by Clara Cody
He opened his mouth to speak but stopped to clear his throat. The simple action turned into a deep hacking. Spittle flew from Victor's throat. His watery eyes met Stephanie's as he nodded, gesturing her to move closer.
She leaned in, careful to keep some distance.
Victor shook his head, coughing even more. He gestured her closer.
She leaned over further, her face just centimeters from his. Her breathes came in shaking, impossible to control heaves.
In a flash, his far hand whipped from his side, flying towards her. She yelped a second before his iron grip landed on her throat. Trying to push herself away, she lost her footing and slipped, falling back on her calf and foot.
He grinned wildly, seething through clenched teeth, peppering her face with spittle. His grip tightened, crushing her throat.
Her nails raked his hands and arms. Desperately, she tried forcing her fingers between his hand and her neck but it was no use. He was much too strong. The pressure built behind her eyes and her vision started to blur.
She kicked lamely at the floor while her other leg was still pinned beneath her. She thrust a hand against his face. He twitched away from her touch but she fumbled at his face until her thumb connected with his eye. As her vision closed around him, framing his face, she dug her thumb into the soft, yielding orb.
He cried out, pulling away from her. His vice-like grip loosened momentarily, just long enough for her to push his arm away and scramble backward.
She made it a few meters before his hand clasped down on her ankle. His smile was sick and twisted but his eyes were clear in purpose. She turned onto her stomach and tried crawling.
He yanked her backward, catching another grip on her leg. His fingertips and long nails dug into the soft muscle as he pulled her towards him.
She screamed, desperately clawing at the hardwood floor.
A shadow passed by, in her peripheral vision, as footsteps ran across the floor.
Victor laughed maniacally as he released her leg. Stephanie crawled to the wall and looked back.
Mrs. Callowell sat atop Victor as he laughed at her, an empty syringe in her hand. Faced with her imposing form towering over him, all the fight and humor seemed to drain away. In moments, he was a crumpled, shivering shell of the monster that had attacked her. His laughter turned to whimpering which turned to weeping.
Mrs. Callowell stroked his head and pushed off of him. Her eyes landed on Stephanie. Fury burned behind the stare.
Stephanie pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging them tightly.
Mrs. Callowell walked towards Stephanie, her footsteps beating like a heavy drum. She grabbed Stephanie by the arm and hauled her to her feet with surprising strength. "Come," was all she said.
As Mrs. Callowell pulled Stephanie to the door, the weeping subsided into quiet whimpering.
"Please," Victor said, in a voice almost unrecognizable. "Ellie...please."
Mrs. Callowell stopped.
"Please," he begged.
Stephanie looked over her shoulder at him. He stretched his free hand out towards her. Snot and tears dripping.
"Kill me," he whispered.
Mrs. Callowell yanked on her arm, pulling her out of the room. After locking the door, she spun around on Stephanie. "Did I, at any time, tell you to go inside this room?" she asked sharply, her nostrils flaring.
Stephanie shook her head.
"Did I give you any reason to believe that my husband was a safe person to be around?"
She shook her head again. Hot tears stung at her eyelids.
"Did I not specifically ask you to notify me if something happened?"
"Yes," she choked out, trembling.
"Then, what in God's name, possessed you to go inside?"
Stephanie finally broke down, heaving sobs barreling from her chest. She fell into the chair beside her. "I—I—can't...take this." She had to drag out every syllable, but it was the truth. It was too much.
"Stop this," Mrs. Callowell said, pulling her to her feet. Gripping Stephanie's shoulders, she slapped her, hard, across the face. "You are not the only person in this house with a weight to bear. I am utterly alone. Charles left me, Maggie left me. But I will not break and leave my husband for the wolves, I won't do it! You mustn't break either." She looked sternly into Stephanie's eyes. "There is always someone waiting for a young woman to take advantage of." She released Stephanie's shoulder. "Don't make it any easier for them."
Stephanie took quick and heavy breaths, sucking back the rest of her tears. "Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Callowell straightened out her skirts, her hands shaking. "Very well. Since I cannot trust you here alone, I will remain. Go back downstairs and show her the house. I will explain her duties and the rules of the house to her later since you have yet to learn them yourself."
Stephanie looked up at her from a downcast face. "So...you aren't going to fire me?"
"No. You made a grave mistake but not one I think you'll make a second time."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"You may leave," she said, waving her hand.
"Ma'am?"
Mrs. Callowell sighed. "What?"
"He claimed he was Fredrick Averly."
Mrs. Callowell spun around, her eyes wide. Then her face relaxed, hiding any trace of concern. "He believes he is my father. As I've said, he is a sick man. However, that is no concern of yours. Now go; you have work to do, and so do I."
Stephanie nodded and turned away but she'd already had her real question answered with Mrs. Callowell's reaction.
The man in the room was Fredrick Averly.
Stephanie composed herself as quickly as she could while she walked down the stairs. When she pulled back the doors to the sitting room, her hands had almost stopped shaking.
The woman stopped her pacing and spun around, clutching her bag to her chest. She breathed a sigh of relief. "What was that?"
Stephanie forced an uneasy smile. "Nothing to be concerned about. The master of the house is unwell, is all." She instinctively pulled at the tight collar around her throat.
After giving Ann a tour of the manor, she showed her to her new bedroom, Maggie's room. She looked over the room with large eyes and a deeply furrowed brow.
"Is the room not to your liking?" Stephanie asked.
Ann shook her head. "It's not that." When she looked at Stephanie, she had a look of genuine fear in her eyes. What a difference a short time in the house had made. "I need this job."
"It's not that bad," Stephanie lied. "You'll see."
A guilty feeling took root in her stomach as she walked to her bedroom. The woman needs the job, she reminded herself. Shouldn't I try to help her if she's going to take it either way?
It was no use, though. Guilt and anxiety gnawed at her. She arrived to her bedroom and slipped inside. She rested her head against the door as it clicked shut. A deep exhale escaped her mouth.
The bedsprings squeaked behind her.
Her stomach plummeted.
"I was waiting for you."
Chapter 34
Stephanie
"I'M SORRY, I DIDN'T mean to frighten you." Charles stood before her bed, holding his hands up. "It's just me."
"What are you doing here?" Stephanie cried. "I think my heart stopped." She pressed her other hand against her chest, feeling the strong beat pulsing through.
A wry grin emerged on his face. "I'm glad I can still have that effect on you."
She gnashed her teeth. "Why are you here?"
"I've come back," he said with a hopeful smile.
Her scowl didn't flinch.
He lowered his gaze again. "I thought you might like to know."
"Why should I like to know that? It doesn't make the slightest difference to me. You didn't see fit to say goodbye, after all."
He turned away, raking his fingers through his hair. "It's a complicated matter."
"Then, why did you come back?"
Charles looked up at her hopefully. "I came ba
ck for you."
She raised her eyebrows and gestured for him to continue.
He took her by the shoulders. "We can leave here, you and I. Together." He stroked the hair back from her face. "We can be free of this place. I'd do that...for you."
Stephanie pushed him away. "Why?"
"Because I love you," he said, reaching for her.
She stepped away from his hand.
His eyebrows came together in a scowl. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"
"Should I?" she shot back. "Have you made anything easy for me?"
"I suppose not." He sat himself on the bed, burying his head in his hands. "I never meant for it to come to this. To understand why I left, you have to know why I was here in the first place."
She nodded, unfolding her arms. "Are you going to tell me everything now?"
He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. He opened his mouth but snapped it shut again. He nodded. "I was working as a carpenter in Italy, with no intentions of ever coming back, when Ellie sent me word less than a year ago, years after her father's death. Her father had always been a hard man, but the truth was, he hadn't been around much when I was here. He traveled a lot and preferred to spend his time elsewhere other than at home. Ellie has since told me that after I left, that changed."
"After my mother's death."
He nodded. "He left less and less. I don't know the details of what happened, but after he drowned, Ellie began noticing Victor's behavior changing; he'd lash out at everyone for seemingly benign things, he began avoiding Ellie, intimidating the female staff. Just like her father used to do."
That didn't seem too uncharacteristic from what she'd seen of him.
He shook his head at her, as though reading her mind. "That wasn't the Victor I knew. He was always so gentle, the most patient of the three of us, certainly. Ellie denied it for some time; she didn't want to believe that she'd married someone like her father. But then, something happened that forced her to face facts."
"What was it?"
Charles closed his eyes tightly, like a child hiding in plain sight. "He attacked a maid. She almost died. After it happened, he cried for hours, saying he didn't want to, but it was like he'd been possessed. That's when Ellie wrote to me, asking me to help her. She didn't know who else to go to. I had to come back."
"The maid he attacked, was that Tilly?"
Charles shook his head, a pained look on his face. "What happened to Tilly was...so much worse." He took a deep breath. "It was my fault. I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. I thought it was just Victor I was taking on as my charge. I was wrong. He escaped from the room one night. We didn't find her until the next day." He stared blankly ahead as he retold the story. "It was like a wild animal had gotten to her. But it wasn't. It was him." He met her eyes. "And now he seems to have some sick fascination with you. You're not safe here, Stephanie."
"My god," she said, grasping her chest. "That was him that night, in the kitchen. Wasn't it?"
He nodded, chewing his lip.
"A wandering vagabond," she scoffed. "And you never told me?"
"I'm sorry. I wanted to, really."
"What stopped you?" Stephanie went to the dresser. She was beginning to feel woozy.
His face hardened. "It was Eloise. She didn't want more people involved and—"
"Involved? I was already involved!"
"I know, I know! But she said the less you knew, the better. I know how it sounds, believe me. It's just that, Ellie can be so convincing. I thought I was doing the right thing, I swear."
Stephanie suddenly felt like the room was getting smaller. The walls seemed to be towering over her small frame, threatening to collapse over her. She began pacing, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. She looked over to Charles, who sat, watching her pace, waiting for his queue to continue with puffy, red-rimmed eyes.
"Why did he suddenly start attacking people?"
"It wasn't him, that's what I'm trying to tell you. Victor would never do something like that."
"Then who is it? You said yourself—"
"Fredrick!"
"What?"
His eyes met hers and he nodded. "It's Fredrick. He's back and he's taking us all to hell with him."
Stephanie took a step back from him. "What are you saying, Charles?"
He bit down on his lip. "We think, maybe, he wasn't mistaken about being...possessed."
She stopped pacing. "Possessed?"
His eyebrows and lips twisted into a cringe, but he nodded.
"And Mrs. Callowell believes this as well?"
He nodded again.
Stephanie took a step back. "So the recently departed spirit of her dead father has taken control of his body and mind and is using it to kill women?"
Charles's face fell. "I know how it sounds but—"
"If you knew how it sounded, I doubt you'd be saying it."
"Listen to me," he cried, standing up. "You've been here long enough to know that there is something in this manor, something vile and sinister. It's no home. It's a host. Can you honestly tell me you haven't noticed anything?"
"I can't say that I've seen any evidence of spiritual possession—"
He stood, reaching towards her. "But you have noticed something, right?"
She shrugged, looking for any other answer. "Fine...maybe."
"So how do you know it's not something truly evil?"
Stephanie thought of the image she'd seen in the cabin window. The scream she'd heard. She shook her head. "You still haven't told me why you left the second time."
His face fell as though stricken. "You will hate me for it."
"Tell me."
"Because I'm a coward. I was terrified of telling you. I knew that if I told you, I would be failing Ellie and Victor."
"And if you didn't tell me?"
"I would be endangering you. I couldn't bring myself to tell you and I couldn't live with not telling you."
"You left so you wouldn't have to make the decision."
He nodded. "I told you that I—"
"You're a coward, yes. You are."
He flinched from her words. "Please," he said, rising to his feet.
Stephanie pointed to the door. "Get out."
"You want me to go?"
She looked away and nodded.
Thanks to Stephanie's meager possessions, she was able to pack her things quickly. Within twenty minutes, she exited the room she'd boarded in for what felt like the longest months of her life.
As the door clicked closed, she glanced toward the soft thuds of Ann's footsteps pacing the next room. Stephanie sighed and walked down the hall, quickly to not waste valuable time.
Ann answered the door timidly after the first knock. "Stephi? What are you doing?" She looked her up and down, her eyes falling momentarily on her bag.
"I'm leaving, Ann. Please, come with me."
Ann looked behind her and said, "Come in." She stepped aside, letting Stephanie in. Ann's bag sat unopened and full on the bed. Her coat lay across the mattress. "You're just going to leave?"
Stephanie nodded. "This house isn't safe. Here, look at my neck." She pulled her collar away, exposing her tender flesh.
Ann gasped. "Was that—" She nodded her head towards the East Wing.
Stephanie nodded. "No one is safe here, Ann." She took the woman's hand in hers. "We can leave now, together."
Ann pulled away, shaking her head. "No, I can't. Harry would...he'd be so angry." She folded her lips over her teeth, pressing them together. "I can't lose this job."
"There is more at stake than a happy husband, Ann. You can sense it, can't you? This is a madhouse and neither of us should be here a minute longer than it takes to pack a bag. Come with me."
Ann turned her back. "I can't. I'm sorry. Besides, like you said, it's not so bad. I'm sure you get used to it."
Stephanie shook her head. "You don't."
Her face crumpled like she was about to cry. "All
the same. I have nowhere else to work. I need this job."
Stephanie let her hands fall to her sides. "Very well. I can't make you leave." She gripped the handle of her bag. "Be careful. And for heaven's sake, stay out of the East Wing."
Ann looked down at the floor. "I suppose I'll have to do all your work for you now. Until they find someone else."
"Yes, I suppose so. I'm sorry to be saddling you with my chores, but I can't stay here."
"I understand. You should go, now. I guess I need to get used to being alone in this place."
Stephanie squeezed the handle tighter, biting her lip. She had nothing left to say so she nodded and left the room, leaving Ann standing in the middle, watching her go.
Chapter 35
Stephanie
NIGHT HAD ALREADY FALLEN by the time Stephanie reached the small town of Stonebridge. Slipping out of the house had been easier than she'd expected. She'd heard loud, rushed speaking coming from the hall as she'd crept through the foyer. She supposed, with Charles' return, the house would be too chaotic to notice her absence right away.
She already had a plan in mind when she crossed under the sign, reading Stonebridge. She'd buy a ticket with the next coach leaving the village, heading anywhere that might have a train. Unfortunately, it was too late now to charter a coach; it would have to wait until morning.
Her tired feet ached as she lumbered down the street, heaving her bag at her side. It contained little, but over the hours of walking it had grown burdensome.
Under the cover of darkness, the town seemed strangely more welcoming. A few men stood talking on porches and leaning against open doorways, but none took any notice of her, for which she was grateful. Still, she didn't dare dawdle long in the open, dark streets.
She arrived at the motel that Charles had brought her to, the where one Theodore had been staying. She made her way up the steps and past the door. Behind the counter stood the same man as when she'd come with Charles. She wondered if he'd remember her. The foyer and adjoining restaurant were practically empty of people. She walked up to the counter.
The man didn't bother looking up from his paper. "Yes?"
"How much is a room, sir?"
