“Who-” she began, but the look in Lukas's eyes as he turned silenced her words, and nearly her heartbeat. There was a devilish fire in them as he bent toward her, his breath hot on her face.
“Have you seen him before?” he asked.
“Why? What's wrong with him?”
“Nothing is wrong with him,” he replied, “I asked you, have you seen him?”
“Yes,” Sophie replied defiantly. His tone brought up a hot anger in her, and she grew defensive. “Is that a problem?”
She had not meant her sarcasm to cut quite so sharp, but once the words left her lips she felt a strange relief. It was rare that she let herself succumb to any emotion, least of all anger.
Lukas raised his eyebrows.
“Not a problem,” he said. After hesitating for a moment, he continued. “You are here for a wedding?”
“Yes, my sister's. It's on Saturday.”
“Mmm,” he glanced back to the window, running a hand through his dark hair. “No other reason?”
“What?” Sophie put her hands on her hips. “What other reason? What are you getting at? Look, I came out here to find you because Rausch told me some things and I wanted to-”
“What things?” Lukas stepped forward, excitement flashing in his eyes.
“If you would let me finish,” Sophie retorted, her hands still firmly planted, “I would tell you.”
A smile played around Lukas's lips, but he nodded without a word and rocked back on his heels.
“I was going to say,” Sophie continued, “that I wanted to find you again and see,” she paused, “something.”
“Something?”
“I don't really know what I wanted, except to see you again.”
The words burned in Sophie's ears and she wished with all her strength that she could take them back. A blush crept over her cheeks and neck. It was not what she had meant to say, and she knew how it must have sounded to him. She found herself afraid to look up.
He sighed deeply, running both hands along the length of his face.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
“Because, I want to know the truth,” she said in a rush, grateful to have been given the opportunity to clarify.
“The truth,” he scoffed, a low laugh rumbling from his throat. “The truth behind what? There is nothing more than rumor and speculation running wild within the walls of that castle. Your ideas are misled. Although,” he paused, scanning Sophie's face, “who are you?”
“I'm sorry?” Sophie spluttered. The question caught her off guard. “I've already told you.”
“Don't be stupid, girl,” he answered, his tone menacing. “You told me that Rausch had spoken to you. Spoken to you of me, no less, but that you can speak to either of us is impossible. You know what I am, if he has told you anything. I want answers, myself. I will repeat the question. Who are you?”
“I don't know what you are,” Sophie argued, ignoring his question. “I know you're old. I know that Rausch is old, too, but I don't understand anything else. He showed me your picture, said it was drawn over a hundred years ago. That doesn't make any sense. He also said that no one could see or hear him. Except-”
“Except you,” Lukas whispered. “Who are you?”
“Would you stop asking me that?” Sophie shouted, sending a flock of birds rushing past her head. “I'm nobody! Why don't you answer my question? Who are you?”
“That story is long, and best left untold,” he eyed her carefully. “For now.”
A glance toward the castle set his face into a hard mask once more. Sophie saw the figure return to the window, a rustle behind the curtains told her he was watching them. She looked back toward Lukas, fear in her eyes.
“Who is that?” she asked quietly. This time, Lukas did not silence her. He looked down at her, his brow furrowed and his lips tight. After studying her for a moment, he turned, his boots crunching against the underbrush for the first time. Sophie watched as he plodded away, back into the shadow of trees. Without a word, she turned to enter the courtyard when his voice called to her.
“I'm not through with you.”
She turned with raised eyebrows.
“What do you want?” she asked, taking a step backwards. She was fully immersed in the sunlight, having entered the courtyard.
He said something quietly, but she was too far to hear.
“What?” she asked, shaking her head.
“You have to come to me,” he called, impatience coloring his tone. “I do not wish to be seen any longer.”
Silently, Sophie walked back to him. She had barely crossed the boundary of trees when a violent wind sent her tumbling forwards, shoving her down into the underbrush. The sharp needles and dried grass tore at the skin on her palms. She could feel the blood seeping instantly from the wounds.
“Ouch,” she whispered, pulling her hands up and surveying the damage.
Both of her palms were scraped, the most damage done to the heel of her hand. The scrapes appeared shallow, but were deep enough to let small trails of blood drip onto her wrists. As instantly as it had come, the wind subsided. Not a rustle washed over the leaves in the branches as she rose to her feet, steadying herself against the nearest trunk. Lukas did not move, but his eyes were locked on her face.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I guess,” she answered, being careful to keep the blood from staining her clothes. “What do you want?”
The question, voiced a second time, caused Lukas to narrow his eyes and purse his lips.
“What do I want?” he repeated. “Do I need to remind you that I was not the one hunting you down? You came here, again, foolishly, despite my warning.”
“Okay, okay,” Sophie waved one hand through the air in frustration. She flinched at the sharp pain the motion caused.
“You're bleeding,” Lukas observed, remaining still.
“I know.”
“I will make this quick then,” he said.
“That would be great,” Sophie replied, bringing the heel of her hand toward her face to observe the dirt and debris that still lingered in the wound.
“You must listen to me,” Lukas's voice was urgent now. As she looked up at him in surprise, she saw concern in his dark eyes, though his gaze was over her head. “That man, the one in the window, have you spoken to him?”
“No,” Sophie replied, but hesitated as she remembered the scene in the kitchen that afternoon. “Er… actually, sort of.”
“Sort of?” Lukas repeated impatiently.
“It's complicated. He helped me in the kitchen earlier. I was finding something to eat when all of a sudden-” she trailed off, not wanting to divulge the details of her encounter.
“All of a sudden?” he prodded, stepping toward her.
“I felt like I was suffocating,” she replied, the words sounding strange in her ears. “I don't know what was happening, but I was afraid. He- that man- he came running and made it stop.”
“And then?”
“And then he grabbed my arm and told me we had to talk somewhere else, but before he could take me further than the front entrance, my aunt came along.”
Despite Lukas’s urgent questioning, the thought of her aunt made her worry and she longed to return to the castle. Looking up into Lukas's face, she felt the weight of concern press harder on her heart. His eyes were closed, as though he was deep in thought, and she thought briefly of slipping away.
She took a tiny step back, but the ground crunched under her weight and his eyes flew open. She gasped when he strode forward and seized both of her upper arms in his hands. His grip was tight, but not painful, and she did not struggle against it.
“You must listen to me,” he growled. “Do not allow him to take you. Anywhere. He will try, now that he knows what you see, but you must not go.”
“Why can I see?” Sophie whispered through clenched teeth.
“I don't know,” Lukas replied. “But I need you-”
His words wer
e severed as a shrill voice called from the courtyard behind them.
“Sophie!” Katie's voice hollered again and again.
Sophie did not answer, but looked at Lukas with wide eyes.
“You need what?” she asked, but he shook his head and released her, stepping back into the shadow of a nearby tree, his eyes locked on a point behind her. She turned slowly and stepped through the barrier of trees.
“Sophie!” Katie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Are you deaf or something? I've been screaming out here for, like, ten minutes.”
“No,” Sophie replied, shooting a final glance over her shoulder. The shadows were void of any sign of Lukas. “I heard you.”
With a shake of her head, Katie turned away. Sophie followed her inside, the guilt in her chest pounding at her conscience.
Chapter 6
Every step she took sent her further down the dark hall, a small smile playing on her lips. The walls were fuzzy and dim in the darkness, and she stretched out her hands on either side, using the walls to guide her. A moment before, she had been running wildly through the forest, her hair flying in the sharp wind that pounded in her ears, her bare feet on the moss-carpeted ground.
A faint buzzing lured her to the small ruins. She had followed the sound for what seemed like hours, not caring where it was leading her. Now, in the darkened underground tunnels that branched downwards from the beaten stone walls above, she followed the same sound with unexplainable excitement. Though she could not see more than a few inches ahead, her body was not tense and her mind relished the cold shadows. The buzzing grew louder as she shuffled down the corridor. Its tone was high and harsh.
As she walked, she began to hum an unfamiliar tune – upbeat, vaguely similar to a nursery rhyme. The soft sound being pushed through closed lips did nothing to drown the buzzing, but she enjoyed the melodious harmony they created together. The floor beneath her feet grew damp, then wet, and she sloshed through what felt like soaking weeds, her bare toes squeezing and pushing the oozing substance with great enjoyment.
She giggled in the darkness, quickening her pace, letting her hair swish behind her as she walked.
A sliver of light appeared in the distance, beckoning to her, and she stretched her fingers toward it as a child would to its mother. Her smile widened, joy seeping from every pore of her body. As she neared, the buzzing reached its highest pitch, vibrating her ear drums and sending piercing shocks through each of her teeth.
She paused before the thin cylinder of light pouring from an unseen space above. Pointing her bare toe, she swept her foot out in front of her, letting the light cascade over her skin. Something dark and thick covered the length of her foot and calf, dripping in long strings from her toes, winding through the spaces between them. The smile vanished from her face as she stretched her foot up, grasping at her leg, to see it closer. A stench so foul rose up from the sludge coating her skin that she retched, tumbling forward, her hands plunging deep into the dark substance beneath her.
Gasping and heaving, she pushed herself to her knees, wiping her drenched hands on the walls, leaving dark smears on the dust-covered stones. To her right, coated in the foul-smelling mess and bathed in the only rays of sunlight penetrating the dark hall was a still form, stretched lengthwise across the narrow path.
Dread coursed through her, but her hands pulled her forward, sloshing in the slime as she crawled on all fours toward the body. With trembling fingers, she picked the streaming masses of reeking liquid from its head, leaning toward it despite the frantic screaming in her mind.
Uncle Gus grimaced up at her, his eye sockets dark and deep, his mouth like a gaping smile. The buzzing in her ears transformed as huge insects poured from every hole in his rotting form, rising up around her in dark clouds, taking the sound with them as they moved toward the light.
Her body was stiff, her eyes so wide they threatened to tear at the corners, and she gurgled in terror as she watched her uncle's body deflate with the leaving of its former inhabitants. Loud screams were building around her, coming from somewhere along the length of the tunnel, but she could not tear her eyes away. It was not until she felt cold hands grip her arms that she jolted around.
Sweat was pouring from Sophie's face as she sat upright in bed, her dimly lit room still and quiet. Her clothes from the night before still lay heaped on the armchair where she had thrown them after returning from Katie's room and the impromptu fashion show that had occurred there.
She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, sucking in air through her teeth as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. It had been months since her last nightmare, though none of them compared to what she had just experienced. Kicking off the blankets, she pulled her feet toward her, rubbing at her toes in an effort to dispel the feeling of wetness that lingered there. Memories of stringy, foul-smelling liquid filled her vision.
When her breathing calmed, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with a corner of the sheet and chanced a look at the clock on the wall.
“4:17,” she muttered, anger and exhaustion bringing tears to her eyes.
With no hope that sleep would return to her and the terrifying face of her uncle flashing behind her lids every time she tried to attempt it, Sophie shoved the blankets to the side and stumbled out of bed. She stood for a minute, balancing on her toes on the cold stone floor, and listened to the sound of her own heart beating in her ears. Closing her eyes, the blackness instantly turned to the gaping face of her dead uncle, bugs spewing from his frozen, toothless grin. She forced herself to keep her eyes closed, forced the image away, replacing it with her fondest memory.
All of her thoughts clung to his face as he stood over Aunt Marilyn's counter-top stove, spatula in hand. He had laughed incessantly that day.
“A little for the sauce, a little for me,” he would say, sipping from the half-empty bottle of red wine. Sophie had laughed, shoving him to the side, trying to steal a taste of his famous pasta, but he slapped her hand away with a stern look before grinning at her.
It was the day before they found the cancer that was tearing through his lungs, poisoning his blood. The day before Sophie's world began to fall apart.
She shook her head, hard. Tears dripped from her chin, soaking wet spots into her tank-top and falling with tiny slaps to the floor. She sat on the side of the bed, wrapping her arms around her stomach, and let the sobs escape. Sorrow covered her like a warm blanket, caressing every thought, every memory. What she had fought for so long, the grief and fear, was finally allowed to consume her, but instead of the humiliation and pain she expected, what she felt instead was liberation.
“I miss you so much,” she whispered through her tears. Her breath came in loud hiccoughs, and her eyes grew swollen and red. Peeling the stray hairs from her damp face, she inhaled until her lungs protested. Slowly letting the air escape, she pushed herself from the bed and trudged to the bathroom, pulling her used towel from the back of the chair as she passed.
Aunt Marilyn greeted her as she entered the breakfast room just after eight o'clock, looking little more refreshed than she had the previous day.
“Good morning,” she said, patting the empty side of the bench she was perched upon. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Sophie muttered, seizing a piece of toast from the center of the table. “You don't look so great yourself.”
“I've not been sleeping well. I think it may be the bed.”
Sophie turned to face her aunt, who avoided her gaze but seemed to expect the question that followed.
“What's going on?” Sophie demanded.
“I'm so sorry, dear,” Aunt Marilyn said, turning with a smile to face her niece. “I haven't been quite myself lately, but I promise I'll perk up.”
“If I tell you what's bothering me, will you fess up?”
“There is nothing to confess, Sophie,” Aunt Marilyn turned back to her bowl of granola and yogurt. The hesitation in her voice contradicted her words.
“Please,” Sophie placed a hand on her aunt's arm. “I need to talk. And I swear, if you don't talk to me I'll have to find Katie, or Dad. Or,” she feigned a shudder, “Mom.”
Aunt Marilyn stifled a laugh, slapping Sophie's hand and wiping her mouth with her napkin.
“Oh, all right,” she sighed. “You go first.”
After Sophie had divulged the details of her dream, leaving out the gory details for her aunt's benefit, she paused to observe the reaction.
Aunt Marilyn was looking over Sophie's shoulder, her eyes out of focus.
“And, that's it,” she finished awkwardly when her aunt did not reply.
“Why would the tunnel have been full of blood?” Aunt Marilyn asked quietly, looking Sophie in the eye.
“I have no idea,” she answered. “It was just a really strange dream.”
“Yes, strange. You know, I've been having strange dreams, too.”
At last, Sophie thought, hopeful that she would finally get to hear the reason behind her aunt's subdued appearance.
“What are yours about?”
“They're about,” she paused, running a hand over her forehead. Her eyes twitched to the floor, her voice quiet. “Well, the same as yours. Always him.”
Pity swept through Sophie and she wrapped her arms around Aunt Marilyn's neck. They sat in a silent embrace for a moment. Aunt Marilyn was the first to pull away. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin and gave Sophie a weak smile.
“Sometimes, the dreams are so real,” she said, “I forget where I am. I did dream about him quite a lot, in the beginning, but it has been months and months. It was only about the second day that we had been here that I started seeing him again.”
Ashes of Iris Page 9