Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “Where’s that beautiful girl of mine?” David said, coming out of the bathroom. “Ara?”

  “Down here,” I called, standing up. I went to grab the book, but Petey flicked it with his paw, sending it under the bed. “Enjoy your shower?”

  “Thoroughly.” David ran up behind me, scooped me into his arms and threw me on the bed, landing between my legs in nothing but a wet towel.

  “What are you doing?” I squealed.

  “Making love to my wife.”

  I giggled, pushing his hands off my ribs, trying to inch up the bed away from him. “Stop. That really tickles.”

  “I know,” he said.

  My body thrashed about under his, my face going tight with blood from all the laughing, and his fangs gleamed in the afternoon light, looking so white and sharp against those oh-so-kissable lips.

  He stopped then, and we both panted heavily, his sweetly-scented breath coming down on the bridge of my nose. “My coronation’s tomorrow,” he said, still a little puffed. “I want to make love to you now in case all the extra power affects my manhood.”

  I inclined my chin so my nose brushed along his, then kissed his soft, full lips once. “I want to, David, but I can’t.”

  “Can’t?” he scoffed, his voice high. “Can’t what?”

  I rolled out from under him and jumped off the bed. “I… I can’t have sex with you.”

  “Why?” He got up, too.

  “I’m just… not really in the mood.” I looked away from his eyes, worried he’d see I was lying. In truth, I just couldn’t risk falling pregnant to him until Arthur and I had done our deed with the turkey baster.

  “Not in the mood?” He pressed the back of his hand to my brow. “Are you okay?”

  I walked away and flopped back on the bed, huffing. “I’m just tired.”

  “Well”—he grabbed me from under the arms and slid me up to the pillows, cocooning me in the covers from his side of the bed—“sleep. I’ll go take care of Court this afternoon.”

  “You can’t. You haven’t been crowned.”

  “Let’s see them argue that with me,” he said with a smirk and kissed my brow, sweeping my hair back as he stood up again. “Just rest. I’ll be back up in a few hours.”

  I rolled over and snuggled into the pillow, smiling. “Thanks, David.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He disappeared, closing the wardrobe door a second later.

  * * *

  The afternoon ticked by. I laid on my bed looking up at the dome, imagining Little Lili playing with her brother. In my dream of her—the labyrinth one—she was different to the child of gold hair that I’d dreamt of in the garden on the rope swing. I had just assumed they were the same, but Lilith’s hair was actually dark, like mine.

  “Sleep well?” David asked, leaning on the doorframe with his arms folded, watching me get lost in thought.

  “I dreamed of her again.”

  “Who?”

  I nodded at the dome.

  He appeared beside me, angling his head to touch mine as well as look up at the glass. “Lilith?”

  “Yeah. That was the third dream I’ve had about a little girl, except this time she was running through the passage Jason discovered.”

  “What passage?”

  “By the fireplace. He just pushed on the wall a few times, and a door opened.”

  David appeared by the fireplace, rapping and tapping on several spots.

  “Other side of the fireplace,” I said.

  “Oh.” He walked over and did his thing, then stopped midway down the panel and pushed. Sure enough, it popped out and he opened it.

  “How did you find that so fast?”

  “I’m just that good.” He turned back to smile at me, holding out his hand. “Come on.”

  “Where? Down there?” I asked, flying over to stand beside him.

  “Yeah.”

  “But”—I pulled back—“ I promised Jase I’d go with him.”

  David spun around to look at me, his lip lifting over his teeth. “He’s not your husband. You don’t get to make promises to him.”

  “But—”

  “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the darkness. I didn’t mind, though. I kind of wanted to go exploring with David.

  “So where do you think this leads?” I asked.

  “Maybe to the village.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Quite often, in older buildings that housed the rich or important, they’d build these escape tunnels in case of invasion or robbery.”

  “How come no one knows it’s here?”

  “That’s the point. You can’t escape through a secret passage if everyone knows you have one.”

  “But wouldn’t they be able to tell it’s here—I mean, there’d be a gap between the end of the manor outside and where the walls end inside.”

  “Yes, but have you ever noticed a gap?”

  “Touché.”

  “Besides, I suspect all the rooms on this end of the manor end short to allow for this passage—no one would notice a few inches if it was consistent.”

  “But, it’s not big enough to take up a whole room.” I reached out and touched both walls at the same time.

  “That’s because it doesn’t take up a whole room.”

  “It does in Jason’s room. He only has one window, remember?”

  “Right.” He rubbed his chin. “Clever girl. I didn’t think of that.”

  “Neither did I,” I said. “Jase did.”

  He stood taller. “Can you stop calling him that, please?”

  “What?”

  “Jase,” he said in a mock girl’s voice. “It’s immensely irritating.”

  “Why? It’s just a name.”

  “It’s not the name I have a problem with; it’s the affectionate undertone, the big dough eyes and the way your voice softens on the end, Ara.”

  “It so does not.”

  He groaned, shaking his head, and wandered down the stairs, rapping on the inside walls.

  “David.” I ran down after him. “It does not. Admit it! You’re just—”

  “Look.” He stopped and turned to face me. “I know how you are, Ara. We’ve always had to deal with this—”

  “With what?”

  “You and… other guys. You get too close. You get too caught up, and you’re not a child anymore, my love. You just can’t behave that way now.”

  “I’m trying to t—”

  “Trying isn’t enough. It stops now: all the flirting, the playful banter, the friendships. From this moment on, you will not ‘hang out with’, notice, smile at or even think about a guy, unless it’s me.”

  “Are you seriously saying I can’t even have guy friends now?”

  “No, you cannot.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Yes I can.”

  “No. You can’t! You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Since when?” I put my hands on my hips.

  “Since I married you. Discussion closed.” He turned away.

  “No! I’m allowed to have friends, David. And it’s twisted and sick that you would even say something like that.”

  He stopped, sighing heavily. “Look, I’m sorry, but I have to be more careful with you than I did with other girls, Ara. You can’t keep yourself in check. You don’t know how to control yourself.”

  “I do, David. Okay, maybe I’m a little closer with Jase-on than I should be, but I can stop that. I can create distance between us, but you can’t tell me what I can and cannot do.” I made myself a little taller. “I love you, but I won’t stand for that.”

  He groaned again and started down the stairs, banging the walls in search of something.

  “David, are you mad at me?” I asked, because if he was mad at me for standing up for myself, then we had big problems right now.

  “No,” he said in short. “If anything, I’m mad at my brother.”

 
; “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want him to love you. I understand why he does; how can he not?” He presented me with a flat palm. “But I don’t like it.”

  I looked down at my feet then back up, grinning. “I can be a bitch to him, if you like. I can make him hate me.”

  “No, you couldn’t. You’re not capable of that. Just be careful, okay?”

  I reached out, and he placed his hand in mine. “Okay. I’ll stop calling him Jase.”

  He smiled to himself, but it was weak. “And, can you just…”

  “Just?” I prompted him out of his pause.

  “If I was ever… if Drake ever…” He cleared his throat.

  “David? Don’t.”

  “No. I need to say this.” He put his hand up between us. “If I was ever not around for any reason, you… just… not my brother, okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay. But it’s not an issue, because we’re immortal. You won’t die.”

  “I know.”

  “So, who then?” I asked, following him down the stairs. “Hypothetically, if you ever got hit by a car and died, who would you choose for me?”

  He cleared his throat again, grinning when he pushed on the wall and it gave way, revealing a door. “To be honest?”

  I nodded.

  “No one. Ever.” He shoved the door open and it creaked over my shock. “Get a cat.”

  I laughed nervously, squeezing his hand as we stepped into the grayish darkness of a shadowy room. The musty smell dried my nostrils, and my eyes shot straight to the boarded windows, blocking out all light, all life. The room was cold, ghostly—a bedroom clearly cut in half by the wall of Jason’s room. A doll house, a small table that was laid out with a tea-set, and a few other things had been shoved aside, sitting awkwardly in a cluster by the four-poster bed. Wooden stars that were perhaps once painted gold hung down from the ceiling above it, and a dust-laden round rug cradled the rail of a wooden rocking horse, its mane once streaked in now-faded purples, golds and blues. On a shelf by the wall where we stood was a collection of expressionless dolls, copper-eyed bears, tiny lace gloves and other trinkets.

  “I know what this is,” David said, walking across the room.

  “A child’s bedroom?”

  “Yes,” he said, tugging a board on the window. “But not just any child. It was Lilith’s firstborn.”

  My mouth dropped.

  David chuckled, ripping the plank away. Light peeled into the room all around me, spotlighting motes of dust that danced eagerly after centuries of slumber or hiding. The bedcovers were still ruffled, once slept in, and right between the window and the fireplace, an old chair sat proudly, a book still open in place on the seat.

  I ran my fingers over every surface, touching the detailed carvings in the foot of the bed, then the post, feeling the presence of my ancestors. “This room must be centuries old.”

  “I’d say so,” David muttered, nodding at the torn curtains around the bedposts, nearly worn away to nothing but silvery webs.

  I reached across and plucked a floppy fabric doll from between the pillows, standing up again to look at her; she was loved once. But someone clearly came in here, took away that little girl and she never saw this place again. Never outgrew her toys, never heard the end of that story—never even crawled back into bed.

  “Are you okay, Ara?” David came up beside me.

  I flattened the doll’s hair and hugged her to my chest before placing her back and tucking the blanket around her. “It’s so sad. What happened here?”

  “She died.”

  “How?”

  “Some say it was losing the summer, some say it was heartache.”

  “How old was she?”

  “She would have been nine the year she died, as far as I’ve read.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Evangeline—The Rose of Winter. She was born on the first day it snowed that year, with lips red as a rose, and there was never a more loved little girl.”

  “Evangeline?” I remembered something about her: David once said that Lilith’s daughter had had a child that survived after Drake came to wipe out Lilith and all her descendants. “According to what you told me once, Evangeline grew up and had a child? She didn’t die when she was nine.”

  “Something I’ve learned recently?” he said, like he was asking if I wanted to know. “None of Lilith’s children reached adulthood. Everything we’ve been taught about her is a lie. I’m not sure how your bloodline survived, but I’m starting to wonder if you’re even related to Lilith.”

  “How could I not be?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps Vampirie had a child with another human, resulting in your bloodline.”

  “But even the old codgers, and Morgaine, told me I descended from her daughter Eve. So… this Evangeline”—I nodded around the room—“Eve, isn’t the one I descended from; it was another one?”

  “I suppose it must be.” He shrugged it off like it didn’t matter. “Perhaps she had another child shortly before she died, and it was hidden away.”

  I took a moment to combine that with the information Arthur had given me about Drake and his reasons for killing Lilith. None of it made sense.

  “Hey, this is from the story.” David wandered over to the rug then bent down and picked something up, dusting it off as he stood. “Here.”

  I reached for it, smiling when I felt its round body, smooth and cool in my palm. “An apple?”

  “Her father Christian—Lilith’s first husband—apparently had this preserved in gold for Eve when she had her accident. It was his way of bringing some of the outside back to a little girl who would never see it again.”

  “So, what happened?” I spun the apple between my fingers softly.

  He sat down on Eve’s bed. “She liked to play in the orchards, back when we still grew apples here. But one winter she went down there alone and climbed the oak tree where the workers would sit for lunch, but her foot slipped. She fell.”

  “And she died?”

  “No. She was paralyzed. If she’d been of age, they would have given her blood, but they were afraid it would trigger immortality and she would be trapped as a child for eternity. So, they prayed. But as the weeks passed, that vibrant, spirited little girl became a ghost, and she grew ill. She died before she saw the summer again, and I guess they locked this room off to forget.”

  “How do you know all that?” I sat beside him, sinking into the mattress.

  “I’ve been doing some reading.”

  “Is there a book about all this?”

  “There are some. But this was in a maid’s diary—at Elysium.”

  “Can you get it for me when you go there?”

  “Of course. I already planned to bring you all the books anyway. I just need to take a car with me next time, so I can collect all the stuff from my old room too.”

  I looked down at the apple, polishing it with my fingertip; it was small, for an apple—only the size of a plum. “Why is it so tiny?”

  “It was winter. Apples don’t grow in the winter.” He took it and studied it. “Of course, there’s also the legend that her father went down to the orchard to scream at the gods, and when he looked up at the oak tree, this was sitting on the branch his daughter had fallen from.”

  I smiled. “You said he’d preserved it for her, in gold.”

  He shook his head, closing my fingers around the apple. “In History, you never know what to believe. Wanna know something else?”

  “Okay.”

  “After Eve died, Lilith had the orchard torn down—forbid apples to be grown here or eaten here for the rest of eternity. But Christian, believing this apple to be a gift from the gods, couldn’t bear to tear that oak tree down. It now marks the center of what once was the orchard.”

  I looked up at him with wide eyes. “The tree in the field?”

  He nodded, smiling.

  “Wow. How come you never told me any of this?”

  He shrugged. “W
e haven’t had a lot of time for small talk, Ara. And I only read this one a few weeks ago. I might even be wrong about whose room this was.”

  “Will you tell me more stories?” I said, using the bedpost to stand myself up as David wandered across the room again, touching everything.

  “Of course.” He stopped by the armchair and picked up the book, his lips turning down with thought.

  “What were they reading?”

  “No title.” He held the cover up.

  “Can I have the book?” I asked. “Like, can I keep it?”

  He placed it in my hand. “It belongs to you, I guess—all this stuff does.”

  “No.” I placed the apple and the book on the dresser next to a small wooden jewelry box. “It belongs to Evangeline.”

  “I’m sure she won’t care. She’s dead.”

  “Even still. It doesn’t seem right.” I opened the jewelry box and smiled when I saw the collection of trinkets Eve saved: there was a lock of golden hair tied with a pink ribbon, which might have been hers, beside that was an oval pendant on a long silver chain and a small bracelet with a flat name plaque. I picked it up and traced the letters, reading them aloud.

  “What did you just say?” David appeared beside me.

  “Morgana.” I held the bracelet up.

  He took it and studied it carefully. “I thought she was just a myth.”

  “Who?”

  “Morgana.”

  “Who was she?”

  “No one knows. I’ve read parchments that mentioned a lost child, and found only one that named her, but never any proof that she existed.”

  “Maybe she died as a child, too.”

  He shook his head and placed the bracelet against my arm to gauge the size. “Not if this was hers. It would fit a girl who was grown—beyond childhood.”

  I looked back at the wooden box. “I wonder what it’s doing in here then.”

  “I don’t know.” He picked up the little box, placed the bracelet in it and closed the lid, looking at the base, the sides and the top.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ah-ha!” he said, spotting something in the mess of fake jewels and other ornaments on the dresser top. He picked up a small crank handle, pressed it into the side of the box, then wound it around and set the box down again, taking a step back. “Open it.”