Page 40 of Where The Devil Kneels

“Like me,” the young woman whispers, her voice hoarse as if she hasn’t used it much lately. She’s watching me with the wary assessment of someone who’s learned the hard way that trust can be fatal.

I move closer to her cot, conscious of not making any sudden movements. “I’m Elara,” I say, abandoning the formality Silas and Dr. Rao maintain like a second language. “What’s your name?”

The girl’s eyes dart to Dr. Rao, who gives a subtle nod.

“Rebecca,” she answers, pulling herself up to sitting position with a grimace of pain. “Rebecca Winters.”

The name clicks back to Garrow’s threat to Officer Peck in the library. “Mrs. Winters is her teacher, isn’t she? Room 106, on the east hallway with the yellow door.” His knowledge of Peck’s daughter was used as a weapon.

“You’re related to the elementary school teacher,” I say, understanding dawning. “That’s how you got close enough to see something you shouldn’t have.”

Rebecca nods, fingers worrying the edge of her blanket. “My aunt. I was staying with her while taking gap year classes at the community college.” Her voice drops to a near-whisper. “I forgot my textbook at her house one night. Went back after dark to get it because I had an exam the next day.”

“What did you see?” I ask, though part of me doesn’t want to know.

Her eyes take on a glassy, distant look. “I cut through the woods behind the elementary school; it’s faster than taking the road. That’s when I heard the chanting.” She swallows hard. “They were in the clearing near Blackwater Creek. Mayor Garrow and maybe eight others in these weird robes. They had someone tied to this stone altar thing, and they were—” Her voice breaks.

“You don’t have to continue,” Dr. Rao says gently, but Rebecca shakes her head.

“No. She needs to understand what we’re dealing with.” Her gaze locks onto mine, suddenly fierce despite her injuries. “They slit his throat. Collected the blood in this bowl with symbols carved on it. And they were laughing. Like it was some kind of party game.”

My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat. I glance at Silas, finding his expression unreadable in the lamplight. “I thought—” I swallow hard against the acid taste. “You told me he wasn’t ‘superstitious like hispredecessors.’ He preferred more practical methods of control. Power and intimidation, not… rituals.” My fingers twist in my lap as the implications settle. “You’re sure it was Garrow?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

“His hood fell back when he raised the knife. I saw his face clear as day in the firelight.” Her fingers unconsciously touch the cuts on her arm. “I tried to run, but I stepped on a branch. They heard me. I made it to my aunt’s house, called Dr. Raobecause she helped my friend Mia last year when her stepfather…” She trails off. “Two hours later, Silas brought me here.”

I look around the chamber with new eyes, not just a well-stocked emergency room, but a lifeline. The difference between surviving and becoming another disappearance, Garrow’s men would never bother to investigate.

My eyes catch on details I missed in my initial shock: a small bookshelf stocked with paperbacks and board games to occupy those in hiding; a detailed map on the wall with coloured pins marking what must be safe routes and allied locations; a cabinet of neatly folded clothes in various sizes; a stack of what look like fake identification documents waiting for photographs to be attached.

“How many?” I ask, turning to Silas. “How many people have passed through this room?”

“Twenty-three this year,” he answers without hesitation. “Though most stay only a few days before we can move them to a more permanent sanctuary elsewhere.”

Dr. Rao places a stethoscope against Rebecca’s back, listening to her breathing with practised focus. “Silas handles the logistics. I manage the medical needs. Rafe assists with transportation when necessary.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Others in town help in smaller ways, though most don’t know the full extent of the network.”

“A modern Underground Railroad,” I murmur, the historical parallel suddenly obvious. “That’s what this really is.”

“With considerably more comfortable accommodations than its predecessor,” Dr. Rao adds with a hint of pride, gesturing to the cots with their clean linens and the wood stove radiating steady heat.

I turn in a slow circle, taking in the hidden heart of the estate. Not a haunted house but a sanctuary that has saved countless lives through generations of careful stewardship. And Silas, not a ghost or intruder, but its guardian, sacrificing any normal life to keep it running.

“All this time,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “I thought I’d inherited a house. But it’s so much more than that, isn’t it?”

Silas stands near the entrance we came through, his tall frame silhouetted against the stone archway. For once, his perpetual alertness doesn’t look like paranoia but something closer to vigilance, the necessary watchfulness of someone who knows exactly how much depends on his constant care.

“The estate has always been a sanctuary first, a residence second,” he says quietly. “Every Hale who owned it understood that responsibility.”

“Until me,” I say, the realization stinging despite its truth.

“Until you,” he agrees, but there’s no accusation in his tone. “Though you’re learning faster than most.”

From somewhere above us, muffled but distinct, comes the sound of breaking glass, a reminder that while we stand in this protected bubble of warmth and relative safety, Garrow’s men continue their destruction, hunting for any trace of the secrets we’re keeping beneath their feet.

Rebecca flinches at the sound, her eyes darting to the ceiling. Dr. Rao places a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she continues her examination with the other hand, her calm demeanour a balm against fear.

I watch them—doctor, patient, guardian—and feel something shift in my understanding of not just the house but my place within it. This is what I’ve actually inherited: not walls and land, but a purpose spanning generations. A responsibility to people who need protection from those who would crush them without a second thought.

“What happens now?” I ask, directing the question to both Silas and Dr. Rao, acknowledging their expertise while I remain very much the novice.