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Hours later, well into the night, I lay in bed in my room—still awake. Maude was snoring in the bed next to me, and the gargoyle muttered in his sleep. Rain sprayed the window, thunder rolled, the darkness perforated every handful of minutes by the flash of lightning. It was far from a quiet night.
Still—I heard it. A strange noise, just outside the door.
Clack, clack.
I went still, listening. There it was again. Footsteps in the dark. Not a thump like a cobbled shoe or boot or even a bare foot might make, but harsh. Like stone upon stone. Clack, clack. Clack, clack—
The door creaked open.
A figure in a hooded gray cloak came into the room. Its steps were heavy, the wood groaning in its wake. I lay frozen beneath my blankets, listening as it drew closer and closer to me.
There was a low rasp. Quick, labored breaths. Then the figure was leaning over my bed, standing directly over the gargoyle. I couldn’t see its face. I couldn’t see anything.
But then lightning flashed—the sky a blinding white. I caught a glimpse of a face hidden beneath the shadow of a hood.
And screamed.
The figure turned. Ran for the door. I jolted out of bed and reached out, grasping at it. My hand closed around an arm so hard my fingernails broke. The figure jerked away, its arm flinging out and striking me along the shoulder with bruising force.
Maude sat up and the gargoyle shrieked, throwing his blanket aside. Lighting flashed once more, illuminating our room and everyone in it. Only now, the hooded figure—
Was gone.