CELESTE
I’d been so engrossed in the book I was reading that I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of rolling thunder. One second, the manor was quiet, and the next, lightning cracked across the sky like an angry whip. The windows trembled. The walls groaned. Then the thunder rolled in.
Fear coiled up in my stomach. I tried to tell myself it was fine. The manor was built to withstand far worse. Yet none of that mattered when the wind shrieked, or when rain lashed so hard against the glass. I tried to keep reading. But when another flash split the sky and the thunder slammed right after it, I jumped to my feet. My heart pounded in my throat.
“Get it together,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just a storm.”
Only it wasn’t just anything. Because storms never came to me empty-handed. I
