The Shadow in the Glass by JJA Harwood (any book recommendations txt) 📕

‘How may I—’

The second bell tolled. Charles was still calling her. God, she wanted to go back. She wanted to cling to him and never let go. She couldn’t. She’d already left it far too late.

Eleanor wrenched the doors open. A bang from somewhere behind her – she looked over her shoulder and saw Charles staggering into the hall, catching his hip on a table.

‘Eleanor! Wait!’

The third bell rang. She darted through the doors.

Cold air bit at her cheeks. Panting, she ran down the stairs, her corset cutting into her ribs. Her feet slid inside her satin slippers. She clattered down the last few steps as the fourth bell tolled.

A dark mass of carriages cluttered the street outside; the coachmen called down to her and the horses stamped their feet, their mad eyes rolling.

‘Mind out, miss!’

‘Need a lift?’

The fifth bell rang. Eleanor tore past the coaches, her feet slipping in her flimsy shoes. Something caught at the heel of her right foot and Eleanor was almost thrown backwards. Panic burst like a firework. She kicked off the shoes and carried on running in her stockinged feet, holding fistfuls of her enormous skirts out of her way. Behind her, Charles burst through the front doors.

‘Eleanor! Eleanor, wait!’

The sixth bell rang.

Eleanor darted between the carriages, narrowly missing the hooves of a huge black horse. She pulled her skirts aside and kept running. A dark mass of people moved at the other end of the street.

‘Stop! In the name of the law!’

Eleanor turned her head; the seventh bell rang. Inspector Hatchett was close behind, followed by constables with truncheons and a Black Maria waiting. She heard Charles shouting; it did not matter. The barriers were in sight. She was close.

The eighth bell rang.

Down the street, second – no, third turning on the left. Her feet were pounding into the cobbles. Every breath was a slice. God, if only she could tear off her skirts and corset and run naked into the night, swift and sure-footed …

The ninth bell rang. Eleanor skidded to a halt by the barriers and clambered over.

‘Eleanor! Eleanor, wait!’

‘For pity’s sake, can none of you outrun a debutante? After her!’

She was past the barriers now and the smell was choking her. Where was the churchyard? She hadn’t been able to see this far down the street, how would she know where to find it?

The tenth bell tolled, she panicked, and ran. Her feet skittered over cobbles slippery with horse dung and mud. But there, at the far end of the street was a pile of broken gravestones. The churchyard. She’d made it, she was going to make it …

‘Useless idiots! Fetch the horses! She can’t outrun a charger—’

‘Eleanor!’

The eleventh bell rang. Eleanor hurtled down the street, feet catching on rubble. Something caught at her skirts; they tore. So close now, so close. Footsteps behind her. Did they see which road she’d taken? Was a hand about to drag her back?

‘Eleanor!’

Her stockings had worn through. Her feet were bleeding. But the entrance to the old churchyard was yards away. She tore forward, reached out a hand, and—

The final bell tolled.

Eleanor’s fingers snatched at empty air. She skidded to a halt in front of the churchyard, legs raw, feet bleeding.

Beyond the iron railings was a churned-up pit. Moonlight glistened on a forgotten sliver of bone. Heaps of spoil stood like low, flat mushrooms and rubbish was scattered across the earth. There was no holy ground for her to stand on.

She had been tricked.

The black-eyed woman was waiting for her.

She walked out of the darkness, on the darkness, her shadow-limbs unfurling into the earth and sky. The figure in the calico dress rippled. Undulating shadows burst out of its skin. It stretched out a hand, and the fingers went on stretching.

‘Come away with me, dearest.’

Eleanor couldn’t move. Her trembling legs felt boneless, weak. There was nowhere to run. But fury boiled beneath her fear. The black-eyed woman had set her up to fail. Eleanor never would have survived their bargain unscathed. The black-eyed woman hadn’t even granted Eleanor’s final wish.

The black-eyed woman drifted forward. Shadows slithered under her skin. Her mouth was crammed with knitting-needle teeth, her jaw distended.

Eleanor clung to the lychgate. She didn’t deserve this. She’d done nothing wrong. All she’d done was try and make a better life for herself. The black-eyed woman was drifting towards her, body twitching and cracking as the shadows finally burst free, and Eleanor didn’t deserve to see it, she didn’t deserve this horror.

And still, still, her final wish had not been granted. The black-eyed woman was coming for her, and Eleanor still didn’t have what she wished for. She was not above the law; she could hear the policemen searching for her.

‘You … you haven’t granted my final wish,’ Eleanor whimpered.

The black-eyed woman laughed. It sounded like cracking bone.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, Eleanor thought. She’d risked everything she had to try and drag herself out of poverty. She’d done what other people only dreamed of. Why should she be punished? Wasn’t she better than that? There was a reason the black-eyed woman had come for Eleanor, and no one else. Hers was a soul worth taking.

Eleanor was going to keep it. It was hers. The black-eyed woman could do what she liked. Whatever it took, Eleanor was going to put herself beyond her reach …

Eleanor stopped. Her breath caught.

She had wished to be beyond the reach of law. The black-eyed woman had said that she was bound to Eleanor by a law bigger than them both. Had Eleanor’s final wish put her out of the reach of the black-eyed woman?

The black-eyed woman hung limp in the air. Darkness billowed around her. All her bones seemed to have vanished. Her arms hung like empty stockings and still, she raised a hand.

‘You tricked me,’ Eleanor hissed.

‘You lost,’ the woman rasped. Her mouth gaped open as she spoke. ‘It is time to honour your bargain.’

Eleanor let go of the lychgate. She ground