““Make sure you lock all the windows.” Iris’s answer was lost to me, an unpleasant reminder that I would be leaving the safety of the mantel to search for Gerald with rotten hearing. An army could sneak up on me with no problem. Ezekiel put his arms around my neck and nuzzled my cheek like he could hear what I was thinking. Then he chirped loudly and patted his mouth. “Right. You’re hungry. I almost forgot.” I slammed all the windows in the bedroom, but had to look for the locks. I couldn’t ever... remember locking our windows or doors before. In Whipplethorn Manor it simply wasn’t necessary. I ran my fingers around the window sills until I found each tiny wooden hook, and then I fastened them onto their equally tiny eyes. There must’ve been some time in my family’s history when locks were necessary or my ancestors wouldn’t have made them. Lucky for us someone had been afraid of something. I wondered if it could’ve been a spriggan. I was certainly afraid of them. Enough that I considered using some of Dad’s special glue to seal the window against its return.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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