Darker Still by Leanna Renee Hieber

seeing it too. He wrapped a protective arm around me and shifted me behind him so that he stood between the horror and me.
    Even in that moment of fear I recall breathing him in as I pressed close against his shoulder, catching a whiff of bergamot, as if he’d just drunk a cup of Earl Grey tea. He took a challenging step toward the door, keeping hold of me behind him.
    “Leave her in peace!” Denbury cried. As he did, a bit of light rippled up from him, pale and silvery, like a halo. Perhaps like the light he’d described around Mrs. Northe. A light like one might expect of an angel. A guardian angel.
    While I’d always wondered if the Whisper was my mother, I couldn’t bear staring at a corpse to see if there was any resemblance to the daguerreotype on our mantel at home. And indeed, I couldn’t think that if it were Mother she would wish to frighten me. But my own mind, my own nightmares, oh, they were most certainly cruel.
    After a long moment, Denbury gently urged me, “Look, Miss Stewart. Darkness only.”
    I turned as he bid. Darkness only. I looked up at his beautiful face, reluctant to move from his side, where I felt so comfortable and safe.
    I glanced at the frame. The markings had faded. All was as I’d found it. But still, it was a prison.
    “We are so haunted, you and I,” Denbury murmured, and bent to kiss my forehead in a wonderful gesture that seemed perfectly natural, even though it was bold.
    I had to physically force myself not to melt against him. It would have been so easy to forget the madness of our reality and just let him hold me. But he was in even direr straits than I. I straightened and clasped his hands. I wanted to thank him for his bravery, to reassure him of my commitment to help him. Yet all thought fled when he leaned closer, his eyes darkening as he tilted his head for access to my lips. Bold indeed …Before I could think how to respond, my senses went to black. I had a hazy sense of my body in my bed, my head on my pillow, comfortable and safe.
    Though I would’ve liked to have felt that kiss…
    At least something good came out of the nightmare, for indeed, I slept more soundly than I had in recent memory. Even with the deep sleep that followed, I still awoke remembering the dream, when it would usually have faded entirely. But apparently with all things Denbury, the experiences will not be forgotten, be they dreamed or lived.
    Ah, it’s time to transfer the painting to the Metropolitan. I must go!
    Later…
    Father insisted that Mrs. Northe not ride with us, saying, “Such a fine woman as she is not to be seen in a cargo vehicle!” But I demanded that Father take me along to transfer the painting.
    Mrs. Northe greeted me warmly and said she’d meet us at the Metropolitan.
    It was good of Lord Denbury to have put everything back in order. Nothing was out of place, neither book nor note. As his portrait was being taken from the wall on Mrs. Northe’s landing and wrapped in fabric, he looked exactly as I’d first seen him.
    Once on our way, jostling along Fifth Avenue, I sat on an uncomfortable bench of the rig specifically built for cargo and gently kept hold of the sides of the frame.
    Father eyed me. “I do hope you’ll be as gentle and fastidious with a Rembrandt,” he stated. I nodded. My grip upon my charge tightened.
    Partway through the ride, the folds of burlap slipped at one corner and an exposed part of the frame came into view, golden in the dim light of the large cab.
    And that’s when I noticed the markings on the frame. Just like in my dream.
    Subtly carved into the wood on the back of the frame were small symbols, triangles, crosses, and hatch marks in strange arrangements. It was not an alphabet that I recognized. I’d seen a bit of Greek and Hebrew, and this looked nothing like either. It couldn’t be merely décor or detailing, for why would such care be taken with the part of the frame against the wall?
    I dearly hoped Mrs. Northe could tell me