Bound by Time: A Bound Novel

by A. D. Trosper

  Isobel shrugged. It wasn’t like it was any of her business who lived next door as long as they weren’t axe murderers. A laugh rose in her throat at the idea of anything bad happening in this secluded nook of the world. She turned off the car and got out, enjoying the heavy humidity that clung to her like a damp blanket. The tang of salt water in the air mixed with the scent of blooming roses.

  “Isa!” her father called, stepping out the door. “I’m glad you made it home safe.”

  “Hey guys.” She waved at them and walked around the car to the house.

  Elizabeth gave her a strong hug. “It’s good to see you, even if it will only be for a few days.”

  Isobel smiled and hugged her back. “I wish it were longer.”

  “Dubai waits for no one,” her dad said, giving her a quick hug.

  “So what do you think of it?” Elizabeth asked. Her excitement was obvious as she waited for an answer.

  Isobel’s mind scrambled. What was she talking about? “Think of what?”

  “The window! They just finished installing it this afternoon. How could you miss it?”

  Isobel glanced at the neighbor’s house again. “Um…actually, I was surprised to see the house next door had sold. I was paying more attention to who might be living there now.”

  Her dad scowled. “They bought the house right after your mother and I got back from our road trip. Not the type of people I would have expected to buy it, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh?” Isobel raised her eyebrows.

  “John, quit being so judgmental. It isn’t as if we know them or their situation,” Elizabeth chided.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Isobel asked. What had the neighbors done to make her dad so suspicious?

  He shrugged. “From what the realtor told us when she came to put up the sold sign, an older man who has his nephew living with him bought it. The older man seems fairly respectable, but I’m not too happy about his nephew. He spends his time either riding that motorcycle or fixing it. I’m not so sure I want you here alone all summer. Neither of them appears to work either, although the uncle could be retired.” He frowned. “I swear I’ve seen the uncle before.”

  It seemed pretty innocuous to Isobel. “Maybe they’re independently wealthy.”

  “I suppose. Either way, I’d feel better if you kept your distance.” Her father looked one more time at the other house before turning away from it.

  “Well, come inside and look at the window.” Elizabeth grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. “It’s prettier from the inside anyway. And with the sun’s angle with the break in the trees, it’s going to be perfect.”

  Isobel followed her into the house, smiling at her mother’s excitement. She dropped her purse on the table inside the large foyer as her cat came running with a meow. She scooped up the small, long-haired black and white tuxedo cat. “Hello, Sorsha. Did you miss me?” Isobel cuddled the cat while she glanced around the familiar house.

  To her right was a front closet and a hallway leading alongside the staircase. At the end of the hall was her parents’ master suite. On her left, two white columns and half walls separated the foyer from the formal living room. Directly across from the front door, the foyer opened into the dining room. Elizabeth’s love of bright, neutral colors was evident everywhere from the renovations. The staircase was the same, flaring elegantly at the base.

  An uneasy feeling crawled through her as they climbed the stairs to Elizabeth’s prize. Half way up, Sorsha hissed and tore out of her hold, leaving a long scratch across the creamy skin of one arm. “Ouch! What’s her problem?”

  “Who knows? She’s a cat. She’s been acting strange ever since the remodeling and got worse after they installed the window. I think all the banging and strange people that were here still have her uneasy,” Elizabeth said, examining the scratch. “It doesn’t look that deep.”

  Isobel continued to follow Elizabeth, somewhat reluctantly, though she didn’t know why.

  Multi-hued light filled the spacious twenty foot by twenty-five foot open landing at the top. Isobel didn’t notice if there were any other changes on the second floor; her eyes were glued to the stunning window that dominated the west wall of the landing from floor to ceiling.

  A crimson circle rested at the heart of it. The design branched out from it like the petals of a flower. An image was inset in the end of each rounded petal. A butterfly, a flower, a woman in robes kneeling, a sword, flames, a sun, a cross, a drop of water, and what looked like a spearhead. More intricate designs connected it all together in different shades of blue, green, yellow and purple. The only red in the whole piece resided in the center.

  Elizabeth walked over to the window and brushed her fingers lovingly across it. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  It was beautiful beyond measure. So why did a feeling of dread settle like a weight in her chest? What could bother her so much about such a gorgeous window? The crimson circle in the center glared at her and she stared back, struggling to breathe. It felt as if pure hatred rolled off the window.

  “Isobel?” Elizabeth turned. “Are you all right?”

  Isobel tore her eyes away from the colored glass and focused on Elizabeth’s pale blue eyes. “I’m…I’m fine. Just tired from the drive I think.”

  Elizabeth ran her fingers through her golden blonde hair and walked over to give Isobel’s hand a squeeze. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s get some dinner in you. Heaven only knows what you’ve been eating at college.” Her mom pulled her toward the stairs and Isobel followed quickly, anxious to get away from the window.

  Elizabeth dragged her into the kitchen and urged her into one of the chairs at the massive center island. “I made lasagna. I figured you’d enjoy one of your favorites for your first night home.” Her mom filled her in on everything they had done to the house, including adding an office space and craft room on the second floor while she finished up dinner. Her dad unloaded the car and carried everything up the landing, and then came to join them.

  Her mother placed a bowl of salad for each of them on the island top while her father loaded three plates with lasagna and garlic bread then brought them over. Though a large, beautiful table and matching chairs took center stage in the dining room, they rarely ate there.

  Her dad sat down and picked up his fork. “So, what did you think of your mom’s window?” Something in his tone told her he wasn’t quite as taken with it as Elizabeth.

  Isobel took a drink of soda then cut into the lasagna before mustering as much enthusiasm as she could. “It’s beautiful; a real find.” She smiled at Elizabeth, determined not to ruin her mom’s happiness.

  She took a bite, enjoying the tomato, garlic, and cheesy goodness. It was impossible that a window could invoke those kinds of feelings. She probably was just tired. It was only glass. Isobel pushed the window out of her thoughts and turned her full attention to her parents, answering questions about college.

  After dinner they retired to the family room. Stifling a yawn, Isobel rubbed her eyes. “I’m more tired that I realized. I’m going to call Amelia and then head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  “Sweet dreams, honey,” Elizabeth said as Isobel walked away. She crossed through the dining room and into the foyer to grab her purse. With a groan, she remembered her phone was lying in the front seat of the car still attached to the stereo. Stupid battery was probably run down by now.

  She walked out the front door into the warm evening. A mosquito buzzed past her ear. She swatted at it, knowing it was useless. The little bloodsucker would be back, probably with twenty or more of its friends. Isobel hurried across the wide porch and down the steps to her car. As she opened the passenger side door, something smacked into the side of her face. Instinct knew what it was before her mind could even comprehend. With a shriek she jumped back, batting at her face. Standing in the driveway, her hair messed from batting at the offending object, she searched for the culprit to make sure it wasn’t on her clothes. No matter that she�
��d lived there for nearly five years, she would never, ever get used to palmetto bugs.

  She reached into the car and snatched her phone, yanking out the cord that connected it to the stereo then slammed the door and dashed back up onto the porch. Not that the roof of the porch would protect her from those ugly things.

  The roar of a motorcycle caught her attention. From the height of the porch, she could clearly see the front of the neighbor’s garage. That must be the nephew. He sat on the bike with his back to her. Tall and lean, his T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. A gold bracelet hung on his wrist. Thick, inky-black hair with a hint of curl hung to his collar. Yep, definitely someone her father would be wary of, especially around his only daughter even if she was old enough to make her own decisions.

  Not that he needed to worry. She’d had few boyfriends and tended to shy away from anything serious. It was hard to get close to someone when you possessed some strange sort of power that you couldn’t tell them about. It’s why she adored Amelia—she was the only one who really knew everything about her.

  He turned and looked directly at her. Though it was getting dark, his piercing blue gaze drove into her across the distance. His features were hard to see, but Isobel thought he couldn’t be much older than her, yet there was a hardness about his face as if he’d seen more than his years. And why did he look strangely familiar? It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like he would ever be anything to her. She turned away, dismissing thoughts of him as she walked into the house. She had just enough battery on her phone to call Amelia.

  Damien watched her; the scent of her shampoo filled the air though he doubted a normal human could smell it. He’d heard the shriek and checked on her to be sure she was okay. She had looked cute jumping around and swatting at a bug. Damien had no trouble seeing every feature of her face in the growing darkness. And those eyes—they stirred so many memories.

  Isobel spent a half hour curled up on the sofa in the living room with Sorsha in her lap, chatting with Amelia. When they finally hung up, she glanced at the stairs and stood. Sorsha hopped down, shooting a glare at her. Isobel couldn’t put it off any longer. She walked through the foyer and flipped the switch on the wall. The lights on the landing above flared to life. She hesitated as apprehension washed over her again. Giving herself a mental shake, she climbed the stairs. Maybe if she just didn’t look at the window.

  The sun had set and even though daylight no longer streamed through the glass, she could still see the colors, darker and fainter now. She turned away and hurried across the landing, stopping to grab a tote full of clothes as she passed.

  It was a relief to be in her room and away from the window. She set the tote on her queen-sized bed and clicked on the lamp on the nightstand. Wanting more light, she turned on the lamp on the dresser and the one on her computer desk in the corner.

  She made several more trips, bringing the rest of her things to her room right off the landing, careful not to glance in the direction of the window. As she carried the last box to her room, the hairs on her arms stood up and dread settled over her again. It was watching her. The desire to look at it nearly overwhelmed Isobel. It was just a window. Still, she shut her bedroom door firmly once she was inside.

  She tossed the box on the floor with the rest of them; they could be dealt with later. Grabbing a couple of towels from the stack on her bed, she headed through the door in the far corner of the room and flipped on the light. Her bathroom wasn’t huge, but it was comfortable. The walls were painted to resemble old parchment paper. Like her towels, the rugs were lavender. Dark purple paisley swirled across the light lavender shower curtain.

  Isobel tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper then climbed under the hot spray, willing the uneasy feelings to wash away with the water. The floral scent of her shampoo filled the room along with the steam. She took her time, enjoying the privacy and the luxury of taking a long, hot shower she rarely got at college.

  When she finished, she wrapped one towel around her long hair and another around her body. Pausing in front of the mirror, Isobel wiped away the steam on the surface and stared at her misty reflection. Her rich green eyes gazed back, and she stared for a long time at the young woman in the mirror. There was nothing different about her. Nothing new. Amelia wasn’t exactly an aura expert. Uneasiness suddenly crawled through her, sending the icy fingers of a nameless fear around her heart as she stared wide-eyed at the mirror.

  The reflection blinked, a slow malicious smile spreading across its mouth.

  Isobel froze. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. Energy hummed through her system, and that scared her more than what she thought she’d seen. The energy faded back behind the block in her mind. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

  Her reflection stared back like normal. She was exhausted. That was the only logical explanation. Reflections didn’t do things like that. Not in the real world. Isobel snatched her brush off the countertop and brushed her hair, staring at the mirror in defiance. Daring her reflection to try it again. Not that she had any idea what she would do if it really did. Probably run screaming. Her reflection, however, matched her move for move. She gazed at the mirror a moment longer before leaving the bathroom.

  She threw the towels on the floor and pulled on a pair of night shorts and a T-shirt then switched off the lamps before crawling into bed. A good night’s sleep would clear her mind. Instead, she stared at the closed bedroom door. It seemed a flimsy barrier between her room and the window. Rolling over, she shut her eyes and began mentally unpacking everything she’d brought home. Exhaustion settled in and she finally drifted off.

  Damien watched the house next door from the shadows, staring at the darkened upstairs windows. She was there. After all this time, it had finally come together in one place. He tried not to think of all the past times he’d failed.

  A sense of anticipation filled him, as if the world waited for something to happen. Waited for what was coming. His eyes traveled to the round window on the second floor. It would happen. Everything was finally right. Except it wasn’t coming. It had all ready arrived.

  Strange dreams invaded her sleep. Dreams where the sense of something coming lingered in the flickering shadows of the fire that surrounded her. Where her birth mother, Rihanna, struggled to speak to her, but she couldn’t hear the words. And then one word came through, so clear and loud, it echoed in her head.

  “Eusebia!”

  Isobel jerked awake and sat up so fast she made herself dizzy. “Ugh.” She leaned to the side and pressed her forehead against the cooler sheets on the other side of the bed, her hair falling in a thick, heavy cascade around her. A light sheen of sweat dampened her face and body, and the sheets were tangled around her legs. A dull headache thrummed behind her eyes. She felt like she’d barely slept.

  Slowly, she dragged herself from bed and stumbled to the bathroom, needing a shower again. She hated waking up overheated.

  She took a quick shower then stood resolutely in front of the mirror to brush her hair. Just as she had thought; her reflection was just a reflection. Amazing what a tired mind came up with. After pulling on a pair of shorts and a lightweight tank top, she slipped her feet into flip flops and walked toward the door.

  It was only a window, nothing more. Something that should be admired for its beauty.

  A blast of icy air greeted her as the door swung open and Isobel thought she heard that word again, “Eusebia.”

  Shivering slightly, Isobel stepped onto the landing. The window glowed in the ambient light of the morning. It didn’t seem as menacing now. In fact, its beauty shined. Isobel crossed the space and stood right in front of it. She leaned forward until she was almost close enough to brush her face against the colored glass. She gazed out toward the neighboring house.

  The nephew stood beneath a tree, staring up at her house. Odd. He looked incredibly tense. She stepped back and examined the window. Pure, sweet energy filled th
e air around her. A faint, tattered white glow seemed to cover the colored glass for a moment. Through the veil of light, the window appeared aged and tiny cracks ran through the glass. Fear surged through her system and the energy fled, taking the fractured glow with it. Frowning, she reached toward the window. It looked in perfect condition again.

  “Isobel?” Elizabeth’s voice called up the stairs before Isobel could touch it. “Are you awake?”

  Isobel dropped her hand and turned away. “Yeah.”

  “I thought I heard you up and around. Come on down and get something to eat.”

  Isobel glanced back at the window. The crimson center glared at her again, and something dark reached across the small distance between her and the window. It brushed her skin with cold fingers. Isobel jumped back. She almost slipped on the soft carpet of the stairs as she scrambled down them.

  Isobel steadied herself. She needed to calm down and think rationally. Except everything couldn’t always be explained that way. What her birth mother had been able to do couldn’t be explained that way. Neither could Amelia’s gifts.

  Something wasn’t right with that window; she felt it in her gut. Who could she talk to about it? Her dad would freak out. Elizabeth would listen, but she didn’t believe in those sorts of things and would tell Isobel she was letting her imagination get away from her. Perhaps Amelia…

  No, not Amelia. Isobel wasn’t going to disrupt Amelia’s summer with her own silly fears. She could handle this. There was no need to get Amelia all riled up and telling her would do just that. Something lingered around the window, but in the end it was just a window. Even evil spirits could only do so much to a person. Ghosts were real. Isobel knew that; she’d seen them. Some sort of bad energy must be connected to the window.