One for Sorrow (Isabel Fielding, #1)

by Sarah A. Denzil

Later in the night, the owl calls gave out to the slow patter of rain on the window, leaving tracks down the dirty pane of glass. I turned on my lamp and watched the tracks as they travelled down the panelled windows. As I watched, my eyes began to droop, and I thought for a moment that the rain was running up the window instead of down. I blinked, and it went away. And then I fell asleep. I woke up to Tom placing a mug next to my head. “You’re going to be late,” he remarked. When I opened my eyes, I realised I wasn’t in my bedroom because the sunlight was coming from the wrong direction. My face was resting on a hard surface—the kitchen table—which I was slumped over as though I’d passed out. My laptop was a few inches away from my head, still open but now sleeping. I lifted my body and wiggled my finger across the mousepad to wake it and check the time. It was almost seven. “How did I end up down here?” I mumbled, my mouth dry and my jaw stiff from the long sleep on such a hard surface. “God knows. Were you drinking wine again?” I didn’t remember drinking any wine. “What were you researching? The Monster of York? Sounds, well, creepy.” I barely glanced at the screen before closing down the laptop and getting to my feet.