Chapter 6 – The Wages of Bargains

The Wages of Bargains

The streets of Black Hollow were quieter than usual, as if the town itself had recoiled from the weight of fear. Eleanor walked briskly, her mind replaying Lucian's words from the night before.

"Every choice you make brings you closer to me."

The devil's promise lingered in her thoughts like an unshakable curse. The crescent mark, the deaths, the whispers—everything was connected. But how deep did Lucian's influence run? How many in Black Hollow had already made their secret bargains?

She had to find out.

Pushing open the door to the apothecary, Eleanor found her father hunched over his desk, scribbling notes by candlelight. He barely looked up as she entered.

"You were out late," Edward said, his voice tight with exhaustion.

Eleanor hesitated. She couldn't tell him about Lucian—not yet. "I was helping the cooper's family," she said instead. "Trying to understand what's happening."

Her father exhaled heavily. "And did you?"

She thought of the mark burned into the woman's wrist, of the vacant, peaceful expression on her face. "Not enough," she admitted. "But I need to speak with Margaret Whitlock."

Edward's head snapped up. "Absolutely not."

Eleanor stiffened. "Why?"

"Because Margaret is dead," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. "This morning. The maid found her. Same mark. Same whispers."

The room swayed around Eleanor.

Lucian's reach was spreading. Fast.

She turned on her heel and rushed out the door, ignoring her father's protests.

The Whitlock estate stood at the edge of town, a grand house that now seemed cold and hollow. A pair of mourners whispered at the gate as Eleanor slipped inside.

Margaret's body was laid out in her bedroom, her hands folded neatly over her chest. She had been a lively woman, known for her charm and quick wit. Now, she looked almost… relieved. As if death had been a mercy.

Eleanor's gaze dropped to Margaret's wrist.

The crescent mark.

It was darker now, the edges raised as if still smoldering.

"You intrigue me, Eleanor."

Lucian had spared her so far. Why?

A rustling sound broke the silence. Eleanor turned sharply, her breath catching.

A figure stood in the doorway.

It was Victor Blackwood.

Dressed in his usual dark coat, Victor looked out of place in the mourning house. His sharp green eyes studied Eleanor with wary curiosity.

"I should have known you'd be here," he said.

Eleanor straightened. "And I should have known you'd come sniffing around the dead, Victor."

His lips curled into a smirk. "You wound me, Eleanor. I'm merely… investigating."

"You're working for him, aren't you?" she demanded, stepping closer. "For Lucian."

Victor tilted his head, his smirk fading just slightly. "Careful, Eleanor. Accusations like that can be dangerous."

"You didn't deny it."

A pause. Then, Victor sighed. "You want answers?" He glanced at Margaret's lifeless body. "So do I. Meet me at the Black Hollow chapel at midnight."

Before she could question him further, he turned and disappeared down the hall.

Eleanor clenched her fists.

If Victor had secrets, she was going to drag them into the light.

And if Lucian thought she was getting closer to him… he was right.

But not in the way he hoped.

She would find a way to end this.

No matter what it cost.

To be continued…