Secrets in the Dark
good. What was more, it wasn’t soup. Clare stared in wonder at a generous portion of cheesy pasta.“I didn’t realise you were cooking dinner,” Clare said. “Aren’t you tired?”
He settled into the chair beside her, cradling his own bowl. “I thought we should enjoy the rewards of our mission. I hope you don’t mind; I opened your cases.”
“No, I’m glad.” She picked up the spoon and scooped some of the pasta into her mouth. “Oh, this is good. Sorry, Dorran, I know you put so much effort into the soups—”
He chuckled as he licked his spoon. “But we were both thoroughly sick of them.”
Clare was ravenous, and the food, so tasty and rich compared to the watery vegetable blends they had been living off, made her want to shovel it into her mouth until she couldn’t fit any more. But she paced herself, trying to savour it and not make herself sick. “So much has happened since I left home, I can’t remember what I packed. Or how much I packed. Will it be enough?”
“Yes. We should be comfortably set until the garden is ready for harvest. Pastas, rice, tinned sauces, tinned fruit. You did well.”
It was a ridiculous thing to be proud over, but she felt herself turning pink at his praise. “At least the trip was worth it.”
“We made it back in one piece. I do count that as a success.”
Clare laughed. But at the same time, the images returned: the creatures, frozen under their layers of ice, still alive, still watching. The blood. The way they had swarmed over Clare and Dorran as though willing to bury them alive.
Getting to the road had been nearly impossible, and that was only an hour away. She couldn’t imagine how they could go farther. Simply walking to the forest’s end would take at least four hours, and they would probably need to go much farther than that to find any kind of transport. Beth might as well be on another continent.
“I got something to celebrate with.” Dorran put his bowl aside and picked up the bottle of wine. “I hope you won’t mind drinking out of mugs.”
Clare realised her face had fallen, and she tried to put some cheer back into it. “That’s my favourite way to drink wine.”
He used the end of his spoon to force the cork into the bottle and half-filled two of the mugs. Clare took hers gratefully. The wine would at least help chase off some of the melancholy. Dorran was right—they’d gotten back alive and mostly unharmed, and that was as much of a success as they could ask for. The wine burnt as it went down, and the sweetness lingered. “This is nice.”
“It’s merlot,” Dorran said. “We have owned this bottle for decades, but when it was bought, it was worth nearly six thousand.”
Clare choked on it and pressed the back of her hand over her mouth. “For wine?”
“For prestige more than the drink, I think.” Dorran laughed. “My family was passionate about their collection. The staff drank cheap wines, and I liked them just as much. But I wanted you to have something nice tonight.”
“Well, it’s by far the most expensive thing I’ve put in my body.” She smiled down at the mug. Then a thought occurred. “Did you have to go into the cellar for it?”
“Only briefly.”
“Hah. It really doesn’t bother you, does it? I’d rather drink water for the rest of my life than go back down there again.” She pressed her lips together. “But thank you.”
Dorran’s smile was warm. For a moment, Clare was enraptured, enjoying the way he looked at her. Then he took a slow breath, his thumb tracing around the edge of his cup. “I think I know how to reach your sister.”
Her heart missed a beat. She stared, food and wine forgotten.
Dorran reached into his pocket and took out a small black shape. “While we were getting the supplies, I had a brief look at your car. And I found this in the ignition.”
He passed her the key. Her throat tightened as she wrapped her hand around the small fob. She realised, with a shock, it was the first time she’d held a personal possession since arriving at Winterbourne. Everything had been borrowed: the clothes, the shoes, and the food. She supposed that would change now. She had her luggage downstairs—two cases that now encapsulated the entirety of her life.
But the keys meant more than that. She lifted her gaze to meet Dorran’s. “Do you think we can get it to start?”
“I’m afraid it’s almost certainly dead. While I stood guard, I looked into the engine. I was hoping I could repair it, but I am not familiar with the system. It is more complex than what I know.”
“I guess your family still uses mechanical cars, whereas mine is full of digital parts.”
“That seems to be the case. But it is not a lost cause. Behind the house is a shed where our cars are stored outside of use. The cars themselves are all gone—taken when my family left for the Gould estate—but there is an engine I was toying with. If we can transplant the engine into your car, we may be able to get it to run.”
“If we could…” Clare rubbed the back of her neck. If they could, then Beth would no longer be unreachable. She bit her lip. “This is just a theory, but I think the masks might have protected us. Not just from the attack, but before, as well. I couldn’t see your face through the mesh. The hollows wouldn’t have been able to, either, and I think that was why they waited so long to attack.”
“You might be right,” Dorran said. “We had covered all of our skin. The hollow that watched us move the supplies out of the car—did you see how it looked at us? It was curious.”
“Exactly.” Clare was growing more confident in her theory. “All of the other hollows—the ones in the house and