"Eve, this is Cayden. I'm training him to be my assistant, since Jocelyn is hopeless with the lighthouse operations."
"Oh," Eve said dully. It didn't matter to her who her stepfather trained and she didn't care about being polite either.
Esmond turned to the boy. "What do you think?"
"Yes, sir," Cayden said enthusiastically. His smile, though, appeared strained.
Eve's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them as she struggled to understand. "What are you talking about?" she demanded acidly.
Her stepfather looked much too comfortable and pleased with himself in the big leather chair behind his desk. He said, "Cayden has expressed an interest in marrying you, Eve. I've given my consent."
His words stunned her. She groped for the right response and couldn't find it. "How could he have expressed an interest?" she finally cried. "He never even met me before now! This is your doing!"
"Eve, please. Your conduct is very unbecoming of a lady."
"I'm no lady! You've seen to that, haven't you?"
On those words she stormed out of the room. Let him come up with a suitable explanation for her behavior!
She couldn't fight anything he did. Tears burned her eyes. She had never hated Esmond Havelock more. By training Cayden as his assistant and arranging for him to marry Eve, he had ensured she would never be able to leave home. Well, Cayden might have been someone he could easily manipulate, but Eve certainly wouldn't be falling for his tricks any longer. She'd find a way out no matter what, even if it killed her—
"Whoa!"
The cry of amused surprise came just as Eve crashed into someone. She had stalked outside without any real aim and hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. Quickly she blinked away her angry tears and looked up into the face of a man she'd never seen before. He was tall and pale with longish, unruly black curls. His eyes were dark and sparkled with silent laughter. She could discern these things and yet he seemed too oddly blurry for her to get a real sense of his appearance. She blamed it on the tears.
"Who are you?" Eve demanded rudely.
He smiled in way that might have been charming. "I am Merko."
"How nice."
She brushed past him and made her way into the trees. She found a fallen log and sat upon it, hands clutching her skirt. She didn't know what to do. She thought Ahaziel might come to her and offer some consolation. She began to think that impossible as murder seemed, it was better than nothing.
From her perch she watched Esmond and Cayden emerge from around the front of the house and amble down the path to the lighthouse. Was it nearly dusk already? She glared at them and felt a new flare of rage.
The crack of a twig drew her attention away from them. Had Ahaziel come? No, not Ahaziel. It was Merko, whoever he was. He had moved so stealthily she didn't notice him until he was upon her. She coolly narrowed her eyes at him. She didn't know why, since she'd barely met him, but she didn't like him at all.
Merko didn't bother with pretense. "It makes you unhappy to know you're to marry that boy, does it not?"
"How . . .?"
"Never mind that."
Who was this person? Oh, she didn't really care; she had too much else to worry about. She tossed her head arrogantly. "I'm not marrying him," she declared. She almost believed the claim herself.
"Oh? Your stepfather seems to have a different idea.” He shrugged when she made no response. "You're waiting for Ahaziel," he guessed.
Eve's eyes flicked to him. "How do you know Ahaziel?"
"We're old acquaintances. You are in love with him, aren't you?"
"No," she spat childishly. "I don't love anyone."
The sun was quickly falling and she didn't want to be alone with Merko in the woods after dark. She was about to demand that he leave her alone when, abruptly, Ahaziel appeared behind him. Eve rose a little from the log but then sat back down swiftly, pretending seeing him didn't matter.
He didn't even seem to notice her. He glared at Merko, radiating murderous energy. "You don't belong here," he said in a low voice.
Merko didn't respond except to offer a languid smile. Eve thought it was revolting.
"I want you to leave immediately," Ahaziel continued. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Nothing? I thought you'd have a great deal to say, but I've been wrong before. As it happens, however, I don't wish to leave."
"Then stay out of my way, and stay away from her."
Ahaziel grabbed Eve's hand and led her out of the woods. She realized they were on the path to the lighthouse. She looked up at it and a bright flash stunned her. Soon, Ahaziel had said.
Now.
She tried to pull away but his grip was strong. He was too determined, too angry, driven by hate.
"Let me go!" she shouted. "I don't want to do this! I won't!"
It was as if he hadn't heard her. He tugged her along until at last they reached the lighthouse. They hid themselves around the side of the oil house, their voices hushed by the wind.
"That boy will come out soon," Ahaziel said, "and then you will go inside to do what needs to be done."
"What do you want, for me to push him off the gallery?" Eve cried. Ahaziel's meaningful silence was all the confirmation she needed. "No!" she screeched. "No, I can't!"
"You’d be surprised what you are capable of."
She couldn't voice another protest for at that moment Cayden emerged from the lighthouse, his lips fixed as though he were whistling, the sound lost on the wind. He entered the oil house and the door didn't close all the way behind him.
Ahaziel moved forward and stood just outside the oil house, waiting to ambush Cayden. He looked at Eve. "Go on," he ordered. "I will take care of him."
Protests were beyond her now. Perhaps some of Ahaziel's madness had rubbed off on her. Not allowing herself to think, she shot forward, running against the wind, and darted inside the lighthouse. The echoing slam of the door enveloped her in thick quiet. Reluctantly she looked at the swirl of stairs looming above her. She urged herself to go and began to climb without dwelling on the task awaiting her at the top.
She didn't hear her stepfather. Cautiously she walked around the lantern room, circling the crystal-encased oil lamp. It seemed she was alone.
When she came to the door leading out to the gallery, she went through it. The wind was much stronger up here, causing her to blink and squint constantly. The light flashed every few seconds: bright, dark, bright, dark. The ocean was a starless stretch of oblivion. Looking over the railing, Eve could see dimly where the rocks were by the white foam of waves shattering against them.
A step behind her . . . "Ah, Eve. Have you come to see me?"
Eve turned with poise and erased all expression from her face. "Yes," she said curtly.
At her reply Esmond Havelock's black eyes gleamed and her hatred of him flared. She knew the thoughts in his evil mind and they sickened her. His smugness was loathsome. She hadn't thought she could summon enough venom tonight to actually murder him yet it was there, coiled poisonously inside her, desperate to break free after two years of repression. She remained where she was, standing stoically at the rail with the wind tearing at her hair and dress. Her heart beat frantically and she wasn't sure whether she was breathing. This was going to be the most sickening, difficult task of her life, but also the most wonderful.
Seeing she would not move, Esmond walked forward to meet her. She waited until he was very close and then stepped aside elusively. His big meaty hand closed around the rail instead of her wrist. He took the snub gracefully, but it did not deter him. Eve feared this was not going to be as easy as she'd imagined.
"Beautiful night," Esmond said.
It was beautiful, but in a terrible, deadly way. If she leaned too far over the railing a strong gust could fling her effortlessly across it. The roiling ocean would take her body under and hide it beneath years of sediment. Such thoughts were frightening, though she knew she wasn't going to be the one head
ing over the edge that night.
Her face still expressionless, she cast her eyes far out to the black horizon. "The view from here is incredible." She was lying; she couldn't really see a thing.
"Yes, I have always loved it up here," Esmond agreed, shifting his body so he faced the ocean instead of her. Both his hands gripped the rail now. "I'm pleased you've come up here to share it with me."
Now, she thought. If you don't do it now . . .
Her hands connected firmly with his back and even though he was not expecting it, he didn't tumble over the rail. He was too strong, his feet rooted to the lighthouse. Hot dread washed over Eve as he turned to face her, puzzled. It was clear to him what she had tried to do. She backed up against the glass room, blood draining from her face. Her arm throbbed with pain and she clutched it instinctively.
"Eve!" Esmond cried, astonished. "What—why—"
"You shouldn't need to ask," she said coldly. "You know why."
"I don't believe . . ."
No, Eve thought, shutting her eyes in defeat. I've ruined everything. I may as well kill myself now.
Bright, dark, bright, dark against her eyelids.
When her eyes opened, she saw Ahaziel. Esmond turned to face him, prepared to demand who he was and what he thought he was doing there. Although Esmond was bigger and ostensibly stronger, Ahaziel was quicker, and he came forward with sleek grace. Taut tendons popped from the back of one long brown hand as he closed it around Esmond's throat and began to squeeze. Esmond's eyes bulged but he couldn't break Ahaziel's grip. Eve watched with sick fascination as Ahaziel grabbed her stepfather's shoulder with his free hand and used momentum to swing him across the railing. For one excruciating moment he dangled there helplessly, unable to speak, his eyes begging wretchedly for mercy. Ahaziel had none, nor did he have anything to say to the man. He dropped Esmond Havelock at last and Eve flung herself to the rail to watch him fall. She lost sight of him before he hit the rocks, but she knew exactly what had become of him. He was broken and limp now. Fish would nibble his corpse. Nature would swallow his bones.
"Oh my god," Eve breathed, unable to reconcile the horror and elation warring within her. "Oh my god . . ."
"Let's go," Ahaziel said gruffly, reaching for her arm.
"No!" she shrieked, jerking herself out of his reach. She rushed past him, stumbling into the lantern room and nearly tripping over herself as she descended the stairs. She didn't know where she wanted to go. She burst outside and as she ran past the oil house she saw something on the ground, something sticking out where the door was half open . . . As she passed, the thing came into focus and she realized it was Cayden. Whether he was dead or merely unconscious she couldn't tell, but the effect was the same. A short scream escaped her lips and she kept running until someone grabbed her arms and whirled her around. Panic welled and she couldn't focus. It was Ahaziel, she knew. She didn't want to look at him, she couldn't bear it, but her eyes began to see again and his face was right before her, tight and dark.
"Where are you going?" he demanded.
The tone of his voice sent a shiver of fright up Eve's spine. She was afraid he might harm her, but she wouldn't let him intimidate her. Gulping back a mouthful of fear she said, "I'm trying to get away from you!" On the last word she wrenched away from him and headed for the house. His presence at her back was so weighty and constant.
In the house she shot into the parlor because it was the nearest room. It was dark, so she made her way to the fireplace mantel and lit the candles upon it. The twin flames provided barely enough light to see by, but she didn't hurry to the next set of candles on the table by the sofa. She felt as if she were walking in a dream, underwater. Maybe nothing that had happened that night was real.
"Eve."
The voice came from behind her. Ahaziel had followed her into the house and stood in the doorway, waiting.
Eve took a shaky breath, fearing she would burst into hysterical sobs at the merest provocation. "I . . ." She couldn't continue. She didn't know what to say.
"I did it for you," Ahaziel said. "I gave you what you wanted."
She fought to keep her chin from trembling. "I don't know if that's what I really wanted."
"What do you want, then? To come away with me? We can leave now, if you like."
"Ahaziel . . ." She shook her head. Going away with him . . . That was what she'd dreamed of since the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. But everything was too confusing now, too real and strange. "Give me some time, would you? Just a few moments to myself, to think."
"To think," he repeated flatly. He didn't look happy.
"Yes. Please. I do want to go with you, Ahaziel, but tonight has just been so . . . so overwhelming . . ."
To her relief he nodded, though his expression looked stiff. "I will give you time," he agreed. "I won't be far. Come outside when you are ready."
"I will," she promised breathlessly. "I won't be long."
He left the room without another word. Eve gave a long, trembling sigh as she turned back to the candles she'd been lighting. She moved with stiff, mechanical control, as if she were performing an ordinary activity on an ordinary night. As if she hadn't seen someone commit a terrible murder.
She didn't feel much better having sent Ahaziel away. She was so scared of what she'd seen him do and what she now knew she was capable of. She had tried to push Esmond over herself; her hands had made contact with his back. She had seen him plunge to his death. Cayden was possibly dead, too. No one could blame her for requesting time to think. If anything she was acting much too rational.
And she knew, rationally, she couldn't fault Ahaziel for what he'd done. He'd done it for her. She realized she wasn't sorry, now that she stopped to consider the matter. Not even a little, because Esmond Havelock would never touch her again.
A laugh bubbled out of her throat. Never again! "He's dead," she said out loud, tentatively gleeful. "He's dead!"
Ahaziel would take her away. Away from the lighthouse, away from her own memories. Where they would go she had no idea, and she didn't care.
Laughing again, she spun to the door. She stopped abruptly. A man stood there—Merko. The man she had seen just before Ahaziel had dragged her off to the lighthouse. His face still held traces of a blur.
"You," Eve said accusingly. "What do you want?"
He didn't answer. She edged away, tensed to run, as he began to advance slowly upon her. He kept himself between her and the door, a narrow grin splitting his face.
"Get out of here," she said. "Get away from me."
"No."
She made to dart past him but he was quicker. One arm shot out and he grabbed her hand, holding it with painful tightness. He gripped it tighter as she glared at him, trying not to let him see how frightened she was. His grin was devilish.
"Ahaziel!" she called.
"He can't hear you," Merko said. "He's gone. Never coming back."
"Stop it!" Impulsively she snatched up a candle from the end table with her free hand and shook it at him.
"You're wonderful, Eve," Merko said, leaning easily away from the candle. "It is a shame Ahaziel left you. But don't worry, you have me now."
"Leave me alone!"
"Oh, Eve, I would, if only I weren't having much fun."
He grabbed both her wrists with his squeezing hands. She dropped the candle, her eyes widening as the corner of the rug caught the little flame. Her frightened gasp, one moment of inattention, allowed Merko to pull her closer, but Eve recovered quickly and jerked herself away. She landed against the end table, inches from two other candles. With a broad sweep of her arm she sent them to the ground, only one of them catching on the rug. Pushing herself off the table, she ran across the room to the window and yanked down the heavy drapes. She threw the two candles from the mantle onto the heap.
"Are you mad?" Merko stepped back, toward the door.
She did feel mad, possessed now by a dark compulsion to destroy the house Esmond Havelock had lived
in, a place fraught with bad memories. She thought only briefly of saving herself, because what was the use? She was too battered, bitter, and too immersed in her own misery to find happiness. But the fire frightened her.
I have to get to the door.
It was too late. The fire was all around now. Eve's skin was hot and she searched frantically for a path to safety. Her eyes felt scorched. She hadn't thought far enough ahead to consider how terrible it would be to burn to death. She felt insane. Killing her tormentor hadn't helped her after all, she realized. Nothing could help her.
Ahaziel, where are you? I need you . . .
"He's already gone," Merko said, his voice distant and dispassionate. He stood by the door and looked like a demon of fire. "He isn't coming back."
"He is," Eve insisted, barely choking the words out because her throat and lungs burned with smoke.
Merko didn't care whether she died. He had already slammed the door and when she reached it she found it locked from the outside. She shrieked wildly, beating her fists against it, but it was no use. The window, perhaps? If she could just make it back across the room . . .
Tears boiled in her eyes and her skin was like paper. The air sounded like millions of crackly leaves. She sank to her knees, feeling helpless and forsaken. Had Ahaziel really left her? Would he think she'd changed her mind?
She saw a black shape outside the window. He'd come for her! He'd broken the glass and was trying to coax her out to safety. Lifting a hand, she thought she felt a cool breeze on her skin, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Anyway, she didn't think she could move her heavy body, no matter how she longed to.
The agony was unbearable. Her screams echoed in her ears, inhuman. She coughed violently as vile black smoke entered her lungs. Her eyes teared so fully she couldn't see a thing. This was death, unimaginably excruciating. The pain built rapidly, spiraling and pulsing inside her until she thought she would burst, and then, suddenly, it was no more.
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