Catching Temptation (In Darkness She Fades book 1)

by Sarah Erber

  Chapter Four

  In Darkness She Fades

  The whiny grandfather clock downstairs chimes eight times. The tolls force me to vanish from my fantasy world and reenter the living world. I never read anything like Mrs. Peters’ book. It entails a magical land where a beast king – also part human – rules over creatures created from his imagination. He steals children and young women without a trace. No one knows the king actually saves his prisoners from a bloodthirsty demon, which ends up capturing and caging the beast king. The demon kidnaps children when the gateway between the human world and the magical world thin. Once the children pass into the demon’s world, they belong to him, and forget their human lives.

  The book hints to one way a person can find the demon’s world. “Follow the Cyclops rats into the dark descent.” The only way to defeat the demon is to find and return the gift taken from the beast king. The Cyclops rats guard the gift.

  I shudder. “Creepy.” I wonder what happened to the king.

  “Temptation, your dinner’s cold!”

  Sighing, I close the delicate book. With my hair up in a ponytail, I straighten my jean shorts and Hindu print tank top. My naked feet guide me down the bright staircase and into the kitchen. Daniel and Nathaniel munch on cherry cobbler in the dining room. The scent of the warm cobbler makes my stomach grumble.

  The mask from the living room sparkles in the corner of my eye.

  Aunt Sally must have mounted it to the wall. It stands out against the countless porcelain faces Aunt Sally likes to collect. Those things are hideous. A person who mounts china doll faces to their walls equals serial killer disturbing to me.

  “You’ll have to warm up your dinner in the microwave. What kept you?” Aunt Sally’s bug-eyed look of disapproval always makes me cringe.

  “I was reading a book–”

  “No. Really?” Daniel drops his fork with a clatter into his empty bowl and laces his fingers together behind his head. He leans backward. “I thought you were talking on the phone with all the friends you made today.”

  “Daniel, shut your metal-mouth!”

  “I said I don’t want any cursing around Nathaniel!” Aunt Sally pounds her perfectly manicured hand against the table. “For goodness sake, you haven’t even been in the room for one minute and you both are already fighting. I think Jack needs to have a talk with all of you.” Aunt Sally purses her lips in my direction. “You especially Temptation, you’re supposed to set an example for your cousins, not–”

  “Is this why you agreed to adopt me? To teach your children how to act? Because, obviously you wouldn’t raise a pagan child willingly. You hated my mother for being pagan,” I yell, kicking the chair.

  Aunt Sally’s eyes widen with shock, while Nathaniel drops his fork.

  My nails dig into the palms of my hands. “Tell you what, Aunt Sally; I’ll leave since I’m obviously ruining your perfect family.”

  “Temptation–”

  “Good!”

  “Daniel, be quiet and let me handle this–”

  “Whatever!” I shake the surrounding voices from my head. Swiveling, I dash out of the kitchen, through the living room, and out of the front door.

  “Wait, Temptation – come back!”

  My bare feet slam against the rough pavement, separating me from Aunt Sally’s pleas, which fade into an eerie echo. Tiny rocks nick my feet as I sprint down the blackened road. My silky tresses reflect hues of brilliant white, as I pass under the lit street lamps and dip back into the inky blackness. The old gravel feels cool beneath my naked feet. Houses blur past. Everything is always my fault.

  Faint laughter floats through the night air.

  I halt and steady my breathing. The laughter of children is increasing in volume. I catch a twinkle of silver down the end of the abandoned street. Dark figures on motorcycles charge in my direction. Panic courses through me, starting at my heart, which causes an adrenaline rush. Movement in the woods captures my attention. A pair of beastly eyes peers out from the little carved huts in the yard of a vacant home.

  I cough as the bike engines roar and skid around me, kicking up the settled dirt on the street.

  “What do we have here?”

  I swipe at the dusty air. “Leave me alone!”

  “Awe, how come?” The leader of the group leans on his handlebars and grins. Chrome teeth gleam in the streetlight. I study his barbaric features, observing his colorless spiked hair, and blacked-out eyes.

  Fear sends an electric shock through me.

  His eyes!

  The pupils glitter white instead of human black. Revolving my timid gaze over the other bikers, they all possess the same eyes and hair coloring.

  Their freaky teeth are like clumps of needles.

  I hope Daniel spiked my food with some drugs earlier. This cannot be real.

  “Something wrong, Temptation?” the leader teases.

  Dashing to an opening in their circle, I attempt to escape.

  The gang moves in, baring their horrible teeth. The leader reaches out and tugs me over to him.

  The urge to scream boils up into my throat. His fingernail, the size of a tiger’s claw, trails over my jawline. “W-Who are you? How do you know my name?”

  He grins, displaying his bizarre teeth once again. “I’m Craven. We always know your names.”

  “What do you mean ‘your names’?”

  “People new to Rosewood.”

  My fingers twist through the ends of my hair. “Why didn’t I see you at school today?”

  The bikers laugh.

  “We’re more a nocturnal clan and we’re way too old for school.”

  “What are you?”

  “I’ll answer that at another time.” Craven graces me with a devilish smile. Bending until his lips touch my ear, he whispers, “Be warned, Temptation, leave Rosewood while you can.”

  Craven releases me and the gang spins out. Kicking up the dust, they desert me in the middle of Weeping Willow Road.

  Their departure leaves me with a tacit of dread. “This is insane.”

  A ticking sound came from the log huts in the forest. A small man, the size of a dwarf, ascends from the carved hut. The bronze creature stares at me through the eye sockets of a devilish bone mask. My breath catches in my chest, causing temporary paralysis. It mirrors the same creature I saw after the car accident.

  The creature grins, an animalistic smile. He performs a mock bow in his elegant clothing and says, “‘member me?” Straightening his distorted features, he disappears into the shadowy hut.

  Blood rushes to my legs. I jolt down the street, and perform a mad surge for town. At the rundown gas station, I aim for Mrs. Peters’ front porch. Banging my fist on the mahogany door, I wait in silence for someone to answer.

  Nothing.

  No lights glow in the Victorian manor, but they do at the old theater house. Movement flashes across the roof. The dark outlines of creatures jump off the roof and dive. Fingers gripping the railing, I haul myself over the porch and slam into the moist grass. Grunting from the impact, I stumble up to the theater.

  Sinister history or not, my choices are limited at the moment.

  A hearty glow seeps through the partly open door of the theater. I slink through the crack like a cat and bolt the door shut. To my surprise, the marble hallway is clean and cobweb-free.

  I do not understand. The theater should not be occupied.

  The mahogany doors, newly polished, still hold the faint aroma of lemon. Light music drifts throughout the corridors. The crystals in the multiple chandeliers overhead twinkle and ping as a gentle breeze invades an open window. I follow the intoxicating music through the carved archway and out on to a balcony, where I draw in a breath. A grand stage and auditorium stretch out below me. Jogging over to the majestic staircase, I descend into the audience seats, and leap up on stage. Large golden angels hold up the balconies, including the one I just vacated. The auditorium is
almost identical to the painting in my bedroom, except in the picture there are no seats, only the ballroom floor.

  The theater’s halls assure no echoes of roaming creatures. A baby grand piano catches my eye. The rare opportunity and sit down at the piano empowers me. It has been almost a year since I last touched a piano, but now my fingers are stroking the ivory bars. I press on the keys. The slow haunting tune I know so well lifts my spirits. A voice sings. My voice.

  “Save her if you can,

  In darkness, she fades.

  Alice in Wonderland,

  She dreams away.

  She’s shackled in these chains,

  She can’t escape.

  Deep in Hell’s core,

  She opens the door.”

  The room magnifies my trained vocals. The music extinguishes my fears, worries, and memories of the past hour. Only the music matters. Over the course of the past year, it felt like I wore a corset and every day it would become tighter and tighter. Every day I thought, I might die of suffocation; crushed to death by sorrow. As I sing, the corset loosens, and frees me for one brief blissful moment.

  “I thought you told me you couldn’t sing!”

  The piano extinguishes the beautiful tune by creating a dooming pulse as I hit the wrong key. Ungluing my tattooed hand from the smooth keys, I spy Mrs. Peters standing on the staircase with a box of fireworks in her bony arms. Mrs. Peters lowers the fireworks to the waxed floor and strides up to the stage.

  “Sorry! I tried knocking next door. Nobody answered, so I saw the light on, and–”

  “It’s all right, Dearie. I’m not angry with you, just surprised. You’ve the loveliest voice I’ve ever heard and you told me you couldn’t sing if your life depended on it.”

  Ashamed of the true reason for not singing in public, I can feel my cheeks burning a shade of burgundy. The idea of not having my parents in the audience to cheer me on makes me want to cry. I cannot survive it. It is my fault they are gone. “Thank you, Mrs. Peters. I didn’t mean to lie, but I don’t really want to draw attention to myself that way. At my other school the girls were a little...cruel.”

  “You mean, jealous?” Mrs. Peters smiles at the awkward grin on my face. “I understand, but if you ever change your mind, I’ll always have a spot open for you in the choir. You could sure give Victoria Blare a run for her money! But I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that song.”

  “I wrote it, Alice Demented, after my parents died.”

  “Well, I think it’s lovely dear. A mournful, but beautiful tune. Here,” Mrs. Peters extends a withering hand out to me, “what did you need to see me about at–” the clock tolls at the top of the staircase, “–ten in the evening?”

  “Oh.” I forgot to invent a reason for my presence and the truth is totally out of the question. “I wanted to tell you I loved the book you let me borrow. It’s one of the most unique fairytales I’ve ever read.”

  “You mean you finished it already! My goodness you weren’t joking when you said you’re a fast reader. Yes, it’s a one-of-a-kind fairytale, because it’s based on a true story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mrs. Peters retrieves another box of fireworks out of an audience seat and cradles it. “The story is based off an old folktale right here in Rosewood. Supposedly, all these eccentric events happened when this very theater house was built over a century and a half ago. The theater is what attracted people to move to Rosewood in the first place. But after a few years, the townspeople started to notice something wasn’t right with some of the folks in Rosewood. People started turning up dead with animal bite marks on their body. After the children started disappearing, the townspeople decided to take action. Do you remember me telling you earlier today about the theater house?”

  “Yeah.” I cross my arms and try to rub the Goosebumps away.

  “Well, the townspeople hired two exorcists to get rid of the strange king and his dark creatures. It worked, but since then the theater house has never been reopened – except for the annual Halloween Masked Ball.”

  “If the theater contains such a horrible history, why do they reopen it? I mean Halloween makes it even more…” I struggle to think of a better word than “stupid.”

  “Unwise,” Mrs. Peters says. “What you have to understand first, Temptation, is not many people in Rosewood know the true folktale, so I don’t think they realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late.”

  I am twisting the ends of my hair. “But you own the theater, couldn’t you tell them no or have it knocked down?”

  “I would if I owned it, but the fact of the matter is it belongs to the Jenkins family.”

  I stop my working hands.

  “Yes, the Jenkins family is very powerful in this town. They insist the theater be reopened every Halloween, because no more children disappeared since the king vanished, and, like I told you before, they wanted to keep up with tradition.”

  I take the opportunity to avert the topic from the Jenkins family. “So did the king really steal children?”

  “Oh, yes. If I’m remembering correctly, there were a couple teen girls too.” Mrs. Peters sits down the box on the stairs and rubs her arm’s muscles.

  I try to imagine myself as one of the children. The idea scares the curiousness out of me. “What does he do with them anyway?”

  “It is still a bit of a mystery. Some of the parents of the missing children claimed to see their children playing in the monster’s forest. They said their children’s faces had sharper features closely resembling the creatures. But you mustn’t worry yourself, Dearie,” Mrs. Peters says, noticing my tense gaze. “It’s only a folktale.”

  Whirling over the night’s events in my head, I conclude that the town possesses more secrets than answers. “Thank you for the story Mrs. Peters, I guess I’d better be going. I’ll return the novel to you tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t you keep it for a while, I need to clean my house anyways, and I’d feel much better if I knew my book was in safe hands.”

  Ascending the stairs two at a time, I say, “No problem. Oh, I wanted to ask, what are the fireworks for?”

  “The Halloween Mask Ball of course! I always have to hide the box with the finale fireworks in the top balcony, because of a few rascals in town.”

  “Wow, it ties in with my holiday too.”

  “Oh? What holiday is that, Dearie?”

  “Diwali. It’s actually a five day festival, but the second day lands on Halloween this year. We even get dressed up and pass out sweets to family and friends. It was my Mom’s favorite holiday, because of the fireworks and all the clay oil lamps we would light. The lamps are supposed to signify the triumph of good over evil.”

  “That does sound interesting. Why was this festival started? What sparked its creation?”

  I shrug. “My Mom told me it commemorates the return of an exiled lord and the vanquishing of a demon king.”

  “How marvelous! Maybe I can incorporate some of those things in this year’s festival!”

  “Really?”

  “Of course! We need some change in this town.” Mrs. Peters bends and retrieves a few fireworks.

  I chuckle and go up the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, Mrs. Peters.”

  “Good night, Temptation, and don’t worry about the walk home. He always guards those he loves.”

  I stop at the archway of the main hall and glance back. The ballroom appears, once again, vacant. “Hmm…she must’ve been talking about God.”

  The serenity of the quiet walk home calms my boiling worries to a soft simmer. Only the hums of bugs, whisper in my ears like an annoying lullaby. Once or twice, I think I hear an owl.

  Karma sends me a voicemail laughing at my boldness in the classroom. It helps raise my spirit.

  Aunt Sally’s Victorian house is a grim scene at night. Paint can fix it. The porch light flickers from moths soaring back and forth. Sighing, I push open the front do
or, and tiptoe into the kitchen.

  “Eek!” My body bangs into the cabinets. “Aunt Sally – you scared me.”

  Hunching over the dining table, Aunt Sally clutches a cup of hot green tea in her thin hands. Heavy eyes scrutinize my dirty feet and clothes. “Where did you go? I searched for almost an hour and never found any trace of you.”

  Not wanting to reveal my new sanctuary, I shrug my shoulders, and stare at a spider scuttling across the tiled floor. We need to fumigate this place.

  “Sit down and have some tea.” The defeated slump of Aunt Sally’s shoulders causes me to regret my inconsiderate emotions. Aunt Sally pores me some of the golden-green liquid. I add sugar; never elevating my weary eyes. The tension in the room increases as Daniel emerges from the shadowy staircase.

  “Finally came back, did you? Didn’t have any friends to–”

  “Daniel, cut it out and come sit down. We’re going to discuss this like adults and you two are going to listen to one another. You both need to start considering one another’s feelings.”

  Daniel stomps over to the farthest seat from me and drops on the chair. “Let’s get this over.”

  “Daniel, since you seem so angry toward your cousin lately, why don’t you start by telling me what the issue is?”

  “It’s her! We moved so we can start over and she’s still wearing the same Goth crap, and freaking out everyone in school.”

  “Wait a minute,” I interrupt Daniel. “I don’t tell you what to wear. And as far as freaking everyone at school out, they can look the other way.”

  “You see, Mom! She doesn’t care how I get teased because of how she is–”

  “Well you both–”

  “Hold up.” I glare at Daniel. “You talk of my weirdness, but what about those new friends of yours, the Jenkins twins. One has neon-orange hair and they both dress like heavy-metal Rock stars.”

  “Who cares? They’re cool.”

  “No, they’re assholes–”

  “Temptation!”

  “Everyone likes them,” Daniel argues.

  “Oh! This really is about popularity. I’m not popular enough and it’s bringing your social status down, keeping you from becoming the stereotypical jerk–”

  “TEMPTATION!”

  “–you always wanted to be. No, Aunt Sally.” My plum eyes flash at Aunt Sally, who appears quite livid. “I’m tired of everyone telling me how I should be–”

  “Enough, Temptation. Your cousin gives a valid point. I’ve already received one phone call from your science teacher today and she said your clothing distracted other students. I will not let this gothic-pagan get-up interfere with your studies. It’s already interfered with your singing and–”

  “Well, crap, I’m sorry I didn’t die along with the rest of my family so things could be easier for you.”

  Smack!

  I release my teacup. The fragile china shatters all over the dining room floor. Touching my tingling cheek, I stare in disbelief, and horror at Aunt Sally who cradles the red palm of her hand. Slowly, I rise to my feet and, with a calm patience, I did not know I possessed, I push my chair in, and amble to the staircase.

  “W-Where do you think you’re going? You come back here and clean up–”

  “Mrs. Falls, do it yourself,” I state with my back still to Aunt Sally.

  “You call me Aunt Sally or ma’am!”

  I curve to penetrate her with an icy glare. “Don’t talk to me until you are ready to apologize.”

  I am in my bedroom. Two tears leak out and roll into my tangled hair. It is not in my nature act so insensitive and I hate the emotions that came after the cruelness. I collapse on my veiled four-poster bed.

  “Ouch!”

  Arching back up, I rub the back of my neck. Wetness trickles to my fingertips. I pull my tattooed hand back and cringe at the blood covering my fingers. On the bed, in the brilliant chandelier light; lay a single blue rose and a beautiful bone mask covered in small crystals and crimson feathers. My trembling fingers lift the mask. A small note lay beneath it. As I lean over, my dark hair spills onto the fuchsia bedspread. Set me free and I’ll grant you, your darkest wish.