by Aurora, Lexi
I grabbed my bag and began to walk down the block. I lived only two miles from the center of town where I needed to do my shopping. I noticed as I walked that there were people out everywhere, even on parts of the streets that weren’t usually gathering places for the public. Everybody I saw seemed to be leaning together, talking in hushed voices that made me nervous. I kept walking, keeping my eyes open and looking around me. The whole town had a hushed, quiet feel to it, almost as if a blanket had been spread over it, muffling and muting the sounds. Something was wrong, I could feel it. I didn’t even make it to town before my curiosity got the better of me. I stopped in front of the stoop of two women who were standing close together, speaking quietly to one another with grave faces.
“Excuse me?” I asked, approaching their stoop. “Has something happened?”
“Where have you been, girl?” asked one of the women, crossing her arms over her chest. She was tall and thin as a reed, harsh-looking and unfriendly. “Lord Castellano is dead. Murdered.”
“Julian?” I asked. It was the first word from my lips. I felt a fear pierce my heart that I didn’t recognize, one that was mingled with grief for a man I barely knew.
“Not the brother,” said the woman. “The lord himself. Jason.”
I put my hand over my mouth, my eyes widening in shock. It felt like my heart stopped for a moment, like my whole body froze.
“What?” I asked numbly. “When? Where?”
“Right about here,” the woman said, pointing down an alley across the street. “About a block away.”
I swallowed hard, blinking at the women in disbelief. I was only a half a mile from my house. The night before, Jason had been there. We’d done a séance that I couldn’t seem to remember—now that I was thinking about it, the whole night seemed to be a blank for me. I couldn’t remember what had happened after Jason had shown up at my door. I had tried to turn him away, but he had insisted that he just needed one more time to try to contact his father. He’d looked so desperate, so haunted that I couldn’t tell him no. After that, I didn’t remember anything, and now the man was dead.
“How did it happen?” I asked them.
“He was stabbed,” said the other woman, the one who hadn’t spoken yet. “Say he got mugged. I don’t believe it.”
“Nah,” said the tall woman. “His father just died, too.”
“Maybe it’s the brother,” suggested the other woman. I shook my head, swallowing. I tried to open my mouth to speak but I was too dumbfounded to form any words. Instead, I turned and began to walk back to my house. I couldn’t go into town like this, couldn’t face the throngs of people who would be desperately awaiting further news of the murder. It would be all that anybody was talking about. I couldn’t stand the thought of being surrounded by that, being immersed in the gossip that was no doubting spreading like mad all over the land.
I got back to my house and rushed inside, but froze in the doorway when I noticed that something was wrong. There were things strewn about the house—various papers and candles, books and glass collectibles that I’d kept on the mantle after my grandmother had died. The séance table was overturned and one of the chairs was in pieces of splintered wood as if it had been crushed in a massive fist. I looked around in consternation, taking in the damage. There were no windows open or broken and the front door had been locked.
I shook my head, in shock, and began to methodically clean up the room. The movements calmed me a little, the repetitiveness of it working almost as a meditation. I tried to clean up slowly and clear my mind, but when I was finished, I found that there was nowhere else to hide from my thoughts. Something horrible had happened the night before and now someone had been in my house. I sank down into a chair and put my face in my hands, closing my eyes to take a deep breath. I sat there and wondered what to do, who to turn to, but my mind came up blank.
Chapter 11: Julian
I sat in my office—the office that was my father’s, then my brother’s for a brief time. The family solicitor was sitting in front of me and droning on about the estate, about the title I was to inherit. I knew nothing about being an earl, nothing of ruling. I was familiar with the nobility in the area but I was ignorant to much of the political happenings amongst them. I rubbed my hand over my face, trying to pay attention to what the solicitor was saying, but there was too much on my mind. Thoughts of my brother’s death plagued me over and over—the fact that he had been murdered, that someone had taken his life, made me ache. My brother had been a good man, a kind and warm person up until the very end when he’d been consumed by his obsession with my father’s death. He hadn’t deserved to die so gruesomely and should have had many more years doing the job he had been born and trained to do.
“My lord, do you understand what I’m telling you?”
I looked up at the solicitor, a balding man named James whom I’d known most of my life. He had always been around to tend to my father’s business affairs. Now, I was facing him as a lord in my own right. It felt strange and uncomfortable to be sitting in front of him, but I tried to put on a face that looked like I had been paying attention.
“Yes, sir,” I said to him. “I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted.”
James looked at me with sympathy on his face, a look that I appreciated and loathed in equal measure. It was comforting to know that people cared about my family, but I didn’t want pity for the situation I had been left in.
“I understand,” he said, and stood up. “Perhaps I’ll come back another day to go over the details.”
I nodded. “That would be fine, James,” I said, and dismissed him with a nod. I was left alone in the room to think, something that I didn’t want to be doing. I was ruminating on everything that was going wrong, my head a mess of emotions. I was filled with both grief and anger, which made me restless, my body on edge.
I started to look through the drawers of my father’s desk just to have something to keep my hands busy. One of the drawers was locked, and though I searched the rest of the desk for the key, I couldn’t seem to find it. I looked through papers and ledgers, picking up a book from the bottom drawer that had my brother’s handwriting in it. I flipped through the pages to see that it was his money ledgers, and that he had written down every transaction he’d made since he’d taken over my father’s title.
I noticed that one name appeared next to several large sums of money: Fiona Temple. My brother had gone to see her far more often than I thought he had. I noted the dates, scanning through the ledger. The fact that he’d spent so much money on her was suspicious to me, especially since he had been found so close to her house when he’d died. I’d almost immediately thought of Fiona when I heard which spot he was found in, but didn’t know what to do about the connection between her and my brother’s death. I knew now that I had to go to her, ask her what she knew. Even she hadn’t let on how many times she’d seen my brother.
I told an attendant to have a horse ready for me and was ready to leave within minutes. I climbed atop the horse and rode the short distance to the town, pulling up the walkway to Fiona’s doorstep. I dismounted and tied the horse outside, then knocked on the front door.
Fiona answered. When her eyes met mine, they looked pained, but there was a familiar look of longing that I recognized now as desire.
“Fiona,” I said. “I just came by to—“
“I know why you’re here,” she said. She gestured for me to come inside and I brushed past her, holding her eye during the brief moment our bodies made contact in the doorway. Her lips were parted and pink, so sweet-looking that I had trouble looking away from them. I managed to do so, looking around her house.
“Your brother,” she said, and I turned to look at her. “I’m so sorry.”
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. I cleared my throat. “I’d like to contact him.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. I was surprised myself. It was the last thing I had expected myself to say—I didn’t believe in what Fiona
did here—but for some reason I wanted to witness her so-called powers again, to see what she did in the face of my brother’s death after having spent so much time with him.
“Really?” she asked. She bit her lip, looking at me almost nervously. I wondered if she would do it, if she would go through with the séance.
“Yes,” I said. “He was murdered.”
“I know,” she said. She took a step toward me and put her hand out, as if she was going to touch me. Then she let it drop and instead stared at my face.
“If he’s still here, if he knows something…” I took a deep breath. “I want to know.”
Again, the words came out of me before I realized what I was saying. It was almost as if somewhere deep down I believed in the possibility of Fiona’s abilities.
She looked at me for a long moment, studying my features. I couldn’t help but stare back at her. The image of me taking her into my arms flashed through my mind, and I had trouble not doing so. Instead, I clasped my hands in front of me.
“Ok,” she agreed. “We’ll contact your brother.”
I was half-surprised that she agreed to it. I know it showed on my face, because she laughed.
“You ask for my services, and yet you doubt me,” she said. I smiled at her and took a seat at her table. She sat across from me, lighting a candle in front of us. Her features in the dim light were stunning, and even when she told me to close my eyes, I found myself studying her face.
“Close your eyes, Julian,” she repeated with a sly smile. I did so, a grin on my lips, and then she took both of my hands in hers across the table. Her skin was so soft, the touch of it so electric that it made my heart do a flip in my chest. I took a moment to play with her hands, to touch them all over, stroking her skin with my fingers. I opened my eyes for a moment to see that she was smiling and biting her lip, her lids closed and her lashes spread out on her cheeks. She caught me peeking and laughed before I closed my eyes again.
I knew something was wrong right away. A hush grew over the room and Fiona had gone quiet. I waited for a moment for her to say something, keeping my eyes closed as she had told me. Then her hands went slack in mine. I looked at her to see that she was sitting in her chair with her eyes open, staring over my shoulder with an almost dazed look on her face. I turned around to see what she was looking at but there was nothing, nobody standing behind me.
“Fiona,” I said softly, trying to snap her out of her trance. Furrowing my brow in concern, with an anxious feeling in my stomach, I stood up and went to her taking her by the shoulders and shaking her very gently. I put my hand to her cheek to feel that she was hot and flushed. She still wasn’t responding. Alarmed, I lifted her into my arms and carried her over to the sofa, laying her down gently and cushioning her head with a pillow. I took her hand in mine and began to touch her fingers in gentle strokes, just wanting to touch her, and make sure she was still alive. I could feel her pulse in her wrist, beating faintly.
After a few moments, she tugged her hand away from me, opening her eyes wide and scrambling backward on the couch.
“It’s okay,” I said, putting my hands up.
“You hurt me,” she said. “Your hand—“
“What do you mean?” I asked her. She put her hand out to touch me and when her skin touched my arm, I felt something flare up within me, a heat that was almost unbearable. She let go of me quickly and I stared at her.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “What happened?”
“You went into a trance,” I said. The color was returning to her face but she looked more confused than ever.
“Why can’t I touch you?” she asked. I tried one more time, reaching my hand out to her cheek. When I did, the extreme discomfort returned, spreading through my arm before she pulled away. She looked at me with concern in her eyes, which I knew I reflected back at her. I felt fear wash over me. Something was wrong here, something I didn’t understand. I shook my head, closing my eyes for a moment to gather myself.
“I have to go,” I told her. It was just too much for me, too much to deal with after my brother’s murder.
She stared at me without saying anything, looking taken aback by my abrupt words. I shook my head at her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and then left without looking back at her, though seeing her face one more time was desperately something I wanted to do.
Chapter 12: Fiona
In the dream, I was more afraid than I ever had been. I was on horseback at first, making my way down my own street and back to my house. When I got there, I noticed that the front door was open, and all of the lights were on in the house. I dismounted from the horse and approached my house, walking up the steps and peering in tentatively through the front door. I saw nothing when I first looked, so I took a step further into the house. It was then that I saw the blood. It was everywhere, splashed over the walls and coating the floor in puddles. I had never seen so much blood in my life. I swallowed hard, trying to fight the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. The room smelled coppery and strong, like meat, and I had to breathe through my mouth as I entered.
My grandmother was sitting in a chair at the séance table, sitting across from Julian. They were holding hands across the table and Julian was frozen, his lips parted, pale and wan. He looked like he was about to collapse any moment. I watched as my grandmother squeezed his hands harder and harder until they turned almost blue.
“Grandmother,” I said, rushing to her. I grabbed her hands, trying to pull Julian free, but she wouldn’t budge. I watched as Julian faded to a deathly white and collapsed in the chair, sliding out of it and landing in a boneless puddle on the floor. I knelt over him, but every time I tried to touch him, my skin felt a harsh and painful burn. I didn’t care. I touched his skin anyway, feeling his forehead, his pulse. He was barely breathing. I looked up at my grandmother.
“What did you do to him?” I asked her, panic welling within me.
“I’m trying to protect you,” she said. I shook my head at her, feeling tears stream down my face as I felt Julian fading in my arms, the life draining from him. I woke up as I heard my grandmother start to laugh behind me, sitting straight up in bed, my hand over my chest. My heart was thundering, threaten to burst out of my ribcage as I tried to catch my breath. I looked out the window to see that it was starting to get brighter outside, morning having already arrived. Grateful that I didn’t have to try to get back to sleep, I got up from my bed and went downstairs to make coffee. The feeling in my chest was one of hot panic, one that I couldn’t seem to control. It hadn’t been just a regular dream. Julian’s face was vivid in my mind, as was his expression as the life drained out of him.
My hands shook as I prepared the kettle for the coffee. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood and the carnage around the apartment. It hadn’t even been clear whose blood it had been, though Julian had looked pale enough to have lost much of it.
I tried to go about the rest of my day as normal, seeing a couple of clients before running my errands in town. I had never finished what I was doing the day that I’d found out Lord Castellano had been murdered and there were some tasks I needed to finish up, but I’d been too afraid to go alone. That fear was now being devoured by the anxiety I had over the dream, and the only way I felt I could get rid of that was by getting out of the house for a little while. Though it was a large and open place, it was starting to feel stifling to me, and I wanted to get out as soon as possible that morning.
I meant to set off in the direction of town but I found myself going to the next lot over, the land where I kept my horse for when I needed her. I walked across the large land up to the main house and politely knocked on the door. I was greeted by Mary, the older woman who ran the estate and had offered to house and take care of my horse for free once I’d introduced myself.
“I was wondering if I could take Blessing for the day,” I said to Mary, who was smiling at m
e delightedly.
“Of course,” she said. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you,” I said politely. I followed her through the house and out the back door to their yard, which stretched back several acres and included a set of stables which was impressive for a commoner. I went directly to Blessing, a silver mare that my grandmother had bought me when I was just a little girl. I stroked the pretty horse’s muzzle and she nuzzled my shoulder, happy to see me.
I watched as the stable boy pulled her out of the stall and saddled her for me, though it was something that I would have been capable of doing myself. I thanked him and climbed atop Blessing’s back, guiding her into motion as I took off across the ranch. I made my way in the opposite direction of the town—toward the nobility proper, where the lords and ladies lived separate from the rest of us. I felt like I had to find Julian, to warn him about the dream I’d had, that he was in danger.
