Chapter 2: Marsh at the Door

The knock came at dusk, which was when the mill town was at its least convincing — the light going the color of old pewter, the windows in the houses down the road coming on one by one like eyes reluctant to open, the smell of the river and the chemical undertaste of whatever the mill had been processing before it stopped processing anything. Callum was on the stairs, three steps from the bottom, not because he had been waiting but because he had arranged himself to be there in case waiting proved necessary. He had been doing this since breakfast. His socks were dry now.

Gregor crossed to the door with the particular heaviness of a man carrying something that has no physical weight. He did not look through the glass panel first, which is what he did when he expected to find a stranger. He went directly to the latch.

Callum made himself smaller against the banister.