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“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I say eventually.

If Iestyn is unsatisfied with the answer, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he appraises the lump of quartzite in his hand, eyes gleaming as he runs his gaze over every hairline crack, every jagged edge. I might not be able to sense his thoughts, but I don’t need to. His expression is enough.

He’s so close. We both are.

I brace, half expecting Henry’s voice to stir from my memories again, warning me away from this path. But being in Wreymoor Hall stifles his presence. I can’t hear him within these walls. For better or worse, he can’t reach me here.

An ache throbs around my wrists, and I run my fingers over the invisible bruises. It wasn’t Henry. It wasn’t real. My husband is gone, and I can’t let myself drown in what he wanted for me.

“Iestyn…” His name leaves my lips before I know what to do with it. I’m not sure whether it’s an invitation or a cry for help. All I know is how different the shape of it is from Henry’s. Speaking it leaves behind a bitter aftertaste that lingers on my tongue, leaving me wanting more, even if its poison will make me sick.

He snaps his head up, eyes meeting mine. The amusement dies on his lips, replaced by something strained and wanting. It rouses something in me, the way he looks at me. The mutual knowing, the shared hunger that’s eating both of us alive. We’ve both been starving for so long, desperate for something that will sate us, if only for the most fleeting of moments.

In the pit of my stomach, the darkness coils its creeping tendrils. I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of pretending I’m something more than what Henry’s death has broken me into.

I lean over the chair, my shoulders tensing as I realise how close he is to my neck. “You told me you could give me the vampire who killed Henry. Will you let me do it? Will you let me be the one who kills him?”

Iestyn fixes me with an unyielding stare. His lips are wet and parted, and as I move towards them, he murmurs, “Yes.”

The air is stale between us. I reach for him, my fingers finding his smooth hair, his ice-cold skin. He’s not Henry. I don’t want him to be. I only want what he can give me.

As I’m about to close the aching space between our lips, a gust of wind batters against the windows outside, bringing with it the echo of the Stiperstones.

Let me go, Henry begged me. Let me rest.

I push away his words. If I can’t have him, at least I can have this. I can have all Iestyn promised me.

I close my mouth around his, sealing the choice I’ve made, and as I lose the last of myself to the darkness, I can only pray it will be enough.

24

I jolt upright in the armchair, finding the worn cushions empty and cold. The flames in the fireplace have flickered out, and not even embers remain in the hearth.

The last thing I remember is the kiss. Perhaps I should be grateful that exhaustion took me before it could lead to anything more. But now that I’m awake, I know at once that something isn’t right. Iestyn is gone, and without him, Wreymoor Hall is beginning to crumble.

A draught catches the back of my neck, creeping in from the hallway. I know what’s happening. I’ve seen it before.

I have spent so long in this manor that it has become part of me, or I have become part of it, Iestyn told me. My dreams become its reality. My desires become its desires.

I press my fingers to my lips, finding them bruised and swollen. Memories flood my mind—the fervour of his mouth on mine, the urgency of his tongue. His eyes were hollow from hunger, his cheeks gaunt. Perhaps he sought a chance to rest while I slept. Perhaps he thought he would wake before I did. Or perhaps this is exactly where he wants me.

The thought makes me shudder. I feel the manor watching me like the last time I stumbled through its halls while Iestyn was asleep. Only now, it’s hungrier than ever. Its breath turns the stale air uncomfortably thick, suffusing it with something wet and cloying. Its walls have eyes, and they trail over my skin like knives, leaving scratches down my arms.

This place has wanted to consume me since I stepped over its threshold. I can’t let it succeed.

I push myself out of the armchair and head for the hallway, trying to ignore the chill. If I can reach Iestyn’s chambers and rouse him from his sleep, the manor will settle like it did before. Until then, I must remind myself that none of this is real—it’s a dark mirror of Iestyn’s mind, the ghost of memories that no longer exist.

When I reach the staircase, I stop dead. It’s worse than last time. The reek of blood and rot coming from upstairs is so pungent I fear I might choke. It takes all the strength I have not to retch.

Then the stairs begin to run red.

It’s not real, I remind myself, but that doesn’t stop the horror rising in my throat, the urge to shrink back from the river of blood. It cascades over each step, slowly at first, then gushing faster. In less than a minute, it’s lapping around my boots, splattering my leathers scarlet.

I wade through the rushing stream, steeling myself for whatever is at the top of the stairs. The blood makes the polished hardwood slippery underfoot, and I cling to the banister for support as the manor draws an eager breath, beckoning me deeper. The air changes, growing damp and fetid. It’s like walking into a gaping maw, knowing I’m about to be swallowed whole. Part of me wishes I could turn back and forget all this. The rest of me knows I never had a chance.

The cascading blood trickles to a halt when I stumble onto the landing, but the stench doesn’t subside. It clings to the ceiling and lurks behind the peeling wallpaper, infecting the manor with its rot. If I don’t wake Iestyn quickly, it will suffocate me.

I head towards his chambers, but I barely make it a few steps before a bloodcurdling scream freezes me to the spot. It’s a woman’s voice, shrill and desperate, ringing with an agony that’s difficult to listen to. It’s not the first time I’ve heard her disembodied cries. Her screams followed me the last time this happened, all the way to Iestyn’s room. But that’s not where they’re coming from now. The echo vibrates through the walls on the opposite side of the landing.