Whispers of Death

by Alicia Rivoli

  Whispers of Death

  By Alicia Rivoli

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to those persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

  Copyright © 2015 Alicia Rivoli

  In Dedication:

  To my amazing husband.

  I couldn't do this without you.

  Alicia Rivoli Books

  http://www.aliciarivoli.blogspot.com

  https://www.facebook.com/AliciaRivoli

  Cover illustration by:

  SelfPubBookCovers.com/CherylCCR

  Copyediting by Laura Stalling

  Table of Contents

  v One

  v Two

  v Three

  v Four

  v Five

  v Six

  v Seven

  v Eight

  v Nine

  v Ten

  v Eleven

  v Twelve

  v Thirteen

  v Fourteen

  v Fifteen

  v Sixteen

  v Seventeen

  v Eighteen

  v Nineteen

  v Twenty

  v Twenty-One

  v Twenty-Two

  v Twenty-Three

  v Acknowledgments

  One

  The tears were falling freely now; I was a broken woman. Lost in the outer reaches of darkness, I sat in the graveyard alone and wept. My life had somehow turned into a tragic tale that I would usually find myself reading by the fire, snuggled up next to my husband, with my two children sleeping soundly in their rooms. This wasn’t something that I’d ever thought would happen to me; it wasn’t something that I’d ever thought I would experience firsthand. I had never wanted to either.

  I ran my fingers down the freshly packed dirt and dropped my head in a low bow. My heart ached. I could feel the cold of the air as it pushed its way down my lungs and chilled me to the bone. I shivered and wiped a tear from my face, smearing dirt down my cheek. I looked around, the darkness of night already surrounding me.

  I wasn’t alone; someone was watching me. I sniffed, quickly rising from the ground. I could sense the danger that was lurking in the shadows, but I couldn’t see it. I turned around in a circle, searching for whomever or whatever it was that was here with me.

  Nothing.

  A chill shot through my body, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I rubbed my arm and wiped my cheek again with the back of my hand. A snap of a twig made me spin around. A tall figure watched me from just beyond the newly dug grave, a sly smile on his darkened face.

  “Hello Amelia.”

  The deep raspy voice sent a chill of fear through my veins. I had never met this man before, but he knew me.

  “Who are you?” I whimpered.

  He looked at me sideways, his smile widening. “I am Death. I am the end. I am darkness.”

  My heart beat wildly in my chest, and I could feel the air around me go stale. The taste of metal on my tongue alerted me to a static charge in the air. A burst of lighting shot through the dark, followed by a thunderous boom. I didn’t move. Death stared at me, his dark skin matching his black cloak in the shadows.

  “Why are you here?” I asked bravely.

  His eyes grew even darker as he stared at me. “You already know why I am here.” He walked closer, the air growing colder with his every step.

  I could see my breath in the air now. The lighting streaked in the sky above me, illuminating the darkness, outlining the figure of the dark man. He reached for me, his cold fingers tracing down the bare skin of my arm. The icy touch froze my blood, and my breathing became labored. He was going to kill me.

  My eyes burst open. My lungs were burning, almost as if I had a hot piece of coal shoved down my throat. My body was soaking wet. I felt a hand touch the small of my back, and I flinched, jumping out of bed screaming.

  “Amelia, it’s me!”

  I dropped to the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees. My blood still felt cold. Mark sat down on the floor and draped his arms around me.

  “Shh,” he whispered, “it was just a dream.”

  I laid my head on his shoulder and let him rock me back and forth.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” he spoke quietly.

  I couldn’t find my voice, so I shook my head. His warm body helped calm my beating heart. We sat in silence. He always knew just what to do to help me calm down. He hummed a quiet song and just held me. His touch was almost magic.

  I looked around the dark room, searching for the man called Death, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. My room was cozy. The queen size bed took up most of the space, and a soft hand-stitched quilt lay on top of it. A tiny dresser sat in the corner; pictures of our wedding and children stared back at me. The wooden floors creaked, the window wouldn’t open, and our doors never shut, but it was home. I wasn’t sitting in a graveyard staring at Death with mud smeared all over my face from a newly dug grave. No, I was home, wrapped in the arms of my ever-understanding husband.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Was it the same dream?” he asked.

  I nodded. I had been having the same dream for months. It very rarely changed, but this time something had felt different. I didn’t know what, but something still made my skin crawl, and the blood in my veins still felt cold.

  “Something was different,” I told him solemnly.

  He touched his hand to my face and lifted my chin so I was facing him. “It’s just a dream, hun. Death isn’t coming for you.”

  “How can you be so sure? It always feels so real.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he pressed his lips to mine. His warm touch sent shivers through my body. I fell into him, soaking up the emotion. My heart beat faster and my mind went blank as I relaxed in his grip. He slipped his arm under my legs and lifted me from the floor.

  “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid my head on his shoulder. “I love you too.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He added, “You know that don’t you?”

  He laid me down on the bed and pulled me close to him.

  “What if you can’t stop it? When Death touches my arm, my skin crawls, and the air is swept from my lungs. I start to suffocate. What if one of these times, I don’t wake up?”

  “It‘s just a dream. You’re not going anywhere.”

  I wanted to believe him, but something didn’t feel right. Mark’s breathing became even. I could feel his heart beating against my chest. I tried to relax in his arms. My mind raced through the nightmare as I tried to pinpoint the moment the dream had changed. The room began to grow cold. I pulled the blanket up under my chin, closing my eyes, trying to forget the nightmare that haunted me.

  I felt cold when I opened my eyes. My back hurt, my neck was stiff, and I struggled to focus. Mark was sitting in front of me, his head slouched into his knees. I was covered in an old blanket, with a towel under my head. I realized I’d been sleeping on the bathroom floor. My mouth was dry and tasted of bile. I grabbed the cup of water near my head. It tasted warm and stale but satisfied my need for a drink. Mark lifted his head; his eyes were bloodshot. He looked exhausted.

  “What happened?” I asked, finding my voice. It came out as a forced croak.

  Concern was etched along the dark lines under his eyes. “You don’t know?” he asked.

  I tried to remember. Mark had just fallen asleep, his arms wrapped around me, and I had closed my eyes to try and sleep as well,
then nothing.

  “No, I have no idea.”

  “Lia, you’ve been throwing up all night. You kept saying you were cold and that you could feel your blood turning to ice.”

  “How could I have been so sick and not remember any of it?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to keep you warm. I wrapped you in the electric blanket, got the space heater and put it right next to you. I made you hot chocolate, but you just kept shivering, and then you would throw up.”

  I took another sip of the warm water. It burned my raw throat.

  “Amelia, I think you need to see a doctor.”

  I looked up at him. “Why?”

  “Your dreams are starting to affect you physically. While you were lying here, you kept muttering about Death coming to get you and turning your blood to ice. Maybe if you talked to someone, they could help you.”

  I looked at him in disbelief. “You want me to go to a shrink?”

  His eyes shifted around the room. He lifted himself off the floor and washed his hands and face.

  “Mark? Do you think there’s something else wrong?” I asked when he didn’t answer.

  He knelt down, tracing his fingers down my cheek, and kissed my forehead. “I don’t know, but after what I witnessed last night, it scares me.”

  I began to cry. I had always been a basket case. I couldn’t hold a tear for anything; even those stupid commercials that talked about saving the animals would make me cry. I hadn’t ever thought that my nightmares would affect me like this. Sure I thought Death was coming for me, but I never expected Mark to see what they did to me.

  “What kind of doctor would I even call? Our family doctor surely won’t know what to do.”

  “I don’t know, maybe they can give you a sleeping pill, or something else that will help you relax at night.”

  “If I go to the doctor and tell him what’s happening, they’ll lock me up in the insane asylum!”

  “Lia don’t be ridiculous!”

  Speaking was becoming more and more difficult, but that didn’t prevent me from breaking down and bawling like a little girl. I wrapped my arms around my knees; my body was shivering.

  “Amelia, I’m scared for you,” Mark whispered as he pulled me into a tight hug. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  We sat on the bathroom floor for several minutes until I was finally able to pull myself together. I grabbed the towel from the floor and used it to mop up my tears.

  “I need to take a bath,” I whispered hoarsely.

  Mark pulled my chin up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His kissed me gently on the cheek before drawing me a hot bath. He leaned down and kissed me again before he left the room. I wasn’t sure how I got so lucky to have married such an amazing man.

  My bath was nice; I relaxed in the hot water with a rag over my eyes and sat quietly. I knew I was going to have to put on a brave face and act like nothing had happened. The kids couldn’t see me like this, and Mark had already seen enough. When the water started to go cold, I quickly washed my hair. I looked at the clock on the wall and realized it was already six-thirty in the morning. I still had to get the kids ready for school, and Mark had to go to work today. I needed to pull myself together. Maybe after everyone was gone, I would go to my sister’s house as a distraction from the night.

  I dressed in a pair of light denim jeans and a purple top and threw my hair in a messy bun. Mark was already at the table eating a bowl of cereal.

  “If you would have waited for a minute I would have made you some breakfast,” I told him.

  He smiled at me. “You just need to take it easy today.”

  I grabbed two plates from the cupboard and popped a couple of waffles in the toaster. Abigail came running down the hall, her dirty blonde hair sticking up in multiple spots on her head, dried spit stuck to the side of her face. She jumped onto her daddy’s lap and giggled as he tickled her. Hunter was a little slower this morning. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and slid across the floor like a zombie.

  “Mommy you look beautiful!” Abby said as she squeezed my legs in a bear-like grip. I reached down and swept her off her feet, kissing her cheek.

  “Thank you, my sweet. How about some waffles?”

  She squealed delightedly. “I love waffles!”

  “How about you Hunter?” I asked.

  He shrugged and plopped down at the table.

  I smeared the hot waffles with a thick coating of butter and syrup, poured some milk in a couple of glasses, and handed them to Mark. He kissed me on the cheek and set the plates on the table.

  “I’m going to go get ready for work. Are you going to be alright today?” he asked me.

  I nodded. “I may go to Olive’s today. Maybe we’ll do some shopping.”

  “That’s a good idea, but make sure you rest too.” He took some money from his wallet and slipped it into my back pocket.

  Hunter shifted in his seat. “Dad, can I have some money too?”

  “What do you need money for?” Mark asked.

  “They're having pizza for lunch today. I was hoping to eat at school.”

  Mark gave Hunter five dollars and ruffled his hair before retreating to the back room to get ready for work.

  I raised my eyebrows at my son. “You have lunch money on your account. What do you really need money for?”

  He lowered his head, trying to ignore my gaze.

  “Hunter, you just lied to your father. You had better answer me right now,” I demanded.

  “Some kids at school are selling those really cool survival bracelets, and I want to buy one,” he said shamefully.

  I walked over to Hunter and held out my hand. “You have your own allowance for that kind of stuff.”

  Hunter put the money in my hand and dropped his gaze back to his waffles.

  “You should have just told us the truth honey, and we might have given you some money for it.”

  “Whatever,” he said sadly.

  “Sweetie, I’m not taking the money away because you have your own. I’m taking it away because you lied to your father. You need to go tell him the truth and ask him again if you can buy a survival bracelet with the money. If he says yes, then I’ll give it back.” I clarified. “It’s always better to tell the truth.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Hunter came back a few minutes later, Mark at his side.

  “He can have the money, but he has to do extra chores when he gets home from school,” Mark explained.

  Hunter was smiling, his mood shifted instantly. “Thanks dad!” he exclaimed, running forward and snatching the five dollars from my hand. This time is was me that ruffled his hair.

  “Mommy, can I have some money too?” Abby asked, her big green eyes staring at me.

  I lifted her off her chair and wiped her mouth with a wet cloth. “What would you do with money?”

  “I want to buy a toy for a little girl in my class; she doesn’t have a mommy, and I think it will make her happy.”

  I stared at her, and my eyes welled up again with tears, and I gave her a big hug.

  “How about while I’m shopping with your Aunt Livie today I pick up something for your friend? What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Her name is Mindy. She’s new, and her mommy got sick and died.”

  Bewildered by the knowledge that Abby had about Mindy, I asked her how she knew so much about her.

  “Ms. Tattle told us,” Abigail answered.

  “Well, what does Mindy like? Do you think she would like a new doll?”

  “Yes! It needs to have blonde hair like mine so Mindy will want to be my friend.”

  I kissed her on the cheek and hugged her tightly. “Come on little squirt, we need to hurry and get you ready for school.

  Two

  I never really intended to go to Olive’s house. After dropping the kids off at school all I wanted to do was sleep. My body was tired. I slipped my jeans off, pulled my hair from the bun, and wrapped myself up in the
soft sheets on the bed. My body began to shiver as the cold blankets touched my skin. I closed my eyes and almost instantly fell into a deep sleep. Images of Mindy flashed through my dreams, her small little frame so fragile from the loss of her mother. The scene shifted, and it was Mark that my mind focused on this time, his soft hands rubbing my back, the sweet sounds of his voice as he tried to calm me after a nightmare.

  The sun peaked through the curtains, touching my eyelids. It felt warm on my face, causing me to open my eyes. I rolled over, trying to fall back to sleep but knowing that it was a lost cause. I groaned, kicking the blankets off, and climbed from the bed. I washed the dishes from breakfast, then dialed Liv’s number. She answered on the first ring, just as I knew she would. Her cell phone was pretty much attached to her everywhere she went.

  “Lia! What are you doing?” she said happily.

  “Hey Livie, do you want to do some shopping today?” I asked, explaining I needed to find a doll for Abby’s friend at school.

  She squealed delightedly; she was always up for shopping. She wouldn’t admit it, but it was probably an addiction; although, she rarely bought anything. We agreed to meet at the mall in a half hour, which gave me only a few minutes to make myself presentable.

  The drive to the mall was short, only around fifteen minutes, but it was beautiful. It was autumn, which meant all the leaves were changing colors. It was my favorite time of year. The reds and oranges, purples and yellows popped so colorfully on the trees; it made the whole area seem like an expensive painting. Livie called it God’s personal canvas. I had to agree; it was truly amazing.

  The mall wasn’t busy this morning, but I knew because it was Friday that the local teens would bombard the walkways as soon as they could. Olive waited for me at the food court, a hot chocolate in one hand and a cookie in the other. Her brown hair tumbled in a wave down her back, her brown eyes brilliant against her long thick eyelashes. She always did have a way of dolling herself up.