The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

glass in a heavy antique frame, the silvering dark at the edges. The face that looked back at me was distorted by the rippling surface. It was like looking at myself underwater. The gentleman in the frock coat seemed to move as well, disappearing from the frame depending on where I stood.

I walked up and down the hall. There were several mirrors in the same kind of ornate frames as the portraits. I had noticed them, but after my first few days never paid attention. Now I studied each one. No matter which mirror I looked in, there was a Ravenscroft looking over my shoulder. Charming. The hall had as many architectural oddities as the rest of the house, and the alcoves and odd protuberances had not been avoided by whoever had hung the portrait gallery. They seemed to have been used to make sure that the Ravenscrofts could keep an eye on any visitors. Or each other. Nothing would surprise me.

I went into the children’s area and stood in a few different places. One of the big mirrors was visible from most of them, reflecting different portraits depending on where I stood. Anyone walking in the hall would move in and out of a frame holding a Ravenscroft reflection. So, would anyone standing still, waiting for a quiet moment to go up the stairs, believing themselves unseen. With the lights dim, or flickering, I could understand Sadie’s theory. On to the headless ghost.

I moved to the beanbag chair and slid down until I could see the stairs. There was no light coming from the windows by the front door. The stairs and the small section of landing I could see were lit only by wall sconces and the chandelier in the main hall. Anyone on the stairs would be in shadow on the first few steps, and just a dark outline beyond that.

The windows rattled as I stood. Gusts from the gathering storm were becoming frequent, and I could see the agitated swaying of the trees as I walked into the main hall. I walked slowly up the stairs, counting eight steps until the light from the wall sconce fell on my face. I turned my head toward the reading room, but all I could see from here was a small portion of the children’s area. I backed down the steps until I could see all the way in, spotting the bright yellow of the beanbag chair through the colorful Story Hour backpacks. The good news was I had to hunt for it, and I knew what I was looking for. It was unlikely Sadie had been spotted by whoever was going up the stairs.

I looked back over my shoulder and saw my own distorted shadow following me. Distorted but not headless. Looking left, I saw something similar but larger cast against the wall by the light from the chandelier. I tilted my head sideways. Not exactly headless but not lumpy either. I was convinced Sadie had seen someone, even if I couldn’t replicate her description. I was also convinced she wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was a man or a woman, which didn’t do much to limit my suspect pool.

The wind was keening around the manor as I started back down the stairs. I stopped in my tracks when I heard a book fall.

The sound of a book thudding down on a hard surface is not an unusual one in a library, but it is unusual in a closed library. I stayed still. The sound did not repeat. There was no metallic clang of the book drop, no sound of a car pulling away. The noise had come from the empty reading room.

I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket. I clicked it on and brought up the dial pad as I strained to hear any other noise from the reading room. After another minute or two, I went down the stairs and crossed the hall. Pausing in the doorway, I scanned the length of the room in front. Nothing moved, and nothing seemed out of place.

I walked toward the Circ desk, looking down the aisles between the stacks as I went. The sense of being watched that I’d had on and off since my trip to the attic with Officer Webber crawled across the back of neck. Turn around, don’t turn around, my mind whispered. A creak, and the trees moaning in the storm. Was that noise inside? Outside? I held my breath, listening. The wind slammed against the manor. I heard a whistling noise and another thud just ahead of me. I jumped.

Get a grip, Greer. There’s no one here.

I walked toward the whistling noise, just to the right of the desk. One of the tall casement windows rattled. In front of it, two picture books lay face down on the deep wooden sill. I held up my hand and felt cold air moving. The window was locked but not properly shut. A slight warping of the frame allowed thin fingers of air to slide in. I pushed hard against the locking mechanism, and with a little groan it clicked into place. A trickle of air still came in around the edges, but that was true of every window in the place. It was part of Anita’s argument for a new building—the lack of climate control wasn’t good for the books. True, but I liked the fresh air and the smell of the seasons wafting through the place. The manor needed to breathe. It was all part of the charm. Though there had been a rough stretch this winter when I’d felt like Bob Cratchit shivering at the reference desk. I’d even bought a pair of fingerless gloves. Another gust set the panes rattling, and I decided I’d better check them all.

I’d finished the children’s area when a flickering shadow caught my eye. I stepped back, looking through the shelves toward the main hall. The stacks were of uniform height, ending a foot