Elias moved through the fog- cloaked timber with deliberate way, each footfall muted by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. The air was heavy with damp, the kind of cold wave that strained into the bones, yet he felt a strange warmth in his casket the palpitation of the house tethered to him like an unyielding chain. He could n't deny it the house had marked him. It had studied him, awaited for him, shaped itself around his fear, his recollections, his very twinkle. The fog swirled around him as though alive, entwining and twisting with intent, bruiting his name, soft and patient “ Elias come home you belong to us ” Alderidge Lane stretched