The Manor was a beast of stone and ivy. It sprawled across the landscape, a monument to old money and older secrets. The helicopter touched down on a private pad that was manicured better than most golf courses.
Servants were lined up. It was like a scene from a period drama, ridiculous and intimidating.
Nicholas didn't come inside. A black sedan was waiting for him on the tarmac. He gave Seraphina a curt nod-a single, sharp dip of the chin-and got into the car.
As the car drove away, Seraphina felt the loss of his energy immediately. The world seemed a little dimmer, a little colder.
Harrison guided her toward the massive oak doors. Alfred, the butler, bowed low.
"Welcome home, Miss Seraphina."
Inside, the foyer was cavernous. A crystal chandelier the size of a small car hung overhead.
Standing at the base of the grand staircase were three people.
Her father, Archibald Sterling. He stood rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. His face was a map of stern lines. He looked at her not with love, but with appraisal.
Beside him, Eleanor, her stepmother. She was wearing a dress that cost more than the Grimes' trailer. Her smile was painted on, tight and brittle.
And a young man. Julian. Her younger brother. Archibald's son. He was leaning against the banister, wearing a racing jacket, chewing gum with an insolent rhythm.
"Father," Harrison said, stepping forward. "She's home."
Archibald nodded. He walked up to Seraphina. He didn't hug her. He looked at her flannel shirt, her muddy boots, her messy hair.
"You're a mess," he said.
Seraphina held his gaze. "I've had a long day."
Archibald huffed. "Go get cleaned up. We have standards here."
Eleanor stepped in, her perfume cloying. "Oh, Archie, give her a break. She's been living in... well, you know."
She said it like Seraphina had been living in a sewer. Which, metaphorically, wasn't far off.
Julian laughed. He pushed off the banister and sauntered over. He looked Seraphina up and down.
"So this is the lost sheep?" Julian smirked. "You smell like a deep fryer."
Harrison stepped between them. "Watch your mouth, Julian."
Julian rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm going to the track. This reunion is boring."
Seraphina looked at Julian. She looked past his arrogance, past the expensive jacket.
She saw a black mark on his forehead. It was pulsing. A dark, jagged line that cut through his lifeline.
"Don't go," she said.
Julian paused, keys dangling in his hand. "Excuse me?"
"Don't go to the track today," Seraphina said. Her voice was flat, factual.
Julian laughed, a bark of amusement. "Why? Are you going to put a hex on me, witch girl?"
Seraphina didn't blink. "I smell burning rubber and copper. The air around you is thick with it. If you push that car today, the metal will fail."
Silence filled the hall. Archibald looked at her, his brows knitting together.
"That's enough," Archibald snapped. "Don't start your nonsense here, Seraphina. We sent you away to protect the family from these... delusions. Don't bring them back."
Julian shook his head, grinning. "Crazy. She's actually crazy."
He spun the keys on his finger and walked to the door. "See you later, freak."
Seraphina watched him go. She felt the heavy thud of fate locking into place.
"He won't," she whispered to herself.
