Chapter 3: Bargains in the Dark

THE DEVIL'S

Bargains in the Dark

The air in Black Hollow had grown heavier since the fever had taken hold, but for Eleanor, the weight felt different now. Lucian's presence lingered in her thoughts like a dark cloud, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching her, even when no one else could see him.

It had been three days since Margaret Whitlock had spoken to her in the market. Eleanor had returned to the apothecary and thrown herself into her work, hoping the monotony would distract her. But the whispers of the townsfolk grew louder, each rumor tugging her closer to the truth she didn't want to face.

Something was coming.

That evening, Eleanor sat at her father's desk, grinding dried herbs into powder for a poultice. Edward had gone to tend to a patient on the outskirts of town, leaving her alone in the house. The apothecary shop downstairs was locked, the shutters drawn tight. She told herself she wasn't afraid.

The knock at the door shattered her fragile composure.

Her heart leapt, and she froze, the mortar slipping from her hands and clattering onto the desk. For a moment, she considered ignoring it. But the knock came again, louder this time, insistent.

Taking a deep breath, she rose and made her way downstairs.

When she opened the door, she wasn't sure what she expected—one of her father's patients, perhaps, or Margaret Whitlock returning with more questions. Instead, she found a boy no older than twelve, his face pale and streaked with dirt.

"Miss Kane?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Yes," she said, kneeling to meet his gaze. "What is it, child? Are you hurt?"

"It's my sister," the boy said, his eyes brimming with tears. "She's… she's sick. Pa said you could help her."

Eleanor hesitated. She wasn't a healer, not like her father, but she knew enough to help in an emergency. "Where is she?"

The boy glanced over his shoulder, toward the forest that loomed at the edge of town. "We live just past the trees. Please, Miss Kane. She doesn't have much time."

Something about the boy's tone sent a shiver down her spine, but she nodded, grabbing her satchel and filling it with supplies before following him into the night.

The forest was eerily quiet as they walked, the only sound the crunch of leaves beneath their feet. Eleanor kept her eyes on the boy, who moved with surprising confidence despite the darkness.

"What's your name?" she asked, hoping to break the silence.

"Thomas," he said without turning around.

"How long has your sister been sick?"

"A week, maybe more. Pa tried everything, but nothing worked. He said you were our last hope."

Eleanor's unease grew with every step. The deeper they went into the forest, the more the trees seemed to close in around them, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky.

Finally, they reached a clearing. A small cottage stood in the center, its windows dark and its thatched roof sagging under the weight of neglect.

"Here," Thomas said, stopping at the door.

Eleanor hesitated. Something about the cottage felt wrong, as if the air itself resisted her presence. But the boy's wide, tearful eyes spurred her forward.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The air was thick with the smell of damp wood and something sour, like rotting fruit. A single candle flickered on a table, casting long shadows across the room.

"Where is your sister?" Eleanor asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas pointed to a doorway on the far side of the room. "In there."

Eleanor crossed the room, her pulse quickening. She pushed open the door to find a small bedroom, its walls lined with peeling wallpaper. A figure lay motionless on the bed, her face turned away.

"Susan?" Eleanor said softly, approaching the bed.

The girl didn't respond.

Eleanor set her satchel down and reached out to touch the girl's shoulder, but as her fingers brushed against the fabric of her dress, the figure dissolved into ash.

Eleanor stumbled back, her breath catching in her throat. The ash scattered across the bed, swirling in the faint draft that crept through the cracks in the walls.

"What—"

The door slammed shut behind her, and she spun around to see Lucian standing in the doorway, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"Hello, Eleanor," he said, his voice as smooth as silk.

She pressed her back against the wall, her mind racing. "What is this? Where's the boy?"

Lucian's smile widened. "There was no boy. Just a story to bring you here."

Her chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing. "Why? What do you want from me?"

Lucian stepped closer, his movements deliberate, predatory. "You intrigue me, Eleanor. You're clever, resourceful, and, most importantly, desperate. You want to help these people, to save them from the sickness that's consuming them. I can give you the power to do that."

She shook her head, her hands clenching into fists. "I don't need your help."

"Don't you?" Lucian said, tilting his head. "How many have you lost already? How many more will die before you admit you can't save them on your own?"

The words hit her like a blow. Images of the dead and dying flashed through her mind—her mother, pale and fevered; the Whitlock boy, who hadn't woken from his sleep; the countless others buried in the churchyard.

"I don't make deals," she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

Lucian's smile faded, his expression darkening. "Everyone makes deals, Eleanor. The question is whether you'll make one with me or with someone else who doesn't care whether you survive the bargain."

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you want?"

"For now?" he said, stepping back. "Nothing. I want you to think about what I've said. About what you could gain. When you're ready, you'll find me."

The room began to darken, the edges of her vision blurring as if the world itself were unraveling.

"Wait!" she called out, but Lucian was already gone.

When Eleanor awoke, she was lying on the forest floor, the faint light of dawn filtering through the trees. Her satchel was beside her, its contents undisturbed.

She sat up slowly, her body aching as if she had been running all night. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of what had happened. Had it all been a dream?

As she stood and began the long walk back to town, she couldn't shake the feeling that something inside her had shifted, as if a thread had been pulled loose and she was unraveling, piece by piece.

By the time she reached Black Hollow, the streets were already bustling with activity. She kept her head down, avoiding the curious stares of those who noticed her disheveled appearance.

When she reached the apothecary, her father was waiting for her, his face lined with worry.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "I was about to send out a search party."

Eleanor hesitated, the words catching in her throat. How could she explain what had happened, when she barely understood it herself?

"I went to help someone," she said finally. "But it was a mistake."

Edward's frown deepened, but he didn't press her further. "Go upstairs and rest. You look like you haven't slept in days."

She nodded and climbed the stairs, her legs heavy with exhaustion.

As she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Lucian's words echoed in her mind.

When you're ready, you'll find me.

Despite her resolve, Eleanor couldn't ignore the truth. The devil's game had begun, and whether she liked it or not, she was a player.

To be continued...