by Katie M John
Jeremiah stepped in and shook the snow from his body.
“If you go on through, the fire is lit. I’ll make us some tea,” she said, already walking away from him down the dark wood-panelled hallway. “Make yourself at home,” she threw out over her shoulder.
Jeremiah stood for a while gawping. He was no stranger to wealth and Coldstone House was impressive enough, but he’d never seen anything quite like the house he was now standing in. You were right about Poe! he thought. Everywhere he looked, he saw wealth and history. The hallway, larger than most apartments, was mainly home to a sweeping staircase, its banisters intricately carved with beasts and flowers. All up the stairs, heavy oil portraits hung, dating right back to the Tudor period; all of them relatives of the woman who had opened the door. There was no mistaking the bloodline with the thick black hair, the green almond eyes, and the delicate features.
He walked through the hall, his head tipped back to look at the painted ceiling, not sure where he was meant to be heading. A movement in the corner of his eye caused him to drop his focus to the floor, where he saw that the center table, which hosted a large ornate display of blood red roses, was sat on top of a marble inlaid pentagram. A black cat wound its way around the pedestal leg.
“Oh crap!” he muttered under his breath.
Suspicions gathered and he searched out clues to confirm them. It wasn’t long before he began to see the motifs of ravens and hearts everywhere; in the carved wood panelling, in the painted ceiling, on the crest of each heavy, dark oak door. You’re at Ravenheart Hall! he finally admitted. He couldn’t believe he had not known that the instant he had met the woman at the door; she was of course one of Thalia’s sisters.
He glanced back towards the door but he knew it was pointless to try and set out in the blizzard. He’d only make it five minutes down the road before he got snowed in and probably perished from hyperthermia. He continued onwards, with the intention of playing innocent and getting out as quickly as he could without causing any harm. He headed in the direction of the open door and saw that it led to a comfortable, if not gloomy drawing room, where two large wood fires blazed either end. He walked in and took a turn around the room, curious as much as he was nervous. Every table was heavy under the strain of large leather bound books, including the coffee table between the two sofas. He stepped over to one of the fires and warmed his ice-cold hands before turning to try and dry off his uncomfortably soggy sweat-pants.
The sound of the woman’s voice startled him and he turned. Despite carrying a large tray of cups, saucers, and a cake stand, she had entered silently, without even a rattle of the china. She flashed him a smile and it was completely captivating.
“It’s Earl Grey, is that okay?” Jeremiah nodded but didn’t get time to verbalise a reply before she continued. “We blend it with dried orange blossom from the grounds. It reminds us of the summer.” She leant over and poured the tea over the silver tea strainer before handing out the cup and saucer in offering. Jeremiah took the delicate china in his hand. As it rattled in his shivering hand, he hoped she mistook it for the effects of the cold rather than his nerves that jangled under her eyes.
He took a sip and smiled appreciatively. “It’s lovely, thank you. Just like summer.”
The heavy chime of a clock tolled, cutting short their introduction. Jeremiah waited for the seemingly endless chimes to cease and convinced himself he must have miscounted when he heard the thirteenth chime. He took another sip of his tea in the hope it would give him time to get his wits together.
She poured out her tea and took a seat on the sofa, scanning Jeremiah’s pleasing form up and down from under her heavy, sultry eyelashes.
“So stranger, do you have a name?”
Jeremiah coughed on his tea and hurriedly extended a hand, “Oh, I’m so sorry, how rude of me, my name is Jeremiah Chase, I’m…”
“There’s no need to explain. I know Jeremiah Chase.” She punctuated her comment by tipping her head coquettishly and smiling through pouting lips. “You look a little… incognito. You’ve probably worked out by now I’m one of the Ravenheart sisters.”
Jeremiah nodded. There was no need to pretend he didn’t know.
“I’m the eldest sister, Lilith.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Jeremiah charmed.
“Likewise.”
The two of them drank the rest of their tea in a heavy, uncomfortable silence until she invited him to have a refill of tea and directed him to take a cake from the silver stand.
Jeremiah bent down, spoilt for choice. The last time he had seen a collection of patisseries as pretty and delicate had been when he was having tea with Lucia at the tearooms in the Upper East Side. After much deliberation, he choose a small violet fondant fancy topped with a crystallised rose petal.
“I’m afraid they’re a little bit girlie,” she smiled, “but that’s what you get in a house full of women.”
“You live here with your mother?” The question slipped out before he had chance to reign it in. Jeremiah had intended on asking as few questions as possible.
Lilith shook her head. “Sadly not; both our parents are dead. The three of us live here alone.”
“Oh,” he said, hiding behind his teacup.
Uncomfortable at the personal nature of his question, Lilith turned the conversation, “So I guess you’ll be needing refuge until the snow passes.”
Jeremiah glanced towards to the window where he saw the snow was still falling heavily. Reluctantly, he nodded his head and said, “I guess so, that is if it isn’t too much of an imposition.”
“You’re welcome to stay, just don’t expect too much from the hospitality. I’m not used to having visitors and I’m quite hopeless at small chat. I’ll show you around and then I’m going to leave you to your own devices if that is okay?”
“Sure,” he replied, hoping he could be trusted to be left alone to his own devices in Ravenheart Hall.
She led him out of the room and towards the kitchen, which the Ravenhearts had the sense, unlike his aunt, to have moved from the basement and put into one of the many large ground floor parlour rooms. With its slick, modern gloss cabinets and granite worktops, it was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Jeremiah smiled at the heart attack the heritage nuts would have such a travesty. Lilith gave him a tour of the kitchen, pointing out the kettle, tea, and coffee and inviting him to help himself to anything from the fridge, informing him cook kept them stocked up with roast meats and soups ready for quick meals. Then she showed him the workbench, which was home to a PC she put at his disposal.
“We tend to spend time in here because it’s the warmest room in the house, what with the underfloor heating.”
Jeremiah scanned the rest of the room and saw it was almost like a self-contained apartment with a large saggy sofa, and flat screen mounted on the wall.
“I’ll show you to the guest quarters should you need to stay overnight,” she said, leaving the room and causing him to trot behind her like a puppy. At six-foot, Lilith was a striking figure as she ascended the stairs. All she needs is a three branch candelabra to complete the effect, Jeremiah thought, still not really relishing the idea of having to spend the night at Ravenheart Hall.
He distracted himself from the very pleasing vision of Lilith’s bottom swaying seductively in front of him by taking a closer look at the paintings, each of which had been done by a very skilled hand.
“All of these are your relatives?” he said, genuinely impressed.
“They have all lived here at Ravenheart Hall at some point or another.”
It took Jeremiah a moment to notice that out of the hundred or so portraits, only a handful were men. He was just about to express his surprise when a voice in his head told him in no uncertain terms to shut his mouth.
At last, they made it to the guest quarters and Jeremiah wished he had been less distracted because he wasn’t entirely sure how they had arrived. Lilith pushed open the door to reveal a room not
too dissimilar to his room at Coldstone House, only this was slightly older and rather than the muted tasteful Georgian blues of his room at Aunt Penelope’s, this room was decorated red, almost to the point of silliness. The whole effect was disconcertedly like walking into a heart.
“There’s an en-suite shower room at the far left. We had the dressing room converted. There’s towels and toiletries. I’m afraid we don’t have a change of clothes, although you can put your sweater through the tumble drier downstairs if you wish.”
Jeremiah nodded, unsure of what to say.
“You may make use of the sitting room and the library as well, but I’d ask you to limit your wanderings to these rooms. The rest of the house is not fit for guests; it’s mostly covered in dust-sheets.” She started towards the door. “I’ll see you in the dining room at eight for dinner. There’s no need to dress,” she giggled girlishly at her own flirtatious double entendre.
Jeremiah was left surprisingly unsettled. Mixtures of grief and desire blended into an intoxicating cocktail. He listened for the door clicking shut before stripping off and placing his sweat pants and t-shirt onto the radiator. It was blasting out so much heat that his clothes would be dry by the time he had finished his shower. The en-suite was another pleasant surprise of modernity - all sandstone tiles and spa-like lighting. I really ought to bring Aunt Penelope round for some interior design tips, he thought with a wry smile.
The shower, being the first power shower with a regulated temperature he’d had in over a month, was a moment of pure heaven. He poured out the shower gel, noting it was a Moonstone product made by Fox and her sisters. The heady smell of rosemary and lavender and another smell he wasn’t so familiar with, filled the small steam-filled shower room, instantly relaxing him. As he stood, with the hot waters washing over him and the scent of herbs cleansing his mind, he felt the effects of the traumatic news of Rachel’s death shift and re-settle into a deep and quiet sadness. The feeling, although a heavy weight to carry, was manageable and over time, he knew it would get lighter. He flicked off the shower and took the towel from the heated rail, wrapping himself up in the luxury of warmth.
Having dressed, he headed back down towards the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and attempt to log in to the PC. He walked through the windowless corridors, knowing he could have travelled back in time and not be any the wiser. The house was eerily quiet and felt strangely empty. He wondered where Lilith was and what she was doing. A pleasant fantasy of finding her started to play out in his mind until it ended abruptly with the memory of Paulina’s conversation.
It seemed strange that with the weather so bad, the other sisters were not home, but then again, it had come down so quickly that maybe, like him, they had been stranded whilst out on their daily business. He was just about to make his way down the staircase, towards the modern sanctuary of the kitchen, when a large crack-bang sounded from one of the rooms. Unable to resist a mystery, and having become quite used to ghosts, he turned and snuck back along the corridor, convincing himself that Lilith’s instruction not to go wandering didn’t quite mean not investigating a strange noise happening in a room you were standing close to.
Every one of his senses was tensed, waiting for a repeat of the noise. There wasn’t one but the sound of a loud shriek told him something odd was definitely going on in the room to his left. The door was pushed to but not fully shut. Jeremiah placed his hand flat against the wood, preparing himself for whatever lay behind. A mixture of fear and a sense he was trespassing caused him to hesitate. The sound of shrieking erupted again and he guessed a bird had fallen in through the chimney. He pushed open the door, with the thought he would simply open the casement window and let the creature out. But as soon as he saw what lay behind the door, he immediately wished he’d left well alone.
The room was like something out of a fairytale – a dark fairytale. It was lined from floor to ceiling with heavy wooden shelves, which housed bottles and potions and goodness knows what else. The room was dark and busy looking. At the center was a large scrubbed table, so well used that it bowed in the middle. Test tube racks, bowls, phials, and all manner of apparatus lay scattered over the worktable. Several wooden bookstands held ancient books, open at pages of interest. Dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling, causing Jeremiah to duck as he made his way further into the room.
Turn around and close the door behind you, the voice in his head warned. Pretend you haven’t seen this. But rather than taking his own advice, Jeremiah walked around the table, trying to decipher the sight in front of him. A dramatic crash from the corner of the room caused his heart to jump. A great black bird hopped from shelf to shelf, knocking things off as he went and cackling loudly at the mess he was causing. Jeremiah went over to the window and threw it wide open, hoping the bird would smell the cold scent of freedom, but it just turned in the direction of the window and continued on its path of destruction.
“Get out, you stupid bird,” he shouted, flapping his hands in the air.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” the bird mimicked.
Jeremiah stopped dead in his tracks. He knew ravens made good mimics but he’d never heard one speak so clearly.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” The Raven’s speech morphed from the cawing mimic of a bird to the voice of a male human being, “Get out whilst you still can, boy!”
Jeremiah scrambled back towards the door, relieved to feel the cool brass doorknob under his touch. He continued backing out until he was safely in the warm light of the corridor. He pulled the door shut and made sure the latch was firmly caught. Then, running down the stairs two at a time, he headed towards the front door with the intention of doing exactly as the raven had advised. No sooner had he stepped outside then he was forced by the strength of the wind and snow to retreat back inside with the heavy understanding he was trapped.
He made his way to the kitchen, hoping a cup of coffee and a sit down in a more familiar world might calm his jangling nerves. He also wanted to send Fox and e-mail, letting her know where he was as an insurance policy. He made coffee and logged in to the thankfully efficient wi-fi system. He loaded his email account and fired off a message to Fox, letting her know he was stranded at Ravenheart Hall and it looked like he’d be spending the night. He desperately hoped by the morning the snow might have cleared enough for him to try and make it home. He didn’t mention the news about Rachel; she belonged to a different world and one that was now well and truly in the past.
With Fox messaged, he clicked on his inbox to see a message from Uncle Daniel. He was due at Heathrow that evening and was planning to make his way to Coldstone House tomorrow; although his plans were now a little dependent on the snowfall. Jeremiah hit the reply button and checked behind him to make sure that he was completely alone;
Daniel.
You’ll never guess where I am; I’m at Ravenheart Hall! Long story but got stuck in snow and have had to take refuge - most likely having to stay the night. Have met the eldest of the three sisters, Lilith. Very strange (also very beautiful!). House is like something from a Poe story!
Thought you might like some inside info on the place. Lots of small details; ancestral paintings everywhere but almost all of them women?? (All very beautiful) Black cat roaming around the place = cliché! Pentagram on hallway floor (bit obvious!) Lots and lots of antiquarian books and lot of stuffed animals etc. Some very pleasant surprises; they’re definitely blending their heritage with twenty first century comforts - best shower in over a month.
No parents. Just the three of them live here, although only Lilith seems to be home at moment???
Weird discovery - hoping I’m not rumbled but seem to have stumbled across a laboratory / study room (I’ve never seen anything like it before) looks very witchy!! Potions and crazy occult stuff everywhere. Big scary bird that I swear tried to warn me off in some form of possessed voice (think I let imagination get better of me) Going to try and find out some more details to feedback to you tomorrow. (Hoping
snow clears) Wish me luck and hope that I survive the night LOL!
Never more, Jay x
In less than a minute, Jeremiah’s in-box pinged back with a reply from Daniel.
Jay,
Get out of there! You don’t know what you’re meddling with. This isn’t a game. Leave Ravenheart Hall before it’s too late!
Daniel.
A shiver ran the length of Jeremiah’s spine. Despite the distance, Jeremiah could hear the desperation in his uncle’s voice. This wasn’t some paranoid warning; Daniel knew something about the Ravenhearts he didn’t. He closed down his email account, hoping some solution as to how he was going to leave Ravenheart Hall during a blizzard might suddenly leap into his mind. He looked out the window. The storm still raged outside. It brought with it a premature nightfall.
A voice close behind him startled him. “Find everything you need?”
He turned to see Lilith with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. Jeremiah forced a smile onto his face, despite the understanding Lilith must have been in the room making herself a cup of tea for at least several minutes: all the time he had been communicating with Daniel. He read her face to see if she had seen. It was difficult to tell. She was smiling and looked unfazed, but for a girl who appeared to be able to walk around and make a cup of tea without making a sound, that meant nothing.
“Yes, thank you,” he grinned goofishly. “Best shower I’ve had in ages!” he said by way of making light conversation. “Coldstone House is a bit trapped in the dark ages.”
She nodded, happy to let him ramble.
“Did you manage to get the internet working? It’s sometimes a little unpredictable; the rats gnaw through the cables, making it a bit hit and miss.”
It took him a moment to understand what she had said and then he nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yes, fine thank you.”
He told himself to calm down; he was acting like a spooked child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
