by L M Wilson
Life in Devil's Glade returned to normal, I had school, my father had work, we rarely saw each other some days, and others we spent doing our best to keep going. My father could never replace my mother, but during those weeks after her death, we established a bond that got us both through the hard times.
Despite my pain, I continued to push myself at school, preparing for my final exams before the end of year break. Everything seemed to be moving on, until one Friday afternoon when my father came home drunk. Something he hadn't done in a few years. “Stupid Dan kicked me out all because I told that old codger Bruce that he’s full of shit. There is no beast of Devil’s Glade. I told them all that I’d show them. I’m going to go into that damn forest, and I’ll find that beast and his buried treasure. Just you wait and see. We’ll never want for anything ever again.”
“Father don’t you think you should at least sober up before traipsing around in those woods?”
“Briar, there is no Beast, it’s nothing more than an old fairy tale meant to scare the weak. It was probably made up by those rich folks who just don’t want anyone else to find the treasure.”
There’s no talking to him when he gets like this. Time for plan B. “Okay father, what will we need on this adventure?”
“Oh no Bri, you aren’t going into those woods.” He sighs, “Especially not at night-time.”
“Why ever not father? You said yourself that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“No what I said was there is no beast. There are still wild animals and probably even bears or wolves out there.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait until the sun comes up then. Won’t we?”
“Yes, yes, wait until the sun comes….” He trails off, falling asleep in his chair. I grab the woollen blanket that mother knitted and cover my father up. Kissing his forehead before retiring to my own room to sleep.
◆◆◆
Unfortunately, my father is one of those drunks who never forget a thing. He left me a note at least.
Briar,
I am sorry but I have to at least try.
I should be back Sunday afternoon at the latest.
There is money in the cookie jar and food in the fridge.
No wild parties!
Love you always
Dad.
◆◆◆
Saturday comes and goes.
Sunday passes by in a flash.
Monday, I begin to panic.
By Tuesday I’m ready to call the police; The only thing stopping me is the fact that if I call the police then I will be sent away.
I need to find my father.
I search through his home office looking over everything he had out on his desk and going through his drawers. I finally hit pay-dirt in his bottom left hand drawer. Maps of Devil’s Glade with routes drawn on them. A list of supplies he took and a GPS locator code. I quickly put the code into the computer on my father’s desk and frown. The GPS coordinates say that my father is only a few hundred metres in the forest. The time stamp for the locator shows that he’s been in the same place for nearly three days.
Using my father’s list, I pack and prepare everything I’ll need, including my father’s hunting knife and bow and arrows. I’m not sure why he would go on a trip without them, but I certainly won’t be making the same mistakes.
◆◆◆
The walk through the forest isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I keep my phone on me, playing music through my headphones and checking the GPS tracker every few minutes. I brought my power-bank and spare charge cable just in case I run out of power and I brought the hand crank charger as well as the solar panel torch with USB charger.
The forest isn’t scary or dense like I thought it would be, it’s actually quite a pleasant hike. After about three hours I get to the location marked on my father’s GPS locator. All I see at first is what looks like a castle ruins. The closer I get the more ominous the place begins to feel.
What I thought was a castle ruins is actually a castle that’s been overrun with ivy and other vines and trees. There are actual trees growing through the walls of the castle, their tops poking out through gaps in the roof. But what has me stopping and staring in awe is the wing that’s still intact. It’s the most beautiful piece of architecture I’ve ever seen. Domed roof, with huge rock-like bricks. The glass roofing is in perfect condition, not a single pane broken or cracked.
It’s beautiful.
I climb the stairs while staring at the GPS on my phone. Curiosity worry and fear war with each other inside me. I’m scared I’m going to find my father dead or injured, I’m worried that I won’t be able to help if I do, but above all, I’m curious what is inside this wing of the castle.
I pause before opening the door at the top of the stairs, the blinking dot on my screen indicates that my father is right here. Or at least his GPS locator is. I take a step back and the locator stays in exactly the same position. Wherever it is, it’s obviously not on the stairs.
After taking a deep calming breath, I move back to the door. As though a ghost has taken charge, the door opens before my hand touches it. A shiver runs down my spine as I step over the threshold. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but a dust free, normal looking room was not it.
There’s an old-fashioned couch sitting by itself in the middle of the room facing a cold fireplace, a set of stairs leading up to another floor and a dark hallway leading to the back of the wing. I can feel eyes on me but there’s not a single person in the room.
Choosing to follow my instincts, I walk towards the dark hallway, hoping to find stairs leading down. The GPS still says that father is located right where the stairs are behind me. My first thought was that maybe he was in a room above me, but now that I see there’s nothing in that area of the wing, I know he has to be somewhere below me.
After about ten metres the hallway splits, I choose the left path and notice three doors; one to my right and two to my left. The first door on the left leads to a bathroom. The second door, the right-hand side, leads to a bedroom with one of those old style four post beds with heavy red velvet curtains.
The last door leads me down.
Too scared to call out, I slowly creep down the stairs, careful to avoid the ones that are crumbling. A small light catches my eye and I shuffle closer, hugging the wall. “Father?”
“Briar, is that you?” At the sound of his deep voice, I shuffle forward.
“Who did this?” I ask at the same time father asks, “What are you doing here?”
“You’ve been gone for days father, I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“You can’t be here, Briar, you have no idea….” Father trails off, his eyes going too wide for his face.
“You should listen to your father. He’s only trying to keep you safe.” The man speaks from the shadows as if he’s too afraid to come into the light.
“I’m not leaving without him.” Even to me my voice sounds small and frightened.
“He stole from me.” The man says harshly.
I roll my eyes to the peeling paint on the ceiling. “Theft is not a life sentence, hell it’s not even a jail sentence anymore, just a fine or community service.”
“What is community service?”
My mouth drops open. Is this guy serious? “Um it’s where you work off the cost of the item you stole. So basically, if my father stole some food, he’d probably end up working in a kitchen feeding the poor. Or if he stole jewels, he’d work his payment off with manual labour.”
“What if he stole a life?”
I cock my head in thought. “You can’t really steal another’s life. You can end it, if that’s the case then he’d need to be arrested, there’d be a trial and…” I turn to face my father, “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”
“Briar! Of course, I didn’t kill anyone. That man said that I took his life. Cursed him to this place…” Father lowers his voice to barely a whisper, “but I think he might be a little on the insane sid
e.”
“Oh, you mean he’s batshit crazy. I would never have guessed.” I whisper back with a smirk.
“You do know that I can hear very well.”
“Oops.” I turn back to face the shadowy man. “Sorry, but you are batshit crazy, you’ve locked my father away for stealing your life when you’re standing right in front of us.”
“He didn’t steal my life; he stole my life.”
“Yeah, not really seeing a difference, all you did was emphasise the word life.” I gasp as the man steps out of the shadows to look around me at my father.
He’s beautiful, long golden hair, the biggest, brightest blue eyes and he’s got these cheekbones that would make any girl swoon. “Is she always this argumentative?”
“Always.” My father smiles, then shakes his head putting a blank look back on his face. I can tell that something isn’t quite right here, but I just can’t put my finger on what.
“Just take him and go.” A set of old skeleton keys are tossed to me, I fumble but manage to catch them before they hit the ground.
“Seriously?” I shove the keys behind me to my father who wastes no time in unlocking the cell and stepping out.
“What? You want me to keep him here a while longer? Got a boyfriend that you want the extra time with?”
“Are you always this much of a dick?”
“Briar!” Father snaps at my language.
“What? He locked you up and then insulted me. You didn’t actually think I was going to just let that slide, did you?” I turn back to the dick in question. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for illegally imprisoning my father.”
“Would you just leave already?” The dick wipes his hand down his face.
“No!” I put my hands on my hips. “This is a national forest, I have just as much right to be here as anyone.”
“Oh my god, Briar, just leave it alone and let’s go.” Father grabs my wrist, attempting to tug me out of the room.
“It’s after seven at night, if we leave now, we’ll be walking through the forest at night on a new moon.” When my father and the shadow man just look at me with blank faces, I add, “We won’t be able to see where we’re going. Could fall down a cliff or get attacked by a wild animal.”
“If I let you stay, then you owe me.”
“If you hadn’t held my father hostage, we wouldn’t be stuck here right now, so you owe us.”
“If your family hadn’t cursed mine, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Dude, you’re what, eighteen, maybe nineteen. The only family who could have ‘cursed’ you would be my mother and she’d dead.”
“Briar!”
“What?” Geez you’d think I just said mother was an evil witch or something.
“He’s telling you the truth Briar. Our ancestors really did curse him.” I’m laughing before father even has a chance to finish speaking.
“There’s no such thing as magic or curses.” I laugh again.
“I am only eighteen, but your family really did curse me.”
“Yeah and I’m the next queen of the world.” I grab father’s pack off the floor and turn my back on the pair of them. “Let’s just go. This guy’s crazier than I thought.”
“Briar!”
“Would you quit saying my name like that. I’m eighteen years old, I can swear, be sarcastic and talk to assholes if I want to.”
“Technically your family cursed my father, but what they didn’t know is that the second I was born the curse was passed down to me.”
I spin on my heels, hands on hips. “Just who are you anyway?”
“Lathum Bromamere. Loki Bromamere’s son.” He says it like the name is supposed to mean something, but I’ve never heard of him or his father.
“Look dude, we’re going to stay for the night then leave first thing in the morning.” I pause. “But if you really are living here, then maybe you could show a little hospitality and get us something to eat and drink, it’s been a long day for me and by the look of things, my father is completely out of his travel snacks.” Oh my god Briar, what is wrong with you? It’s not like he did anything seriously bad. He did lock my father away for almost four days. But he did let him go. I soften my tone a little before adding, “Please it would be very much appreciated.” I pick father’s bag up again, turning towards the stairs. Lathum and father follow me up the stairs and into the dark creepy hallway. I stop in front of the room I saw earlier with the bed in it and push the door open.
Lathum storms away down the hallway back towards the main entrance. I roll my eyes at his dramatic exit.
◆◆◆
Snarky Girl: Lathum
“She’s so bloody annoying!” I grumble to myself as I grab the pan down from where it hangs on the hook above the stove. “Let my thief of a father go. Get me some food. Let me sleep in your bed….” I wouldn’t mind that last one if she would just shut up. The girl’s gorgeous. I’d love to wrap that long blonde hair around my hand while I…. “Urgh, stop thinking about her like that. She’s annoying.”
My curse leaves me with being restricted to this crappy rundown castle during the night, but I can actually leave, so long as I’m back before sunset. So, things like school and food, haven’t been a problem. The problem is that I only shop for myself. Both my mother and father died, my mother while giving birth to me and my father a few years ago when he got caught outside the castle after dark.
I haven’t exactly lived a ‘normal’ life. My father tried to turn me into a miniature version of him, complete with forcing me to kill people. I only ever killed the ones who deserved to die though. Murderers and rapists and other people who were dooming their souls already.
My father honestly looked like wild animals had mauled him. I know the real reason he died though. He died because of the stupid curse. He relived every death my father had caused over the centuries. I’m not stupid, I know my father was a horrible man, but to me, he was just my dad. The man who took care of me. The man who put food on our table and made sure we had a roof over our heads. Even if that roof was only a single wing of a very old castle.
Of course, he wasn’t the only person to raise me, I had a nanny until I was ten, Henrietta Pottstein, she was a wonderful woman. Old enough to be my grandmother, but with a wicked sense of humour. My father thought I was stupid and not smart enough to know that he had killed her when I was ten, but I knew. I knew that he had dragged her from her bed in the middle of the night and slit her throat, leaving her to bleed out in the basement of the west wing of the castle. I’ve never set foot inside that wing since. In fact, I’ve left that entire section to fall into ruins.
If I could I would restore this place to its former glory, but how do you do that when you’re just a teenager and can’t be out past dusk? Talk about your ultimate curfew, break it and you relive every death your father caused over the centuries he was alive. I bet the Belladonna family never thought their curse would cause this much trouble.
I want to believe that my father deserved everything he got, but then again, how do I deserve this cruel punishment? Is it simply because I’m his child or is it because I myself did something terrible? Not that I have mind you, I’m just an innocent bystander in all this.
◆◆◆
“How’s the food coming?”
I jump hitting my head on the hanging rack above the stove. Bloody stupid girl, scaring the crap out of me. “It’s coming.” I glance up while rubbing the back of my head. “You could help.”
“Nah, I think I’d rather watch you work.”
“You want to eat, you’ll help.” I growl. She smiles, actually smiles at me and my heart does this weird little flip. I don’t actually like her, do I? No! She’s a Belladonna descendant, there’s no way I could like her. Not that it would matter. I wouldn’t be able to give her any kind of life, not even kids. Fuck, why the hell am I even thinking these things?
“What are you cooking?” The way her bright green eyes light up m
akes me want to rescind my offer for her to help. Nothing good can come from being alone with her in the small kitchen.
“Steak.” I frown looking around the small space as she moves closer. “Where’s your father?”
“He said he wasn’t feeling well, he’s laying down.” She watches me for a few moments in silence, then out of nowhere, she asks, “Where are your parents?”
I turn the steak, taking my time before answering, “Dead.” I know it’s not that big of a deal, I’d already alluded to the fact that they weren’t with us anymore, but I guess she missed it.
“I’m sor-.” She begins but I cut her off.
“No, you’re not. No one is really sorry when bad people die.”
“Were they really bad people though?” She looks me over from head to toe, there’s an appreciative glint to her eyes. “I mean, are bad people really capable of raising a child?”
I was not expecting her to say that. “Are there really such things as good and bad? I mean if you kill someone to save your own life, does that not make you a murderer?” She just stands there and blinks at me. “If you deliberately take a life knowing that that person is evil, does that then make you good or evil?” Still she says nothing. “If you do bad things knowing that in the end, you’ll save someone else, are you really doing anything wrong?”
“Killing people is wrong-.”
Again, I cut her off, “Is your world really so black and white?”
“No, there’s always another choice. To save someone else, you could just incapacitate the bad people.”
“How?” On impulse I move around to stand behind her. “Let’s say I’m the bad guy.” I slip my left arm across her chest, my right snaking out across her stomach. She’s so small that I can wrap my hand around her shoulder without tightening my grip. Her scent washes over me and for a heartbeat, I close my eyes, breathing in the smell of vanilla and berries.
I can feel her heart’s rapid staccato where my chest is against her back. It speeds up as I whisper into her ear, “I’m supposed to be the bad guy, remember?” A shiver runs down her body, I watch as goose bumps rise on her arms. “How are you supposed to get away without killing me?” The only weapon anywhere close to us is the knife I was using earlier to cut up the vegetables.
