To escape the dangers of wartime London, Millie has been sent away to Wickford Hall, but what lurks there is far more sinister than anything war might bring.
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THERE'S SOMETHING WICKED STALKING WICKFORD HALL...
As war rages on, Mildred Cunningham...
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Sunlight filtered through the windows at the top of the stone walls, illuminating flecks of dust in the air. Millie stirred and then winced at the brightness. She tried to sit up, but it was difficult. Moving required so much effort. Her whole body was heavy as if a thousand stones had been slipped down her throat in the night.
Once she finally propped herself up, she looked around at the unfamiliar space—it was day, but this wasn't her dorm.
Where was Petra?
Something sharp drove between her ribs as the memories began to come back
It was just flashes, muddled by whatever was still coursing through her system, but it was enough. She remembered Petra, limp in her arms. And there was blood—so much blood. Millie flinched at the memory as tears formed and stung her eyes.
It couldn't be true. It had to be a dream.
As she looked down at herself, she thought a dream could be plausible. The bed she lay in was crisp and clean and white, as were the unfamiliar bedclothes she now wore. But as she raised her hand—heavy like the rest of her—she saw dark red in the crevices of her nails.
Blood.
Petra's blood.
So it was all real, after all.
Her face crumpled as the realisation broke over her. Her friend, her only friend, was gone. A sob rolled up her throat—
"I must put a stop to this."
Millie froze. The voice was forceful, almost angry. There were people arguing just outside the door to the room.
"You must be joking," the other voice came. Millie knew it—it was the Mother Superior. She was quiet, the conversation more whispered than not.
"You know I am not one to joke, Sister Grace," the other voice said—a man's voice. He had dropped his voice too, and Millie had to strain to hear. "And you must know I cannot allow this to continue."
"Don't be a fool!" the Mother snapped. "We were making progress! It was working, truly working, until..."
"Yes, was—was," he snapped back. For someone to speak this way to the Mother, Millie thought it had to be the Archdeacon. "But it failed, and I can not—will not let you continue this... This madness. I allowed you your attempt, and it failed."
What madness? Millie wondered. Does this have something to do with Petra?
"So, then, what do you propose? We go back to the way things were?"
The Archdeacon did not respond.
"Precisely. We can't go back. You know that in all this time, we've gained no ground. This was the first time something changed. We were close. It was working, I truly believe it."
