The Eternal

by Bianca Hunter

  Nothing. It was as if the previous day was just words in my mind instead of colorful memories.

  It took me longer than I thought to lift my leg high enough to climb into the half-filled tub. On contact with the water, every inch of my skin felt like it was being branded with a hot iron. When the trembling stopped, and the pain receded, I forced myself to sit up and lean forward far enough to open the hot water. When the steam was thick in the crimson bathroom, I turned it off, allowing my entire body to sink.

  I lost track of time as I watched the snowstorm outside the window, relieved that I was here and not out there anymore.

  The water is getting cold. You have to force your body to move. Just another five minutes.

  No. Now.

  I groaned.

  “Come on, get up, you have to pack to go home,” I whispered to myself, suddenly remembering that I was flying back home with Kate today. A bolt of energy shot through my limbs. I’m going home.

  Once back in the room, I found a thick white sweater and a pair of frayed black jeans and got dressed as quickly as I could, ignoring my wounded arms and feet.

  Should I pack now? Go find Kate and ask. Do I tell her about waking up on the grave? No, no point, you’re already leaving.

  I glanced at my bedroom from the passageway and felt the sheer delight of knowing I wouldn’t be spending one more night with those Spanish lace curtains move through me like an anesthetic.

  “Kate?” I called, vaulting down the hallway.

  Why didn’t she hear me come home?

  I stopped in my tracks when I noticed Kate’s study door was ajar. Was she in there? I moved forward and pushed the door open with a creak without walking in.

  “Kate?” I called, wondering if she had been here all along. Why hadn’t she come to help me?

  I waited for a few seconds before pushing the door open completely. I walked in. My chest heaved violently, and a harrowing scream worked its way up my throat. Kate’s body was slumped back in her chair. Her withered heart lay on the table in front of her, and the hole in her chest made my stomach clench as I began to scream again. I couldn’t remember falling to my knees, but suddenly I was on the ground, digging my nails into the Persian rug.

  She’s dead. Someone killed her.

  My cry died down, and the hot tears worked their way down my cheeks.

  “Kate,” I stammered.

  Quiet, the killer may still be here.

  I tried to steady my rapid breathing and pushed myself up, moving as quietly as I could. I grabbed the black cordless phone sitting on the desk. No dial tone. I looked for Kate’s mobile phone. Everything was tidy, so it didn’t take me long to find her iPhone under a notebook.

  I avoided looking at her body as I turned away from the desk.

  Lock yourself in here.

  My feet padded silently on the floor as I sprinted to lock the door. My chest finally unwound, and I took a deep breath of air. I tried to unlock the phone, but Kate had a password. I didn’t even know her birthdate so guessing it would have been impossible. I was about to give up and try the landline again when the phone rang.

  Viktor. His name looked familiar.

  I quickly slid the answer button and lifted the phone to my ear.

  “Kate, why haven’t you contacted me?” what I assumed to be Viktor’s voice said. It was deep and steady.

  “It’s not Kate,” I replied, my voice shaking. “It’s Evelyn. Kate’s dead.” I took a deep, shaky breath.

  Did I just say Kate is dead?

  I looked at my aunt’s body again. Kate was dead. This was happening.

  “Evelyn, where exactly are you?” he replied, immediately sounding concerned and not questioning the fact that I had just told him Kate had died.

  “I’ve locked myself in her study, it’s where—it’s where she is,” I responded, throwing a glance at my aunt’s body.

  “Okay, stay there, and don’t open the door for anyone. If anyone tries to get into the study, call this number immediately,” Viktor said.

  “I can’t. I don’t have the password for the phone,” I replied, my stomach clenching. If the person who had overpowered Kate was still here, I didn’t stand a chance. Who had enough strength to rip out someone’s heart?

  “Evelyn, just hang on, if someone tries to get in, try to engage in conversation for as long as you possibly can. You won’t be able to outrun them,” Viktor explained.

  How did he know that?

  “Is someone coming to help me?” I whispered, now deathly afraid that there really was still someone there.

  “I’m coming to help you,” he said, his voice so steady and confident that my shoulders relaxed. “Now, turn the phone to silent and sit next to the study door. If you hear footsteps, move to the opposite end of the room and be as quiet as you possibly can.”

  “Please hurry,” I whispered, slowly lowering myself to the ground, trying to avoid looking at Kate’s body on the other side of the room.

  “I will be there in precisely three minutes,” he said before putting down the phone.

  I did what I was told and sat down quietly next to the wooden door. I stared out of the window, my stomach lurching as I watched the snowstorm worsen. How was Viktor going to get to me in this? I listened through the door for footsteps, barely allowing myself full breaths. Surely if there were still someone in the house, they would have attacked me earlier when I was completely unaware of the situation? I had been in the bath long enough, alone and vulnerable, they could have slit my neck easily.

  Or torn out your heart.

  I threw a quick glance at Kate and tried to swallow down a sob. Why would anyone kill her?

  “Evelyn?” I heard a voice call from downstairs. “It’s Viktor and John. We’re coming up.” I recognized his voice from the phone and jumped up to unlock and open the door.

  Viktor was already standing in front of it waiting. He looked like an older version of Blake, with jet-black and speckled gray hair and crystal-blue eyes.

  You’re the one in the painting from the passageway. The man standing in front of the old town hall.

  Was he?

  “The house is clear. There is no one else here, Evelyn, you’re safe now,” he said, his voice so deep and calming I immediately believed him.

  I stood in the doorway and glanced back at Kate. “She’s in here,” I said, my voice still shaking.

  Viktor immediately walked to Kate’s side. John, who had been lingering in the shadows, stepped forward, and I instantly recognized him.

  “It’s you,” I said as he moved through the doorway.

  “You recognize me, Evelyn?” he asked, his voice unsettling, and the scar on his face jerking with his surprised expression.

  He was the man from the dream on my first night here, the one who dragged Astara out into the meadow, and Viktor was the one who ripped her heart from her chest. I swallowed and shook my head, folding my arms across my chest. I had never met either of these men. How had I been dreaming about them for the past few days?

  “Wrong person,” I said immediately. “I thought I had seen you before.”

  “I think, Evelyn, that the best thing for everyone would be if you came and stayed at Greyson Manor, at least until we figure out what is going on,” Viktor said. “You will be much safer there than anywhere else right now.” John gave a sharp nod of approval. Greyson Manor must have been Viktor’s home. Why did the name Greyson sound so familiar?

  I took a deep breath. “That’s really kind of you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay in Greyhaven at all,” I said, glancing at Kate’s body. “The only reason I’m here is because of Kate, but I have school back home. I can be with my friends. Kate was planning to go back with me today. There’s really nothing here for me.”

  “I see,” Viktor replied simply. “In that case, co
me to the manor, and we will sort out your travel back home. I knew your entire family well, it’s the least I can do.”

  “I’d rather stay with Gwenn or Bastian, if that’s possible?” I said hopefully.

  My inner voice screamed at me not to go to the manor. I didn’t know why. I had never even heard of it until now, but it felt so wrong that I would have rather stayed at Kate’s house if it came down to it.

  Viktor seemed to be trying to figure out what I was thinking as his eyes met with mine.

  Do not show your fear.

  “John, could you call Rebecca and inform her of what’s happened. Ask if Evelyn can stay the night and tell her that she’ll be going back home tomorrow?” Viktor said, looking at John now.

  He nodded and walked into the hallway.

  “Evelyn, go pack enough things as quickly as you can now, only the essentials for the evening. You can always return here to collect the rest of your things—this is your house now after all,” Viktor said looking into my eyes.

  It’s going to be up for sale tomorrow in that case.

  I nodded and walked out of the study, not looking back at Kate. I felt guilty for not feeling more upset by her death. Seeing her like that had been harrowing, but after the death of my parents and Justin, it just didn’t compare.

  I walked into my cold room and quickly started packing everything I could find, not thinking anything through. I quickly laced on a pair of black boots and grimaced. The wounds on my arms needed to be disinfected as desperately as the ones on my feet. At this point, I would probably die of infection before anyone was actually able to murder me.

  Wait, where is my handbag?

  I darted my eyes around the room. Had I left it at school? I had no memory of it at all.

  My passport. It has my passport in it.

  My throat constricted. I had to find it.

  “Evelyn, is everything okay?” Viktor asked as I bolted down the stairs to check the entrance hall and the kitchen, the only two places it could possibly have been.

  “I don’t know where my handbag is, and my passport is in it,” I breathed, entering the entrance hall. I scanned the room. Nothing. Kitchen. Nothing.

  I took a deep breath and tried to steady my flickering heart. How was I going to get back home?

  Did the person who killed Kate take my bag? Why did everything seem like such a horrible mess? Why did it feel like part of my life was missing? I felt sick as I lifted the palm of my hand to my forehead.

  “Any luck?” Viktor asked, walking into the kitchen.

  “No, it’s gone.” I slumped.

  “We can organize an emergency passport with the US Embassy easily enough,” he replied, looking directly at me.

  “Actually, it’s a British one I’ll be needing, and I’ll have to somehow get my residency documents from back home.”

  This could not have happened at a worse time.

  “Well, with the snowstorm the way it is now, your only window to leave Greyhaven in the next week would have been today or at best tomorrow.”

  I could have sat down on the floor and cried. Why could I not leave this damned town?

  “It will be all right, Evelyn. We’ll have you back home in the next week,” Viktor said gently, probably sensing that I was about to start weeping uncontrollably.

  “I’ll go finish packing my things.” I nodded and left Viktor standing in the kitchen.

  The entire time I was alone in my room, and even with Viktor downstairs, I felt exposed somehow. I kept glancing back at the closed bathroom door, too afraid to check in case someone was hiding behind it. I tried my best to keep my breathing shallow and quiet so I could hear any strange sounds in the house. As soon as I had filled my bag with enough things that looked useful, I zipped it slowly and walked back to the entrance hall, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching my back. As I began to climb down the stairs, I threw a glance at the painting facing me and stopped in my tracks as my eyes met with the boy’s crystal blue eyes. An image of a guy about my age with jet-black hair and icy-blue eyes flashed in my mind, and my forehead creased.

  What the hell was that?

  “Evelyn?”

  I looked down at Viktor, who was standing near the gossip chair.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I shook my head. “I feel like I’m remembering something.”

  “Remembering what?” he asked, climbing the stairs and not taking his eyes off of me. I took an automatic step back. Suddenly, Viktor’s expression had changed from one of kindness to one of dark curiosity.

  “Um, nothing,” I stumbled. “Just—nothing.” He reached me and placed his hand on my right shoulder. I flinched.

  “Do not be afraid, Evelyn,” he said in a soothing voice as my tense muscles immediately relaxed. “You won’t remember any of this. You’ve never seen my face in your dreams or heard my name. This morning, you awoke to find Kate had taken her own life and left a note for you explaining that everything was just too much for her and that you, her sole heir, should return to North Carolina and forget about Greyhaven and everyone in it. You intend to do just that. As soon as this snowstorm passes, you will leave Greyhaven and forget everything that happened here.”

  I felt myself nodding. “Okay.” I couldn’t believe that Kate had killed herself. It was a good thing my grandparents weren’t around to witness their second daughter taking her own life just as the first had.

  “Let’s go,” he said, moving out of the way to allow me to lead. “Rebecca has extended an invitation for you to stay the evening.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spent most of the drive watching the snow flurries out of the front window. Viktor seemed to appreciate that I wasn’t in a talkative mood, and when we finally pulled up at a small two-story cottage, he turned to me.

  “Evelyn?” I heard Gwenn’s voice call.

  I turned to see her waiting at the front door. “Holy—you look, well, you look like crap,” she said as I made my way toward her.

  You have no idea.

  I ploughed my way through the snow toward Gwenn. The cottage was covered in snow, and with its white walls, I could barely make out where it started and where it ended.

  “Who was that?” Gwenn asked, holding out her hand to take my bag that I gave her. “Is this it?”

  “My handbag is gone,” I said, stepping into the house and immediately feeling the warmth on my skin.

  “Gone?”

  “I can’t even remember where I last saw it,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  “I can’t believe that Kate’s gone,” Gwenn said quietly as she shut the front door.

  “I feel like—” I mumbled as we walked into the entrance room. “Yeah, it’s awful.” I didn’t know what else to say. It was odd, but Kate’s death wasn’t hitting me as hard as it should. The guilt of not feeling anything was much stronger than the sorrow itself.

  “So, this is it,” Gwenn said, waving her hand around the house, breaking the thick silence. It was decorated with everything you would expect in an older woman’s house, useless trinkets everywhere. The carpets were navy blue, contrasting with baby-blue walls, and the sofas were some floral pattern also in tones of blue. One wall had a bookshelf—most of the book textbooks on geography.

  “Grams teaches geography at the school.”

  The soft scent of perfume and the aroma of home cooking hung in the air.

  “It’s nice,” I said, smiling. “Homey.” Technically, it was much homier than Kate’s—my house.

  “Gwenn,” I heard a woman’s voice call in a light American accent. “Is that Evelyn, darlin’?” She walked into the entrance room. The woman standing in front of me looked older than anyone else in the town, but to the world outside of Greyhaven, she would have been called a striking sixty-year-old.

  She was tall and didn’t h
ave a gray hair on her head. Her golden-brown hair was a shade darker than her skin.

  “Evelyn, sweet girl, I heard about Kate. It’s just a terrible thing.” Her eyes were a warm chestnut brown. She had a sharp but small nose, and her lips were full. Her face had a few wrinkles, and really, when it came down to it, she looked like an older version of Gwenn. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a black turtleneck knit sweater.

  “Um—” I mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

  “You can call me Rebecca,” she said, smiling warmly. Before I could react, she circled her arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug.

  “I heard you’ve been having yourself a tough old time lately,” she whispered into my ear. “But you’re going to be okay, honey.” She pulled away. “Viktor asked me to take care of you until he can get you back home.” She turned to Gwenn but took my hands in hers.

  Normal body temperature.

  “So, we’re going to do just that aren’t we, child?” she said, narrowing her glistening eyes toward her granddaughter.

  “A bit of Southern hospitality in the center of Greyhaven,” Gwenn confirmed, nodding.

  My shoulders relaxed, and for the first time since I arrived in Greyhaven, I felt like I could trust everyone in the room. “Thank you,” I whispered, taken aback by a stranger’s kindness.

  “Grams, I’m going to put Evelyn in Mom’s old room,” Gwenn began to say and then stopped. “Do you want to stay in my room with me?” She must have known I would be scared at night.

  “Yeah, let’s do that instead.” I nodded gratefully.

  “Well, you girls get settled in and then come back down. I’m making cornbread, fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and cherry pie for lunch,” she said, grinning. “Some good old-fashioned soul food.” She turned to me and stroked my sallow cheek. “Looks like you could use some of that, sweetheart.”

  “Let’s go,” Gwenn said, turning toward the staircase. The first floor was a mirror copy of the ground floor of the cottage. Floral patterns, knickknacks, and perfume.

  As soon as Gwenn led me into her tidy bedroom, she shut the door and blocked it with her body.