by Clara Cody
Her eyes flew open again. Everything seemed to be given a strange orange hue. She sighed, taking in the sight around her. The sound surprised her. It wasn't her voice, it was deeper but there was something familiar about it.
Fredrick stood a few meters away, looking at her quizzically. "What is this?" he whispered and started towards her.
She felt a smirk tug at the corners of her mouth. Yes, she thought, come to me. Closer. Try to take me. She never questioned the perverse thoughts flooding her mind.
Fredrick stopped before her and kicked her hand away from her chest.
She let him, biding her time.
He knelt down and grabbed the front of her dress, yanking her to her feet. She jerked forward as he tore the fabric, exposing her chemise and locket.
A smile crossed his face as he met her eyes again. "Perhaps we'll forgo the flirtations and get down to business."
"As you wish, Sir," she whispered. Her voice was definitely deeper, with confidence she'd never known.
His hand moved from her shoulder, across her chest, landing on the locket. As his skin met the pendant, he cried out, jumping back. He fell to the floor, panicked, his eyes on his singed, smoking hand.
A rolling laugh came from Stephanie as he looked between his smoking hand and her. His eyes widened with understanding.
He crawled backward away from her as she approached, like a crab scuttling across the sand, his eyes wide. "You're—you're..."
A fire burned within her and through her hands. She was immune to the heat and power that writhed under her skin but she knew he would not be so lucky.
He cried out, holding his blackened hands in front as she towered over him. She fell on him, pressing her hands against his face.
He screamed, thrashing his head back and forth. She pressed down harder, her nails digging into his skin and gaunt flesh. His screams tapered off, dying to a quiet whimper and he began to convulse. She jerked his face towards her and leaned over, her lips so close she might have been preparing to kiss him.
"Return to the hell you came from," she spat.
His body tensed, all his muscles locking into place. A deep groan left his lips before he crumpled, falling to the floor.
Power exploded from her fingers, sending Stephanie flying backward and across the floor, colliding with the opposite wall. She turned onto her stomach and looked up. Her jaw dropped as she looked into the face of her mother. Stephanie blinked and she was gone again, replaced by Stephanie herself. The blue tinge had faded and she was left staring back at her own, grimy looking reflection.
It was just a mirror.
Her lips twisted and her eyes pinched shut, pushing tears from the corners. She collapsed to the floor, her body heaving with the sudden cold, emptiness left in the wake of the power that had surged through her.
Chapter 46
Stephanie
STEPHANIE DRAGGED VICTOR's body down the stairs, his feet falling lifelessly on each step. She wasn't afraid of him anymore. After rummaging through his pockets, she found Mrs. Callowell's set of keys and unlocked the room where he'd been locked up so many months, leaving him in the hall as she entered the room.
McGregor lay on his stomach on the bed, hog-tied, while Mrs. Callowell was bound to the chair in the corner. Kneeling at the side of the bed, she pulled the gag from his mouth.
"What closet is Charles in?"
He worked her jaw back and forth, looking up at her. "Downstairs in the foyer."
She stuffed the gag back into his mouth, rising to her feet. He screamed through the gag, his eyes alight with anger.
"Terribly sorry, Mister McGregor. The maid has more pressing matters to see to first." She turned on her heel, ignoring him.
But it was harder to ignore Mrs. Callowell's pleading eyes. Stephanie sighed and went to her, removing the gag.
"Is—is he dead?" she asked as Stephanie unfastened the ropes around her wrists.
"He's alive."
Stephanie raced down the hall and stairs. She could hear muffled cries from within the closet before she'd even reached the bottom of the staircase. She flung the door back to find Charles crouched in the corner, a thick white cloth wrapped around his head.
Stephanie set the candle down and knelt beside him. She stroked his hair gently and reached around to untie his gag. Next, she released his feet and hands.
As soon as he was free, he leaped forwards scooping her up into his arms and burying his face in her neck. "I should never have left. Never, never," he whispered.
She shushed him quietly as she stroked his head.
He lifted his head. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "It's finished. Fredrick is gone."
He pulled her close to him again, his shoulders heaving. Minutes passed like that; Stephanie holding Charles, brushing her fingertips through his hair as he sobbed.
Finally, he turned his face upwards, his eyes shining, and pulled away gently. "Your dress," he said, trying to cover her chest with the torn folds of her dress and his hands.
She stilled his hand over her chest. "Come now," she said, nodding towards the door. "Maggie is still down in the cellar."
His eyes went wide. "Maggie!"
Stephanie and Charles heard Maggie banging on the cellar door, throwing her considerable girth against it. Charles tried telling her to stop and step back from the door so that they could unlock it, but Maggie only seemed to hear McGregor mocking her, and swore all the things she would do when she got out of the cellar. Stephanie unlocked the door and jumped back before Maggie exploded out.
Maggie charged from the room, but stopped once her eyes landed on Stephanie. "It's you." The look of rage melted from her face. "Thank God for that. What's happened?"
Charles threw his arms around her neck. "It's finished, Maggie. It's all over."
Stephanie watched as realization and acceptance dawned across Maggie's face.
"Is it true?" Maggie asked her.
Stephanie nodded, touching her arm.
By the time they made it back up the stairs and into the room in the East Wing, Mrs. Callowell had untied McGregor, who stood in the corner, looking furious. Victor and Mrs. Callowell stood in the middle of the room, holding each other.
Charles entered the room first. Victor's eyes turned to face him and his eyes lit up. The men raced towards each other and embraced, thumping the other on the back.
"Where have you been, Charles?"
He pulled away. "I've been here, Victor." He looked to Mrs. Callowell, who shook her head.
"He doesn't remember," Stephanie muttered.
"Thank god for that," whispered Maggie.
Victor's eyes went to the doorway where she and Maggie stood. His face fell as he took notice of Stephanie. He stepped back, away from Charles.
"Of course," he said, looking to his friend again. "You read poetry to me."
"Victor," Mrs. Callowell said, reaching for her husband.
He stumbled backward but she managed to catch him.
"Victor?"
He steadied himself, pressing a hand against his head. "I—I'm terribly tired." He seemed dazed by something.
"Sit, darling," Mrs. Callowell said, helping him to the bed.
"Why are there chains on the bed?" He pulled his hand away as though the sheets were on fire.
"Shush, now," she said. "You need to rest. Come, lay down and I'll have Maggie bring you up some soup. You need to conserve your strength."
He nodded blankly and lay across the bed. He turned over, facing the wall and pulled his legs up to his chest.
Mrs. Callowell ushered the rest out of the room and closed the door behind her.
"Do you think he remembers?"
Mrs. Callowell turned to face them, a slight smile on her face. "No. He doesn't remember. A long overdue blessing. But we must hurry. He can never know what's happened. No one can ever know what has passed here."
Dawn was breaking over the trees as the five, dirty and sweat covered accomplices made their way back towar
ds Ripewood Manor. They'd walked far into the woods and buried any evidence of the murders. McGregor gave a eulogy, asking God to usher their spirits to heaven. No one looked at each other as they spread the leaf litter around to hide the graves. Finally, they were finished.
The walk back to the house was somber and chilled in the fall air. Winter lay just around the corner. They all felt it.
"What is that?" Maggie asked, pointing towards the house.
From the window in the attic, something stirred. The round window opened and a man stepped out and walked across the roof that lay beneath the window.
"Victor?" Mrs. Callowell whispered. "Victor!" She took off running.
Victor stepped to the edge of the roof and paused, looking down. In an instant, he toppled over the edge, disappearing behind the thick wall of the maze that lay before them.
Mrs. Callowell stopped and fell to her knees, screaming.
Charles ran.
Maggie feinted.
Stephanie just stopped, trying not to feel relieved.
Three days passed since Victor threw himself from the roof. He'd left a letter for Eloise beside her bed, telling her that he remembered everything and couldn't live with what he'd done, even if it hadn't been him doing it. He said he loved her and hoped she could forgive him for leaving her after all she'd been through. Eloise was in a catatonic state for the next few days, leaving all the funeral arrangements up to Charles.
They buried him in a quick and quiet service, attended by fewer than twenty people. Afterward, when Eloise had recovered, she admitted that it was only a matter of time before more questions were asked by people of greater influence. She thought it was best for Charles, Stephanie, and Maggie to distance themselves as much as possible. Stephanie agreed but Maggie wouldn't leave her.
"Are you ready?" Charles asked, standing in front of Stephanie in the foyer.
She nodded and stooped down to pick up her bags.
"Then we should leave or we'll miss the twelve o´clock coach to the city."
Stephanie looked over her shoulder and back up the stairs. "Did you—"
He followed her gaze. "We said our goodbyes."
"And to Maggie?"
"I'm here, Stephi." Maggie stepped from behind the dining hall door into the foyer. "Did you think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?"
Stephanie wrapped her arms around Maggie. "We'll write once we're settled."
Maggie shook her head. "Don't do that." Tears welled up in her eyes. "You forget about us as soon as you're out that door, you hear me?"
Stephanie looked away, knowing that she was right. "I will miss you, Maggie."
She chuckled. "Not for long, you won't." She turned to Charles. "Take care of her."
He nodded and threw his arms around her as well. "You too," he said, glancing towards the stairs.
Maggie nodded, pressing her lips together.
"Charles," Stephanie interrupted. "We should leave."
The sun was warm despite the chilling breeze. Charles and Stephanie walked down the steps towards the carriage that would take them away from Ripewood Manor forever. Charles handed the bags to the driver and held the door open for Stephanie. She took his hand as he settled himself beside her.
"We're going to be happy now, aren't we?"
He looked down at her and smiled sadly. He nodded and placed a kiss upon her forehead. "I promise, we will be happy."
The carriage jerked forward, starting down the lane. "But—"
"But what?"
"It seems like every time I think I can be happy, nothing comes of it but suffering."
"Don't say that."
"Look at yourself, Charles. You've suffered so much since I met you."
He cradled her cheek in his hand, caressing it with his thumb. "I only started living the day I met you. " He leaned down, his lips falling on hers.
Mrs. Callowell watched from her bedroom window as the carriage rattled down the drive. The sound of shuffling feet pulled her from her thoughts.
"Yes, Maggie?"
"Lunch is prepared, ma'am. Do you want me to serve it in your study?"
"I'm not hungry at the moment. Leave a tray outside my door."
"Very well, ma'am." Maggie retreated but stopped at the door. "What was that song?"
"Song?"
"You were hummin' just now when I came in. I can't place it. It sounds familiar."
"Oh, just something I heard once."
The End
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