The Hallowed

by Lani Lenore

“Celia.” Adam reclaimed her attention, startling her. He slid his hand through the hole, and she moved forward to let his fingers touch her face. Slowly, she raised her trembling hand and pressed it against his. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  How was she to answer that? Was she alright? When she didn’t respond, he spoke again.

  “Do you need me to come over there?”

  Yes. That is what I need. I need you to hold me. I need you to protect me.

  “No,” she said instead. “I’ll be alright. I just need to rest.”

  She wasn’t sure that he believed her, but he let her hide from him for now. He nodded to her request.

  Squeezing his hand slightly, she pulled away from it, moving herself to the bed. She took off her clothes at the bedside, feeling weariness all across her body. The nightgown was lying there, but she simply stared down at it absently as the heat from the fire warmed her back.

  Celia touched her stomach, thinking of Anjessica. She began to consider what it would be like to have a child inside there, and after what she had seen today, began to fear that very thing. What sort of terrible things could happen? She could be sick, or even die. The child could be deformed, or she could turn out like Anjessica, and it would be nine months of suffering. Celia realized then that she was scratching at her own skin, digging her nails into her sides as she considered these things. But in the midst of all that, another thought was born.

  What if I have given birth before? And what if I will never remember it? Am I a mother? A wife? A daughter? A sister? Who am I?

  Clenching her eyes shut, she told herself that she wouldn’t cry, even though warm, stinging water was rushing into her eyes. She sniffled and shook her head to get control over her emotions, and then reached for the gown. She had done this exact same motion just the night before, and it caused her to remember something. Latching onto that idea, she raised her wrists to examine the similar bruises there.

  Both had faded away.

  Chapter Seven

  Celia was in a dark hallway, barely able to see in front of her for more than an arm’s length of space. The floor was hard and dirty, made of cracked stone tile. The expanse before her was unwelcoming, and so the girl stood still in the cold darkness, afraid to take a step.

  She hugged herself for comfort, but even her own arms seemed distant. She could hear the sound of her own troubled breath, and a clock was ticking somewhere down the corridor. She stood there, still and afraid for as long as she dared, but then the thought of remaining in this spot began to frighten her. Celia took a step, and she found that her limited area of sight moved forward with her.

  Every step she took, she was allowed to see another short bit of the floor, as if a dim light were shining down from above. She could see dust floating about before her face, reflecting the glow. The ticking of the clock slipped past her. At the end of the hallway, a door came into view.

  This is the end. This door will free me. It will free me from this house and these people.

  She gripped the ring handle, and the door groaned loudly as it opened, echoing past her. The room beyond was dark, but she saw vague outlines of several objects before they came into focus. Taking cautious steps into the room, she walked through soft fluff that clung to her damp feet—loose feathers—and she realized that the objects around her were cages.

  Cages, large and small, hung from the ceiling. Others stood on podiums. It was true that they were not all cages for birds, but the feathers on the floor were the only hint that life had existed in this place. She stepped forward with bated breath, looking around with wide eyes. Where was she? Was this a trick? Had someone come into her room in the night and moved her deeper into the house? But she didn’t remember waking up, only standing in the middle of the dark corridor.

  Her eyes settled on one particular cage in the room. It was covered by a white cloth that was dotted with red liquid, and though she thought of blood, her curiosity was drawn to it. Casting aside any reasonable doubt, she walked toward the covered cage, stretching one foot ahead of the other until she’d come to stand before it. Near her feet, she could hear the soft and constant patter of droplets hitting the floor, but she was thankful that she could not see if it was a careless drip from the roof, or something worse from within the cage. She stretched forth her hand and gripped the bottom of the cloth. Her heart thudded harshly as she began to pull it forward—

  The faint light that had followed her into the room grew brighter. Celia turned from the covered cage to see that an unnaturally bright light was coming through the windows on the south and west walls. She squinted against it. The light shined through the cages, and the dark lines of the bars cast a unique pattern of shadows upon the wall and ceiling.

  She woke up.

  Celia shot straight up in her bed, awakened by the image of her dream and the idea that had come from it. Her own subconscious mind had shown her the truth, and she could not let it rest.

  “That’s it!” she murmured, throwing herself off the bed and rushing toward the door. Still half asleep, she had already begun to move the bureau away from the door before she came to her senses.

  Wait. I have to think about this. That room must be locked.

  I have to tell Adam.

  Hurrying to the hole in the wall, Celia shifted about to get different viewpoints of the man’s room, but all she could see was darkness. He was not visible from her position.

  “Adam,” she called out in a loud whisper, but she heard no response come her way. “Adam!”

  She heard him start, giving a short groan, and she knew she’d successfully urged him from his sleep, which was all that mattered to her.

  “Adam!”

  It took a moment before she heard his steps across the floor as he lumbered toward her, and even when he was standing right before her, she could barely see him through the gray haze of night.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice a bit scratchy from sleep.

  “I realized what those shadows were,” she said rapidly, fully awake now.

  “What shadows?” he insisted. She heard a hint of natural irritancy coming through his voice.

  “The shadows I saw on the wall of that locked room,” she continued hurriedly, unwilling to let him deter her. “I thought it was an odd sight, but I hadn’t figured it out until now. What I saw were crossed lines of shadow, but that was only because the light source was coming from two different places. It was the bars of a cage.”

  The man did not seem to follow her. He raked a hand through his red-brown hair.

  “What sort of cage? For an animal?”

  “I don’t know. But I had heard a noise as well. It was like a groan, and I’m so certain that it was human. I have to get into that room.”

  “Alright,” Adam acknowledged, though not nearly as excited or bothered as she was. “But you told me that the maid kept the room locked. How will you get in?”

  She hadn’t been able to think about it yet, but an idea was quick to come to her.

  “I saw a set of keys in Irving’s study—on a table by the door. One of them could open it.”

  She could hardly believe what she was suggesting—wanting to steal a man’s keys and break into a room that she had not been welcomed into—but Adam didn’t try to talk her out of it.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said readily, and she could hardly protest to that. Since they’d been locked in the first night, she was fairly certain that the LaCroixs wouldn’t like to find them wandering about their halls in the dark, and she’d feel much safer if he was with her.

  Celia left the wall and headed toward the door to finish removing the bureau. Once the legs had finished scraping across the floor, she waited for the silence to settle before twisting the handle. It came unlatched with a click, and the door opened. Going out, she crept toward Adam’s door.

  She expected to find him already coming out of his own room, but there was only the dim firelight of the hallway to greet her. She took a step closer—a
nd jumped when the silence was shattered by an abrupt and violent rattling.

  “Dammit!” She heard Adam’s voice from beyond his closed door. “I can’t believe they locked me in again!”

  She was surprised to see it herself, but it was so. Adam’s door moved a bit in the frame as he shook it, but it would not come open.

  “I told her to leave the door open so she wouldn’t be able to lock it, and she came back in the night and locked it anyway!”

  His voice was muffled, but he was undeniably upset about this happening, and she wished she could soothe him, but wasn’t sure she’d be able.

  “It’s alright,” Celia said consolingly. “I can get the keys, and then I’ll come back and let you out.”

  She heard Adam’s head hit against the door once lightly, and she imagined him taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

  “Be careful,” he said finally, for there was little else to be said, and Celia peered down the empty hallway once more before starting forward.

  Irving’s study was somewhere on the second floor, and if the door was open—as perhaps he seemed to like it—all she would have to do would be reach inside and lift the keys quietly from the table. Problems could arise from any number of places, but she hardly expected anyone to be in the study at this hour, and if the door was not locked, she could make an easy job of it. However, if it was, nothing else could be done but to turn back.

  She passed down the lengthy flight of stairs from the third floor to the second, listening to her bare feet pad against the boards. There was enough light from moonlit windows and scattered lamps so that she could see without having to carry her own lantern. Having to hold her own candle would have made her feel much more insecure and visible as she snuck through the expansive place.

  Her feet touched the second floor, and she unconsciously slowed her pace, keeping close to the wall and the thick curtains that lined the windows. There were several doors down the corridor in front of her, and while she knew that one of them must have been Irving’s study, she could not say which. A sense of relief came from seeing that all the doors in her sight were left open, with gentle streams of moonlight lining the thresholds. Such being the case, she found no qualm with peeking into all the rooms until she found the one she sought.

  The first room that she peered into was a darkened lounge with the drapes pulled away from the windows. No one was inside, as she had expected. She moved forward, slipping past the opening as if she would be pulled inside by a secret vortex. Her foot creaked loudly against an old board. She kept moving.

  The next door she came to was pushed in slightly from the inside, as she’d been unable to tell as she’d approached. Cautiously, she leaned toward the cracked opening to see that this was the room that she sought. Shadows flickered off the table beside the door, which told her that there was a flame lit somewhere within. Nevertheless, she saw the keys lying there unattended. Unconsciously fearing the room as if it were the mouth of a monster, she stretched forth her hand tentatively, hoping to grasp the metal ring without having to open the door any further.

  He’ll never know that it was me who took the keys. He won’t even miss them. I’ll bring them straight back—after I see inside that room.

  The sound of a sniffle from within the room alerted her, and she drew back quickly for the fright it had given her. The sound was followed by a short sigh, and she was aware that it had come from the alcove hidden within the bookshelves. Someone was in this study, just a few paces from where she was hoping to lift the keys. She would have to be fast, and she would have to do the job soundlessly, but her nerves had tangled themselves in a knot, and she had to unravel them before she could move again.

  Breathe calmly.

  Celia thought twice about her action of thievery, sticking herself on the idea that withdrawing from the task would be the safest move she could make. Quickly though, she resolved that she had to go through with it.

  I have to see inside that room. The mystery was too great.

  Her hand reached forward again, wanting to let her arm slide through and yet not allow the rest of her. Her fingers reached for the keys, stretching until she touched the tabletop, crawling across the surface until her hand was able to gather the spread keys together in a bundle so that they would be soundless, ready to draw back and be on her way to the supposed safety of the third floor.

  Adam will be with me then, she thought, and it helped to settle her. Celia began to lift the iron keys from the surface.

  A series of thumping sounds came from her left, and she jerked her head toward it, though she already knew what the disturbance was. Someone was coming up the stairs from the first floor. Soon, they would be on the landing, and even if she tried to retreat back the way she had come, she would be seen. Feeling panic rise within her, hearing the hurried footsteps coming closer, Celia thought quickly despite her speeding heart and escaped the only way she could.

  Clutching the silent keys in her hand, she slipped inside the study and ducked beneath the dark shelter of the table by the door. The light did not splash her there, and as soon as whoever was coming passed by, she would be able to move on.

  Pulling her gown in around her, she hid herself completely in the darkness beneath the desk just as someone pressed the door open further and took heated steps inside. She could see from his back that it was a man, and another moment later, she realized that it was Maynard. He stepped straight into the room, turning himself to face the alcove, but did not step into it. Celia had not expected him to come inside the room. If he turned, he might see her. This troubled her, but she kept her breath quiet as he spoke.

  “I have to speak to you,” the young man said heatedly. “I can’t contain it any longer.”

  A deep sigh was heard from within the alcove.

  “What is it?” a voice asked, and while it sounded different than usual—not so pleasant—she believed that it was Irving.

  “You could have come up with something better,” Maynard said, delving off into unexplained subject matter that Celia did not understand.

  “What are you talking about?” Irving asked, sounding annoyed. Celia imagined him with his back to his younger brother, not bothering to look at him as he scribbled on documents at his desk. Maynard was not shut down. She could see him—could see the rigid way he was standing with his fists clenched at his sides.

  “You planned poorly. You told Celia that she was in a carriage accident with that man. You should have told her that she lived here. Then she would think that she belongs.”

  What was that? Celia’s eyes widened as she listened, trying to comprehend.

  “Don’t you think it would have seemed suspicious to her that she has no personal belongings here? That she is not painted in any of the portraits? We told them the only thing we could tell them.”

  The only thing? Was it not the truth? She and Adam weren’t in an accident? Her palm began to dampen around the keys.

  “Well it was a foul attempt, because now she wants to leave with him. It’s hardly been a day and she wants to leave. Obviously, even without knowledge of the truth, they are able to have suspicions.”

  “I’m well aware of their intention to leave,” Irving said calmly, seeming unbothered by Maynard’s proclamations.

  “You think you can keep them from it? You know that—”

  “I know that your intentions are very different from mine, brother,” Irving said. She heard his chair slide across the floor, and Celia feared that he would come out of the recess and spot her. She saw his shadow emerge, cast upon the wall, and realized that he had come face to face with Maynard. She kept her eyes on his shadow, and his mouth began to move. “Don’t pretend that you’re concerned about anyone other than yourself. She may be the most beautiful creature your mind can fathom, but you know where she comes from. It is disgraceful for you to have any sort of feeling for her.”

  There was a pause after that, with both men staring each other in the eyes, and then Maynard gave
a loud and appalled snort. He turned from his brother and stormed away. Celia held her breath, but he did not seem to notice her as he passed out the door and headed up the stairs to the third floor, where his bedroom must have been. Irving did not waste much time watching him go, turning straight back into the alcove. Celia heard the sound of his chair scraping the floor as he pulled himself back up to his desk. Then all was quiet—and Celia was left to linger, wondering what she had just witnessed.

  She thought she had known at least one thing that had happened to her, but now she wondered if she knew any truths at all. What had they been talking about? What could they possibly have meant by all that? Her thoughts jumped from one to another without completion. Her mind was spinning, and suddenly she felt confined beneath the table. She could no longer hear Maynard’s footsteps, and she was sure that Irving had become distracted once more. Without considering further, she pulled herself out from her hiding place and darted from the room.

  Things are getting worse, she thought. Always worse.

  She rushed up the stairs, but gripped the keys resolutely. She knew where she was going, and she could scarcely imagine being halted. She had to see the worst thing of all.

  I’m going into that room. I’ll go to Adam afterward, but I can’t wait another moment. Things are more suspicious than I thought. He was right.

  Her footsteps quickened, moving her down the passage. The door was in her sight, coming closer in her vision, waiting for her to approach and turn the appropriate key in the lock—

  A hint of light emerged from the hallway that crossed in front of the door. Someone was coming, carrying a lantern in hand.

  Still a fair distance from it, Celia threw herself against the wall, able to hear the troubled breath that escaped her mouth. She watched as the light floated closer, and eventually she saw a figure cast in the orange light. The slender form’s steps were slow and careful, the legs stiff. Celia did not have to try so hard to realize that it was one of the maids—though she could not say which—and as she watched, the servant moved to the door that was her own destination and turned a key in the lock. The door came open with a whine, and the girl saw the shadows of the cage cast upon the wall before the maid ducked inside and disappeared behind the door. With that woman inside, there was no way Celia could go in herself.