Chasing Shadows
Page 32
His face was earnest as he leaned closer. “Always remember that you are so much stronger than you believe and more capable than you think possible.” His lips curved in a bittersweet smile as he shook his head. “You might not realize it yet, but you don’t need me anymore—my work has been finished for some time.”
Sarah watched his face closely. “What are you talking about?”
“I used to believe that my life was only worth something if it was lost saving someone or if I spent every moment immersed in adventure.” He grazed her cheek with his fingertip. “But you showed me that life isn’t about that at all.”
“What is it about, then?” she asked, feeling small and lost.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he gave a promising smile. “Perhaps I’ll tell you someday.”
Sarah thought about what awaited her back at the castle and the warmth she was leaving here. “Do I have to go back?” Her lids drooped sadly, and he surprised her by pulling her into his arms and holding her tight against his chest, though he made no reply. “I wish things were different,” she whispered. She didn’t bother to specify—there were too many things she wished she could change.
“It will all work itself out in the end. You’ll see.”
She nodded mutely. But even as he held her close and told her everything was going to be all right, she couldn’t shake the feeling that a storm was coming, and if they couldn’t fight it together, it was going to tear them apart.
~Chapter 29~
Closing her eyes did not help. It momentarily blocked out the image of the castle rising up to meet the sky as she neared, but even with her eyes closed, Sarah acutely felt the oppression of the place grow with each step that brought her closer. She opened her eyes, slowing her pace as she came to the back gate, wanting so much to rush in and pack her things, but dreading the moment when she would step inside yet again. She felt inexplicable trepidation over entering the place, fearing that she would somehow become trapped the instant the door closed behind her, leaving her at the mercy of the cruel man she was investigating.
Knowing she would continue to invent these crazed notions as long as she put off the inevitable, Sarah squared her jaw and wrapped Will’s cloak tighter around her as she hurried along. He had firmly “requested” that he be her escort through the forest, but she had insisted that she was only going back to tie up loose ends before tonight. And she did not want anything distracting him from making a decision.
Sarah walked through the snowy clearing at the backside of the castle, avoiding eye contact with the guard stationed in the watchtower. Though she looked disheveled, he must have noticed her elegant gown depicting her status as a lady, because he let her pass without a word. Sarah released a pent-up breath.
Instead of using the back entrance, she wandered around the side, moving under the archways between the wood gate and the castle walls. Back when Will had shown her around town, the incredible architecture of the flying buttresses had been visible to all, and now they were hidden behind the protective gate, nearly obscured from an outsider’s view. What a waste, she thought sadly.
She kicked her boots—Will’s boots—against the doorframe to the servants’ entrance to knock off bits of snow and dirt. She paused for the briefest moment with her hand poised on the knob. Knowing she would only overthink things the longer she hesitated, Sarah shoved the door open and stumbled inside.
She sucked in a staggering breath. The air felt heavy after coming from the freshness of the forest, and she felt something recoil inside of her at the smell permeating the hall. It was so indistinct that she knew it shouldn’t repulse her, but there was something about it that made her cringe and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She was reminded of the times her parents had talked to her and Lilly about spiritual forces that could inhabit places, as well as people.
Before, she had thought it was her imagination overreacting whenever she experienced such a negative response to the castle, but standing in that hall made her sure of the presence of a dark, oppressive spirit that had domain over this place. What sort of evil had Cadius unwittingly let into the castle by allowing the blackness inside of him to thrive? It had probably rotted him from the inside out and had nothing left to do but escape into the castle walls, infecting the rest of the place with that repressive spirit.
Sarah couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Closing the door soundly behind her, she fairly jogged out of the dark corridor and up the staircase, momentarily forgetting where she was headed. When she reached the top of the stairs, she froze instinctively, her body remembering the awfulness of last night before her head registered why she was stopping.
She swallowed and forced her eyes to look at the spot where Edith’s body had lain. She expected some sign of the horror she had seen—splattered blood, strips of torn fabric lying about—but the floor had been thoroughly scrubbed, and the soiled rug had been removed and replaced with one of dark blue. There was no evidence of what had transpired hours before.
Sarah walked towards the spot in a daze, eyes searching for some symbol that Edith had been there, but of course, there was nothing. Crouching down on the floor, she touched the fabric of the rug, wondering where they had taken the body. It wasn’t that she wanted to see it and be forced to remember her friend as a ghost, but she wanted to know that they were treating her with respect.
A sound down the hall caused her to turn that way, and her eyes caught sight of a yellowed piece of fabric lying just behind the doorway. Sarah walked over to the room and bent down to scoop it up, turning it over to examine it. She bit her lip, tears filling her eyes when she noticed the small red E hand-embroidered onto the corner of the handkerchief. It still bore the marks of the ash Edith had wiped from her hands.
She sniffed back her sorrow. Edith must have dropped it yesterday when they had run from the room at the maid’s cries. Impulsively, she stuffed the worn piece of fabric into her sleeve.
“My lady?”
Sarah quickly wiped a thumb under her eyes and looked over at Terrance, who stood on the top step, gripping the banister as if unsure whether or not he should take another step.
“They cleaned up quickly.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat.
Moving with more poise than someone his age should possess, Terrance came to stand before her. He looked as drained as she felt. “We couldn’t leave her here,” he whispered. “The smell, and all.”
Sarah nodded despondently, rubbing the pad of her thumb to expel nervous energy. “I know. But what did they do with her? Do you know? Is she already . . .?” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word buried.
With only a brief hesitation, he answered slowly, “Most bodies are taken outside of the city gates for burial. It prevents animals from coming inside. And, yes, we already took care of the arrangements.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Outside the gates?” She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but she had wanted to be able to say goodbye one last time and pay her respects. How was she supposed to find her before she left?
Terrance leaned forward, and she resisted the urge to pull back at his sudden proximity. He looked around nervously, but they were alone. “Normally the guards take care of this sort of thing when it occurs inside the walls, but I’ve seen the place where they dump deceased servants.” He shivered. “A large unmarked grave out in the darkest part of Thornwood. . . . I didn’t want that for her. Myself and a few of the other servants took the body before the guards could get ahold of her and put her to rest last night.”
“You did?” Sarah perked up some at the thought that Edith’s body hadn’t been discarded on top of a pile of faceless corpses. “Where is she?”
“Deep in the rose garden. She loved the flowers.” He smiled, seeming to lose himself in a bittersweet memory for a moment before shaking himself back to the present. He gave her a reassuring nod. “We made sure it was a proper burial for a proper lady.” Sarah smiled at that.
Sarah swallowed back the tightness in her throat. “That’s really beautiful. She would have loved it.”
The older man seemed to get misty-eyed. “She was fond of you, I know. You can go see her anytime you like.”
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for her.”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Sarah jerked and spun around. Terrance slipped away silently just as Damien strode up to her, stopping a few inches away and looking so relieved that he wanted to embrace her. His eyes searched her face worriedly. “After what happened, I wondered if the vigilante had somehow taken you captive.”
Sarah shook her head weakly, feeling drained. “No, I wasn’t kidnapped. I just needed to get away to clear my head. I—” She bit her quivering lip.
Nodding, his fingers brushed her hand tentatively. At the way her eyes filled with tears, Damien didn’t hesitate to pull her into an embrace. She almost wrapped her arms around him before thinking to curl her hands into fists, which she planted between their two bodies, using them as a shield against him and the comfort she found in his arms. She didn’t want any reasons to back out of her plan to leave with Will, and just seeing Damien instantly caused her to doubt if what she was doing was right. But she couldn’t stay here anymore, that much she knew.
Sarah pulled away, sniffing back her insecurity and putting a defensive wall between them. She couldn’t look Damien in the eye. If she did, she was sure her resolve would crumble. “Sorry.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I seem to be falling apart.”
“No apologies.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she met his warm gaze. “I can only imagine . . .” He shook his head, appearing upset. “I’m sorry I didn’t—that I wasn’t—”
“It wouldn’t have gone differently,” she answered truthfully, sensing his guilt over not having been there.
“Perhaps it would have,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he rubbed his arm.
Sarah suddenly remembered that she had bolted yesterday before she could tend to his wound. She had been too emotional to think straight last night. “Did you get someone to take care of your arm?” she asked, motioning to his shirtsleeve.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. And this morning, as well.” He smiled, obviously touched that she had remembered. Cocking his head to the side, his expression became pinched with sympathy. “I understand why you weren’t able to do it, so don’t feel badly. Please.”
Sarah took a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll try.” Though it was difficult when she remembered that she was going to leave him at the hands of some other, more qualified nurse. She barely contained her wince at the thought of one of the young maids touching him, laughing and whispering intimate secrets with Damien—
Sarah blinked and swallowed hard, feeling shaken for more reasons than she could count at the moment. When had he become more than a patient, than a friend, to her? The evolution of their platonic relationship-turned-friendship had been quick, but she hadn’t expected her feelings for Damien to grow any further. It came as a surprise to realize that their “friendship” was dangerously close to becoming something else entirely, and she’d chosen to ignore the obvious signs for some time now.
It would be for the best if she put some distance between them, she decided. So why did the thought cause her so much pain?
Damien pasted on a bright expression, but she could tell it was forced for her benefit. “Are you in need of distraction? We have yet to attend supper together, so perhaps tonight is just the time to do it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Sarah felt a stab of guilt at the way his face lit up. What would he think when he came for her and found her room empty?
It didn’t matter anyway. She would be long gone by then.
****
She cinched the opening of the sack she’d had one of the servants bring to her an hour ago. It had sent a pang through her chest when the young girl, who was not Edith, came to her room.
Her hands shook as she finished closing her makeshift bag, and she gripped the fabric to stop their nervous shaking. Was she making a terrible mistake? She had never been very good at being impulsive, and this was about as reckless an idea as they came. She was planning on running away with a man—one she trusted, yes, but how well did she really know him? Was it only because he had shown her comfort, and in her desperation she had clung to that one fleeting hope?
“We’ll be back in a few days,” she assured herself in the empty room, though the anxiety roiling in her stomach made her question her decision. Was she only following through with her thoughtless plan because she was afraid to back out?
Terrified of what she might find if she dwelt on it for too long, Sarah quickly slung the heavy-laden sack over her shoulder. Then she threw on a cloak to cover her baggage, realizing that the lump made her look like a hunchback. Oh, well. It wasn’t like they could actually stop her, could they?
She hiked her load higher on her shoulder. All she had stuffed into the bag was a spare dress, a pair of slippers for when she no longer needed Will’s boots for tromping through the forest, and a few random articles from around the room that she thought might be useful. She wore the watch on her wrist, knowing they wouldn’t have need of it but also realizing that she couldn’t leave it behind.
Moving across the room, her eyes caught a flash of red. The rose sat on her bedside table, untouched for days, and had only just now begun to wither. But it was still beautiful, the dying promise of perfection.
Sarah swallowed hard, pushing aside all thoughts of Damien as she poked her head out the cracked door into the empty hallway. She had sent her new maid on a fabricated errand to keep her away from this corridor, and it looked like she had yet to return. Giving her room one final, longing sweep of her eyes, her gaze landed on the flower again, as though magnetized. Damien would be here within the hour to discover her vacated room, and she hoped he wouldn’t take her leaving as abandonment.
Before she had a second to doubt herself, she dragged her eyes away from the gift and moved out into the hall, closing the door silently behind her and trying to leave her regret and uncertainty back behind that sealed door.
She slipped down the stairs, setting each heavy boot down gently to make as little noise as possible. Her boot squeaked against one of the steps, and Sarah winced at the noise. Discarding any notion of stealth, she moved hastily along the stairwell, keeping her head down as she passed the kitchen on her way to the servants’ entrance. She slipped out the door, escaping into the open air and breathing deeply.
“Freedom,” she whispered. She meant to say it with conviction, but it sounded like she was trying to remind herself of what she was searching for and had yet to find.
Walking along the wall closest to the forest’s edge, her steps slowed as she neared the sleeping rose patch, which was only a bunch of twigs sticking up from the snowy ground at the present. But she had no trouble spotting the bush she was looking for among the other tangled vines and branches.
Picking her way carefully through the thorny garden, she knelt heavily on the upturned earth that had been disturbed for Edith’s final resting place, dropping her load carelessly at her side. She felt tears prick her vision as she stared at the small rosebush—no more than a foot tall—that Terrance had lovingly transplanted to mark the grave. It was nothing more than a tangle of vertical branches, all reaching heavenward as they twined around one another in a thorny dance. But to Sarah it was a beautiful symbol of hope. Edith would have been pleased.
She lost track of time as she sat there, the snow soaking through her skirt and chilling her knees. She desperately wanted to say something, even though Edith couldn’t hear her, but she needed that closure, needed to assure herself that she wasn’t abandoning her friend by running away.
Then what are you doing? Sarah winced at the disdainful voice inside her head.
To distract herself, she rubbed an icy chunk of snow between her thumb and forefinger. “You’d have liked Will,” she whispered aloud, the barest of smiles gracing her lips. Dropping the dirty clod, she focused her eyes on the disturbed ground, wanting to explain, to justify her actions, yet knowing that her words fell on deaf ears. “I’m going to leave, and I don’t think I’ll be coming back here.”
Her next breath was shaky and choked with tears. “So I guess this is goodbye. But you don’t have to worry about me. Will is always caring for me, and I have God.” Although I haven’t really talked to Him much, as of late, she thought ashamedly, realizing she hadn’t once sought His council in all of her planning. Sarah abruptly realized that she hadn’t asked Him because she was afraid His answer might differ from hers. But it wasn’t like she was going against His will, exactly.
Retreating is your answer, her inner voice reminded.
Sarah released a heavy sigh. “I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel anxious and trapped, but I don’t know what I’m running from or to.” She knew she was babbling and swiped her thumb under the corner of her eye to catch her falling tears. Her voice wavered. “What happened to you really shook me. You took me in and were my first friend in the castle, and I couldn’t do anything—”
She turned her head away, biting back her lip to hide her sob. That was when she remembered the handkerchief she had brought with her. She reached into her sleeve and brought out the ratty piece of fabric, clutching it possessively in her fist.