When I swallowed, it went down like a loud gulp.
“I have repeatedly asked you, my son has repeatedly asked you, to refrain from partaking in modern behavior whilst under this roof, and yet I repeatedly find you doing so.”
At this point, I also double-checked that my silver necklace was tucked away. It was. “So are you taking Max? Is that how you’re going to punish me?”
“I do not give things to take them away, April.” He put such a cold touch to my name that I knew our bond was broken. I’d disobeyed him and obviously insulted him. “You will keep your dog but you will learn a hard lesson about me.”
“Which is?” I asked timidly.
“I am not generous, nor am I kind. I do not have to be. I am your master and I own you. I give kindness so that I can use that kindness to hurt you when you displease me.”
My eyes shot to Max and my lungs thrust themselves into my jaw. “No!”
“Dreyfus,” he demanded. “Show Miss Redwood what will happen if she sees that boy again.”
My fingers almost grabbed Max as I flew to my feet, but Luther was quicker, reaching out and yanking me back by my ear. I yelped loudly, hearing a desperate cry from my sweet Max at the same time, but I didn’t see what Dreyfus did to him.
“No!” I yelled. “Please don’t hurt him.”
Max whimpered, struggling and fighting to break free. He was so tiny against such twisted, scarred hands. I just wanted to sweep him into my arms and make it all better. He trusted me. Trusted everyone. I’d never met a more sweet and innocent dog in all my life. He couldn’t understand what was happening right now and every cell in my body was desperate to get to him.
“Again,” Luther said, tugging my arm as I rushed in to defend my baby, screaming for them to stop. Max cried out, a short, sharp yelp that broke my heart, making me fold over.
“No,” I whimpered, meeting Max’s pleading eyes.
Luther threw me to the floor and I landed hard on my hands and knees, coughing the wind from my lungs.
“Now, next time I see you, you will be dressed in appropriate attire, and you will conduct yourself in a ladylike manner. None of this running about chasing that mutt; no more laughing loudly and befriending slaves. You will act as I expect you to act. Do I have your understanding, Miss Redwood?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice so fragile as the night closed in, making it dark in here with no lamps on to greet it.
“Again!” he said firmly, and Max yelped. I got to one foot before Luther’s hand came down hard on my shoulder. “Yes, what?”
“Yes…” My eyes flicked to the tiny puppy. “Yes…”
“Yes what!” he yelled.
“Yes, um… sir?”
“Again!”
Max yelped and I covered my face, crying into my hands, my chest shaking hard.
“Yes what?”
“Yes sir—”
“Again!”
“I don’t know what to say!” I screamed, hitting my knees. “I don’t know what to say!”
“Yes what?” he yelled at me again and I just shook my head, holding my breath as hot tears rolled off my chin. He sighed. “Again.”
“No!” I grabbed his pants, tugging them. “No please don’t hurt him anymore—”
“Yes, what?” He squatted down and cupped my chin firmly. And as I looked into his eyes, hating him, hating this arrangement, even hating my mom for letting me marry him, it occurred to me.
“Yes, husband,” I said, eyes wide, the message finally sinking in.
He stood tall and the goon put Max down. My sweet boy circled on the spot, getting down low and whimpering to himself.
“See that you remember this lesson, Miss Redwood,” Luther said coldly, slamming the door as they left.
I couldn’t see Max through the tears, so I crawled over blindly and gently scooped him up, pausing when he yelped.
“What did they do to you, Max?” I whispered, rolling him over to check every inch of him. I couldn’t see any actual damage to him, not even any blood. He whined when I pressed his belly a little, so I just cradled him under my chin and kissed him, whispering that I was sorry over and over again.
***
Max didn’t fight. I didn’t fight hard enough for him. And I was so sorry for that. We both went into flight mode, and no matter how many Jet Li movies I’d watched, nothing could have prepared me for that. I kept going over it in my head, seeing all the places I could have done things differently. Except, I was powerless now to go back. I could only relive it in every waking thought, wishing I’d done things differently.
But, I knew what it was like now to feel completely helpless, and I would never ever let that happen again. I learned a valuable lesson from it all, Luther made sure of that, but it wasn’t the lesson he intended.
“There’s a better world, Max,” I said numbly, as we lay in a square of moonlight on my bedroom floor. “One where no one hates dogs, and girls are allowed to wear jeans. But better than that, there’s a world where libraries hang from the ceiling and your imagination can paint pictures on the walls.”
Max took a deep breath and it shuddered out of him. He was feeling better. He didn’t whimper as much when he breathed now, but it had taken two days for that to happen; two days without food, only water, for both of us.
“You’d love Alex,” I told him, kissing his furry head. “And Sacha. And you would have loved…” I sniffled, “George.”
I missed them all so much my tummy hurt. I missed my mom and my bed and my snowy walls. I wondered if she’d painted over them, maybe turned my room into a home gym. It made me feel forgotten. Lonely.
Every emotion that drove me to accept this proposal was now a permanent part of my life. A brief period of sadness, which became an even shorter moment of extreme happiness after I met Alex, had been exchanged now for a lifetime of hopelessness. I wish I could go back and choose the other path, but all the wishing in the world couldn’t take it back now.
I thought about the other part of me that left before I arrived here. I looked in on her from time to time, watching her swim with Alex, while George flew above. She was there right now, as was Alex. But as much as I wanted to stay there and play with my friends, my mind kept leaving to wonder about the Alex in the real world. In a few days it would be Sunday again, and I’d watch the green truck come in with the supplies and the mail, and hope that there’d be a letter from him. I needed to know he was okay. I needed to be there with him. I needed to know why he tried to come to see me, after I told him how impossible it is. All my thoughts now had become worries. Very few voices in my head had anything good to say.
And then there was Mom. One letter so far. Just one. I needed something more. I needed to hear from them, hear all about their days. School, housework, TV shows. I’d give anything for a boring letter about all the stuff I once hated. I’d give anything for someone to make me do the dishes or vacuum a floor. I’d give anything to sit on that rope swing and make up stories with Alex, or see George’s smile again. I’d even give anything to sit in English class with dreary old Mr. Wilson and listen to him talk about Shakespeare.
As Max and I fell asleep on the floor, hungry and cold, I found comfort in replaying the last biology class lecture I could remember, knowing that, out there, somewhere, the world went on the way it always had—that Alex was okay and that teachers still bored kids to sleep. I probably got all the information from that lecture wrong, but it was just mundane enough to help me sleep here in a world that didn’t allow me a moment of peace.
Part Three: Chapter Eight
Liberty and Justice for Some
“Is she alive?” A voice entered my head and a pin of sunlight blinded me as a cold thumb lifted my eyelid.
As my sleepy eyes focused, the blur rasterized into a thin face. I looked past Katy’s warm smile to Theo’s.
“My father has left for a few weeks,” he said, bending to take my arm and make me stand. “We’ve brought you some food.”
Theo lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed. The warmth felt almost aching at first, as my cold limbs adjusted to the softness from the hard floor I’d been on all night. Katy brought a tray over and laid it on my legs once Theo pulled the blankets up. I tried to thank them both, but my voice wouldn’t work, and my lips were so dry they cracked when I smiled.
Theo leaned over me and his eyes softened, his closed mouth pulling out into a kind smile. “I have to go, but Katy will stay with you today.”
I nodded, which he knew was my silent thanks.
He kissed Katy’s head as he left, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.
Katy sat in the chair across the room and pulled Max into her lap, inspecting him the way I had after the goon hurt him. Satisfied, she let him snuggle up under her chin and sat looking out the window while I ate every last skerrick of my breakfast.
After that she cleared my tray and left, promising to be back in half an hour. I barely even noticed she was gone. The light reaching me from my windows did nothing to make me feel awake today. There was no excitement for the day ahead, nothing to look forward to. No reason to get out of bed ever again.
The door swung open on that thought and Katy shut it quickly with her butt, walking over and tossing an armful of dirty brown garments on my bed.
“What’s this?” I said.
“Your disguise.” She put her hands on her hips, considering the pile as if maybe she forgot something. “I didn’t bring shoes, but no one will see your feet.”
“See my feet? Where are we going?”
“To see Anne Cooper.”
I pushed my covers back, sitting up a bit. “She’s still alive? I thought she was dying.”
“She’s still alive.” She smiled. “And her baby is with her.”
My smile mirrored hers. I climbed out of bed then and dressed myself up like a slave, for once feeling comfortable in these old-fashioned clothes. I even took off the ugly iron ring that bound me to Luther—in case anyone noticed it—and it felt so good to be free of it that I almost jumped out the window, convinced I could fly.
On the way out the door I locked Max safely in the bathroom so he wouldn’t chew up my room, hoping also that he wouldn’t bark and alert anyone of my absence.
The whole time I walked behind Katy, ducking into corners and shadowy spots in the corridors when anyone passed, all I could think about was George. I wondered if his spirit came to see me after he died. I wished I could’ve felt his presence so I could say goodbye.
Among the sadness and weakness from not eating for a few days, though, I felt angry. So, so angry. Luther had no right to imprison me here so that I never got to say goodbye—never got to hold onto Alex and stop him floating away in the thin air of grief. And all that anger left me empty, fueling my quick steps at first as we moved through the mansion and then up the stairs in the east wing; but by the time we stopped outside a pair of doors just like mine the emptiness had taken over, maybe even becoming apathy.
“Here it is. Be quiet.” Katy put her finger to her lips. “The baby might be sleeping.”
We pushed the door open and stepped inside. As my eyes took in the room—an exact copy of mine—I realized we were standing in the east tower and that I’d been right all along about Luther keeping his wives locked up like Rapunzel.
A pair of frightened blue eyes popped open and a frail woman in the bed snatched up the infant sleeping beside her. It screamed at the sudden shift, the cries muffled as Anne cradled her tightly to her chest.
“No. Not yet. Please not yet.”
“Shhh.” I put my finger to my lips and shut the door. “What are you talking about?”
“Please don’t take her yet. He promised me one week and it hasn’t been a week yet.” She sobbed, rocking back and forth, her cheek against her child’s head.
“I’m not here to take your baby.” I stepped closer. “My name is Red; I’m the new wife.”
She looked up with wide, brimming eyes, taking in my clothes with a bit of confusion. “What are you doing here? Have you come to see your future?”
“No. I…” I lifted my skirt and bent my knee to climb up on the bed, kneeling beside her. “They told us you’re dying. I came to be with you. In case you were afraid.”
She looked at me for a moment and then laughed once to herself, the sound turning quickly into a cry.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset, I just…” She looked at Katy then back at me. “No one has ever been so kind to me—not since I came here.”
“How old were you when you married Luther?”
“Fifteen.” She wiped her cheek, and even though I calculated her to be about thirty-five now, she still looked fifteen. She was small and her skin was flawless. She’d suffered a lot, though. It made her eyes old, and I wished I could reverse time and be here with her. But I couldn’t, so I chose to cheer her up instead.
“Can I see your baby?”
She pulled her possessively closer.
I leaned back a little, taking that as a no. But from what I could see, she looked like a perfectly healthy, even chubby little thing. “How big was she? What did she weigh when she was born?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly, moving the blanket down to look at the little round face. “They don’t weigh girls.”
“Why not?” I laughed.
“Because they never let them live long.”
“Pardon?” I leaned my ear closer, not sure I heard her right.
“You don’t know?” She looked between me and Katy. “You haven’t been told?”
“Told what?”
“Luther’s first wife died giving birth to a girl. The supposed immortal witch,” she added spitefully. “So he blamed the baby for it—said she was cursed. He killed the child, and he takes the life of every daughter he’s had since that day.”
Katy sat down heavily on the chair in the middle of the room, and I just felt cold and kind of shaky.
“That’s why I yelled when you came in. They’re coming for her,” she sobbed, trying hard to compose herself. “They promised me only one week with her, which is more than I’ve ever been given before.”
“Before?”
She nodded, sniffling up her tears.
“But she’s perfect.” My eyes darted over the bundle, trying to find a reason why they’d kill a perfectly healthy baby.
Anne buried her face in the blankets, crying tears so hard I wanted to catch each one in a jar and make a magic potion that would kill Luther.
“It doesn’t matter.” Her chest shuddered and jerked as she forced herself to stop crying. “I’ll be with her soon enough.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked delicately. “Why are you dying?”
“I’m not dying,” she said, insulted. “I’ve outlived my usefulness. I’m to be killed just after my daughter.”
“What? Why?”
“According to Luther, I’m too old to bear children and, as it stands, most of my children were girls anyway.” Her mouth pulled down sadly and her voice cut out. “Why would he want to keep me?”
My mouth was stuck open. I couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing.
“I’m going home to them,” she said, nodding to herself, “every beautiful little girl that he took from me.”
If I was mad before about losing George and not being there for Alex, I was a hundred times madder now. “It doesn’t have to be this way! Who does this? Who makes decisions about people’s lives like this and gets away with it?”
“Luther,” she said simply.
“But the Elders, surely they—”
“They think he’s a god. They think he’ll rain fire upon them if they don’t do as he says.”
I rolled my eyes, folding my arms. “Is he a god? Is it true he can’t be killed?”
Katy got up and reached under, feeling around blindly until her expression changed. She pulled out a leather-bound book.
“It belonged to one of the wives from 1811. She hid it in a panel in here and made the next reader promise to add entries to it.”
Katy passed it to me and I flipped it open, stuck on the cursive handwriting. It looked like another language.
“What does it tell you?” I asked, embarrassed that I couldn’t read it.
“Luther isn’t a god,” Anne said. “He’s a liar. His wife was a witch.”
“A witch? Like… a real one?”
“Yes. Their love was apparently so strong that they couldn’t bear to be torn apart by death, so she created a spell that made them both immortal. Each full moon they would shed their human form and walk the earth as wolves, and when the moon passed they would reenter their human form, but it would be unchanged, renewed in the state it was when the spell was first cast.”
“Wow.” I ran my fingers gingerly over the page.
“They heal from near-death,” she added, “and they do not suffer disease. They thought it would be forever. Until she died in childbirth.”
My eyes scanned the pages as I listened, stopping on a paragraph that wasn’t too hard to read. “It says here that he declared his daughter was a demon. That all daughters born to him would be evil.”
“Yes,” Anne said, as though she’d read that single line a thousand times. “He believes it’s the price to pay for immortal life.”
I looked at the little girl in Anne’s arms. “So he sees her as a curse?”
She nodded, kissing her daughter.
I thought about Freya—the second wife that he’d loved. She also died in childbirth, maybe delivering a girl and probably further cementing his already insane notion that his children were cursed. And in those times, with little knowledge about anything, he might truly have believed it.
I snapped the book shut. “We have two choices.”
Red: The Untold Story Page 19
