Her gray kitten, Millie, was pawing at the corners of her queen-sized quilt with sharp, little claws. She meowed and stretched and purred, as Aylie slid out from under the warm blankets and stepped onto the cold, wooden floor with her bare feet.
“Burrrrr,” she chattered to Millie, scooping the cat into her arms. “Why is it so cold, girl?” Millie meowed, and Aylie set her down by her food bowl to feed her.
After taking care of Millie, Aylie got dressed to face the cold morning air, layering thermals with a sweatshirt, leggings, coat, hat, gloves, and rubber boots. Eventually she’d get too hot cleaning out the horse stalls, but for now she needed all the warmth she could get. She checked the thermometer on her way to the barn and saw that it was a mere eighteen degrees Fahrenheit.
She milked the goats first, filling up several pails, and then set them aside. It was cold enough in the barn that she didn’t need to worry about refrigerating them until after she’d finished the rest of her chores. Next, she turned her attention to the horses, who seemed to be enjoying the quiet solitude of their stalls. They weren’t the slightest bit interested in seeing her and paid her no attention, until she pulled out handfuls of fresh hay to stuff their wire feeding baskets.
Prince was the first horse to greet her with her handful of hay. He was a feisty, gray Appaloosa, with a stubborn disposition that had been reluctantly tamed over the years. At seven and a half years old, he was a pretty even mixture of sweetness and free spirit, and Aylie adored him. It was a mutual relationship of respect and trust—but he was her mom’s horse.
Bailey was a sleek, brown quarter horse, with a shiny chocolate coat and a black silky main and tail. He was their racing horse, and Aylie’s dad took him to the track several times a year so that her older brother, Lucas, could race him. He’d won a far share of awards and was one of the best jockey’s in the county. He wasn’t focused as much on racing now that he was away at college, but he came home sometimes on the weekends just to visit Bailey and take him for a run.
Lilly was a sweet-tempered Palomino, with a beige coat and a white-blond main and tail. She was Sam’s horse, for all sakes and purposes. She was nearly ten years old, but had yet to show any signs of old age. She was gentle and trusting, and even an inexperienced child could ride her without fear of harm.
That left only Knight’s stall to clean. He belonged to Aylie and would tolerate only her. No one else in the family had ever been able to mount him without being thrown off. He was a large, black draught horse her father had won on a bet the day she was born. In fact, her father had received the unexpected news of her birth while riding the horse home and had determined back then that the horse would be hers when she was old enough to ride him. His coat was a solid, satin black, with the exception of a tiny streak of white on his forehead and thin white bands around his hooves. He was nearly a foot taller than the other horses, and his back was twice as thick. He towered over the others and they left him alone.
It was his stall she cleaned out last. He was the largest horse and seemed to leave the biggest messes. Aylie wiped sweat from her forehead as she put her back into heaving yet another shovel-full of manure into the wheelbarrow. Somewhere in the distance she heard a strange sound, like a high-pitched growl or a shriek. Aylie paused, with her shovel in mid-air. There it was again. This time the horses, too, stood eerily still, with their ears perked up, listening to the mournful cries of the unfortunate animal in the distance.
Aylie couldn’t quite place the sound of the animal…maybe a coyote or a wolf? But if one of those were the animal growling in pain, what predator could be large enough to take them down? There were plenty of black bears in the area, but they didn’t hunt coyotes or wolves. Perhaps the predator was a desperate mountain lion. It was unlikely, but not impossible.
She listened as the animal gave one last morbid cry and the sound ceased. The deathly stillness that followed made Aylie shudder, and she finished mucking out Knight’s stall as quickly as she could. She dumped the wheelbarrow loaded with horse manure onto the burn heap behind the barn, and then carried the pails of milk into the house. She had to pour the contents of the pails into storage containers because there was too much milk to use up in only a day or two. She then put the containers of milk into the pantry refrigerator in the basement and shed the extra layers of clothing that were now beginning to suffocate her, before carrying in a few armloads of firewood.
Mrs. Bryant was already making breakfast in the kitchen. Eggs, bacon, toast, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Saturday breakfast was the best meal of the week at the Bryant house, and Aylie always looked forward to it after a long morning of barn chores.
She went to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands to get rid of any trace of animal manure or dirt. She glanced at her face in the mirror, pushing her long, silky blond hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ears. Her blue eyes were full of determination—they were her favorite facial feature. She had a long, slender nose and an oval face, with a fair complexion. Her skin wasn’t flawless, but pretty decent for someone passing through the treacherous phases of adolescence. She rinsed her hands in the warm water gushing from the faucet and dried them on the plush, ivory towel hanging on the rack by the door.
When she re-entered the kitchen, her mom was scooping two more fried eggs onto a plate to keep them warm in the oven until all of the food was done, and the rest of the family was ready to eat. Her mom looked just like her…same dirty blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. She even had the same smile, except for the laugh lines around her mouth and a few wrinkles near the corners of her eyes. She still looked young and bore her age well, in spite of the hard work it took to raise three kids and keep up such a large ranch.
“Can I help, mom?” Aylie asked, looking around to see what still needed to be done.
“You can set the table,” Mrs. Bryant, said, handing her four brown, stoneware plates.
Aylie put the plates in their proper places on the table, and then proceeded to dole out napkins and silverware for each place setting.
“Mom…did you hear about Mr. Payne?” she asked hesitantly.
Mrs. Bryant answered from the kitchen. “Yes, what a tragedy!” She popped her head into the dining room where Aylie was finishing the table. “Mr. Payne still has a son living, right? Do you know him?”
Aylie nodded. “His name is Ryder. He’s graduating with me this year.”
Mrs. Bryant looked at her daughter thoughtfully. “You must have classes with him, then.”
Aylie nodded again, lowering her eyes. She didn’t know why she did it, but the question made her feel uncomfortable for some reason.
“Does he have any other family around here?” Mrs. Bryant asked, walking back into the kitchen.
“No,” Aylie said quietly. “I think he’s all alone now.”
“That can’t be good for a boy his age…growing up in a place like that.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Aylie murmured.
Mrs. Bryant came back into the dining room carrying a plate piled high with bacon in one hand and another plate filled with fried eggs in the other. “I wish there was something we could do.”
Aylie paused for a moment, studying the concerned look on her mom’s face. “Do you think we should…maybe…check on him? Bring him dinner or something, since we’re his only neighbors?”
“I suppose we should.” Mrs. Bryant said thoughtfully. “We can check on him this evening, if you want.” She smiled and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Several moments later, her dad and little brother came in from the barn and washed up for breakfast. She always sat across the table from her little brother, Sam. He had blond hair like Aylie, but brown eyes like her dad. Her older brother Lucas, on the other hand, was the spitting image of her dad—dark brown hair, brown eyes, thin lips and a very dry sense of humor.
After breakfast, Aylie spent most of the morning working on an English paper. She was particularly good at writing and always felt accomplished w
hen she was finished. This one, however, counted as a mid-term exam grade, so she spent a bit more time on it than she normally would have. When she was satisfied, she printed a copy and stuffed it into her book bag so that she wouldn’t forget it Monday.
Then she went into the kitchen for a glass of water and found her mom busy making casseroles to take over to the Mansion. Feeling guilty that her mom was doing all of the work, she tried to think of what she could contribute. Her favorite dessert was Dutch Apple Pie, and she thought there was a pretty good chance Ryder would eat it—most people liked apples, so it seemed like a safe bet. She didn’t want to bother her mom for a trip to the store, so she decided to bake it from scratch. Surely it couldn’t be too hard, right?
She’d never actually baked a pie from scratch before and found the process of peeling and coring the apples extremely boring and monotonous. The homemade crust wasn’t quite as time-consuming, but she vowed she’d never do it again, if given the choice. She understood now why most people bought frozen pies that only had to be warmed in the oven.
Around five O’clock, Aylie and her mom started the five-mile drive down the winding, gravel road that lead through the Silvervane forest and into the Payne Estate. It took almost thirty minutes to get there by car because of the sharp turns, steep inclines, and gravel washouts along the way. Aylie could only imagine how long it would take to walk all the way there.
They pulled up in front of the massive, iron gate guarding the entrance to the Estate. Aylie’s heart sank a bit…she hadn’t thought about a gate. She’d never been to a place like this before. It looked like every version of Dracula’s castle she’d ever seen. There was a massive parapet with a steeple in the center, and four shorter, parapets, one on each corner. The walls were made of white limestone and crowned brick. The exterior of the Mansion was adorned with exquisite etchings, gothic architecture, and statues. The tiling on the roof was a deep, royal blue, and the main body of the mansion had at least four stories, each with its own separate balcony. The spire of the central tower had to be at least five stories high. Some of the oldest, largest fur trees in the forest couldn’t reach its tip.
Dumbfounded, Aylie looked at her mom nervously. “What should we do about the gate?” she asked.
“Try the call button, sweetie,” Mrs. Bryant suggested. “I don’t know how young Mr. Payne would feel about trespassers right now if we attempted to climb it.” She winked.
“Right.” Aylie slid out of the suburban and walked slowly over to the little black box mounted to the large, concrete column on the left side of the gate. She hesitated for a moment, looking up at the ominous, old Mansion, and swallowed hard.
I never imagined how spooky this place would be, she thought to herself.
“Is everything okay, dear?” Mrs. Bryant called from the car window a minute later.
“I’m trying the button now.” Aylie shouted back.
She pressed the button, unsure of whether to wait for acknowledgement or to start talking. When she didn’t hear anything on the other end, she whispered into the speaker hesitantly. “Ryder? It’s Aylie…Bryant. My mom is here with me—we brought you some food.” At first there was no response, but then she heard the sound of a buzzer as the gate began to slide open. She quickly climbed back into the suburban and they drove through the gate, parking beneath what looked like a sculpted awning or carport of some kind. Aylie remembered seeing this part of the Mansion in news reports when Ryder’s grandfather had been murdered a couple of years ago. Seeing it up close definitely gave her the creeps.
Once they’d parked, she stepped out and took a deep breath. If Ryder didn’t want visitors, they could be walking into a very awkward situation. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure this whole thing was a good idea. If her mom hadn’t spent the entire afternoon making those casseroles, she would’ve insisted on leaving immediately. Get ahold of yourself, Aylie thought inwardly. You’re being a coward.
Mrs. Bryant led the way and she followed a few steps behind, looking around at everything as they made their way up the concrete steps to the daunting front entrance of the Mansion.
“Have you ever been inside this place before?” Aylie almost whispered.
“No, I haven’t,” Mrs. Bryant smiled playfully, “but I’ve always wanted to see it.”
Suddenly the door opened. Aylie jumped, looking startled. Mrs. Bryant glanced sideways at her daughter and stepped forward.
“Hello. I’m Mrs. Bryant—Aylie’s mom,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand.
Ryder stepped into the doorway. He was wearing blue jeans and a light gray sweater, just tight enough to reveal his muscular torso. His hair looked a little disheveled, giving him an effortlessly, wind-blown look.
Aylie stared at his feet.
Mrs. Bryant continued without missing a beat. “Aylie said you were living here by yourself now. We wanted to bring you something to show our sympathy for your loss—we were so sorry to hear about your father. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”
Aylie was afraid that Ryder was going to bark out a sarcastic reply, but instead he held his composure and reached out to take her mother’s hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bryant,” he said pleasantly. “Were you waiting at the gate long?”
“Only as long as it took for Aylie to figure out how to use the call button,” Mrs. Bryant replied good-naturedly, making Aylie blush.
Ryder smiled. “Would you like to come in?”
Aylie was about to protest, but Mrs. Bryant quickly replied, “That would be nice, thank you.”
Aylie followed her mom into the mansion apprehensively. She couldn’t help thinking of all the stories she’d heard about vampires and werewolves who lived in dark forests and haunted creepy castles like the one she was now walking into. There were no modern lights hanging from the ceilings and the windows were cut straight out of the stone in the walls. They were positioned much higher than normal windows and very little natural light was able to shine through. Ornate candelabras were the main source of lighting, with an occasional chandelier here or there in the more elaborately furnished rooms.
It was quite cold outside, and it was obvious from the moment they entered the Mansion that central heating was certainly not one of its many features. There were fireplaces in every room, but the natural darkness of the stone-enclosed living spaces was a little overwhelming. The shadows on the walls were beginning to play tricks with Aylie’s imagination. What if there really were strange things that roamed this castle at night? What if the Payne murders had been committed by supernatural beings from some bizarre, alternate reality? What if Ryder was one of them? She knew vampires didn’t really exist, but if they did—Ryder could easily pass for one. She tried not to picture coffins in the basement as she followed him further into the house.
Just then, a young girl about Aylie’s age entered the room, wearing a very plain, navy blue dress. Her brown hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head and she wore a white apron—clearly a maid. She took the casserole dishes and the pie plate carefully from their hands, as Ryder murmured something to her in a low voice. She glanced at Aylie shyly and smiled, then left the room hastily without a word.
Aylie stared after her for a moment. The girl looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she’d seen her before. The maid didn’t seem old enough to be out of school yet, but things here at the mansion didn’t exactly conform to the norms of Silvervane society on any level. Perhaps the girl had graduated early, or had been schooled at home. Either way, she looked lonely and Aylie couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
She forced her attention to the back of Ryder’s head as he led them into a massive room with a high-domed ceiling. This, he announced, was the Great Hall. Aylie looked around in awe. There were winding staircases and balconies revealing four stories, swirling up into a gradual spiral, which dissolved into a domed skylight. She could see the clouds slowly passing overhead as she stood several hundred fee
t beneath it. This was only the center of the castle, he informed them. There were two other wings that were too boring to mention—one on the east and one stretching toward the west.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Mrs. Bryant said in a tone that betrayed her amazement and admiration.
“If you think this is impressive, wait until you see the vault,” Ryder chuckled.
“Really?” The curiosity in Mrs. Bryant’s voice was unmistakable.
“Certainly, if you think you’re up for it. I know it’s probably a lot to take in at first.”
Aylie turned her wondering gaze to Ryder, who was behaving like an absolute gentleman. He was nothing like the rude, un-socialized boy from the day before. She couldn’t understand how they could even be the same person. Something about him reminded her of a book they had been required to read for Literature—a disturbing story about a doctor named Jekyll and his alter ego, Mr. Hyde. She swallowed her trepidation and followed him through several more impressively furnished rooms, into a very long, very dark tunnel. She stayed close to her mom even though she knew it was childish. There was something extremely eerie about this place and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. There was a strong musty odor permeating the stale air around her and it was making her feel a little queasy.
“How much longer do you think we’ll be in this tunnel?” Aylie whispered to her mom after a few minutes, hoping that Ryder wouldn’t overhear. She was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic and her breaths were becoming shallow. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, a small light up ahead made her breathe a sigh of relief.
“I apologize for leading you both into total darkness,” Ryder said good-naturedly, as the end of the tunnel gave way to a large, octagon-shaped room with several doors. “If I had known I was going to have visitors I would have taken the time to light the torches before you arrived.”
WAKENED (The Silvervane Chronicles Book 1) Page 4
