The Last Writer Adriane Leigh (story reading TXT) 📖

on top, his form evolving to a hoofed centaur below. I’d never seen a statue like it, his innocence paralleled by the might and strength of the rippling muscle of his horse-like body.

The little black birds returned, landing each on the top of the marble cherub. They tweeted incessantly, as if in vapid conversation. And then one of them dive-bombed my head.

I ducked, laughing as they both began swirling and swapping. “Is this it then? Is this your special spot?” I searched the overgrown nooks and crevices for evidence of a bird’s nest. They continued to sing and swoop. “Alright, alright, I hear you. Next time I’ll bring treats when I trespass in your home.”

“Home is a bit of an overstatement, don’t you think?” A deep voice shot me to my feet. I turned, surprised to find Nate, the new kid.

“I like it here.” I shrugged, taking a few steps back before finding myself back against the fountain.

“You’re creepy,” he accused me.

I shrugged. “So?”

His eyebrow arched. “How many bodies do you think they got buried in the basement?”

“What?” I breathed.

“That’s the rumor around Shelter Island.”

“The rumor?”

“You’re not from here, are you?”

I shook my head, realizing more lay beneath the surface at Usher House than even I realized. “What else do you know about this place?”

His grin turned up. “You feel it, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer, my heart hammering in my ears too loudly to even think straight. Did I feel it?

“A cloud hangs over this place. Bad things have happened here. You can feel the darkness seeping through the cracks.” He held his palm up to the belly of the fountain statue.

“How did you find me out here?” I finally asked.

He nodded quickly behind him. “One of the tunnels leads to a doorway underneath the greenhouse.”

“How, where did you—”

“The old lady left me in the bulb cellar to scrub soot off the walls. I don’t do anything without investigating my exits first.”

“You wandered around alone? Mother won’t be happy, she told us not to wander off—”

“Of course she did, but she wouldn't say that unless there was something to hide.”

“She’ll check on you, you know, once she sees your gone—”

“She can’t.” He pulled the tiny skeleton key Mother always carried in the pocket of her black skirt from his jeans. “I locked the door to the underground.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

“Don’t I?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “You know, for a new foster sister you’re not very welcoming.”

“New foster sister, my foot. You’re going to get us all in trouble, stealing her key like that, how are you going to get it back to her without her noticing?”

He shrugged, kissed the tiny filigree detail quickly, and then tossed it over his shoulder. “How are you going to, you mean?”

My vision turned red as I dropped to my knees, tears stinging my eyes.

Nate had no idea what he’d just done.

PAST

Zara - Summer 1964

“How much do you know about the history of Usher House?” I asked, casually, as I entered the kitchen.

Mother looked up from a pot boiling on the stove to frown at me. “Enough. Why?”

“Just wondering.” I moved behind her to reach for a glass in the cupboard, shuffling against the folds of her skirt and dropping the tiny skeleton key in her pocket as I did. “I was working in the orchard and saw some old stones.”

“Is that all?” She replaced the lid on the pot, setting the wooden spoon on the counter and then turning fully to me.

I held my glass under the faucet and let the cloudy water run. The twins had expressed distaste at water that wasn’t exactly clear, but Mother insisted it was all we had and good enough. In her defense, it tasted perfectly normal, so I didn’t have a problem drinking it.

“Have the new kids picked their rooms?”

“Picked their rooms.” A small grin whipped across her thin lips. “Of course they haven’t, they’ve been working in the cellar tunnels. I need them cleaned up and then I’m going to see if Walton can install a few more lights. I’m hoping a few more kids can be placed with us in the coming weeks and then we can really take production up a notch.”

“More kids?” I hedged my next words. “Where did you find these ones?”

“I went to preparatory school with the head nurse at the orphanage. They didn’t have enough beds, so I’ve applied to the state to allow them to stay here.”

“So they are foster kids?”

“Sure. Is that what they call wards of the state now? Truthfully, I only wanted the younger two. I’m afraid the older one will be more trouble than it's worth, but what’s the harm in giving him a shot?”

“He seems…” I failed to find the right words and didn’t want to divulge my interaction with him in the garden earlier.

“Like a street rat? I think he’s been arrested a few times for drinking or drugs, I wasn’t really listening when the nurse rattled off his rap sheet. He won’t have free time at Usher, so I’m not too concerned. Besides, we should always believe the best in people until they prove us wrong, right, my dear?” Mother patted me on my cheek and I resisted my cringe. “I’d like eventually to operate Usher like a reform school, at nearly five hundred dollars a head we can afford to clean up some of these empty rooms, right?”

“Five hundred dollars?” I must have misheard her.

“The more room we’ve got, the more able I am to write this book and then release it to the world. It will change our lives, Zara, I just know it. Did I tell you I’ve finally settled on a name?”

“A name for what?” Nate, sweaty and caked with dirt from the cellar, appeared in the kitchen then. The twins and the two newest additions trailed behind him.

“Oh, well, I guess now is as well a time to share as any. Have a seat at the table