In that moment, Nox knew he could trust her.
Mrs. Blackburn, lowly cook of the Ravenwood kitchens. Servant of unpunished and unpardoned hearts.
You’re fooling yourself if you think you’re any freer than she is, Nox thought. You’re as bent under the weight of Abraham and Silas as the old woman.
They were bound, the two of them, like survivors of the same plane crash.
Refugees from a shared war.
It’s not over. It never will be.
“This isn’t just about the past,” Nox finally said. “Silas has someone else I care about, and he’s going to do the same thing to her that Abraham did to my mom.”
If Ridley’s still alive.
The old woman nodded, as if she understood more than his words. She studied his face. “Nobody in their right mind would go back through this door if they didn’t have to.”
Nox shifted uncomfortably. “Like I said. I have to.”
She frowned, skeptical. “And you know what he’ll do to you?”
“I have it on good authority.” Nox pointed to the misshapen stitches along his cheekbone. “And we both know there’s more where this came from.”
Mrs. Blackburn sighed. Then she rested her palm on the door again, as if she’d made up her mind. “You must be the dumbest boy in the whole Underground. The dumbest, or the bravest.”
He grinned. “Why choose just one?”
She frowned. “All right, then. You can follow me through. This Tunnel leads into the wine cellar inside the main house at Ravenwood Oaks. Silas is living there now, but aside from his flashy taste in decorating, I think you’ll find the place hasn’t changed much.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Blackburn. I know what you’re risking by helping me.”
“Then keep quiet when we’re in the Tunnel, and when I go up through the cellar, give me at least thirty minutes before you follow. If Silas finds out I helped you, it’ll be the end of me.” She hesitated for a moment, a sad expression passing across her face. “He’ll be the end of me either way.”
Nox nodded. “We all have to die sometime.”
Mrs. Blackburn smiled almost wistfully at Nox. “After the things we’ve seen, maybe that would be for the best.” She turned back to the door and pressed against the frame. “Aperire domum tenebrarum.”
Open the House of Darkness.
“I’ll come back for you,” Nox said, his voice low.
“Don’t,” she whispered in return. “At least one of us should be free of this place for good.”
The door opened by itself without a creak, and Nox slipped inside behind her.
It was a short walk through the Tunnel leading from the Mile to Silas’ house—even if Nox was having a hard time thinking of it that way. He had too many memories of Abraham in that house, threatening him and tormenting his mom, to imagine it belonging to anyone other than the head of the House of Ravenwood.
Except for the sound of their footsteps, they moved in silence.
It didn’t matter. Nox could still hear the ghosts following him as he walked. The chairs flying. The glass breaking. The screaming and the crying. What are you looking at, boy? Who do you think you are?
He prayed Silas wasn’t doing the same thing to Ridley right now.
Please be there, Little Siren. Please be okay.
But if she was there, she wasn’t okay. Nox knew that better than anyone.
I’m coming to get you. I swear. Even if no one came for us.
As they neared Silas’ house, the passage turned and the Tunnel looked more like a hallway, with faded wallpaper peeling beneath paintings and black and white or sepia photographs of Ravenwoods who were probably long dead: Jessamine Ravenwood. Isaac Ravenwood. Mather Ravenwood.
Aside from Abraham, Nox didn’t recognize any of them. But their dead black eyes marked them all as Incubuses.
Mrs. Blackburn caught him staring as they passed by. “You seeing ghosts, son?”
He looked away.
He was relieved when she hauled her ancient body up a wooden staircase and mumbled the Doorwell Cast again. This time, it opened the cellar door. Walking down the Ravenwood memory lane hadn’t done much to clear his head.
If anything, it had clouded it.
When they reached the top of the stairs and entered the narrow wine cellar lined with wine barrels, racks of vintage bottles, and shelves of humidors, Mrs. Blackburn turned to Nox and held a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. She squeezed his arm, then scurried up another set of stairs that led to the kitchen.
And the face from his childhood was gone. The moment she disappeared, it was as if he’d imagined the whole thing. He wondered if he’d ever see her again.
Nox checked the time on his phone. Mrs. Blackburn had asked him to wait thirty minutes, but without knowing if Ridley was dead or alive, it felt like forever.
He tried to stop himself from thinking about it.
He had to be patient.
If Ridley’s dead, then you’ll know what forever feels like. And it will feel a thousand times worse than this.
Forever feels like forever.
Nox wanted to bolt. He wanted to ransack the place, scream her name, pound down every door. But he couldn’t. He was trapped like a rat in one of Silas Ravenwood’s walls.
He couldn’t do anything to endanger the old woman.
Not after she risked her life to help me.
Nox studied the bottles; the Ravenwoods’ cellar had everything from rare vintages to newer blends from their own vineyards. But it was the Barbadians that got to him—the stench of Abraham Ravenwood’s signature cigar. The smell made Nox’s stomach turn, and as a kid, it had always sent him flying in the opposite direction.