Clara clutched her son’s locket. “I only need the cure.”
The thing flipped a page: her first kiss vanished. Another: the smell of her mother’s bread. Another: her own reflection.
The attic grew cold. Shadows pooled in the corner like spilled ink. Then two yellow eyes opened in the dark.
Clara clutched her son’s locket. “I only need the cure.”
The thing flipped a page: her first kiss vanished. Another: the smell of her mother’s bread. Another: her own reflection.
The attic grew cold. Shadows pooled in the corner like spilled ink. Then two yellow eyes opened in the dark.