by Krista Wolf
Eventually she heard noises from downstairs. Dinner was breaking up. Eric would sneak up here and join her when he could, and that would help things along. But for now…
For now she had to be careful.
The fourth bedroom had no beds. Inside, Melody found a fantastic spinning wheel and a single chair. She was still examining the worn piece of history when she heard voices, then footsteps coming down the hall.
Hide!
The only problem was there was no place to hide. For lack of anything else, she crouched down behind the spinning wheel. It concealed her miserably. Even a child could find her like this.
Lady Neveux, her mind registered. If you want to find the egg, you need to find her! The rest of these rooms are bullshit.
Melody sat quietly for a few minutes, just listening, running her hand admiringly over the smooth surface of the wheel. Eventually the noises stopped. The hallway went silent again.
You have to—
The door to the room opened. Her heart caught in her throat…
17
Melody sat frozen, only half-concealed, watching as a lone pair of man’s boots stepped into the room. The door closed behind him, and for a moment he just stood there, staring straight ahead. Not moving. Not seeing…
Lurch!
She stopped breathing altogether. The huge man was motionless, his extraordinarily long arms dangling down near his knees. For a minute she was afraid to look at his face, to see his expression, as if that one little act would cause him to glance at her. But instead of seeing her, which he certainly should have, Lurch instead turned his attention to the other side of the room.
He walked with slow, heavy footsteps over to the room’s small fireplace. There he stopped, knelt down, and drew a match from a wall-mounted match safe.
He tried lighting the match. It didn’t catch.
I’ve got to get out of here…
The man’s back was to her now. Melody considered crossing the room, both silently and quickly. She could pull one off for sure, but the problem was she didn’t think she could do both.
Just go now. Before he sees you!
For some reason she didn’t move. She sat watching the man continue lighting matches — or rather, not lighting matches — in an attempt to get the fire going. The fear drained away. It was replaced by curiosity.
Has he ever even done this before?
Match after match, the fire refused to light. Lurch couldn’t even get a flame going. And then she saw why.
You should help him.
The thought made her gasp. Physically, actually gasp. Melody clamped a hand over her own mouth as Lurch’s ears pricked up. He cocked his head slightly, but still didn’t turn around.
Just run. You can make the doorway. Who cares if he sees you? By the time he gets up you’ll be halfway down the hall already.
She rose to a mostly-standing position. She did it slowly too, so that her knees didn’t pop.
Lurch was slumped in defeat now, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Unstruck matches littered the hearth of the small fireplace. He was on his twentieth or so attempt. And then…
Oh my God.
Ever so slightly, his shoulders began to move. They jogged up and down in small, almost imperceptible sobs.
He’s crying!
Melody stood up. She sucked in a breath, threw back her hair… and walked straight over to the fireplace.
The man jerked quickly around, startled by her presence. He didn’t look angry, though. He didn’t really look like anything.
“Here,” she said. “Let me help you with that.”
Melody knelt down beside the man. She was no longer afraid. The house didn’t matter, the egg didn’t matter, this was just one human being helping another.
Her hand closed over his, and his skin felt impossibly cold. She almost winced, but somehow stopped herself. Gently she took the match he was holding.
“What’s your name?”
The man stared at her with his big grey eyes. His face held little in the way of expression. But his eyes…
“Miles,” the man said.
His eyes were kind.
Melody smiled at him, and the smile felt good. “You’re missing the striker, Miles,” she said. “Look here. The striker is all worn out. It’s worn down to nothing. But there’s another one here, over on this side…”
She struck the match. It lit on the first try.
Miles’ face lit up as she very carefully handed the match to him. He took it and used it to light the pile of other matches, just beneath the kindling. A half minute later the small fire was burning nicely.
“Thank you,” Miles said thickly. And for the first time, his lips actually curled upward, into a vague grin.
“You’re very welcome,” Melody told him.
They sat before the fire for a minute or two, just watching the flames. Neither of them spoke. Unconsciously Melody’s gaze became fixated on the growing orange glow, on watching the flames lick upward at what somehow seemed way too fast to be normal. She blinked, and the after-image made her dizzy. It snapped her out of her trance though, while Miles remained watching.
Slowly she backed out of the bedroom, leaving the man to his privacy. He never asked why she was there. She never got to ask any of the questions she wanted to, either. Yet it was better that way, she thought to herself. Somehow it made what had happened between them more… pure.
After another bit of searching Melody backtracked through the hallway, making her way to her own room. She had no idea where Eric was. No clue what was keeping him.
It’s almost like he doesn’t care…
At this point, she was kind of over it already. Since rescuing her from the thing in the hallway, Eric hadn’t been that helpful at all. Whatever his mission actually was — whatever the Order had sent him there to accomplish — he seemed no longer concerned with it.
If he ever was to begin with…
She was totally over Evermoore, too. Whatever game Lady Neveux was playing with the people who stayed here, it was a stupid one. Just because they went along with it doesn’t mean she had to. Guest or no guest.
And then there was Miles…
That the poor man was being exploited, she had absolutely no doubt. As far as Melody knew he was impaired, or disabled, or at the very least slower than everyone else. She didn’t know how he got here, or why he even stayed. But these were all things she planned on bringing up... and soon.
“The Lady of the House is expecting you,” Melody repeated while washing her face. “That’s what I was told.”
She stared into the mirror, taking stock of herself for the first time in a long while. Her hair was a complete train wreck. Her body was sweaty and sore — the latter probably from sleeping in these tiny wooden beds.
“If you’re actually expecting me,” she told the mirror, “I’m coming. So buckle up, Lady Neveux. I’m long past caring whether you’re ‘under the weather’ or not.”
Satisfied that she looked at least somewhat presentable, Melody crossed the little bedroom and grabbed the doorknob.
It didn’t budge.
Ah, shit.
She jigged it again, but it was no use. The old knob was intricate but sturdy. She was locked in.
The key…
The key should’ve been on the corner of the night table, exactly where she left it. She knew without looking what her eyes told her only a moment later… that the key was no longer there.
“FUCK,” Melody swore out loud.
18
Being locked in her bedroom enraged Melody even more than she thought it would. She was being treated like a child. Kept in check, prevented from accomplishing her mission.
What if Eric locked you in here?
The thought not only crossed her mind, it made her furious. She could picture him out there right now, acquiring the egg. Maybe even leaving with it.
Leaving her there…
No fucking way.
She grabbed t
he window again, but it didn’t open. Just as it had yesterday, the jamb stuck.
It only made her angrier.
Melody pushed and she pulled. She kicked at the frame, trying to loosen it up, but all she succeeded in doing was hurting her foot. In the end, she shouldered it as hard as she could. Drove herself painfully into the top of the window casing, while gritting her teeth against the impact.
“Come on!”
CREEEAK.
The window moved.
Hope blossomed. Grabbing with both hands, Melody braced her feet against the floor and shoved. The window slid upward; first an inch, then two, then a whole foot. She continued until she’d wedged it all the way open, and a nighttime breeze flooded in.
Down below, the side lawn of the house was a sea of muted grey in the moonlight. It was far, but not too far. The trouble was, there was nothing to jump into. No hedge, no pile of leaves… nothing but cold hard ground.
Melody looked to the right. There was a balcony attached to the next room.
The ledge might hold you.
She glanced down, to where a small two-inch piece of flashing hugged the manor’s outside wall. To call it a ledge was being generous. It was more of a toehold.
No, it was too dangerous. Too foolish a risk. What would Xiomara think if she broke her ankle, or snapped her neck? All because she tried climbing out on a piece of flimsy, two-inch wide—
Anything’s better than being in here.
A coldness crept over Melody as she looked down at her bed. The dream came floating back to her in bits and pieces. The unseen thing, trying to enter her room. Her face, her eye, all twisted and distorted in the mirror…
She swung a leg out the window and tested the tiny ledge with her toes. It seemed to hold well enough. Then again, she hadn’t put much weight on it yet. Melody imagined settling both feet, both legs — her entire body’s weight on that thin piece of wood.
Go on, the little voice in her head said decisively. Because you can’t stay here.
Melody set both feet on the ledge. She tested it with the weight of her body, keeping her hands locked on the window sill just in case. When it held her completely, she inched her way out until only the tips of her fingers still gripped the window’s frame with one hand.
Then she let go.
A numbing cold stippled her skin. The air was much cooler than it was last night. Melody shuffled slowly along the outside of the manor’s second floor, her toes cramping painfully as they maintained their grip. Her goal — the next ledge — was only fifteen feet away.
What will you do when you get to the next room?
She didn’t know. The question hadn’t even occurred to her, but it was too late now. Melody kept her body tight against the building’s facade. She kept shuffling.
A thousand different noises reached her ears — the cacophony of near endless sounds that made up the Louisiana night. The opposite ledge was getting closer. If she reached out, she could almost touch the iron banister…
CRRRRACK!
She felt it before the sound registered in her mind; the unmistakable snap of wood giving way beneath her left foot. Melody had the presence of mind to dive — to at least extend her arms and try for the railing. But it was too far. Too long of a reach…
In the end she fell, pinwheeling with a yelp and a cry, to the ground below.
OOOF!
The impact knocked the wind from her lungs. It left Melody gasping, rolling back and forth in the wet grass on the side of manor house. Once she got her breath back, it wasn’t so bad. The ground had been soft enough to break her fall, and she hadn’t twisted anything — at least not as far as she could tell — when her body had finally hit.
She got up and brushed herself off. The windows in the manor were mostly dark. No one had seen her. No one had—
Melody froze. Something moved.
Her legs trembled as she crouched there, hands on her knees, peering out into the darkness. There was a small copse of trees just past the gazebo on the side veranda. And one of those trees had… shifted?
No. Not the tree.
She shivered, her body now shaking from the cold.
The thing behind the tree.
Melody peered some more, waiting for her eyes to adjust. And then she saw it. Low and thick — a pair of shoulders. Followed by a pair of haunches, equally strong, equally terrifying.
A thick, bulbous head came into view. Two slitted eyes, shining yellow and silver in the darkness.
And the low, angry growl of a very large dog…
19
The decision to run came instantly this time. There was no hesitation, no deciding whether or not she should do it.
The only real choice was which direction to go.
Melody took off in a fast sprint… straight in the direction of the carriage house. She could’ve tried the side door, but she knew it would be locked. She might’ve been able to make the front entrance, but at this hour? That would be locked as well.
The chase started immediately. There were more than one dog again, that was for certain. This time she could hear three or four, panting hard, their paws pounding the damp nighttime soil as they dug in for the chase.
Melody ran uphill, her legs taking long, powerful strides. She skirted around trees and edged past the end of a stacked stone wall. But she never stopped moving. Never stopped running.
The braying of the dogs was chilling. She wanted to yell, to scream — maybe she could even warn Lucus ahead of time, so he’d be prepared for when she got there. If she got there.
Wisely though, she saved her breath. She’d need to squeeze every ounce of oxygen from her lungs if she was going to make the carriage house.
Something snapped at her heels. The sound it made was wet and sickening. Melody kicked out instinctively and struck something in the jaw. The yelp of pain only served to make her run faster. Her legs were pumping so hard now they were getting ahead of her body, threatening to throw her completely off balance.
The front of the carriage house finally came into view, its double-wide doors slid wide open. Melody flung herself inside. Her heart soared as she realized the inner doors were open too — probably to regulate the temperature in the loft.
I’m not going to make it…
She cried out, something broken and unintelligible. She was about to dive for the ladder when something whizzed past her with a whoosh of air. It slammed into the lead dog, throwing it backwards and pinning it to the floor. Its screams were horrific. Warm blood splattered everywhere, including a big fan of it across the back of her dress.
She whirled, daring a look. Her chief pursuer had been skewered neatly from above by a three-pronged pitchfork. The dog was still scrambling helplessly, its paws scraping the floor as it tried to run but not realizing the futility. The second and third dogs skidded into the carriage house just as Lucus jumped down from the loft, landing directly between them and their prey.
He roared, and they immediately turned tail. One skidded right into him, slamming into his shins. He kicked at it, its hindquarters sliding out beneath it before it finally gained regained its legs. As they exited the carriage house he ran after them, then deftly slid the outer doors closed.
By the time he turned back to Melody, the pitchforked dog had stopped moving. It looked no less ferocious though. In fact, it was absolutely enormous.
Lucus took her arms in his. “Are you okay?”
“Y—Yes.”
Melody gulped hard, splaying her fingers out over her heaving chest. Her heart felt like it was going to explode.
“What are those things?”
“Rogue pack,” Lucus spat with disdain. “The Lords of the House used to bring them when they went hunting. A couple of the hounds got loose years ago and now they live and breed, out in the woods.” Melody turned away as he pulled the pitchfork loose. “Should’ve been hunted down long ago. Right now, there’s no one left to do it.”
She shook her head in confusion. “What do
you mean no one left to do it?”
“No Lords,” Lucus shrugged. “Only Lady Neveux.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Melody. “Why doesn’t she hire someone? Call the police? Animal control? Someone to come out here, and—”
“What’s ridiculous,” Lucus said gravely, “is you coming here. Now? At this hour?” He threw his hands up in frustration. “You could’ve been killed!”
Melody stood on shaky legs. “Yeah, well,” she began. “It wasn’t exactly my choice.”
“What?”
“N—Never mind.”
She didn’t want to offend Lucus. In fact, she wanted to see him anyway. There were a hundred different questions she needed answers to. A whole bunch of—
A long howl split the night, echoing loudly through the plantation fields. It was answered by a second hound, and then another. Soon the braying of a dozen or so animals took over the relative nighttime silence.
“Get up in the loft where you’ll be safe,” said Lucus. “I can’t leave this here. I’m going to have to take care of it…”
He gestured at the dog, still at his feet. Lifting it easily, he slung the still-bleeding carcass over one broad shoulder.
“No,” said Melody. “You can’t go out there now! It’s too dangerous.”
Lucus ignored her as he slid the doors open again, this time just a crack.
“Lucus, there’s too many of them!”
He looked back at her once, then disappeared through the opening. Before he did, he pointed to the ladder and gave her a stern look.
“Go.”
20
The loft was warm and dry and lined with soft grasses that made the place both welcoming and safe. Melody rested while her heartbeat returned to normal. She was half worried about Lucus and half fascinated that the man actually lived this way.
There was a small table up there, as well as a single candle in a pewter holder. Spread out over the sleeping area was a large blanket that was surprisingly supple.