Free The Dead of Winter by Chris Priestley

hurt, miss,’ said Hodges, stepping forward.
    It was then I noticed that blood was trickling down my face. One of the pieces of glass must have hit me when the mirror smashed.
    ‘Why in heaven’s name would you do such a thing, Michael?’ said Charlotte, grabbing my arm tightly. ‘I simply do not understand it. What am I to say to Sir Stephen?’
    ‘Master Michael is hurt,’ said Hodges more forcefully, pulling me away until she loosened her grip and stood looking dazed. ‘I’ll take him to the kitchen.’
    Charlotte seemed to calm herself at Hodges’ intervention.
    ‘Very well,’ she consented. ‘Very well. See to him, Hodges.’ Then, addressing me again, she said,‘Sir Stephen will be very disappointed.’ With a slight quiver in her voice, she added, ‘
I
am very disappointed.’
    With these words Charlotte straightened the folds of her dress, before turning on the spot and drifting off. Blood trickled into my eye, making her blur and shudder as she disappeared.
    Hodges took me to the kitchen and Mrs Guston clapped her hands against her bosom, producing a cloud of flour behind which she all but disappeared.
    ‘Lord above,’ she gasped, coming towards us. ‘Whatever has happened now? I heard such a terrible crash.’
    ‘The mirror in the hall has smashed,’ said Hodges matter-of-factly. ‘Master Michael has a cut to his face. It is nothing serious, Mrs Guston. I know it isn’t your area, but could I ask you to organise the tidying up of the glass while I see to Master Michael?’
    ‘Of course,’ she said, waving her hands in the air to reveal two large white handprints on her chest. ‘Of course. Edith! Edith!’
    With that, Mrs Guston took off to marshal the servants. Hodges soaked a piece of muslin in something from a brown bottle and held it to my forehead, making me wince.
    ‘I should have mentioned that might sting, sir,’ he said with a smile.
    I smiled back.
    ‘It’s only a scratch,’ he said. ‘You’ll be fine, sir. Hold that tight till it stops leaking.’
    I sat by the fire and took hold of the swab of muslin and did as I was bidden. Hodges came and sat next to me. He poked at the coals for a few moments.
    ‘What happened with the mirror, Master Michael?’ Hodges asked. ‘I know you didn’t break it. What did you mean when you said there was a boy?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said. Sure as I was of what I had seen, I knew how implausible it sounded.
    Hodges looked at the floor and interlaced his fingers.
    ‘Come now, Master Michael,’ he said in a whisper. ‘There’s something happening here. I don’t claim to know what it is, but there is certainly something. Jerwood told me that you heard banging behind the panelling of the priest hole. Is that why you went back there yesterday?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, frowning. ‘Not that anyone would believe me.’
    Hodges gave me a long hard look.
    ‘Sir Stephen hears banging,’ he said. ‘It’s part ofhis condition, the doctor says.’ He leaned a little more towards me. ‘But how can that be if you can hear it too?’
    I didn’t know how to respond to that.
    Hodges shook his head.
    ‘Why don’t you tell me exactly what you saw in that mirror?’
    I had been reluctant to agree at first, knowing how unbelievable it sounded. I had trouble believing it myself. But I now knew I was not alone in my experiences, and besides, there was relief to be had from sharing this burden, so I took it.
    ‘I thought I saw a boy, but the mirror seemed to be twisting the reflection.’ I frowned, trying to remember. ‘No – only that part of it was twisted. There was a boy and then it was something else, something like a creature …’
    ‘A creature?’ said Hodges. ‘What sort of creature?’
    ‘I can’t say. Some strange thing,’ I said. ‘I … I don’t know what it was. It … It climbed the wall like a great spider.’
    Hodges looked as troubled by this account as though he had seen it with his own eyes.
    ‘Sweet Jesus,’ he