“Yeah, it’s been about three years, I think.”
Who was I kidding? She knew exactly when I stopped coming. And why.
“It has. You’ve turned into a beautiful young woman, and I’ve missed all of it.”
The regret in her voice, the love in her eyes—it was making me feel bad. Sonya hadn’t done anything wrong. And besides, I could’ve used her advice. I’d always been able to confide in her in ways that were impossible with Dad. She understood emotions. “I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I’ve missed it here. Missed you. But, you know, with Dad’s schedule it’s…hard to get away.”
Those dark eyes saw and understood everything I didn’t say. “Yes, I know.”
“Mrs. Anderson,” spoke a soft voice that lifted my spirit.
Clara, their maid, appeared before us, just as slight and as happy and gentle as I remembered. Her face brightened at the sight of me. “If it isn’t Miss Daria.”
I beamed at her. It didn’t matter how old I was, Clara always made me feel like a little kid again. She was the kind of woman that would let you stay up way past your bedtime, and then she’d slip candy under your bedroom door when you were sleeping. I wasn’t sure if Sonya knew that, but I certainly never tried to find out.
“Clara, what it is?” Sonya asked.
Clara shifted. “The gentlemen would like to speak with you.”
Sonya held Clara’s gaze a moment, and then turned to me. “I hate leaving you after finally getting you to myself, but will you excuse me a moment?”
What was going on with everyone? “Sure.”
“I’ll be right back.” She patted my cheek and disappeared down the hall. Clara lingered, her eyes bright and twinkling as she stared at me. But instead of saying a word, her expression turned distant and she left.
Now I was alone, feeling completely out of place. It was hard enough just being here. Having everyone leave me to myself made it impossible to stay distracted.
I wandered into the sitting room, where a blazing fire burned in the fireplace. An ivory chaise lounge sat next to it, accented by a mahogany side table standing on flared legs. And there it was, sitting on top of the table. That glass bowl. It was half filled with water, and floating right on top was a beautiful vivid orange flower. It always reminded me of a flame—a flame that even water couldn’t extinguish. Sonya always had a fresh one in the bowl, but I had never been able to figure out where they came from.
I stared through the window at the yard beyond. Alex and I had lived in that yard. It had been the home of wrestling matches, stick fights, and snow forts. And of sprawling out on the grass in exhaustion, gazing at the clouds, dreaming of our futures.
A future he had and I didn’t.
My heart sank. I couldn’t stop the unwanted memories that replayed in my mind.
A transparent shape floated above the yard. It took me a second to realize that it was a reflection in the glass. There was something behind me. Someone. I turned my head toward its source and my breath caught in my chest. It was Alex.
Chapter 2
Lost Secrets
Alex stood in the entryway, much taller than I remembered. His fitted, dark jeans revealed a lean, muscular build and the sleeves of his white button-up shirt were rolled to his elbows, exposing strong forearms. Not the scrawny boy I’d known all my life. He wore his hair longer, too. Dark strands now framed his face, sharpening the angles, and the green in his eyes was much greener. And more penetrating.
Three years had turned him into a man. I should’ve expected it, but all I could do was stare while the walls started closing in around me.
His face was unreadable and, even though his sharp gaze never left mine, I felt like he was taking in all of me. Observing me from top to bottom, and it made me even more uncomfortable than I already was.
“Daria.” He spoke my name softly, lingering on each syllable.
I was so shocked by the depth and richness in this new man-voice that I couldn’t speak. My words were trapped somewhere between surprise and indignation.
He took a step forward. “You at a loss for words? This is unusual.”
I suddenly realized I’d been ogling at him. Heat flooded my face as I forced myself to speak. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
A knowing grin twitched at his lips as he raised a dark brow.
Really, Daria? You prepared to rip him to shreds if you ever saw him again and the first thing you say is “maybe I’ve changed’? You haven’t even left Fresno!
He continued studying me, like he was waiting for me to say something—anything. And the longer we stood with a thick wall of silence between us, the more awkward I felt. It didn’t help that I was having trouble breathing, and my hand was aching from clenching the arm of the sofa. I had to get out of there. That instant.
“Good.” Sonya beamed at the pair of us. “You found each other.”
My dad and Cicero were right on her heels. I caught my dad’s gaze, and then he seemed a little too interested in finding a seat for himself. I should’ve known better. He knew all along Alex would be here, and he continued to avoid my murderous stare as he fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt.
Clara entered with a tray of tiramisu and I couldn’t have been happier for the distraction. She passed around plates filled with layers of cream, chocolates, and cookies that were compressed into a strong tower, topped with raspberries and mint leaves. It was too beautiful to eat. Almost.
Just as I lifted my spoon to carve into my tiramisu, Sonya spoke.
“What are you going to do with yourself now?”
At first I didn’t realize she was addressing me, but when no one else answered, I glanced up. Everyone was looking at me.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Sonya smiled. “Now that you are all done with your studies. I hear you just took your graduation examination a few weeks ago.”
Dad’s face flushed as he watched me. He was probably worried about my answer, and with Alex—the successful, impressive world traveler—I was worried about my answer, too. Worried about revealing how uneventful my life had been, and about how much I hadn’t changed.
“I’m not sure. I really like History. Medieval European History. I’m hoping Dad will let me start at a junior college in the fall, and then I’d like to study abroad.”
Sonya’s smile fell. Cicero and Alex stared at me with blank expressions, and the red in my dad’s face started spreading down his neck. What was wrong with my college plans? They weren’t any different than Alex’s, so why was everyone acting like I’d just confessed to a murder?
But I had, however, killed the conversation, so I went back to my dessert.
“Are you still riding?” Sonya asked. The smile had returned to her face, but I could see the unease in her eyes.
“Yes.” I gripped my spoon tighter. “Every day.”
“How wonderful.”
This avoidance of discussing college was becoming irritating. “Yeah, it’s a nice hobby.”
Sonya’s gaze flitted to my dad, and Dad cleared his throat. “She’s fast too. I can’t even keep up with her.”
“Get used to it.” Cicero grinned. “We certainly aren’t getting any younger.”
They all chuckled. Whatever had them so uptight and uncomfortable was forgotten, and they began an exclusive discussion about the inevitable woes of the aging process.
My hope sank. Apparently the topic of my future wasn’t on Dad’s mind. He still wasn’t ready to talk about college, or jobs, or anything about my future, and the Andersons were going to respect that. But if my future wasn’t weighing down on him, what was?
An obnoxious chirping interrupted the chatter. It was Dad’s phone. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and froze.
“It’s Stefan.” He frowned as his wary eyes found mine. “Princess, mind if I talk to Cicero and Sonya in private?”
“Oh…sure. That’s fine.” I started to get up from my seat.
“No, dear.” Sonya stoo
d. “You stay here. Alex?” A knowing look passed between them.
“I’ll stay with Daria.” He leaned back in the chaise lounge. “Fill me in later.”
That was strange. Alex had never been included in their business transactions before. Sonya and Cicero followed my dad from the room, leaving me with my favorite person, Alex.
I stared at the blazing fire, whose crackling and spitting sounded particularly loud.
This wasn’t going at all how I’d planned. I was to come here with Dad and spend a nice, leisurely afternoon eating dessert with Cicero and Sonya. There wasn’t even the hint of Alex being in that picture. In fact, he was supposed to be in another country.
I braved a glance up. He was watching me, but his expression was unreadable. Alex had always been as transparent as a window, and this constant mask of emotion was making me lose my nerve. I dropped my gaze and became so self-conscious that I scrutinized every movement of the fork in my hands. Frustrated, I let the fork fall with a clank on the plate and set my dessert on the table.
“Have your tastes…changed?” It was that man-voice again, and this time it was tinged with amusement.
“I’m full.”
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes searched mine, but for what, I didn’t know.
My face felt hot and the creases in my joints began sweating.
Dang it, Daria, stop acting so ridiculous. You know what he’s doing. Probing. Sticking out his feelers. Trying to find a weakness to manipulate you again.
He glanced at my plate. “You were never too full for that.”
I didn’t like being reminded of how well he knew me, and I hated it coming from him. Fury pulsed through my veins. “And you were never one for small talk. So where does that leave us?”
He studied me a moment before leaning back in his chair, his features even more guarded than before. I glared at him in silence. I wouldn’t buy it today, no matter how pretty his shell had become. I knew the truth, and this time I had the upper hand.
He continued to sit, silent with his thoughts—all of which he kept to himself. He was waiting for me. Waiting to see my next move.
So I moved.
I got to my feet and left the room.
It was better he didn’t see me so weak and unnerved by him. Why was he here anyway?
He lives here, stupid. What are you doing here?
I hated my conscience sometimes.
Once I reached the heavy oak doors to the library, I paused, sighing in relief. I pushed them open with a creak, tiptoed inside and closed them behind me.
I loved this room. Enormous dark, wooden bookshelves covered the walls, all crammed with books—there was even a ladder to reach those on the topmost shelves. Many of them were history books. Cicero was both a lover and collector of any manuscript written about a time other than the present. His influence was the primary spark of my own infatuation.
Two tall, narrow windows with window seats stood along one wall, separated by a large canvas of Yosemite’s Bridal Veil Falls. I’d never seen the real falls in person because no one ever bothered taking me there. But this portrait was so vivid and lifelike that I never felt I needed to go, like this frame was the magical window to a beautiful world.
Being in this room put my nerves at ease. In here, I could escape my own head and spend time in someone else’s. And right now, I desperately needed someone else’s to help me get my mind off of him.
I made my way to the sliding ladder, my fingers trailing the smooth wood. This ladder wasn’t the original. I’d broken that one after jumping up the rungs, despite Alex’s warning. I had climbed up pretty high, too, so the fall hurt. After being assaulted with “I told you so’s”, Alex had built this one, and I had helped him stain it.
The memory assaulted me as I climbed to the top, where our names were chiseled in the wood. Alex’s name was legible; he’d always been so good with tools. But mine looked more like “Dam” than “Daria.”
Maybe coming in here wasn’t such a good idea.
I scanned the books on the top shelf for The Count of Monte Cristo, and found it in its usual spot, between a dragon-shaped bookend and Treasure Island. This part of the library was what I’d always referred to as the “adventure section” and for that reason it was my favorite. Dad didn’t let me out much, but even he couldn’t control the trouble I got myself into on paper.
Grabbing the copy, I climbed back down the ladder and curled into the corner of the window seat. I didn’t remember having so much space when I was younger, probably because Alex would always cram into it with me then.
I shoved away the memory, flipped on the reading lamp, and began to read.
My plan was to lose myself in Edmond Dantes’ betrayal, but my thoughts kept flitting back to Alex. He looked so different. Sounded so different. And I’d acted…
I flipped through the book, forcing myself to think about anything but Alex, when a slip of paper fell to the floor. I bent over to pick it up. When I opened the single fold, my stomach turned. It was Alex’s handwriting.
Daria--
There is so much I want to say to you. I know you sense my distance, and I wish I could explain it. Until then, I need you to do something--something that may help you understand. Go to the desk. Underneath the top panel, push upward. You’ll find a key. Take the key to the portrait of Bridal Veil Falls. Along the bottom of the frame you’ll find a keyhole. Try it. Make sure no one sees you.
I’m sorry.
--Alex
I read the note again. When did he write this? It must’ve been before he left because the ink had faded, and the paper had yellowed slightly.
Overwhelmed by curiosity, I walked to the desk and set my book down. I read the note again, following his directions, and soon enough, sitting in the dark space between panels, was a rusted, bronze skeleton key. It was the kind of key no one used any more, you know, the kind that was the size of your hand and unlocked some secret treasure. I rushed to the painting and found a large keyhole. All these years, and I had never noticed it.
I slid the key into the keyhole, and turned. With a satisfying click, the painting swung forward on a hinge, leaving behind a large, gaping black hole in the thick stone wall.
“What in the world…”
A cool draft touched my face. I was staring at the top of a narrow, circular staircase that wound down, disappearing into darkness. I grabbed a flashlight from the desk and hurried back to the painting.
My boots scraped on the stone as I made my way down, step by careful step, ending at a wooden door with a single bronze knob. The knob turned easily and the door creaked inward an inch. Whatever lay beyond was hidden in darkness. I hesitated, afraid to open the door any further as my heart drummed in my ears.
Calm down. Alex wouldn’t try and kill you, not even back then.
Inhaling a deep breath of stale and musty air, I gripped my flashlight, pushed the door in and stepped inside.
All along the walls were shelves of books and lots of eerie shadows. Too many for my comfort. I moved forward, eyes alert.
Strange. There was no dust—no cobwebs. It looked like this room was used, and often.
A few antiquated portraits hung along the walls, each canvas depicting someone of power from centuries long ago. They looked like they belonged in a museum. An engraved golden plate was fastened to the bottom of each, all members of some Regius family. I didn’t remember ever learning about them.
I trailed the light along the book spines. Gaia’s Potentate Directives, Guide of Militant Stratagems, Magic and its Proper Uses, Prophetic Verses. I paused in front of one in particular: The Creatures of Shadow.
Curious, I pulled it from the shelf and lifted the stiff leather cover. The binding creaked as it opened, and the pages were stiff as I turned them. I held my flashlight over a page filled with “B”. Balcan, Banshee, Barghest…
A horrid drawing stared back at me; it was a hellion of a hairless dog, fangs exposed, with blood-red eyes
. Beneath it was a description.
Barghest: Created by the Dark Sorcerers during the Great Deception to destroy all that is of light. Banished to the great depths of Mortis for their insatiable thirst for light’s destruction.
I shut the book and returned it to the shelf. Scary drawings didn’t do much for me, and never in the dark.
A strange sensation swept over me, like something was tugging at my consciousness. Very slowly, I turned around. My eyes settled on a large globe sitting atop a wooden stand in the corner. And the globe was…turning.
My heart beat faster as my eyes darted around the room, searching for life.
Nothing. I was down here alone.
Then how was the globe spinning?
I took a few cautious steps forward, my mind drawn to the strange object. The surface of the miniature Earth depicted topography, but as I studied it, I realized it wasn’t Earth at all. There was a single giant landmass and a few smaller lands separated by strange seas. A thick smear of white settled over a piece of the largest landmass. I stretched out my pointer finger to touch it and gasped. It felt cold and damp, like…mist.
Impossible. Globes didn’t depict the weather.
Footsteps echoed from somewhere close. Someone was coming.
I sprinted for the door. Just as I went to close it, I looked back at the globe. A small spark flickered where the smudge had been. That spark had looked like lightning.
I slammed the door and bolted up the stairs.
The footsteps in the hallway had almost reached the door. I swung the portrait shut, locked it, and hurried to return the key. I just managed to shove it inside when the library door opened.
Chapter 3
Enough is Enough
Alex stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes flitted to the canvas, and then settled on me with an arched brow. “Not enough light?”
The flashlight. I forgot to put it away. How was I going to explain this one? “It was dark by the window.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the window seat with the LED shining brightly. “I…see.”
Gaia's Secret Page 2
