wing. Her own face stared b

He threw it into the fire where the ivo

cies," he said. "They d

apron, and now Clara could see her clearly - young, maybe eighteen, hair pinned up, ey

r name?" Cla

ara's maid in 1861. Margaret kept m

mistress had lain. "You have until tomorrow ni

's bedroom door and pulled her into the corr

raits be there

w they won't

chway. The sheet over the first portrait - 1841-1861 - was gone. The

"You freed

" Adrian s

oors on either side were all open now, showing empty rooms

here had been only shadow before, w

line's

hum

ed the han

d, his voice breaking.

ans

er palm - still bleeding from the si

oor o

han the one where Clara had married, but identical.

n easel, a portrait cov

t dusty. It was fresh

Mary whimper

trait as if in a dream.

aid. "If you se

ulle

stared ba

ls. She held white roses. She was smiling, radiantly happ

r marks. And her eyes - the painter had trie

he portrait, was a small black

," Clara whispered. "

s knees in front

he painting, his voice raw. "I to

s smile widened. Just a

to cut her out, like you cut my m

ed the bla

te sheet that had covered the portra

vangeline's sweet voice. "You bro

hed but did

Evangeline

trait said. "You let me wear wh

ra

itself, right acros

scream, not the house's scream. A rea

d tried to stop Clara,

y cried. "She

wn the white dress,

od ran down the canvas, so

hot out - not painted, real - whi

ling herself out o

ara's, half paint, half fle

smelling of grave earth. "Give me black, and I will let yo

t let go of

ng hand, inside the canvas

apel. Not

r of that cellar, three women in white

ther

l tr

htened, her nails dig

IT T

hand - his scarred, bare hand - into the

the thing wearing his wife's face

trait s

flickered. Brown showe

oice this time, small and scared. "Is

ad pressed against the canvas, aga

the last piece of can

rait tor

ight ex

asel was empty. The canvas lay in

torn white dress that was slowly turn

reathing

Her throat was bruise

Adrian and t

ine asked, voice hoar

her stand. H

rs black," he said. "And

ess turning black, and she smile

oward the open door, toward

Margaret keeps them there. If we don't free them before midni

silver thorn

o the cellar,

feet, as if it heard h

ng slammed shut at once, trappin