Everyone knew what happened to Evert Winterborne—that he was a cherished son. An adored little brother. That when his father died, he was perfectly content to live in the smaller house and take the smaller inheritance and play a smaller role in the business. And the town. And the world. And when tragedy struck, he was there, ready and willing to step into his older brother’s shoes and fill his role for as long as needed.
After all, he had been born a prince and would do anything to help his nephew become king.
Nobody knew the truth.
Two hours after his sole remaining relative finally fell to his death, Evert strolled up to his ancestral home. For a moment, he stood in the lightly falling rain, staring up at the tall, imposing doors and the big iron ring with which guests had been knocking for centuries. But Evert wasn’t a guest—not anymore and never again.
His nephew was dead. The woman was gone. And the only thing standing between Evert Winterborne and what was rightfully his was just on the other side of that door.
So he reached for the handle. And turned.
It wasn’t even locked.
Poor Smithers must have been falling down on the job. He’d have to be let go, of course. And the orphans would have to be disposed of. One way or another. But they wouldn’t ruin this—his return to Winterborne House, so Evert threw open the doors and stepped inside.
The house was always a bit dreary, and only one dim light burned overhead, but Evert had always felt at home in the darkness. The storm was almost over, and soon the sun would be up. In a few hours he would walk into court and proclaim to the world that Gabriel Winterborne was dead. He wouldn’t even be lying.
There would be questions, Evert had no doubt. Smithers would try to make trouble. But Evert had a shattered window and a broken nose and the Winterborne name. All Smithers had was twenty years’ worth of rumors and a houseful of children.
Evert was a Winterborne. No. Evert was the Winterborne. And it was past time for him to take what was his.
But then he heard the laughter—haunting and faint. It might have been the wind, but it was more like a ghost. Or a memory saying, “Father! Father! Let me try!”
Evert froze, because he knew that voice, and for a moment he wondered if this was all just a very bad dream. A nightmare saying, “Go away, Ev. You’ll get hurt.”
“I can do it.”
“No, you can’t. That’s my sword. That’s the heir’s sword.” His brother laughed. And the taunt that followed had an eerily familiar tune. “I’m the heir, and you’re the spare. I’m the heir, and you’re the—”
Evert closed his eyes and shook his head as his father snapped, “Boys, enough!”
Then the voices faded, and the halls echoed with laughter.
“Gabriel!” a girl cried. “Gabriel! Catch me if you can!”
He searched the foyer and the hallway. He threw open the doors and rushed into the library, but more laughter rang out.
“Izzy! Come on!”
The sound was coming from behind him. He was certain.
Then he saw the light. It flickered in the foyer, bouncing off the front doors that he had, almost certainly, left open. He was just starting to wonder if there were ghosts when a voice said, “You made a mistake.”
One more time, Evert spun, but this time it wasn’t a mirage. A girl stood on the stairs. She was younger and smaller than the one who had caused all the trouble. She had black hair instead of red and big brown eyes. She looked unafraid as she stood in the beam of flickering light that sliced through the dark air like a spotlight.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she warned while the laughter of the dead echoed all around her.
“And why’s that?” he asked.
He expected her to talk of vengeance and justice or maybe even ghosts because that cursed laughter was still ringing through the halls.
But she just pointed overhead and said, “Because of that.”
Evert craned back his head to look, just as something flew through the air toward him.
He tried to duck, but he was too late. He tried to run, but he was too slow. A half dozen copper pots were already zooming straight for his head.
He stumbled back just as a boy screamed, “Now!” and instantly, Evert was jerked off of his feet. Ropes wrapped around his ankles. A net fell over his head. A complex set of pulleys and wires sent him flying into the air.
And then there was more laughter. Closer. Louder. And from children decidedly less dead.
For now.