Adrian Sterling's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Adrian Sterling had come to Peatmoss to find one woman, and every dead house here held her face. Her portrait hung above each fireplace he passed. Same dark eyes. Same tired mouth. He did not know her name. He only knew that whatever kept her here was old, and that he meant to break it. The village emptied around him as the sun dropped. Doors gaped open. Windows watched. He stood in the road with the light dying and the wrong feeling growing in his gut. He counted six abandoned houses on this stretch. He had to pick one. Night in Peatmoss was not empty, and lingering in the open was a fool's choice. He forced himself to study the row. Five houses slumped with rot. One did not. A gothic manor rose at the end of the lane, its slate roof steep, its stone still proud under the ivy. Broken glass filled its tall windows, but colored panes clung on in reds and greens and violets. The other houses looked forgotten. This one looked kept. If her portrait meant anything, it belonged there. Then the choice made itself. A shape moved between Adrian and the smaller houses. It stepped from the shadow of a leaning wall, and his breath stopped. It had been a horse once. Now bone showed through gray, hanging hide. Ribs curved bare along its side. Its mane hung in wet ropes. A single spiraled horn rose from its skull, and its eyes burned a hard, glowing pink that threw no warmth. It fixed those eyes on him and lowered the horn. Adrian ran for the manor. The thing came fast behind him, hooves cracking the stone. He hit the arched doors, shoved, and stumbled inside as they groaned shut. The horn struck the wood once. Then the hooves circled away into the dark. He stood panting in a cold hall. Dust hung in the last gray light. And there, above a black marble hearth, hung her portrait again. The dark eyes. The tired mouth. Closer now than any he had seen, close enough to see paint cracked across her cheek. He stepped toward it. His boot met resistance. Something soft coiled around his ankle and pulled. Adrian looked down. A green vine as thick as his arm had wrapped his leg. It ran back across the floor to a plant that filled the far corner. Two great jaws opened there, each one taller than a man, their edges lined with red spines. The nearer jaw yawned wide and began to drag him across the stone. He grabbed the hearth and held. The vine hauled. Above him, the woman watched from her frame while the plant pulled him closer to its open mouth.