Between Shadows

Between Shadows: Chapter 03-B (Remembrance)

Lorian donned his gloves, then pushed one of the piles toward Evelyn. “Start with these—all the post-marked ones. You’ll find anything in 1925 to early ‘26 is more direct. Journalists started reaching out more, wanting to cover the changes to the hotel.”

He picked one off the top of the pile, pointing to the date. “February ‘26,” he said. “This one’s from dear old Dad, one from grandfather’s collection.” He opened it, tracing a thumb over the name. “I didn’t know it until we started going through letters recently, but there was a lot of communication between Silas and my grandfather. Mostly about interviews and press releases, or to redact them. Here’s the real stuff if you want to see how highly he thought of the press.”

Evelyn took the letter from him.

Arden,

I hope this letter finds you well, preferably before the weekend papers go to press. We’re holding our grand opening for the restaurant next week, now that the rain has died down. The estuary still runs high, but they expect the water levels to be safe next week.

I’d love to have you over for an interview this week, if you have some time. The restaurant is still running through the menu, but I think you’ll enjoy what we have so far. I do so hope you’ll join me for dinner and a few drinks.

I’ll make it worth your time. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you with your editor, since I made things difficult for you last time. Rest assured, everything we discuss is on the record.

“This is…friendly,” Evelyn said, somewhat amused. “Almost genuine. Certainly not how he talked to the other reporters.”

Lorian leaned over, skimming it. “Sort of. I think he did enjoy his conversations with Grandfather, but only because he spoke so highly of him—and the hotel,” Lorian said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “Some of the articles are painfully promotional.”

“A bit like the stuff for the Nightjar?”

“Not at all. I haven’t written a puff piece in years. They’re proper stories.”

Evelyn gave him a knowing look as she set the letter aside and moved on to the next.

The paper was creased more sharply than the others, corners worn as if it had been handled too often. The handwriting was still elegant, but less certain. Lines dipped where they should’ve been straight. Ink pooled slightly at the ends of sentences, like the pen had lingered too long. Same crest at the top. Same expensive paper. But something in it felt unravelled.

But this one didn’t mention blueprints. Or permits. Or engineering deviations.

She skimmed the opening lines—and froze.

It’s happening again. Last night, she stood at the foot of the bed. You’d think I’d be used to the way she watches, but I never am. She doesn’t speak. Never has. Just the sound of water in her throat.

Evelyn’s eyes stalled on the last sentence, then dropped to the next page. The tone was personal, but detached. He didn’t explain or justify. He was simply recording events, as if marking time instead of trying to make sense of it. Each line was steady on the surface, but something frayed beneath.

Lorian looked up, brow furrowed. “Bad one?”

She didn’t answer right away. “This one’s not about the hotel. Not exactly.”

I tried sleeping in the east wing. She followed. I left the door cracked for her the second night. I think that was a mistake.

By the fourth page, Evelyn’s pulse had slowed—like her body was making room for something colder than fear. “I think I need to–” She felt a painful, anxiety-induced crackling at the base of her skull, the sort of effervescence before vertigo, swept up in the shifting sands of the estuary.

You always said grief is a mirror. But I don’t think this is mine.

She lowered the letter slowly, her hands cold. She braced herself on the table, her head feeling as though it might split. “Lorian, I—” The room spun.

Her vision cut out for a second, darkened around the edges when it returned. For a moment, Silas was seated across the table. Silver eyes flashed momentarily, laced with sharp hunger and calculation, before fading to the glow of dull light filtering through storm clouds. Something almost soft, like the quiet rumble of distant thunder, fraying at the edges.

She felt something bubbling up in her throat, ice-cold. She gasped, but inhaled brackish water where there should have been air. Another inhale, starved of air, and her chest convulsed.

“Evelyn? What’s wrong?” Lorian rose, pushing his chair back. He reached for her arm to steady her and tried to guide her down to her chair, but her body was frozen, motionless. She stared ahead, eyes locked on something in front of her. He moved closer and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

Evelyn gasped suddenly, as if coming up for air, coughing. Her hand tightened almost painfully around his as she struggled to find her breath again. “Are you with me?” he asked.

She nodded and gripped Lorian’s hand and slowly let him help her to her chair. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat.

“Give yourself a minute to catch up,” Lorian said. He kneeled next to her, watching closely. He moved the letter to the side and placed her coffee in front of her. “Drink when you can.”

Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke, moments later. Lorian had moved back to his chair, looking over the letter. She took a drink as she watched him. “I—” She paused, thinking better of admitting to what she’d just experienced.

Lorian ran a hand through his hair and looked over at her. “I already think you’re crazy. Don’t hold out on me now.” That earned him a glare.

“I remember this, somehow,” Evelyn said. She hesitated again as the imagery slowly came back. “He looked older. Tired. Fragile, if you can picture that.”

Lorian frowned. “You remember this. Not ‘dreamt’ this.”

She nodded as he sat in silence, reading over the letter again.

“You don’t believe me.”

“It’s not that,” Lorian said. “I just don’t have anything left to say.”

“You could start by explaining what he is, for one,” Evelyn murmured.

“What, you want me to tell you I can talk to ghosts?” Lorian chuckled, rubbing his forehead. “Look, after whatever just happened, we should probably call it a day.”

“We just got here,” she said, dismayed.

“Evelyn, you just had a—I don’t know, whatever that was. Are you sure you’re in the best state to keep going?”

“Would you stop?” she asked.

“Honestly? Yes. At least today.”

“Even knowing that things are just going to keep spiraling until I get to the bottom of this?” Her voice picked up a bit. “Lorian, I’m literally drowning in this. The dreams are bad. But this— Whatever that was, I can’t keep doing this. There has to be an explanation here, and somehow I don’t think I can just get help for this.”

“We’re not going to find it in letters, either,” he said.

“No, but this certainly did something.” Evelyn propped her head up with her hand, sliding the letter back across the table. “These were only part of the reason I wanted you over here today.”

A flicker of curiosity crossed Lorian’s face. “Oh, good. Does this mean you’re spilling your secrets?”

“I’m not the one with secrets.” She gave him a pointed look. “I wanted to see if we could find the lift from my dream. Everything in my dream has been consistent with what was down here, especially now that I can place the restaurant. What if it exists?”

Lorian let out a sharp laugh, too loudly. “The lift that took you back to 1926?”

Evelyn glared at him. “Look, I don’t expect it to be exactly like that, but what if the restaurant is still here?”

“This would’ve been it,” Lorian said, shaking his head. We’re standing in the middle of the ballroom right now.

“That’s not on any of the blueprints you showed me.”

He sighed. “They’re back at the Nightjar. I can’t just bury you, Ev. I promise, I’m not hiding that part.” He muttered a curse under his breath, probably at his choice of wording.

“Just humor me, would you? I don’t really have any expectations of what we’ll find, but I have to try. I at least want to see what’s in place of the lift if it doesn’t exist.” She tucked the letter away in its envelope and slid it into her laptop case.

“Safekeeping?” Lorian raised his eyebrows.

She ignored him. “I don’t want to go by myself.”

“I’ll humor you.” Lorian stood up, stretching with a groan. “Probably the only chance I’ll get to see the underbelly of this thing. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t a little ecstatic.” He grinned.