I shook my head and glanced toward the forest one more time.
“It looked like long red hair—like human hair,” I said, looking at the edge of the forest one more time.
“Probably a squirrel jumping around.”
Kate’s hand was becoming so hot and heavy on my shoulder it felt like it was burning through my sweater. I lowered my eyes to look at her hand. How was it scorching hot in this icy-cold wind?
I glanced up, and our eyes met. She abruptly moved her hand away from my shoulder. “Let’s just go in.” She grimaced, turning away from me.
I watched Kate’s auburn hair waving in the wind as she approached the light of the open front door.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself.
Just do this, Evelyn, stop being such a coward.
My hair stuck to my clammy neck. I quickly pulled a little black hairband out of my jeans pocket and hurriedly tied it back.
“You coming?” Kate asked, throwing a glance at me. She was losing her patience.
Unable to shake the unnerving feeling that something was watching my back as I walked, I concentrated on the light coming from inside the house and sped up.
“I already carried your suitcase up to your room,” Kate said as I stepped into the house and tried to blink the bright light away. She moved to the side of the door frame and waited for me to pass so that she could shut the wooden door, which was ornately carved. I turned on my heel to examine it.
“Wow,” I muttered. My dad, who was a museum curator, would have absolutely loved this. I could hear his voice echo in my mind:
“It seems to be depicting the fall of the rebel angels with Lucifer waiting for them at the bottom with the rest of the angels-turned-demons.” The memory of my dad burned in my throat. If just one of them could have survived, just one, this would have all been different. The guilt of my willingness to sacrifice two of my family members to just have one immediately seared into my chest.
“It’s over three hundred years old, and I can’t bring myself to get rid of it,” Kate said, once again not picking up on my distress. She seemed so distant from my grief, but like me, she had lost both her parents and her sister. I glanced at my aunt. My biological mother, Lucile, had died when I was seven. The memory of my mother had always been like a distant dream, without the photos dad had kept for me, I doubted that I would remember her at all. When she died, Dad said she went to heaven. It took him another five years to tell me that she had killed herself, jumped off a bridge and left us. I was thinking about Lucile now more than ever before. Why couldn’t she have loved me enough to stay alive?
“I suspect you’re not used to living in such an old house?” Kate said, now cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes at me. She seemed to finally realize that I was struggling.
I forced myself to follow Kate, noticing the single ornate dark wooden pillar that was decoratively embraced by a red velvet gossip chair. My eyes followed the pillar all the way to its crown where it met with the overelaborate wooden ceiling. Forest-green wallpaper with hints of gold lined the walls.
It’s all so dark.
The grandmother clock at the end of the room ticked peacefully, the sound echoing through the silence of the house.
I took another few steps into the middle of the entrance hall. The house had an odd smell, a mix of dust and old perfume.
“You’ve lived here your whole life?”
“My entire life,” Kate confirmed.
I tried my best to keep my expression level and hide my pity for her. I had always had a problem when it came to emotion; it translated onto my face no matter what. People always knew what I was thinking and feeling.
“How many rooms do you have?” I asked, forcing myself to talk as I turned away from her and fixated on a highly polished spiral cherrywood staircase.
“There are seven bedrooms, a music room, drawing room, dining room, breakfast room, library, kitchen, study, and three bathrooms,” she explained as she walked past me. “Also, there is a hallway of servants’ quarters, which my parents closed off years ago.” She pointed to a red curtain hanging on the wall to our right. “The door to the hallway is behind that curtain, but it hasn’t been opened for years, and I’d like it to stay that way.”
“Okay,” I said, shaking my head slightly and glancing at the random red velvet curtain, which clearly covered an archway and a door. The curtains looked old and full of dust.
Why would I go in there?
“It’s almost midnight, let’s do the house tour tomorrow morning,” Kate suggested.
I nodded, looking around at the paintings and sepia photos on the wall. The people in the paintings seemed as surly and depressed as I felt, and the people in the photos seemed haunted and frightened. Probably because they also had to live in this house.
“Let me show you to your room,” she said, smiling. Kate’s auburn hair and green eyes gleamed in the bright light. She was beautiful and strangely looked nothing like a thirty-seven-year-old—maybe twenty-five at a push. Her red lipstick brought out the porcelain of her flawless skin; her high cheekbones and perfectly shaped jawline made her look like an actress out of 1940s Hollywood.
“I’ll take you upstairs to your room. Everything is ready for you—it’s your mom’s old room,” she said, moving toward the staircase just to my left.
“Oh,” I breathed, having forgotten that my mother would have had a room in this house.
After Mom died in London, Dad and I moved back to North Carolina where he met Grace. Justin, Grace’s only son from another marrige, was a year older than I was, and it took us at least a year to get used to each other, but after that, we were inseparable. Justin was always popular, and the girls in my grade were so obsessed with him. I pretty much got a free ticket to popularity because of him. If it wasn’t for Justin, I would have probably been the weird girl who loved art and reading—pretty enough, but weird.
“It has an en suite bathroom, which I thought you might like for some extra privacy,” Kate explained, cutting through my thoughts as she climbed the spiral wooden staircase.
I was about to follow her when I heard a creaking noise behind me. I spun around, and my eyes met with the red velvet curtain, which swayed from side to side. I leaned forward to check if the front door was open, creating a breeze, but it was tightly shut.
“Evelyn?” Kate called. “Are you coming?” She stood at the top of the staircase.
“Um, yeah,” I called back. “Sorry, I just thought I heard something,” I mumbled to myself. Not taking my eyes off the curtains, I pulled my hair out of its tight bun and felt the relief on my scalp as my long hair fell down my back.
“It’s on the second floor,” I heard Kate’s voice as she moved farther away.
I turned from the curtained door and started walking up the stairway as quickly as I could. The faster I got into the safety of my room the better. The walls were entirely packed with more sepia photos, mostly of families sitting for their portraits. But only a painting caught my attention: a young boy with jet-black hair and icy-blue eyes stood in the middle of what appeared to be a large old library. A woman wearing a wine-red dress with a high collar and puffed sleeves stood next to him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she whispered something into his ear. Her long white-blond hair fell over her face. I moved closer to the boy and touched his face.
Why do I feel like I know you?
The artist had signed his name with the date 1536. I stared into the boy’s blue eyes. He seemed to be afraid of something and completely frozen as the woman whispered something into his ear. He didn’t look like anyone I had ever met, but somehow, the feeling that I knew him tugged at my mind.
“Evelyn?” Kate’s voice echoed from somewhere in the house.
I frowned, unable to shake the feeling of familiarity and carried on toward the light on the second floor. The ho
use was bigger than any home I had ever seen, and I had barely seen any of it. How was I going to find my way around this place?
“Kate?” I called, not knowing which way to turn as I reached the landing.
“In here.” Her voice came from the left, so I turned that way. I passed a cream French chaise lounge, which was pushed against the wall. Even though the thick red carpet, which was worn and frayed at the edges, covered the wooden floor, it still creaked as I walked to the room at the end of the hallway, the only one that was emitting light.
“Oh,” I inhaled as I walked through the door. My heart dropped into my stomach.
The first thing I noticed was the dressing table, which must have been three hundred years old. It was baroquely carved old rosewood and matched the massive canopy bed, which was draped in black Spanish lace. The same blood-red carpet covered the entire floor. The only view of the outside world were two glass doors that seemed to lead out to a balcony. The darkness of the room immediately made me feel trapped, the dark red, black and gold was completely overwhelming and I felt my breath begin to shallow and quicken.
Kate moved over to the heavy red curtains and pulled them together. “The heating will kick in any moment,” she said as I folded my arms across my chest. The room was freezing. Why hadn’t Kate turned the heating on before she picked me up from the airport?
“Okay.” I nodded. I noticed the door of the en suite bathroom.
“Just a few things before you go to bed,” Kate said, walking to the en suite. “The pipes in the house are really old. They make a loud noise whenever the hot water is turned on, so don’t have a heart attack when you hear it.” She grinned. “There is a maid who comes in every second day, so don’t worry about cleaning anything around the house. I work at the hospital in the village twenty miles away, and the hours are long and a bit odd, so I’m afraid I’m not here very often.”
“You’re a doctor?” I assumed, unable to imagine Kate having the empathy needed to talk to people about their injuries and illnesses.
“I am, a general surgeon.” She smiled.
Well, at least when I eventually have the impending heart attack from all the horror around me, I’ll be in good hands.
“And I have a bit of bad news.” She hesitated.
“Okay?” I ventured, looking around the room for something more horrible than the bed.
“We don’t have TV or Wi-Fi, and, well, any form of internet at all,” she said, turning to look at me.
“What?” I said, looking back at her, feeling my shoulders go rigid. I could survive without TV easily enough, but the internet?
“Greyhaven has horrible reception; unfortunately, we’re in a bit of a black hole when it comes to technology,” she replied, shrugging.
“But I had some reception earlier,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “Before it died.” I pulled out my phone and saw the Emergencies Only notification.
“I’m afraid you were lucky. It’s really bad, but you do have a landline in your room that you can use at any time,” she said, pointing to the old turn-dial phone on the nightstand.
A surge of panic bolted through my veins. Being able to text Serena and check Instagram and Snapchat were the few things that would have kept me connected to my old life. I was completely and utterly isolated now.
“Isn’t there anything we can do? Anywhere in town where there’s Wi-Fi? The school?” I spoke quickly, the panic laced in my tone.
“Just see it as a good opportunity to get away from all the anxiety of modern life.” Kate grinned. I didn’t even know what to say. How could Kate expect me to live like this? I couldn’t even check my emails. I glanced around the room again. I can’t do this. Please, I can’t survive this, not after everything.
“Well, I’ll let you get some sleep,” Kate said, smiling and walking up to me when I didn’t respond. She placed her hand on my shoulder. “I know this isn’t what you were expecting to happen to you, but I’m sure your mother would have wanted you to be here. She loved this town and the people here, and we are all here for you now.” There was a flash of duplicity in her eyes; I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she seemed unsure about what she had just said.
“Why did my mom leave then, if she was so happy here?” I blurted out before thinking.
Kate’s smile froze. “We both did—to study in London. She met your dad and stayed, and I came back here,” she replied simply.
Kate’s hand was almost burning my shoulder, the heat of her skin taking my mind off everything else. I shifted my shoulder slightly to try to signal to her to let go.
“You look so much like her,” Kate whispered almost sorrowfully, not noticing my discomfort. A moment of strained silence passed before Kate half-smiled again. “I’ll try to be here most of the morning tomorrow to help you get settled in.” She finally took her burning hand off me. I felt the comfort of the cool room on my shoulder almost immediately.
“Goodnight,” she said swiftly, walking to the door and clutching the doorknob to close it.
I forced a smile. “Night,” I replied through clenched teeth as she left the room.
Chapter Three
I couldn’t recall the last time I had felt such fear.
Their voices were becoming louder, the thumping of their feet coming from the direction of the hill; they were coming too fast. I counted thirteen heartbeats, every one of them filled with hatred and malice that they would act upon as soon as they found me here. I knew it was useless, but I looked over my shoulder anyway, tendrils of anxiety piercing my heart, forcing my chest to heave in desperation for air. The fog was a blessing and a curse. It gave them the same advantage as it did me.
The full moon’s light shimmered through the fog and illuminated the rooftops of the houses and the stark dead treetops that surrounded them. I could hear the Dark Soldiers arrive on the main road, one that would lead them directly here. They would expect me to cross the bridge, and if I did, they would find me in the open fields that lay beyond the town borders. “Spread out,” I heard John’s voice shout, his tone laced with hatred and desperation. “Find her and bring her to me.”
The heartbeats separated now; three were coming this way. My hands shook as I threw one last glance at the bridge. Only one option was left—I would have to go to him. I turned away from the bridge and ran toward his house, trying desperately to control my heartbeat and heavy breathing. If I didn’t find a way to calm down, they would find me, and it would be over.
My feet left the cobblestone road, and I felt the welcome soft, wet grass as I swiftly ran across the field. I was no match for Dark Soldiers, and my white dress would give me away, even in the darkness.
“John, stop,” Viktor’s voice called in the distance. He had evidently caught up with the man hunting me down. Even from a mile away, I heard them as clearly as I had earlier in the house when they had first begun arguing.
“This has to stop, Viktor. How many more people have to die before you are driven to act?” John spat urgently. “She will pay for what she has done.”
“And what if it wasn’t her?” Viktor hissed as I reached the cemetery where the tombstones reflected the moonlight.
“Of course, it’s her, Viktor. Who else could it be? Astara is guilty of all the murders, every single one. I know you love her, but you cannot let it go on like this.”
Every muscle in my body constricted as I held my breath, and I shook fiercely. They thought it was me, they thought I was the one who had killed the girls in Greyhaven. My heart beat furiously, and I knew there was nothing I could do to calm it. I would have to reach Lorenzo. It was my only hope.
I could make out the decrepit little wooden shack from where I stood. The sight of it gave me renewed hope; there was a chance my father could stop them, and as small as it was, I would have to take it. The wind hit my body with the force of a house falling on my chest as I ran
to the shack. I came to a fevered stop in front of the dilapidated door and glanced over my shoulder. Three hearts at the bridge, four hearts in the center of the village, two slamming through Mirena’s door to try to find me there, and three heading this way.
“Lorenzo,” I screamed in a hollow, hoarse voice. I caught my reflection in one of the window panes, my icy-blue eyes wide with fear, my long silver hair beating around my neck and face in a wind I could barely feel anymore, my top-heavy lip quivering. I had never seen myself look so wretched.
He bolted out of the little house almost immediately, comprehension dawning on his face as soon as he heard the men running toward us. His clothes worn and tattered, his face filthy, and his old brown boots torn, Lorenzo no longer looked like the man people once feared.
“They know,” he whispered, fear burning in his eyes.
I nodded quickly. I couldn’t speak; my mouth might as well have been full of dry sand. I could hear Lorenzo’s own heart accelerate in panic, which only made it worse; I had never seen him taken by fear before.
“Go to the old cottage, get into the cellar, and stay there. You’ll never get beyond the town borders in time,” Lorenzo whispered, limping toward me. “Stay and hide, I’ll fight them off for as long as I can.” He spoke quickly and quietly, most likely hoping that they had not heard me crying out his name—an impossible hope.
“I—” I stumbled, too terrified to move.
“Go, Astara,” Lorenzo hissed, grabbing my shoulder, pulling me forward and launching me toward the woods.
I stumbled but regained my footing and ran toward the edge of the dark-green pine forest. The trees seemed to be made of black charcoal as the dawn bathed the forest in eerie blue light, mist surrounding everything, dragging the horror closer as I ran through the darkness past the trees, over the exposed roots and needle-soft ground.
As I drew closer to the clearing, every hair on my body stood on edge thinking about what John would do when he finally got hold of me after all these years of trying.
I reached the clearing where my beloved cottage stood, alone and derelict. Two stories high, covered in ivy and surrounded by cherry trees, this had once been my home; it would now be my last hope of sanctuary. All thirteen hearts pounded this way now, and a sharp pain stabbed my heart. They had gotten past Lorenzo so quickly; there was nothing left to stop them now.
The Eternal Page 2
