The Lights Under the Lake. Sophie Cleverly

       Chapter Eight

       SCARLET

      couldn’t sleep.

      I lay awake in the dark. The four-poster bed was warm and comfortable, much better than what I was used to, even if it was a little musty. But there was a chill coming from the fireplace, and I couldn’t escape it without putting my head under the covers. And trying that had caused Ivy to prod me and whisper that I should stop messing around.

      And on top of that, there had been the noises. Footsteps and dull banging and creaks from the walls. It was actually almost familiar – Rookwood was the same – but in a new place it was still unsettling.

      Now Ivy was breathing steadily and twitching in her dreams, and I was pretty sure Ariadne was snoring. At least, someone was snoring, and Rose didn’t seem like the type.

      I sighed and rolled over. We hadn’t shut the curtains, and there was a little moonlight, enough to cast the weird bath in shadow.

      There was something odd about the Shady Pines Hotel, and whatever it was making me feel on edge. Stop being so stupid, I told myself. You wanted to get away from Rookwood. And you’re as far away from Miss Fox and the asylum as you’ll ever be. Nothing is going to go wrong.

      That was when I heard a loud gasp from the corridor.

      Well, now I was awake. I slipped out of the bed and over to the doorway, and pulled it open as gently as I could manage.

      There were still lamps lit along the corridor, and Mrs Rudge was standing by the nearest one, staring at the wall opposite our door. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her face was pale and her hand was clamped over her mouth.

      I shut the door gently behind me. “Mrs Rudge?”

      She jumped and then turned to face me, lowering her hand. “Ah, Miss …” She trailed off, apparently realising she didn’t actually know my name.

      “Scarlet Grey,” I said automatically. What had she seen? “Did something startle you?”

      Her eyes flickered. “Well, you did, a little.”

      “I meant before that,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep and I heard you gasp.”

      “It was nothing,” she said quickly. She straightened her apron. “I was coming to put out the lamps for the night, and I thought I saw a mouse; I’ll, um … just finish putting these out, shall I?” She cupped her hand round the lamp and blew it out, and then hurried away to the next one.

      I stepped into the corridor and examined the place she’d been staring at. There was a cross hanging from the wall. It was golden and quite ornate, and the nail it was dangling from looked haphazardly tapped in, like it was only just hanging on.

      I frowned. I could’ve sworn that hadn’t been there before. It seemed out of place among the portraits of posh dead people. Why on earth was Mrs Rudge so frightened of it? She didn’t seem like a wet blanket – or at least I thought she couldn’t be, not living in such a remote place with such a cranky husband. She had to be tougher than she looked. But a cross on the wall had just scared the stuffing out of her!

      Maybe Mrs Rudge is a vampire and that’s why she’s afraid of crosses