by L C Kincaide
Taking a few more steps into the spitting drizzle, Ivy turned on her cell phone and held it up praying for at least one bar to appear. Turning in place, she reached as high as she could, for even if there was a tower out there, the weather would severely dampen the signal. With only minutes, maybe just seconds of battery life left, she wasn’t in a position to squander any.
Climbing up the stairs, Ivy tried to think of how to best reach her friend. If she could dial out, Jen may not receive her call because she would have the phone muted at this time of the day, and she couldn’t afford to waste precious seconds waiting through the greeting to leave a message that could very well be scrambled or full of static. Sending a text appeared to be the most efficient way, and she thought of the most direct wording to tell Jen they had deserted her, leaving her stranded, and that she was in danger.
“Come on,” she urged the phone to cooperate. Holding it above her head, Ivy shuffled farther away from the rooftop entrance. An updraft caught her, and she froze in place. She was standing perhaps three feet from the edge and had wandered toward the center block where the skylight was set into the roof. Her heart caught in her throat. She peered down to the gravelled drive, and her stomach clenched again in a primal fear of heights. Through the fog, she spied the silver ribbon of the river winding its way below, cutting through the grassy plain and flowing beneath the old stone bridge before disappearing into pearly softness. Swathes of bluish and violet-tinted shapes drifted in and out of view, and in other circumstances, the vista would have been exquisitely dreamy, but at this moment it terrified her. At least she had her bearings. Still careful on the tiles, she stepped back and started tapping her text, trying not to make mistakes that would render her message garbled and useless — alone send h…
A sound nearby caught her attention, and she spun around. From behind a foursome of chimney columns closest to the door she had used, a shape emerged, indistinct and cloaked in mist and was moving toward her. She didn’t need to see more detail than that to know Victoria had positioned herself between her and the only visible means of escape. Caught in a struggle, her mind raced — what to do first, evade the lunatic or complete her message. Precious seconds she would never get back were timing down. She risked a glance at the screen, two percent. Damn! She wasn’t even finished typing yet! Well, no matter, it would have to do, and it was up to Jen to figure it out. Tapping the send icon, she waited for the confirmation, but the signal was gone and glancing up, Victoria inched closer. She needed to find a spot without fog, but Victoria’s intent was clear; close enough for Ivy to read her expression, it was not one of friendly surprise.
“How lovely to see you again.” Victoria said, a ghostly vision in pearly gray. “Enjoying a breath of air?”
Ivy moved more into the open, and stealing a glance at the phone’s display, a loose tile at her feet grabbed her attention. With nothing to defend herself and throwing the phone at Victoria’s head not an option, she scooped it up. She was not about to engage in a rooftop shoving match either.
“Don’t come any closer, I’m warning you!”
“Oh, are you now?” Victoria smirked, not the least bit concerned. “That seems to be the unfortunate nature of our relationship, does it not? I warn you, you warn me.” She shrugged, her voice mocking. “It really does no good to anyone since neither of us responds to such intimidations.”
Ivy watched the woman, her gestures weary as if bored, and the irritating, ever present smirk on her face making her want to smack it off.
“You’re insane.”
Victoria threw her head back and laughed. Its lilting quality that may have passed as pleasant under different circumstances annoyed the hell out of her.
“Is that so?” She responded. “And yet, it is you who is out here wandering about on the rooftop. Perhaps you are a little confused.” She cocked her head. “All the same, it really is a stunning view, do you not agree? Such a shame it is so misty. I would be delighted to point out some of the landmarks to you.” She suggested taking another step toward her.
Ivy thrust her arm as high as she could reach, tapped the phone again with her thumb and prayed this time the message went through. Victoria’s next movement had Ivy pitching the tile, but with one arm held high, her aim was off, and the piece of slate flew past her intended target.
“Oops! You missed.” Victoria chided. “But I won’t.”
Head down, she barrelled straight at her, the dust ruffle under her skirt fluttering at her shoes, and Ivy braced for impact. She felt a great push and fell to the roof tiles. Her wrist struck the hard slate, the force knocking the phone out of her hand, and she watched in horror as it skidded across the rooftop and clattered toward the edge. She rolled and lunged for it, but too late. The display flashed that her message was sent before the device shot over the side. Scrambling into a crouching position, Ivy searched for her adversary, but in the grayish gown, she was nearly impossible to discern among the ghostly shapes enveloped in the mist. Her mouth dry and pulse racing, she did not want to be next on her way down.
When Jen’s cellphone vibrated in her desk, she thought, good. Ivy’s back. She pulled it out of the drawer and swiped the surface, but the look of anticipation quickly became one of dread as she read the hastily typed, cut-off message — alone send h…. Unconcerned with what her co-workers may think, she tapped the telephone icon. Immediately, the cheerful greeting played, which meant her phone was in use or turned off. Or the battery died. A chill ran through her. She doubted Ivy was engaged in a conversation at the moment, and her mind raced. Something bad was happening to her friend, and she was calling for help.
What to do… Jen opened a new tab in her computer’s browser and logged into her friend-finder account. From the menu, she selected Ivy’s icon and waited for the pin to appear. Within seconds it indicated a location northwest from the city, but before she could zoom in closer, the pin vanished. Ivy’s phone went dead. Her fingers flying over the keyboard, Jen brought up a map and plotted her course then switched to Earth view and zoomed as close as the function would allow. What she saw chilled her to the bone.
“I have an emergency.” She said on her way out. “Cover for me.” And she rushed out the door. It was three o’clock already, so another two hours wouldn’t have made any difference. She hesitated only for a second before she tapped a number. Not bothering with pleasantries, she went straight to the point. “Ivy’s in trouble. I’m heading out there now. Are you coming with me or not?”
“Ivy, this way!”
A familiar voice called her name. Her eyes swept around and found Lucy a short distance away off to her left over the west wing, and she was coming toward her.
Undeterred and dangerously close, Victoria prepared for another attack. She was not going to let her back into the stairwell, and Ivy was furious and drew both courage and strength from that. Bracing herself for the onslaught, she lunged forward. Physically, they were matched, and she wasn’t wearing a restrictive skirt to slow her down, nor did she have a cell phone to guard anymore.
Taking a gulp, she charged at her opponent, and impossibly, just as she reached her close enough to touch the fabric of her dress, the woman flitted aside. Caught in the momentum, Ivy staggered and came to a sudden stop against a chimney, bounced off and rolled. When she raised her head, she found herself poised at the edge of the skylight looking through the rectangle above the central hall.
Her senses heightened, she could easily make out the detail of the veining in the exquisite marble, and she didn’t want her broken body in a pile of glass to be part of it. What had she mused about earlier? That the skylight was a portal between this life and the hereafter? The journey wouldn’t be happening from this side if she could help it.
“Ivy, come with me.” Lucy’s voice was urgent.
Ivy’s gaze found her, but she couldn’t make herself move. Only hours ago, she thoug
ht Lucy was her friend, but everything changed since then. She couldn’t trust anyone, and the realization was nearly more than she could endure.
Lucy moved toward her and reached out. “Ivy, please, take my hand.” Her eyes implored.
“No!” Ivy shouted. “Get away from me! I don’t know you!”
She glanced at her foe who was smoothing her skirt, her head down and watching Ivy from beneath her brows. Her smile was menacing.
The fog crawled along the rooftop freely, obliterating the edge, and she could no longer see where the roof ended. In one more minute, it would swallow them all.
She chanced a look in Lucy’s direction whose hand was reaching toward her. In the bleak tableau, she alone was clear and luminous.
“Ivy, please. You know me. You must remember. Let me help you.” She pleaded.
How she wanted to believe Lucy as Victoria prepared for another assault on her. As her options diminished, she scrambled to her feet. Lucy appeared at Ivy’s side, and she took her hand and led her around the chimneys toward the northwestern block to safety.
“We have to leave. You cannot fight her, not here.”
Ivy wasn’t about to argue the matter. She had tried and failed. The fog thickened, engulfing the entire house, and she was on unfamiliar ground, if she could say that, which left her at a disadvantage. At this point, her comfort lay in her text message having been sent. After that, she’d just have to wait it out.
She turned her head to see where her pursuer was and caught sight of Mason restraining her from behind. Even firmly held, the crazy woman struggled against him trying to loosen herself. In his strong grasp, she had no chance of getting free. In the seconds it took to take in the scene, a series of emotions played over his features, but Ivy had no time to speculate on them.
Balancing and sidestepping, she followed Lucy across the obstacle course of chimneys and loose tiles until they arrived at an entrance identical to that in the opposite wing.
They hurried down the narrow flights of stairs, burst through a door, ran along a hallway and didn’t stop until they found themselves in a spacious room. Lucy brought her to a chair near a blazing fire.
“Warm yourself. You are thoroughly chilled.” Lucy turned to the maid. “Styles, bring a blanket!”
Ivy glanced around the chamber painted in sunny yellow with floral-patterned furniture. While her heartbeat slowed to a normal rhythm now that she was off the roof, the decor did little to cheer her up.
“What on earth were you doing up there?” Lucy came around, her eyes wide with concern.
Styles’ face too was creased with worry as she draped a woollen shawl over her shoulders.
“I was trying to get help. Everyone’s gone.”
Lucy crouched before her and took Ivy’s cold hands in hers. “We are here. You are not alone.”
Ivy found no comfort in those words. If what she said was true, then where were they all this time? Hiding? The only person who had shown interest in her was Victoria, and she tried to put a quick end to her visit. Was she the only one who knew this?
“She’s insane. Why isn’t she locked up somewhere?” Ivy asked, her tone full of anger.
“She ought to be banished from this house at the very least.” Lucy agreed. “From now on, you are staying here in the northwest wing. She won’t dare set foot in here. Otherwise, one of us will be with you at all times.”
“I don’t need a chaperone!” She pulled her hands free and clutched at the shawl. “I want to get out of here. I want to go home!” Unwelcome tears stung her eyes and she willed them back. Instead, she glared into the warming flames, but the cold clung to her.
“Of course.“ Lucy agreed sadly.
The door opened, and someone entered the room.
“I heard what happened. Is everyone all right?” George asked.
Ivy couldn’t look at him. Obviously, he was very much alive though he still wore the high-collared shirt with his tweeds. Didn’t he get the memo that the charade was over? For that matter why were they all in costume?
“Just barely. Be a dear and pour us a Brandy.”
He was at their side with the drinks. Ivy held hers with a trembling hand and took a tentative sip. It brought a flash of memory of a long-ago evening in the parlor. She squeezed her eyes shut to blot it out. Funny, now that her heart rate was back to normal, a numbness spread through her. A gulp later, the liquor helped more. She was declining into an adrenaline low and the sluggish weariness was taking over. But it didn’t matter. Where could she go? A lunatic was on the loose in the house, and until help arrived, or Jen herself, she was safe in this room. At least she hoped so. If they all wanted to continue playing dress-up, that was harmless enough. In any case, there was nothing more for her to do.
“Where is Mason?” George asked sounding far away, even though he stood nearby.
“He has his hands full with Victoria. She was in one of her — moods.”
He grumbled. “It never ends with her, does it?”
“She is especially bad this time.”
“Not surprising.” He admitted.
Ivy listened to their voices as if from behind a curtain. Gentle fingers brushed her hair away from her face.
“No, not surprising at all.”
Someone took her empty glass before she dropped it, then Lucy spoke. “Ivy, Styles and I will take you to your room now and help you settle in.”
Ivy started to protest, but she could barely move. She’d only had the small amount in the snifter, so why were her legs so rubbery and her mind numb? Was she drugged? It must be the alcohol. She had not eaten since last night.
“Everything is all right. Don’t be frightened. It is a beautiful room, and you will be safe there. I promise you that. No one can hurt you here. No one. Not ever.”
Her voice was soft and reassuring. Surely it wasn’t she behind this crazy charade! She didn’t seem capable of it. But someone was.
Styles helped her up wrapping an arm around her waist like the night she walked Emma back to bed. Emma — where had she gone?
They shuffled down the corridor and stepped into a small, cage-like space, and it whirred, and with a jostle began its descent. When the elevator stopped, they moved along another muted hallway glowing with gaslights and entered a room that was pleasantly warm with a fire crackling in the grate.
Standing there, propped up by Lucy, she could not focus and was only vaguely aware of what was happening. Glancing around, the same applied to her surroundings; no details just impressions of pastels and delicate floral prints against pale lavender walls. She struggled against the growing weariness. Her body was a heavy burden; the numbness unlike anything she had ever experienced, resembling neither the effects of alcohol, nor the dullness of being drugged as she had earlier suspected. She wanted to be free of this crushing weight as Styles helped her peel off her damp clothes and slip into a nightdress. She tucked her into bed and at last, Ivy drifted into a haven of dreamless sleep.
Jen stared straight ahead at the car in front of her. “Has she mentioned anything to you about these people?”
Brad wrinkled his brow. “No, not really. We haven’t talked much lately.”
“Well, you didn’t leave her a whole lot to talk about, did you?” She cast a cold glance in his direction.
“Look, Jen. I’m worried about her too. I’m here, aren’t I?”
She said nothing. The only reason she wanted him along was because driving out there alone and having no idea what she’d find didn’t feel safe. It would also be getting dark soon, probably just as they arrived.
“What has she told you?” He cast her a sidelong glance.
To her consternation, no pertinent details came to mind, and her knowledge of Ivy’s weekend arrangements were no better than his. She should have asked for thei
r names and address, phone number, personal references. A full interrogation would have sufficed. Damn!
“Not much. Her friend, Emma, someone she met a couple of months ago invited her to a weekend party — a throwback to the Edwardian era with costumes.” She paused remembering Ivy’s excitement about it and how she was looking forward to slipping back in time. But how much did she really know about this Emma? She barely knew her. Ivy was not impulsive, yet she had gone off for three days to spend with virtual — no, actual strangers, apparently without hesitation.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She should have — what — talked her out of it? She was not her mother, and she had been so excited, so eager to get away for a little while.
“It’s all your fault.” She finally said.
Immediately, Brad was on the defensive. “My fault? How can it be my fault? It’s not like I pushed her out the door!”
Jen turned on him. “Didn’t you? Cheating on her the way you did? You’re such a dickhead!”
“Hey, you called me, remember? I didn’t have to come along, but I did, and whatever you may think of me, I still care about her, so let’s just get there.”
They drove in silence for several minutes. The sun was already grazing the treetops and Jen stepped on the gas.
“Sorry.” She said. “Can you check your GPS and tell me how far we are from the exit?”
Fortunately, they had left before the commuter traffic started and were making good progress. She was also driving well above the speed limit, but so what? If she got pulled over, she’d state her reasons, and they’d have a police escort. Speaking of which, it had occurred to her to phone the police, but they wouldn’t do anything until Ivy was officially missing — a ridiculous way of looking at things if there ever was one, for at least forty-eight hours. The dashboard clock showed it was just under two hours now. Should she have rolled the time back to Friday night? If she had been thinking…
