Chapter 3

                                                                        The First Crack

The second day at Haven House was colder than the first.

Nell woke before dawn. Her room was freezing, her breath coming in white puffs. She pulled the thin quilt tighter around her shoulders and looked out the window.

The moon was still up. Pale. Watching.

She thought about the voice in the floor. The chains. The way Lena's eyes had flickered gold.

She thought about Silas writing in the dirt: Someone.

She dressed quickly and went downstairs.

The common room was empty.

The fire had died hours ago. Cold ash sat in the hearth like tiny graves. Nell stood in the middle of the room, hugging her arms, and listened.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No voices. No knocking.

Just the old house breathing around her.

She walked to the kitchen. No one there either. A pot of cold oatmeal sat on the stove. A loaf of bread on the counter. A knife beside it.

Nell cut herself a slice and ate standing up.

She was on her second slice when Rue walked in.

The girl's black braids were loose today, hanging past her shoulders. Her gold-flecked eyes looked tired. She didn't say anything. Just grabbed the bread knife and cut her own slice.

They ate in silence.

Then Rue said, "You ask a lot of questions."

Nell stopped chewing. "What?"

"Last night. At dinner. You asked where the basement went."

"I was just curious."

"Curiosity kills, you know."

Nell swallowed. "Is that a threat?"

Rue looked at her. Really looked at her. For a second, something softened in her face  something that looked almost like warning.

"No," she said. "It's advice."

She took her bread and walked out.

Later that morning, Nell found Silas again.

He was in the same spot  the overturned bucket near the dead fountain. Carving the same bird. His hands moved slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world.

Nell sat on the ground beside him.

"Rue told me curiosity kills," she said.

Silas's hands didn't stop moving.

"What did she mean by that?"

He finished a wing. Held the bird up to the light. Then wrote in the dirt with his finger.

She means stop asking.

"About the basement?"

Silas nodded.

"But you know what's down there."

He looked at her. His gray eyes were tired.

Yes.

"Then tell me."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he wrote.

Not yet.

"Why not?"

Too soon. Too dangerous.

"For who?"

Silas brushed away the words and wrote one more.

You.

Nell spent the afternoon in the library.

It was a small room on the second floor, packed with old books that smelled like dust and vanilla. She pulled a random one off the shelf  a history of something, she didn't care what — and tried to read.

But her mind kept wandering.

To the basement. To the voice. To the chains.

To the way Lena had smiled when she said now you do.

She closed the book and pressed her forehead against the cold window.

Outside, the forest was gray and still. The trees pressed close to the house, their branches bare.

A movement caught her eye.

Someone was standing at the edge of the trees.

A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Watching the house.

Nell's breath caught. She leaned closer to the glass.

Then he was gone.

Just  gone.

Like he'd never been there at all.

She found Caleb in the attic.

He was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. His face was blank. His hands were still.

"Hey," Nell said from the doorway.

He didn't look up.

"Hey," she said again.

He blinked. "Sorry. Didn't hear you come in."

"You looked far away."

"Something like that."

Nell sat on the edge of his bed. "Can I ask you something?"

Caleb finally looked at her. His eyes were red-rimmed. "You're going to ask anyway."

"The basement. What's down there?"

His face went still. For a second  just a second  something flickered behind his eyes. Fear. Guilt. Something else.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"Because I heard someone. A man's voice. He said not to trust anyone."

Caleb looked away. "You should listen to him."

"Who is he?"

Caleb stood up. Walked to the window. His back was to her.

"Some questions don't have answers," he said.

"That's not true."

He turned. His face was hard. "Some questions don't have answers you want to hear."

Nell stood up. "Try me."

They stared at each other.

Then Caleb shook his head. "Not today, Nell. Not today."

He walked out, leaving her alone in the attic.

That night, Nell pressed her ear to the floorboards.

She waited.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"You came back," the voice said. Weaker than before. Thinner.

"I'll always come back."

Silence.

"Why?" the voice asked.

Nell thought about it. "Because you're down there. And no one should be down there alone."

The chains rattled.

"You're kind," the voice said. "Like her."

"Like who?"

Silence.

"Like who?" Nell pressed.

"My wife," the voice whispered. "She was kind too. Too kind for this world."

"What happened to her?"

Footsteps in the hallway.

The voice didn't answer.

"She died," it said finally. "And I've been down here ever since."

"Who killed her?"

Fast footsteps. Getting closer.

"Go," the voice said. "Now."

"Not until you tell me …"

"GO."

Nell scrambled back into bed.

The door opened.

Lena stood in the doorway. No candle this time. Just her silhouette, black against the dim light of the hallway.

"You talk in your sleep," Lena said. It wasn't a question.

Nell's heart pounded. "Bad dreams."

Lena walked into the room. Sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped.

"What do you dream about?"

Nell thought fast. "The store. Mercier Street. Old customers."

Lena was quiet for a moment. Then she reached out and touched Nell's face. Her fingers were cold.

"You're safe here," she said. "You know that, right?"

Nell looked into her eyes. Dark brown. Warm. Patient.

Don't trust her.

"I know," Nell said.

Lena smiled. "Good girl."

She stood up. Walked to the door. Paused.

"One more thing. If you hear strange noises at night  ignore them. Old houses settle."

She left.

Nell lay in the dark, her heart racing, her mind spinning.

Someone was down there. A man. A wife. Someone who died.

She didn't know who he was. She didn't know why Lena had him locked up.

But she knew one thing.

She wasn't going to ignore the noises.

And she wasn't going to stop asking questions.