The gate struck Mara’s car hard enough to make the windshield shudder.
She flinched behind the wheel, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other braced against the dashboard as rain hammered the roof. Beyond the glass, the iron gates of Vale House swung wildly on their hinges, black bars flashing silver whenever lightning split the sky. One half had folded inward across the drive. The other hung crookedly from a single rusted hinge, banging against a stone pillar with the slow, brutal rhythm of a warning.
Mara killed the engine. For a moment, she sat in the dark with the wipers dragging themselves across the windshield, squeaking over and over like something trapped.