To Those Who Never Knew (A Monksblood Bible Novel Book 1)

by Isabella Anton

  “Nope, couldn’t have been. He was chatting with Claire all the way up here,” he shrugged his shoulders, unperturbed by my confusion.

  “Oh…” That’s strange. “Okay. Thanks…”

  I made my way back to the other side of the room, my hand feeling dead at my side, and found Jackie climbing into one of the higher doorways. Only half of the staircase was left so she had to jump and pull herself up the rest of the way. Is she a Ninja Warrior? It didn’t look exactly stable for my taste.

  “Jackie!” I yelled up to her.

  “What?”

  “Apparently it wasn’t Luke or Nick who asked if we were okay back on the hill.”

  “Okay?” She was on the edge of the wall, holding on to it so as not to drop the sixty feet that led to the muddy ground.

  “What do you mean okay? Who was it then?”

  “Another person visiting the castle? Who cares? I mean it was nice of them to do so but it’s not like we owe them anything.”

  She was right.

  “Hey!” I heard her booming voice come from the top of the wall and backed up a few paces to get her into view. “You should really come up here and see this!”

  Just the thought of being that high made my vision blur. The numbing sensation in my hand had now reached all the way up to my elbow, pain consuming the area. I could barely twitch my fingers let alone climb. “No thanks! That’s a bit higher than I ever plan to be.”

  “You sure? The view is amazing from up here!”

  “Jackie!” Owen yelled from the ground, hands on hips. “Get down from there before I get in trouble!”

  I couldn’t blame him. The potential liability of a student breaking their neck isn’t good for any university’s image.

  “Give me a few minutes,” she called back to him. There wasn’t much he could do and turned away before witnessing anything worse.

  I looked back up to her. “I’m gonna head out and take the other path down to the bus! Maybe go to the gift shop!” I lied. I couldn’t feel my arm now, the sensation leaving it as if it had been swept away by the ocean’s breeze.

  As I maneuver my way down, I could hear Owen mumbling something about how we were all supposed to be adults, but I didn’t stay to hear the rest.

  The thought of taking the same path back down seemed like a nightmare, convinced I would undoubtedly trip and tumble the rest of the way. Leaving the others behind, I quickly made my way out of the castle grounds and onto the dirt path they had first taken. It turned out that it was also the more scenic route, twisting down to meet up with the edge of the forest.

  Entering the green enclosure was surreal. The treetops of gigantic elms and ash created shade for the many bugs and animals that dwelled in their roots, the only sound their buzzing and scared scuttles from my presence. Walking through, I could hear the creak of branches protesting under the wind that was picking up and the wet smell of impending rain.

  Shivering, I went to zip up my jacket, denying the seasonal chill any attempts to penetrate its barriers, only for my body to sway, the ground quickly meeting with it.

  I couldn’t feel anything, my whole body incapacitated on the forest’s floor. The tingling sensation now radiated throughout every nerve ending, its intensity growing until it felt like a molten poker was being shoved repeatedly into me.

  A strong wind swept past, the forest now silent with the retreat of birds and other animals to their hideaways.

  Sweat pooled onto my forehead, my eyes unfocused with every scream I tried to trap within my body.

  Don’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’tpanic!

  My body writhed in agony as the gale shrieked around me. A second later, I was out cold.

  “Jade! Jade! Wake up!”

  A panicked voice pulled me out of my unconsciousness, its deepness almost calming as my body fought to keep me still. Was someone there? A man? My eyelids felt heavy as I struggled to open them and focus on the form in front of me.

  “Jade! Oh, thank God.” It was Jackie, worry etched into every angle of her face.

  “What happened?” The feeling in all of my limbs no longer screamed in pain, but was now a dull, lucid pulse. “How long was I out?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know! I looked everywhere for you. I even climbed back up that fucking hill!”

  “I told you I was taking the easier path.” Grabbing my hand, she helped me back onto my feet. Every muscle felt as if I had just run a 10K without any breaks, legs wobbling to keep me up.

  “Well, I wasn’t really paying attention!” There was no longer any wind, just the slight rustling of leaves. “Are you all right? I thought you were having a seizure or something, your eyes kept fluttering!”

  “No… Yes.” Mud caked the side of my face, its smell mossy and green. “I’m okay. I just…”

  What the hell happened? I looked around, my mind foggy as I tried to make sense of it all. I could have sworn I had heard someone else’s voice.

  “I’m taking you to Owen,” she said, adamant about the fact.

  “Jackie, I’m fine,” I protested.

  “Seriously? I just found you unconscious in the middle of a forest!”

  I could feel a light drizzle of rain starting and looked up, the canopy of trees protecting us from its full brunt. I absolutely hated it when people worried about me, but in this instance, I knew I wasn’t going to win. “Okay, okay. But don’t let him call my parents. They’ll probably ship me back the instant they hear.”

  “Deal.”

  When I suggested cutting across the beach Jackie’s protests were so colorful I thought the dead nobles that had once lived at the castle would rise from their graves. We opted for the more stable road and when back with the group, Owen assured us that he had seen many cases like this as a first-aider and all I needed was fluids.

  What dehydration couldn’t explain was the excruciating pain I had felt.

  VII.

  Bowen

  Bowen had to hold the phone out from his ear. Janet Morrison’s voice held in it a terrorizing anger at the thought of her daughter traveling farther than Lampeter’s town limits. He had only met her once in the past twenty years, but he could still picture her blonde hair fluffed to perfection and the blues of her eyes like a calm storm ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

  “She’s going where?”

  “Llansteffan,” he said as he made his way back to the campus’ library car park. “Owen and the other international students will be with her. She’ll be fine.”

  “No, she will not be fine.” He could hear the impatience in her voice. “When I agreed to Jade studying abroad, you assured me that you would not let her out of your sight! You need to make good on that Bowen, otherwise I’m shipping her straight back to me.”

  Anger shot through him. “You don’t have to bloody tell me, I’ve been watching her since she first landed. What makes you think I wouldn’t continue to do so?”

  He could hear her frustration over the line.

  “I appreciate that you are paying for her education at the moment, and I’ll overlook the insult of it, but never forget, she is my daughter.”

  Don’t you think I know that?

  “I’ll call you again when we’re back from the trip and brief you on what happened.” Climbing into his car he quickly hung up and without hesitation dialed another number.

  The phone rang only once.

  “Arthur,” he said.

  “Yes, sir?” His Welsh voice was spry, surprising for a seventy-five-year-old man.

  “I need you to prepare some things for a trip,” he started up his car and turned onto Bridge Street, heading home.

  Bowen had liked Arthur ever since he had first hired him in 1956, eventually coming to trust him implicitly. So much so that he now ran his manor house, Y Goedwig, a grand building that sat atop Pencarreg Hill. Ar
thur, and the staff he managed, knew everything about Bowen, they had to in order to do their jobs.

  “Will Master Finch be joining you?” His tone wasn’t sarcastic, how could it be when he had actually believed Bowen’s story, unlike others in the past.

  “Definitely not! You think my brother could control himself when he sees her? No. He mustn’t know, not yet.” The history Bowen had with his brother was… complicated, to say the least. Throwing Jade into the mix would create a whole other ordeal.

  “I’ll be at the house in five minutes.”

  He drove with a sense of urgency and made it there in three. It would have taken anyone else’s total concentration to navigate up the treacherous one-lane dirt road but Bowen had used it for centuries and knew every curve like his own face.

  He pulled into the gravel driveway, its path leading straight to the front entrance. Its double doors were a forgotten remnant of the old border crossing gates he had salvaged before the city council could use them as firewood. The manor was not as vast as it had once been, when it had held not only a smithery, but a barn and twenty acres of land. It had gone from being the epitome of Renaissance architecture, to Tudor revival, and was now planted strongly as Victorian, its beige limestone structure soft compared to its rustic Welsh countryside backdrop. The highest points of the manor were its chimney towers, smoke peppering the air with hints of oak and ash, its stone slate roofs and gabled towers holding strong against the typical harsh weather.

  The whole structure of the place had been updated with bay windows, letting as much of the rare Welsh sun stream in when possible. There were also two additions to the manor: the sunroom that was situated on the left side, housing indoor plants—that would otherwise be washed away by the constant rain—and on the opposite side, Bowen’s personal study.

  In the late eighteenth century the old barn had been converted into a garage, which was almost as big as the house, full of cars ranging from the first steam engine he had bought at an exorbitant price in 1769 to the most recent Mercedes, and an auto repair quarter.

  Bowen stepped out of his car and into his home, Arthur already waiting to take his coat and exchange it for a glass of scotch, neat.

  “Everything has been prepared, sir.” He followed Bowen to the right wing of the house and into his office, just off the library. The desk Bowen sat behind was made of dark rowen wood, its carvings depicting the old Germanic fairy tales which danced between one another making the legends meld together.

  “Good,” pulling up a screen on his computer, he pinged exactly where Jade’s phone was, then transferred the data to his mobile. It wasn’t easy getting the software to do it, but Bowen had worldly connections that owed him more than a favor or two.

  “And which car will you be taking?”

  “The Land Rover. Don’t want to stand out too much.” He finished off the rest of his glass, leaving it for Arthur to deal with.

  “Very well, I’ll have Reo bring it up.”

  Bowen kept a steady distance between him and the bus Jade was on to Llansteffan. His phone rang, Arthur’s name popping onto the screen. “Arthur.”

  “Sir.” His voice boomed out of the car’s speakers

  It was the same greeting, like always, each giving one another the respect they had earned.

  “There seems to have been an incident the other night pertaining to Lady Jade and Master Finch.” Bowen knew Arthur had waited until he was on the road to break this news to him, the former years a testament to his expensive outburst where some of the rarest and most priceless of valuables had inevitably been smashed.

  “Cachu!” Bowen swerved as he came a bit too close for comfort to a passing lorry but recovered smoothly, straightening out the car.

  Arthur waited until his string of Welsh curses was finished.

  “What happened?”

  “Apparently Master Finch was at Folk Night, as well as Lady Jade, and he started a fight with one of the locals.”

  The one night I had other things to attend to… Bowen could tell this was the abridged version. “Is the boy alright?” he asked through gritted teeth. This wasn’t the first time Finch had started a brawl and it wouldn’t be the last.

  “He practically bashed his face in. I’ve settled everything with the police. A generous donation towards his medical bills and his family’s farm means he will not be pressing charges.” This meant little to Bowen, he had enough money and investments to last him over twelve hundred life times.

  “Good.” He pulled the car into the parking lot by Llansteffan’s beach and waited until the bus parked before he did the same. Getting out of the car he switched to his phone and walked quickly toward the stairs to beat the group of students disembarking. “Make sure he doesn’t leave the house again,” he pulled the phone away, ready to disconnect.

  “Sir,” Arthur interrupted.

  Bowen brought the phone back to his ear, his voice crackling with annoyance. “What?”

  “He’s left. I believe he’s already at the castle…”

  This time Bowen disconnected the line and ran up a deserted pathway that led to the castle’s concealed tunnel, an entry long forgotten over the centuries. The old grating on it was rusted away from the constant salted sea breeze and when he entered, he found Finch waiting for him.

  “Brother…” Finch’s eyes held in them a softness Bowen hadn’t seen in years.

  “What are you doing here?” He had always had mixed feelings about his brother. Some decades he was tolerable to be around, others he wanted to kill him on sight. Thankfully, the former proved itself true at that moment.

  Finch smiled half-heartedly, the lines around his face seemingly ingrained into his features. Both men had lived for almost seven centuries, yet both would never look a day older than twenty-five. “I thought I’d come relive some old memories. Those days we used to sneak into the castle and watch the plays…”

  “No. You’re here for Jade.” Bowen had no time to console his brother, he needed to look out for her. Make sure she was safe. “Go home. You have no right to see her.”

  He was about to leave when Finch blocked his path, his face twisted in an angry snarl. “And where were you Thursday night? I had to practically rip a guy off her.”

  Bowen back-tracked, his Oxford shoes pressing deep into the damp earth.

  “As I understand from Arthur, you were the one who threw the first punch and several after that. Not much of a fair fight,” he looked into Finch’s eyes, not one ounce of remorse in them.

  “That guy had it coming. He was rough with her.”

  “You were no better,” Bowen reminded him.

  “I never touched a hair on her head,” Finch snapped.

  “Just because you did it with magic doesn’t mean it doesn’t count!” Bowen’s voice cracked, though he remembered that his own first encounter with her wasn’t exactly without bloodshed. He shook off the memory.

  Finch felt the illusive slap and both stood there at an impasse. Bowen thought of all his brother had done to Jade and waited to see what his next move would be.

  “I need to see her,” Finch’s voice reverberated off the stoned walls.

  “No.”

  “I need to apologize,” his face pleaded.

  Bowen huffed in agitation. He didn’t want his brother anywhere near her. Not when he was this unstable. “She won’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

  Finch took a couple steps back.

  “Come. I’ll take you home,” Bowen said, grabbing him by the shoulder.

  “No!” Finch’s fist snapped up, the force of it knocking his brother unconscious, Bowen dropping like a stone.

  Leaving Bowen at the entrance of the tunnel, Finch quickly made his way inside the castle’s ruins. The chamber he entered had once been the hub of the place, where meal after meal was prepared without strain, yet all that w
as left now were its skeletal remains.

  By the entrance of the castle Finch could hear Jade and her friend make their way up the hill, and from the sound of things, it wasn’t going well.

  “You okay?” he called, standing just shy of the overlook so they couldn’t see him.

  “We’re good! Just taking a short break. Don’t mind us! We’ll meet you guys up there in a bit!”

  Finch slowly backed away from the edge of the hill, knowing this was as close as he could get to her at that moment. He needed to talk to her alone.

  He made his way back down to the beach, this time using the serpentine road that led through the woods to wait for the perfect time to intercept her.

  Bowen found himself alone in the tunnel and checked his watch. Finch had a ten-minute start and that was more than enough time for him to get into trouble.

  He ran out into the overcast sky and spotted him disappearing into the forest below.

  Making his way down to his brother, a chilled drizzle of rain started up, and running as fast as he could, found Finch slouched behind a fallen tree, its roots upturned from the last storm that had rolled through. Sneaking up behind, he pinned him by the neck against the stumps rough bark, the bright green moss squishing against his hold.

  “Why did you come here?” The rage in Bowen’s voice constricted tightly in harmony with his arm as Finch struggled against it. Bowen released him, letting him suck in the much-needed air.

  “Because… I knew… she’d be here,” he said between breaths. “This was the first place I saw her. It only made sense. I wanted to see for myself what she was like before everything happened.” His brown eyes held both doubt and guilt, haunted by his past actions.

  “You have no right!” Bowen shouted. “Some things you’ll never be able to fix, Finch, and this is one of them!”

  “You don’t know that,” he whimpered, hands shaking. Bowen could see the want of his magic, how he could have once swatted Bowen away like an annoying fly.

  But now that magic was gone…

  Bowen could see he was getting nowhere. He was about to reprimand him further when the sea’s salty wind gusted towards them. Both men froze at the unnatural feeling in the atmospheric pressure.