are hurting me.
“I understand.” I moan with a strained neck.
“And you understand how lucky you are that your friend and gracious host of this estate doesn’t strike you across the face or introduce you to the paddle for this indiscretion?”
The paddle? What the hell? I haven’t done anything! Is this something I’m going to have to look forward to with Aurick?
I nod again against his firm hand.
“Good,” he says, releasing my hair, taking a step to the side to pat me on the shoulder. “Always a pleasure, Aurick. I will see you at sunrise, friend.”
Masten disappears into the stairwell, leaving me to stare in Aurick’s direction in horror. I don’t know what to think of him. Is he no different than my father?
“Go start your lady-doll treatment. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.” Aurick pushes off the windowsill and goes back into the room he came from, slamming the door.
He might as well have just slapped me across the face or tossed me into an ice bath. Instead of comforting me or explaining what happened, he’s dismissed me like a pet or a misbehaving child.
Scarlett, if you’re listening, please protect me. I won’t survive another man like Jack.
