#Chapter 192: The Wailing Woman

Ava Fabian led us to a small sitting room, where he prepared a few servings of tea with shaky hands. As we settled into the plush armchairs, I couldn’t help but notice the thick cobwebs that hung from the corners of the ceilings and the musty scent of old fabric that hadn’t been aired out in some time. “I’m so sorry for the mess,” Fabian said, noticing my glances. “I’ll admit it: I’m so spoiled from having a full staff that I’m not used to doing all the cleaning myself. Not to mention the fact that the… activity around here at night makes it difficult to get much of anything done.” “Does it keep you from sleeping?” I asked. Fabian chuckled wryly and gestured to the dark circles ringing his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?” He handed us our cups of tea, and I took a sip, watching carefully over the rim of my cup as Fabian nervously sipped his own. He set his cup back down in the saucer, the china clinking as his fingers trembled, and pushed a strand of his unkempt