The corridors of Blackwood Mansion were never still.

When the rest of the world slept, inside the house something breathed.

Moved.

Watched.

Nathaniel leaned against the chill of the stone wall at the rear of the east wing, the mist of his breath foggy in the morning.

He hadn't slept.

Hadn't even tried.

His mind was a war-torn area of old fear and new doubt, each thought colliding with the next.

> Leya.

Her name resonated off his ribcage like an open ...