Chapter Twenty-Seven
ProserpinaOne week before Samhain, I fall asleep in the library as a storm darkens the daylight into lightning-split murk.
Auden’s in his office. Rebecca and Saint have both drifted off to nap—they’ve been feeling a little better the past few days after the doctor prescribed them some strong anti-inflammatories but they still tire easily—and Delphine and Becket, who’ve also developed fevers this week, are resting in their rooms. As a precaution, Auden’s halted the last stages of the old wing’s renovation, and he’s given Abby paid leave for the next few weeks, too. So aside from the six of us, the house is empty.
And it feels like it. It feels like an empty church in here. Or maybe a passage tomb. Our very own Newgrange, filled with old books, older blankets, a
