When no one answers, it quiets into a string of incessant knocks until Mother turns on the hallway light. Her dainty footsteps pace down the stairs between grunts and muttered curses. I sigh at the clock, open my bedroom door, and follow her in silence, curious about why someone raps at our door at four in the morning.
My eyes take a minute to adjust. The faint rays of the rising sun break through the kitchen window, and it smells of morning dew. With the calm, the ringing in my ear buzzes, reminding me that I only have hours before it corrodes my brain.
Mother bumps into a dining chair on her way to the foyer. She pulls a thick blanket from the lone fabric seat and drapes it around herself as she drags her feet forward. Inch by inch, she pulls the door open.
“May I help you?” she rasps.
From where I stand between the base of the stairs and the stove, I cannot see who she’s talking to, but at once, Mother’s body goes rigid. An arm reaches out to steady her, and her fingers dig into the stranger’s coat. She shakes her head like a madwoman, choking on words as she tries to speak.
“Ava,” says the voice. It’s the sheriff.
There’s a brief pause, a short moment of hesitation, where they both hang on to the hope that if it’s not said aloud, it didn’t happen.
“We found a body at the lake.”
It doesn’t matter where the words come from, nor the avalanche of questions about to sweep away the sheriff standing in front of my mother.
I already know, so I’m already turning away from them.
The thin fabric of my pajamas clings to my skin when I step through the kitchen door, the frigid Albion winter punishing me for not grabbing a coat or boots. Still, I march on, the slight breeze scraping my face. I have to see for myself.
By the time I reach the lake, I no longer feel my toes, and my fingertips are about to fall off.
A small crowd gathers past the bench where Mara and I had breakfast only yesterday. The gray sky dulls the dark green branches of the trees. They look like they’re weeping. With every step, my stomach knots and my limbs stiffen. They beg me to slow down, to stop.
When the onlookers notice me, they lower their eyes and part to let me through. Someone offers me their coat, but I brush past them. My mind is ensnared by the girl lying where the water meets the stones.
I kneel next to her, or maybe I fall because two red splotches form at my knees. The cold numbs the pain from the sharp rocks digging into my bare skin. I wish it numbed the pain of my heart ripping apart.
Olivia’s face is as gray as the skies. Her eyes are closed, her lips blue. She looks like she’s made of glass—or maybe that’s all I see through the tears that cloud my eyes. I’ve worked with the dead long enough to know this isn’t an illusion, that her chest won’t move from my staring, hoping, or praying to all the Gods. She looks so peaceful I am afraid to touch her, afraid to wake her from her slumber.
A stray strand of brown hair urges my hand forward, and I tuck it neatly behind her right ear. She deserves to look like she always was— perfect. At least, one last time.
When I pull my hand away, she grabs it.
Her eyes open, but they are no longer the green of the early summer days in Nan’s rose garden. They are ice white, like Albion’s late winter snow. I don’t move. My breathing stops, and my heart slows. “Tell me whodid this to you,” I beg silently. “Tell me, and I promise I won’t let them rest a day in their lives.”
Beware the serpent with one green eye.
Her lips don’t move, no matter how much I want them to. My shaky hand slips out of her grasp, and I choke back a sob at the realization that my own sister’s words stopped the ringing in my ears. She’s supposed to help mesolveriddles… Olivia wouldn’t use her last words on a complex riddle, especially when she knew I struggled with them. Serpent could mean anything…
No. There has to be more.
I’m about to reach for my sister again, when someone throws a heavy blanket over me. A rush of warmth takes over. The feeling is an itch I want to claw out of my skin. How wrong it is to be warm while my sister lies cold and lifeless.
“Let’s go, Viola.” Mara wraps her strong hands around my shoulders, pulling me up. I don’t know if she has been here all along or if she’s just arrived, but I can’t leave now. I can’t leave Olivia here. I can’t leave her alone. Not again.
I fight against Mara. I need to hold my sister again. What if she has more to say?
Mara’s arms wrap me in a tight hug, despite my attempts to push her away. I don’t need comfort, I need answers. Will I ever be able to breathe again without my sister’s death weighing on my chest, crushing my insides?
“The sheriff will move her to Dearly Departed, and I promise I will take care of her. Let’s go.” Mara’s grip is firm. It forces me to move.
I take one last look at my Olivia. She looks like a beacon of light against the black rocks. Her billowy, white nightgown, muddied and soaked— why would Olivia wear a nightgown out in winter? By a lake, of all places, when she didn’t know how to swim? Why would she be out of Gorhail in the middle of the night, past curfew? My eyes snap to her arm. Her cuff is gone, and her arm is covered in claw marks and cuts.
“They took—” I don’t finish my sentence, because Mara pulls me away.
“Let’s go, Viola.” Her voice is sharp, colder than it’s ever been, as she maneuvers me toward the crowd.