The corpse flopped to the floor and squelched. Flies crawled out of the holes where its eyes had been. Its tongue, swollen and black, filled its mouth. All the colors were wrong.

  Dalliance wasn’t the only one who threw up, or the loudest, either. That distinction went to Earnest.

  The closet was dark. A torch, hastily inserted, revealed it to be empty, but everyone had heard it.

  Why did it do this? Dalliance wondered. What did it gain? What are we missing?

  They were all scared.

  So there was that.

  "It’s got new eyes," said Effie suddenly. Dalliance looked at the messy, rotten sockets. It was indisputable; they were gone.

  "That doesn’t change much," Sterling told her. "We were always assuming it would be at full strength. 'Best' practice, and all of that."

  There were nods all around at that one.

  "It's supposed to be half-starved," Circe said faintly. Her fists were clenched, and her skin was pale. She was afraid. Dalliance realized she didn’t want to get hurt again. "They keep people away from places like this for a reason, to weaken them."

  Clearly, someone had come too close.

  The girl he'd known a few months ago would probably have been prodding at the gross thing in front of them, or telling them how fresh the corpse was. Now she just hid behind Effie.

  Dalliance thought that if she never felt safe again, he certainly wouldn't blame her.

  "Let’s focus, people," Effie ordered. "What do we know?"

  Silence.

  "Well," Dalliance said, after an instant's pause, "we know it’s not the servants' quarters."

  As one, they turned and looked at the rooms separating them from the front of the house.

  "It’s upstairs," Dalliance said. He pointed into the closet and held up his torch, illuminating the hole in the ceiling from which the corpse had fallen. No second floor for the servant's quarters, so this was as far as it could go.

  There was a long rattling breath, wheezing and harsh. Dalliance jumped backwards by reflex. Nothing had come down, he was not expecting that, he didn't even know how to look for future sounds. Sterling gestured, and Immaculate took the other shoulder of the corpse, the two heaving it back and closing the closet door. "It's upstairs, then."

  Silence, as the group considered this new intelligence. Fallowfield wedged a fragment of mostly-broken chair leg under the door, giving it a sturdy kick to hold the door shut. They'd all backed away, but Zenith. She nailed a short length of board scavenged from the seat over the latch, then patted it. "That's not going anywhere."

  Drag-thump.

  Nobody laughed.

  "Are we still assuming it can’t get to the lit areas?" Dalliance asked faintly, staring at the ceiling.

  "Are you calling my father a liar?" Sterling asked.

  "Not at all. But are we?"

  There were generally hesitant sounds of agreement.

  "Then," he said, "it's upstairs. And we have cut off access to the servants' quarters from it, since there's no second story there, so we know it’s not there. We know it’s not the kitchen or dining room. I don't think it's going to want to jump down and get trapped in a closet."

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  Fallowfield drove another splintered chair leg under the door, wedging it even more firmly.

  "It’s still progress."

  "Thank you for pointing it out," Charity said in the ensuing silence.

  "We know where we have to go next," Effie said.

  More thumping. More shuffling. The sound came through the wooden floor, straight from upstairs. Someone’s bedroom, probably.

  A gasp.

  Sterling removed the potted plant from his waist with shaking hands. They were withered, brown, and rotting.

  "It’s probably feeding on us right now," he said. "It’s close enough, through the floor."

  Thump. Shuffle. Again.

  Dalliance started for the front of the house. "It can also hear us."

  "We're in its territory," Sterling said impatiently. "Always best to assume that it can. We still have to communicate."

  Not for the first time, Dalliance wondered why everybody didn't just learn [Whisper]. Or at least Effie: they'd have been able to communicate at least, silently. Something to bring up later.

  "Has anyone seen the coward?" asked Earnest. "Know if he's still with us?"

  Nobody did.

  "Serves him right," said Sterling irritably.

  This was not the Wall. The punishment for cowardice was much reduced from the normal flogging-until-death penalties that would attend the charge. Over the last weeks, Sterling had made it abundantly clear that he did not approve of their making the distinction.

  If Dalliance were being honest, neither did he.

  He looked up at the ceiling, the wooden floorboards creaking rhythmically above them. Thump. Drag. Thump.

  Dalliance felt it then: a heaviness in his limbs. A headache, pulsing behind his eyes. His Mana wasn't regenerating. In fact, it had ticked down by one point.

  He fumbled for his canteen, unscrewing the cap with trembling hands. "Everyone, drink! Eat! Right now!"

  "I'm not hungry," Fallowfield mumbled, looking nauseous. "The smell. . . ."

  "That's why it hasn't attacked," Effluvia whispered, clutching her staff. "It's weak. It's starving. It's waiting for us to weaken ourselves before it comes down."

  Above them, the footsteps stopped directly over their heads. A low, vibrating hum resonated through the beams, and Dalliance felt his mana drop another point.

  "It knows," Earnest said.

  "We have to move," Sterling said, drawing his sword. "If we stay here, we're just feeding it. We have to kill it from a distance. If we get into melee range. . . ."

  "It'll drain us," Dalliance finished.

  "It's quiet." Zenith.

  Above them, the creaking had stopped. The oppression of the aura remained, a low-level headache that throbbed in time with their heartbeats.

  "It can't get to us in the light," Sterling said uncertainly.

  "If we try to wait it out, we'll lose." Effluvia's voice was matter-of-fact. "We need to force it to show itself, or else get far enough away that it can't drain us."

  "The entrance hall is two-story, so no roof. Can't get close without us seeing it." Dalliance doubted it would be that easy.

  Earnest groaned as they began to backtrack. "Was it so much to ask to get our backs to a wall, get a single direction it might come from?"

  "We'll get there," Charity reassured him absently.

  Another mana point down, and his prediction vanished. He was able to re-cast it, but . . . "It eats spells."

  "I know," Effie said tightly, striding ahead of them. Above them, the floor rattled with thump-drag, thump-drag. It was keeping pace.

  It stopped, or at least the sound of it stopped, as they reached the entryway. Shadows coiled amidst an unnatural mist along the second-story walkway.

  "Where are you, coward?" Sterling roared upon their having reached the entryway.

  Silence.

  Dalliance, if he were being honest with himself, did not want to go up there.

  “I don’t think it’s coming down,” Circe said. Her ring was on one hand, the other hand’s finger on it, palm up, like he’d seen her do before. Beside her, Effie’s bow, arrow nocked, and Fallowfield. Dalliance nocked his own.

  “Who’s going first?”