‘Sorry for not texting earlier. You were right this place is great. I will call you tomorrow but thanks and have a lovely night.
R xx’
The phone flashed back at her, no signal. Amy had warned her this could happen and yet knowing that she was so isolated hurt. What if something went wrong? Then she laughed. Wasn’t that what she wanted all along? To get away from everyone. Dropping the phone back in her pocket she looked down at her meal. With the omelet, a salad as well as a glass of sparkling water all piled onto a tray she walked back to her writing room.
That thought excited her. For as long as she was here, she had a writing room and it felt good... amazing. Already she had been more creative than she had been in months. Maybe she could manage without the anxiety medication tonight? Maybe she should leave it a few days though? Amy was coming to visit for a few days at the end of the week and maybe that would be a good time to change her medication. Nodding her head in agreement she arrived back at the room and pushed open the door.
The light was off and the laptop screen lit up the room. A fission of fear stroked down her spine and her body went rigid. Stumbling to a halt she almost dropped the tray. As it slipped in her hands goosebumps rose on her skin and a stab of adrenaline jerked her arms righting the tray.
Slowly she reached out for the light and the room was flooded with brightness. It chased away the shadows and all that could hide among them. Where had that thought come from?
Slowly she approached the laptop. Surely she had closed it earlier and left the light on? When she had entered the room she had been positive but now, now she could not be sure. After all she was tired and on medication. Wasn’t it entirely possible that she had forgotten to shut it down? Or that she had imagined doing so.
Sitting at the desk, she used the mouse, closed the document and powered the laptop off. This time she closed it and was sure she had done so. Next she put the tray on top of it and tried to tuck into the omelet, only her appetite seemed to have vanished.
4
The sense of ease and comfort had left her. Rosie was back in her nightmare of fear and worry. Anxiety hung on her like a heavy cloak weighing down her shoulders and yet it offered no warmth; she shivered against the dread that seemed to lurk in the shadows. Though she knew this was stupid. It was just a mistake, she no longer wanted to be anywhere near that room. Closing the door to her writing room, she leaned a chair beneath the handle and shuddered. It was all in her mind. It had to be.
With a cup of honey-sweetened chamomile tea and a couple of ginger biscuits, she walked across the sumptuous rug towards her bed. The rug was soft beneath her feet and yet the blood red color and swirling pattern made her feel a little sick. She could not bear to look down at it. Shaking her head, she put the cup and saucer down on a bedside table that looked like it cost more than her book advance and climbed into the big four-poster bed. It was soft and comfortable, if a little cool. The crimson drapes were romantic and yet they felt like a trap. The comforter lay on her body, warm and yet oppressively heavy.
Stop it!
There was already a glass of water on the table next to her tablet box. Maybe she should take a sleeping tablet as well as her anxiety medication.
What could happen if I don’t wake up?
Stop it!
Fighting against the gloom she took a sip of tea. It was hot and sweet, burning her mouth as it went down. Closing her eyes she decided to leave the lights on and get a good night’s sleep. Everything would look different in the morning, in the light. So she opened the Kindle app on her phone and began to read.
Sipping tea, munching on biscuits, and reading a romance she couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a night and yet her eyes constantly left the screen and searched the corners of the room. Her ears were poised for the slightest sound struggling to hear over the pounding of her heart.
Ignoring her paranoia, she read on.
The hero was a rogue and was currently mocking the heroine, yet the woman was clever and resourceful and turned his mocking right back on him. It was a lovely scene and she found herself chuckling. Beneath her voice there was the tinkle of piano keys. At first she didn’t register what she had heard and kept reading. Then her mind thought it must be her imagination and a carry through from her reading. In the book, Charlotte the sister played the piano... only Charlotte wasn’t in this scene. The sound came again, a discordant jumble of notes... not the masterful skill that Charlotte would use. Rosie jumped in the bed and dropped her Kindle.
What should I do?
There was nowhere to go. The text she had sent to Amy hadn’t been sent. It was something she had been warned about, the house was remote and there was no signal.
If someone was here, what could I do?
As panic began to descend, she clutched onto the bed sheets. It was too far to walk anywhere. Should she hide or run? Maybe she should just stay still and hope that she was safe? Then she thought of the plucky heroine and felt a little foolish. Maybe it was the tablets messing with her mind... there was nothing to fear... surely. She had to let go of blaming every noise, every shadow on Clive. He wasn’t here, couldn’t be here. Maybe it was just the wind?
Convinced that the fear was all in her mind Rosie pulled on a robe and headed for the door. The feel of the rug beneath her feet was unpleasant. In her mind it was slimy and she lengthened her stride, feeling a great sense of relief as her feet touched the hardwood floor.
As she reached for the door handle, her breath was coming fast and hard. There had been no more noise. Or had there?
Would she hear it above her panting? With a hand poised above the age darkened brass she tried to slow her breathing. Taking a few deep breaths, she pulled herself back from the brink.
The past was gone. That was what her therapist had told her... Let the past go. Do not let it control your future.
There had to be an explanation for the piano. Maybe it was an auditory hallucination or maybe it was just the wind. Not really believing either of those options, she opened the door and listened.
Somehow, just moving had lessened her panic. The rushing of blood through her ears had slowed, her breathing was back under control. Earlier she had left the lights on low and she could see well enough. For some reason she didn't want to turn them up. It would give away that she was searching!
Moving silently down the long corridor she strained her ears. Turning her head left to right, holding her breath, she searched for any sound that she was not alone.
There was nothing. No wind, no creaking floorboards, no rustling of trees. The very silence was oppressive and seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders. Though she wanted to turn and run back to the bed, she kept walking. Each step took her closer to the entrance hallway and the stairs. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that the noise had come from the second floor. The floor that was off-limits to her. Suddenly she wondered why. Was something hidden up there? Was someone hiding up there?
As that thought went through her mind, an image of Clive flashed across her vision. For a moment her legs weakened and she almost tumbled to the floor. Yet, the fear was soon replaced with anger. How long would she let him control her? How long would she live in fear? There had to be an explanation of what was happening and it could not be Clive. She had taken every precaution. There was no way he had found her, no way was he here.
Just one more step and she could see into the dimly lit hallway. It was empty. The corners shrouded in shadows played to her imagination but she knew there was no one there. Somehow, she felt it.
To her left was the staircase. It was just out of her vision and she did not want to turn. Maybe if she didn't look then she would stay safe? And yet she knew she had to look. She had come this far, was looking for answers, how foolish would it be if she went back to her room without them? One thing was for sure, she wasn't sleeping until she knew what the noise was.
Slowly she turned towards the stairs. As she did a jumble of notes rang out alm
ost simultaneously. There was nothing musical about them. In her mind she imagined someone angrily slamming their hands down on the keys.
With her heart in her throat she tried to swallow, tried to breathe and yet neither seemed possible. With knees too weak to run she wavered on the spot and waited. The silence filled the room and engulfed her. It seemed to wrap around her like a cold shroud and sucked the courage from her very bones. Yet, she could not do nothing! It was time to act or time to run. Swallowing once more she took control.
“Is anyone there?” she shouted at the stairwell.
The words echoed slightly, mocking her as they then disappeared into the dark emptiness.
The light from the hallway only lit up the first ten stairs. The rest were merely dark shapes and shadow. What could be lurking amongst them? What would be hiding, waiting…?
Slowly she approached the stairs. There was a crimson rope across them. It reminded her of the one they used at the theatre. The one to keep the crowds out. What did this one prevent from entering?
Shaking her head she took another step. Just past the rope on the wall was a light switch. If she got to that she could light up the stairwell. What would she do then? Just look… Would she have to break the rules and search upstairs? Surely that wouldn't matter. It was off-limits, surely they meant just to live, just to make things easier, unless of course there were secrets up there that they didn't want her to find!
Rosie knew she was letting her imagination run away with her and yet she could not seem to haul it back in. Images of beasts, ghouls, and monsters flashed across her mind and yet none of them were as scary as the one thing she was really frightened of... Clive.
The seconds were ticking by and there had been no more sound. Could it be something as simple as a draft?
“Is anybody there?” This time her voice was pleading and showed her fear.
As if in answer to her question a loud bang was followed by a discordant peal as if all of the piano's keys vibrated at once. The noises strummed across her chest bone and filled the house with cacophony before slowly fading away to nothing.
Rosie's breath was held, her eyes wide, her mouth open, and her throat was suddenly bone dry. Every nerve in her body wanted to move, wanted to turn and run and yet, she did not know in which direction. Should she flee from the house and race back to the road? It had taken twenty minutes in a taxi from the nearest residents. How far could she walk, how far would she get if somebody wanted to catch her? The only other place was back to her room. She could wedge chairs beneath both doors and hide out until morning. That had to be her best option and yet still her legs would not move.
All she could do was stare at the darkness that hid the stairs. Then she saw something moving. Just a shadow, just a glimmer in the darkness and it was coming closer. Though still afraid she found herself walking forward. Before she knew it, she was standing at the bottom of the stairs and the darkness was getting closer. The hair rose on her arms and prickles ran down her back. Breath held, heart pounding, she waited.
Out of the darkness sauntered a sleek black cat and Rosie let out a laugh of pure relief.
How could she have been so stupid?
All this time she had tortured herself when there was a simple explanation. Though the Duncan’s hadn't told her they had a cat. Maybe it slipped their mind. Maybe it was Matron’s and she wasn't supposed to keep it. Or maybe it was just a visitor from time to time.
Orange eyes stared up at her and it let out a mournful meow.
Reaching down, she picked it up and hugged it close. It would be good to have some company.
“Okay Kittie, let’s see if we can find you some food.”
The warm body in her arms seemed to chase away the darkness. Carrying the cat, she walked back to the kitchen where she was sure she had seen some cans of tuna. It seemed strange that she suddenly craved the company of the beast when before all she wanted was solitude.
5
The house felt peaceful and relaxing again. As she watched, the cat picked at the fish with such precision and dexterity. Making the simple canned meal look like a gourmet feast. Occasionally it would glance around at her. The orange eyes holding her in their gaze and she could not decide if there was gratitude or disdain reflected in them. Finishing the fish, the cat turned to a bowl of water she had placed next to it. It delicately lapped at the silvered liquid before sitting in front of the bowl. Then it began to clean its paws and whiskers.
As it worked, Rosie sipped at a glass of wine; she had found a bottle in the pantry. It was rich and fruity and a little stronger than she was used to. Already she was beginning to feel more relaxed, almost floaty, and she knew it was time to go back to bed.
“Well, Kitty, are you coming with me?”
The black cat stood at the sound of her voice and followed as she left the room. It made her feel good somehow. It was comforting in a way that she couldn’t explain. Once they were back in the room, Rosie closed the door but did not put a chair beneath it as she had earlier. After all, the noise had just been the cat.
She settled down beneath the covers and was pleased when the animal jumped up beside her. It stepped across her and curled up in the crook of her knees. Through the covers, she could feel its small, warm body moving as it breathed.
The room was not completely dark. Despite finding the cause of the scare she did not feel comfortable without light and so she had left a small lamp on in the corner. It was comforting, a warm light unlike the modern spots that everyone seemed to favor. Maybe it was just because she enjoyed historical romance that this light seemed so much more real.
Snuggling beneath the covers, she began to think about her plot. It was a habit she had and could make it hard to sleep. Only tonight, her mind kept thinking about the house. There had to be so much history and she wanted to find out all about it. Maybe tomorrow she would have a look around. She could explore the grounds and who knows maybe she would even sneak upstairs and see what rooms were there. She could spend some time in the library. There had to be some documented history in the books held there.
Despite her excitement and intrigue about the property, she was starting to fall asleep. Though she fought against it, it was no use and soon she was drifting in that land just between sleep and wakefulness.
Voices intruded on her slumber. Somewhere close a man and woman whispered. This was not unusual for her. Sometimes as she fell asleep she would get into the minds of her characters. She would fall into a dream where she lived in their lives. If she was lucky, she would remember it in the morning and could use it in her work. However, most of the time it was just a fleeting memory when she woke.
The whispering was stronger now and closer and there was an urgency behind it that made her want to wake. Yet, sleep gripped her tightly, holding her down in its sweaty palms.
The whispers came closer and she could almost make out the individual words. It didn't sound like English but more like Latin and in the background she could hear someone chanting. Fighting against the lethargy of exhaustion she pried her eyelids open.
Standing before her was a man and woman. Perhaps her hero and heroine? They were wearing hooded cloaks. She imagined they had just arrived at the Manor House after a long carriage journey. The light was behind them and their faces were deep in the shadows.
This is a dream, she smiled... it has to be!
They do not return the smile. Instead they looked at each other and whispered once more. The words ran together and sent a chill down her spine.
“Invocatio veni nobis.”
Though she knows this was a dream, must be a dream she could feel her fear building. A cold sweat broke out on her back. It was as if a force was holding her on the bed. Pushing her down and making it hard to breathe.
“Invocatio veni nobis,” they said again and leaned closer toward her.
It was as if they were studying her, deciding if she was worthy.
Once more they looked at each other and this time they n
odded.
Excitement and fear controlled her in equal measures. She knew she must move but she could not. She must see the dream through, it could be important.
They pushed back the hoods of their cloaks and she could see... black holes... there were black holes where there should be eyes.
A scream ripped her from sleep and she jerked in the bed kicking the cat across the covers.
Sitting up she clutched the comforter to her chest, breathing heavily and searching the room. It was empty, except for the cat who glared at her for disturbing his sleep.
Letting out a sigh, she realized that it was a dream after all. It felt so real, sweat was drying on her back and she was still shaking. As she looked around the room, a scent drifted across to her. One that curdled her stomach. It was Montblanc Legend... Clive's aftershave.
For a moment or two she let the tears come. Was this all just a symptom of her tortured psyche? Just a way for the stress to release? According to her therapist that was a good thing. Right then she wanted to ring the woman up and let her have a piece of her mind. If this was good then she would hate to see bad!
Instead, she lay back on the bed and tried to calm her breathing. It was time to relax. Reaching over she picked up her pill container and took out a sleeping tablet. It was late. Glancing at her watch she could see it was almost 2 in the morning. She was exhausted and yet too wired and afraid to sleep. Popping a pill, she swallowed it quickly, before she could change her mind.
Usually she didn't dream with the tablets. Maybe they would leave her a little tired and drugged in the morning... but that was better than another session with the creepy empty-eyed couple.
Lying back on the bed, she felt the cat jump up. This time it moved to the opposite side of the bed and circled a few times before lying down staring straight at her. Orange eyes accused her of treachery, and she almost laughed.
The Ghosts of RedRise House Page 4
