Klara didn’t look back.

She bolted out of the park, her breath breaking in her throat, and tears kept blurring her vision. Her legs barely kept up with her panic.

Her heels felt heavy as she reached toward the main road. The tiny pointed edges clicked against the concrete.

A cab slowed when she practically stumbled into the road, waving frantically.

“Please please!” she begged as the window rolled down.

“What is it Ma’am?”

“Take me to—” she swallowed hard, “—the Blackwood mansion. Please.”

The driver took one look at her trembling hands and tear–streaked face and unlocked the door.

“Get in.”

She climbed inside, still sobbing, still shaking. The...