by Clara Cody
Stephanie shook her head in disbelief. "Yes! They've come and gone. A bloody good thing, too. If I'd arrived a minute later, you would have already killed each other."
Charles scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "The situation was a bit out of hand, I'll admit that."
"What happened?"
"Aside from being four men locked up in a small cabin?"
Stephanie crossed her arms and arched her eyebrow.
"Fredrick certainly wasn't helping."
Stephanie worked her jaw back and forth, considering what he'd said. It wouldn't have surprised her in the least if Fredrick was the one instigating a fight. It certainly wouldn't have been difficult.
"I'll never question from where Ellie got her way with words," he added.
"She does have a remarkable gift of getting what she wants from people."
"It's not the same, though," he began as if amending his earlier statement. "She does it to a good end. Not like him."
"I don't think that makes as much of a difference as you think it does, Charles."
He opened his mouth to answer but stopped himself, letting the weight of her words sink in. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Can we go back, then?"
"Yes. Mrs. Callowell says before nightfall."
"None of us are eager to pass more time here than we have to."
When she re-entered the small house behind Charles, McGregor was stooped over, helping Theodore to his feet.
"We've gotten word. We can go back, now."
Fredrick laughed loud and maniacally. His arms were bound to his sides but he launched his body upwards, bouncing on top of the mattress, laughing.
The men walked two by two in front of Stephanie. Charles walked with his hand tightly grasping Theodore's collar, with a fire poker hanging at his side, while McGregor walked beside Fredrick, who was tightly bound with rope and torn bedsheets. Fredrick walked in a kind of calm stupor, stumbling forward whenever McGregor gave him a sharp push. After several not-so-gentle shoves, Fredrick fell to the ground, writhing like a maggot in the dirt.
Charles pulled Theodore to a stop. "The next time you hit him, you're going to be the one on the ground. If you—" as he stepped towards McGregor, Theodore tore away, swinging his body around on Charles. His hands, tightly bound with rope in front of him, swung and connected with the side of Charles' face.
Stephanie cried out as Charles flew backwards and fell to the ground. The skin on the side of his face was torn away in shallow scrapes. She ran and fell to his side. "Charles!" she shouted as she shook his limp shoulders. His head rolled from side to side with each jerk.
She looked up to see Theodore crouched over Fredrick. "What are you doing?" she shouted, suddenly realizing that Theodore had also thrown McGregor to the ground. Unlike Charles, he was still conscious but looked afraid enough to offer up no fight.
Theodore spun around on her. "If you don't want my help, that is your prerogative, but this man does!"
"You can't, Theodore. He's insane. He'll kill you."
"He needs me, Stephanie. He's told me what these maniacs are doing to him!"
"No, Theodore, please. He's the maniac, I've seen it." She crawled towards him, reaching out her hand.
"I won't listen to this madness," he shouted and turned back, brandishing a knife.
She stood and rushed towards him, pulling at him as he leaned over. Fredrick looked up at him with bright, sparkling eyes. She pulled on Theodore's biceps but he simply shook her off, throwing her to the side. The knife came down, catching and slicing through the bindings that held Fredrick in place. He didn't move though. He simply stared up, waiting patiently to be freed, as Theodore sawed through the ropes around his wrists. The scraps of rope fell away and a vicious snarl twisted Fredrick's face as he yanked Theodore by the shirt, pulling him closer. Fredrick's teeth flashed before sinking into Theodore's neck.
Theodore screamed, pulling away and falling to the side. In a moment, Fredrick had the knife in his hand, turned downward and was crawling over Theodore. The knife glinted in the sunlight before coming down on the other side of Theodore's neck.
Stephanie suppressed a scream that clawed at the back of her throat. Choking back her desire to run, she crept up behind Fredrick's back, stooping to pick up a large rock on the way. She held the rock high above her head as she crept closer. It took all her strength to keep the heavy, jagged rock above her head. When she was close enough, she let it fall. It landed on the base of Fredrick's skull, sounding a deep thud. The rock rolled off his back and to the side as he crumpled over Theodore's body.
Stephanie finally cried out, covering her mouth. Her whole body trembled as she bent over and pulled Fredrick's body up and away. His eyes were wide and vacant; his mouth slack with blood smeared across his lips and teeth.
Theodore was sputtering and choking. She cried out, falling to his side. His body shook and shuttered while his eyes moved wildly from side to side. The short handle of the knife stood out from the place where his shoulder met his neck, blooding pouring to the ground.
Stephanie shook with fright. She reached for the knife and pulled back again. "I-I don't know what to do!" she cried through maddening tears. She leaned over Theodore, taking his face in her hands.
His eye caught hers and he coughed harder, trying to speak.
She shook her head and placed her fingertips against his mouth. "Don't try to speak," she whispered. "You'll be all right." She looked around the field. Charles still hadn't moved and McGregor was staring, too shocked to move.
"Go get Mrs. Callowell," she shouted. He jumped at the sound before clamoring to his feet and running off towards the house.
Stephanie turned back to Theodore. "I'm sorry, Theodore." Tears clouded her vision. "Why did you have to come back!"
He sputtered again, reaching up a hand to her cheek. It fell back, landing on the hand she held on his chest. He gripped her fingers tightly as his eyes began to flutter.
"Please," she begged him. "Keep your eyes open."
His hold on her fingers slackened along with the rest of his body.
"No," she whispered. "Don't." She took his hand in his, shaking it. "Theodore!" she cried out. But he didn't respond.
Theodore was gone.
And when she looked up again, so was Fredrick.
Chapter 43
Stephanie
"WAKE UP!" STEPHANIE cried, slapping Charles across the face.
He jerked awake and sat straight up. "Wh—what happened?" He rubbed the side of his face, grimacing as he touched the exposed flesh.
She stood and pulled him up. "We have to go."
He straightened and his eyes fell on the grim scene before him. "What happened?" he shouted.
"Fredrick got away. We have to hurry."
He looked to the manor. "Ellie." He took off like a bull, holding onto Stephanie's hand as he ran.
Stephanie couldn't keep up without stumbling so she slipped her hand from his. "Go ahead," she cried, falling behind.
"No." He was already coming back for her. "I won't leave you." He pulled her close. "Not again."
They made for the house again, Charles slowing to let Stephanie keep pace with him.
"What's happened?" Mrs. Callowell asked, rushing from the house and meeting them at the base of the stairs. "Why aren't you—" She straightened. "Where's Fredrick?"
"He ran off," answered Charles. "We think he's gone to the house."
Mrs. Callowell's face seemed to become hollow until a sudden recognition came over. "Maggie and Ann!" She turned, pulling up her skirts and ran back towards the house. Charles and Stephanie took off after her but had no chance of keeping up; she was far too fast.
They followed her to the kitchen. When they caught up, they found her towering over Ann.
"I—I don't understand, ma'am," Ann said, practically cowering.
Mrs. Callowell gripped Ann's arms and seemed to try and calm herself by closing her eyes and sighing. "Leave the soup and come with us. We'
ll explain."
Ann nodded and let Mrs. Callowell guide her from the room.
"Where's Maggie?" she asked Ann.
"I don't know, ma'am. Haven't seen her for some time."
Mrs. Callowell shot a look back at Stephanie and Charles, who nodded. McGregor burst into the kitchen just as they were following the women out the door.
"Come on," said Charles, pulling Stephanie's hand. "Maggie!" he cried, making his way across the kitchen to the cupboard room door.
"Maggie!" Stephanie echoed, following him.
They ran through the halls, yelling her name. They barreled up the stairs and tore through both wings of the house to no effect.
They arrived in the sitting room, gasping for air. Mrs. Callowell gave them a questioning look but Charles just shook his head.
Mrs. Callowell stood, rubbing her hands together.
McGregor stood as well. "The men will go looking for the maid," he said to Charles, clasping his hands behind his back. "We will lock the door behind us."
Charles shook his head and pulled Stephanie closer.
"It's the only way to keep the women safe," McGregor argued.
"No. We all know that he has some sick fascination with Stephanie. I'm not letting her out of my sight."
"And well you shouldn't," interrupted Mrs. Callowell. "I have no intention of sitting idly by either."
"But Mrs. Callowell. Surely, you can't—"
"That's quite enough, Mr. McGregor. We have no time to argue. Stephanie and Charles will search the West Wing while you and I search the East."
"And me, ma'am?" Ann asked from the couch.
McGregor and Mrs. Callowell stepped apart and looked down at her.
"You will stay here," she said, softening the edge to her voice.
Ann's eyebrows came together and her lip trembled. "Alone? What if—"
"Don't worry. With the door locked, no one can enter without breaking down the door. You'll be perfectly safe."
Ann began to whimper but nodded.
"Very well." Mrs. Callowell marched out of the room, with the rest following behind. Stephanie watched as she pulled the sliding doors closed, Ann's lip trembling. A choked sob escaped Ann's tight, down-turned mouth as the door shut, enclosing her within.
Mrs. Callowell locked the door and turned to the rest of them. "We must hurry."
The pairs separated, running up their assigned arms of the staircase before plunging into the hallway of their wing.
"What if we find Fredrick first?" Stephanie whispered.
"Then better for us. And Maggie."
They raced down the hall, checking room after room, finding nothing. Each room was as silent and still as the last. They reached the end.
"Damn it to hell," Charles cried, kicking the wall.
"There's still the servant's quarters," Stephanie said.
"You're right." He gently pushed her in front and hurried behind her. Up the stairs they raced, calling Maggie's name. Like the downstairs, all the rooms were calm and empty.
They arrived to Maggie's room last. Charles tore up the room, throwing back the doors to the wardrobe and tossing aside the mattress.
He dug his fingers in his hair and let out a deep, clenching groan. "She's not here." He threw his hands in the air. "We have to go back down the sitting room."
Mrs. Callowell and McGregor emerged from the East Wing in the same moment as Stephanie and Charles left the West Wing.
"Did you find something?" Charles asked.
Mrs. Callowell shook her head. "And you?"
"Nothing."
In the momentary silence, the kitchen door could be heard swinging open and slamming shut. The four of them exchanged urgent looks and ran down the stairs, tearing through the halls to the kitchen.
Maggie jumped back and screamed as they burst through the green baize door. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she cried, clutching her chest. Her other hand held three chickens, blood dripping from their gashed necks. "What the devil is this?"
Stephanie almost laughed with relief.
"Where were you?"
Maggie held up the dead chickens. "Ann doesn't like killing 'em. Thought I'd do it for 'er."
"Leave them for now," Mrs. Callowell said with a gesture. "Come to the sitting room."
Maggie nodded without question and swung the chickens onto the table and followed behind them, wiping her hands on her apron.
Even Mrs. Callowell seemed lighter as she flicked through the keys on her chain to unlock the doors to the salon. But as she slid the doors open, a weight twice as great settled immediately over her as her eyes took it in.
Stephanie rushed to her, peering from behind her into the sitting room.
Ann's wide, vacant eyes stared accusingly at them from the floor where her body lay.
Chapter 44
Stephanie
MRS. CALLOWELL RUSHED into the room, falling next to Ann. A desperate torrent of tears ran down her face as she clutched at Ann.
Stephanie just stood in the doorway. Mrs. Callowell's lips moved but Stephanie heard nothing. The house had never been so quiet. She felt hands on her arms, pulling her inside the room. She pulled back, away from the hands, not wanting to enter the room.
"Stephanie," she heard a voice say, pulling her from the void that had formed around her.
Charles stepped in front of her, his hand on her face. "Stephanie?" His voice sounded like an echo; hollow and a mere ghost of itself.
"Stephanie?" Charles said, clearly. "You're in shock. Look at me."
But she didn't look at him. She couldn't, she crumpled to the floor, shaking her head and rocking. Charles pulled her up again, shaking her by the shoulders. "Stephanie!" he shouted.
Stephanie met his eyes. "Is she?"
He nodded and held her close to him. Mrs. Callowell was sobbing on the floor, next to Ann. Maggie went to her and helped her to her feet.
Mrs. Callowell lay her head on Maggie's shoulder, weeping. "I'm so—so..."
"Come now, missus," Maggie said, patting her head as she lowered her to the chair.
McGregor suddenly flew to the door, pushing Stephanie and Charles aside. He slammed the doors shut and locked them from the inside. "We have to bury the bodies."
This seemed to bring Mrs. Callowell back. "First, we must find Fredrick."
"But how did he get in?" Charles cried. "The door was locked."
"I don't know," Mrs. Callowell said.
Stephanie pulled away from Charles and squared herself with her. "Don't you? Perhaps you have another secret passage like in the library."
Mrs. Callowell eyes widened. "You know—" she started but stopped herself before she could finish. She rose to her feet. "There is no other passageway. That is the only one."
"How can we believe you?"
"It's true," said Charles.
"You knew about it too?" she asked him.
He nodded. "We found it when we were children. We spent whole summers trying to find more but we never did."
"That doesn't mean they don't exist."
"The maid is right," McGregor said, stepping forward. "If Fredrick built this house, he knows it better than anyone."
"What can we do then?" Charles asked.
Mrs. Callowell fixed her stare on Stephanie. "We have to lure him into the bedroom upstairs."
Stephanie could feel the woman's eye's burrowing into her, but Charles seemed unaware. "But how?" he asked.
"You want to offer me up as bait," Stephanie answered.
Charles turned his face down to look at her. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Never that."
"There's no other choice," Mrs. Callowell said.
Charles bit down, his lips snarling. "There is always a choice." He spoke slowly, holding something back.
Mrs. Callowell ignored him. Her stare didn't budge. "We need you, Stephanie. It's the only way to end this before anyone else gets hurt."
"And what about me?" Stephanie asked. "Won't I be hurt?"
McGregor
cleared his throat, stepping in. "We will be outside the entire time. As soon as we hear something, we'll be there in a moment."
"Don't listen to 'em, Stephi," Maggie cried.
"She's right," Charles said. "You can't do it. It's crazy to even consider it."
"Fifteen thousand dollars if you do this for us," Mrs. Callowell countered.
Stephanie matched her stare. "Do you think money is all you need? All I could want? Why not fifty thousand or a hundred thousand then? Is that all your husband's worth?"
"It's not what he's worth." Mrs. Callowell looked away. "It is all I have."
Charles's arms tightened around Stephanie's shoulders. "You can't, Stephanie."
She looked up at him and shook her head. "No, Mrs. Callowell. I won't do it." She felt Charles's chest deflate slightly in relief, and he pulled her tighter.
"Good girl," Maggie said from behind.
Mrs. Callowell's face didn't seem to register the refusal. "Very well," she said quietly. "You are within your right to do so." She looked down to the ground. "I'm sorry, I must have lost my head for a moment. Of course you can't do it. It was ridiculous to ask."
Stephanie eyed her suspiciously but nodded. "So, what will we do then?"
Mrs. Callowell's head flew up again. "There is another way, but I will need Father McGregor's help with it." She turned her attention towards him. "Do you remember the old artifact of my father's that is held in the cellar?"
"You mean..."
"Yes, that one. Fredrick would do anything to get his hands on that particular artifact. Perhaps you and Charles can go and retrieve it."
"Then Stephanie will come as well."
"Charles, we can't have everyone traipsing around the house with a murderer on the loose. She'll be safer here with Maggie and me."
Charles shook his head.
McGregor threw his hands in the air, scoffing. "Fine, I'll take the other maid then. One maid or the other, it makes no difference to me."
"Very well," Mrs. Callowell said. "Take Maggie." She gestured to Maggie to follow him.
Maggie leaped from the couch, ready to face anything. Stephanie couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at her bravery.