She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
“They brought you to Switzerland?” Sophie guessed. She was relieved to have finally pinpointed the red-head's subtle accent.
Aggie nodded.
“They did. For almost a full year I lived in Zurich. Being almost ready to leave my parents and find my own way, I was excited to see new places, new people. One night, I left the small apartment my parents had rented, just out of the main city. I told them I was going for a walk.”
Her smile turned wistful and she shook her head, her river of hair rippling with the motion.
“A thousand times I had gone down that street. The shop windows were familiar to me, I knew each store by name. I never thought of the foolishness of being out so late, alone. It wasn't until I saw him coming toward me that I felt the first bit of fear.”
Sophie's stomach dropped as she predicted where Aggie's story was going. Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, she waited with bated breath for the story to continue.
“He walked slowly, at first, but I could see his face turned in my direction. When he got closer, I could see the whites of his eyes, wide with hunger. He quickened his pace, almost running before he reached me. I'll never forget the feeling when he grabbed my arm. Adrenaline, terror, disbelief, all rolled into one strong surge of emotion.
“He pulled me so hard that I fell, but he did not slow. He dragged me along the ground for what seemed like hours. I was flailing, struggling, but when I would scream he would turn and kick my face with his boot. It felt like a lead hammer.”
Aggie's voice had gone robotic, her eyes appeared to be under a hypnotic spell, but her words continued to flow without hesitation. Sophie listened, her own sorrow forgotten.
“I was forced into the back of a car, and I thought he would leave me alone and drive, but he climbed over my body. It was then that I realized, for the first time, how truly small I was. Powerless. Simply powerless.
“The car must have been in an isolated area, because he wasted no time. Before I knew it, my clothes had been ripped away. I tried to scratch, claw, wound him in any way I could. I know the smell of him will never leave me – not until the day I die.”
The disbelief and pity must have been apparent on Sophie's face, because Aggie snapped out of her trance and gave her a small smile.
“Listen to me,” she said, “babbling on like a basket case. Lukas always says I talk too much. Poor man, he's the only one around to hear me most of the time.”
“It's alright,” Sophie answered. “I don't mind. I'm sorry, though, about what happened to you.”
“Don't be,” she waved a hand. “What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, isn't that what they say? And I am stronger for it.”
“What happened?” Sophie asked. “After.”
“He kicked me from the car,” Aggie answered. “Literally. Right out onto the cold pavement, with no clothes and covered in blood. It could have been worse,” she shook her head at Sophie's shocked expression, “much worse. He could have killed me. I thought he would. I may not have minded then, I may even have welcomed it, but now I know better.”
“Where did you go?” Sophie whispered. The horror of Aggie's tale was nauseating, but she felt a morbid curiosity.
“As far as my battered legs would carry me. It gets fuzzy and jumbled in my mind at that point. I remember the blood. So much blood. I remember that I didn't stop running. Even when daylight came, I moved to the shelter of the trees on the side of the road and kept right on going. I had no idea where I was trying to get to; I don't even think I knew what I was doing. All I wanted was to keep moving. Keep running.
“I don't remember falling. When I woke, I was being carried through the trees. At least, that's what my body told me. My mind was screaming insanity because when I looked around, I seemed to be floating. There was nothing holding me, no one around. That's what I thought, anyway,” she shot Sophie a knowing look. “I remember thinking that I'd gone insane, lost my mind because of what had happened. And then my memories go blank.”
A picture painted itself in Sophie's mind. It might have been comical, but for the circumstances behind it.
“I woke up, it could have been days, weeks later, I didn't know,” Aggie went on. “All I saw was this room. I tried to move, but it was so painful. Like I had been snapped in two and glued back together. A glass of water was on the table beside me, so I knew I hadn't imagined being carried, and that someone was there with me at some point. When I finally pulled myself from the bed, looking for another sign of life, I found nothing but rotting food in the refrigerator and meat hanging in the window. After a few hours, I started to feel afraid. I thought of running again, but the pain stopped me. I spent another night here, barely sleeping, hoping to catch a peek of whoever had picked me up.”
“How long was it before you realized,” Sophie paused, unsure of how to phrase the question, “realized that he was-”
“Invisible?” Aggie laughed, finishing Sophie's sentence. “A long time. I stayed here, mainly because I had nowhere else to go. First thing I noticed was that there was always food, mostly meat, but sometimes vegetables and berries. It wasn't until I had gotten used to this place that I would notice things were moved or misplaced. There was someone coming and going, I knew that much for sure, but I had never seen them.”
“That must have been confusing,” Sophie mused. “I think I would have gotten as far from this place as possible.”
“I didn't have much choice,” Aggie answered. “I had no idea where I was. Not to mention the tattered old clothes, far too big for me, which I had found and dragged from underneath the bed. I knew I looked terrible, and I felt more than my share of crazy. Given the state I was in, I don't think that I'd have survived for long out there,” she motioned to the woods.
“I guess that's true. I imagine he must have shown you something, like the notes he writes now.”
“He did, a few months after I'd been here,” Aggie answered. “But not on purpose. I still believe, if not for his mistake, he'd have been happy to stay invisible forever. If not for a bout of insomnia on my part, I don't know that I'd ever have found out about him.”
“What happened?”
This was what Sophie had been waiting to hear. Since meeting Aggie, she had wondered about the woman's tolerance of such an impossible situation – a tolerance, she noticed, quite like her own.
“It was pitch black, middle of the night,” she answered, emphasizing the words as if she were telling a horror story around a campfire. “I came out of the room to get some water and there was a small fire in the hearth. The sight of it froze me in my tracks. I tried to speak, but got no answer. It was frightening, but I didn’t feel like I was in danger. I waited all night, but nothing else happened. A few days later, I kept awake on purpose, keeping my ear pressed to the door hoping I’d hear something, anything.”
“And he came?”
“He was here all along,” she answered. “I heard his door creak open. My heart stopped. I listened for footsteps, but it was so quiet, so I pulled my door open a crack. It was dark, I couldn't see, but I knew someone was there. I ran to the kitchen – still don’t know where I found the courage – and flicked on the lights. The house was empty.
“I shut all the doors and sat in the middle of the floor, waiting. Finally, after hours of waiting and when the sun was just starting to come up, I saw it. The table shifted. I jumped up, watching as a message was scrawled in the dust. I swear, in that moment, I was sure I’d gone off the deep end.”
“He wrote a message,” Sophie whispered.
“Yes,” Aggie nodded, “and it scared the daylights out of me. Do not fear. That was all it said.”
Easier said than done, Sophie thought, remembering her experience in the tower room. Aggie sat silently for a moment, her eyes tracing the lines of the windows, the furniture. She sighed, standing and smiling down at Sophie.
“I should let you sleep,” she said. “Just wait a moment.
I have some clothes you can wear overnight.”
Dressed, washed, and feeling thoroughly exhausted after her evening's emotional rollercoaster, Sophie trudged back into Lukas's bedroom. She had not spoken to him since their argument and was afraid to initiate contact, so instead kept her head down as she entered the room.
“Sophie,” his voice called. Her heart thudded and she stopped.
“Yes?” she replied quietly.
The sofa creaked under his weight as he shifted to glance at her. She shot a look over her shoulder, but the corner of the doorway blocked her view.
“Sleep well.”
Keeping silent, she pushed the door closed. It snapped shut with a gentle click and she was left with nothing but the thrum of her own thoughts rumbling in her mind.
Chapter 13
The halls were vacant as Sophie tiptoed through the castle in the early hours of Saturday morning. She had removed her shoes on the patio, walking barefoot across the polished floors.
Lukas left her, as usual, before the boundary of trees met the courtyard. They had walked in almost total silence through the woods, speaking only when he wished her luck for the coming day. Not once did he mention the urgency they both felt as time dwindled and, along with it, their hope of freedom. Nor did she mention that Jude would be invited into the castle that afternoon, potentially hunting the very spirit they needed for information. A nugget of guilt resided in the pit of her stomach at the knowledge, but she forced herself to ignore it.
If he tries anything, I'll know it, she told herself silently.
Shooting a quick glance at the clock in the front entrance, she hastened to her room, knowing that it wouldn't be long until the bustle of wedding preparations began. It wasn't until she had locked herself safely inside that she relaxed, her racing heart slowing with each breath.
From the small wardrobe next to the fireplace, Sophie pulled a hanging garment bag from the hook and loosened the zipper. Deep crimson folds of silk ran through her fingers as she moved to the bed and lay her dress down, smoothing the creases away. The fabric felt like soft water under her fingertips, and she trailed the length of the hem line twice over before turning away. Aunt Marilyn had bought the dress, despite her niece's objections, stating simply that it would “brighten my day to see you wear something beautiful, for a change”.
At the time, Sophie had rolled her eyes. She watched her aunt pay for a dress she could not imagine wearing and pouted like a child when she had to put it on and model for the seamstress. Her aunt had only beamed. A faint smile appeared on her lips when she remembered that day, her throat swelling with suppressed emotion.
Do not waste the time you have with those who love you.
With a curt nod, Sophie pulled the dress from the bag, stroking it lovingly once more before heading to the bathroom and hanging it on a towel hook. She turned on the shower, waiting until the water was as hot as she could possibly stand, and fought away the prickle of fear that nagged her.
It would be a difficult day, of that she was sure.
The previous night she would have simply run away, unable to face the trials ahead of her, but that morning she was resolved, resigned to her fate and willing to sacrifice a day of trouble for a lifetime of closure. She owed the most unexpected of friends for the courage to proceed.
A man, strange and mysterious, with secrets so unbelievable she would never have believed them if she had not experienced them firsthand. A tiny woman of fifty-one, red-hair like fire, surviving, thriving against all odds. And two old friends, sharing a curse and a memory, dueling over the blame and balancing their trust on the point of a needle.
By the time she returned her attention to the present moment, Sophie's skin was red with heat and she jumped from the shower, every nerve in her body alight with intuition. Wiping away the steam from the mirror above the sink, she looked at herself carefully, sternly. Dripping strands of black hair draped her shoulders. Cheeks, glowing bright with warmth and emotion, under burning brown eyes that glared back at her. She watched her own lips part as she smiled, her expression full of a strength and confidence she had never known before.
Two hours later, she was dressed in sweats and knocking on her aunt's door.
“Hmm...” she heard her aunt moan, obviously still in bed. Deliberating for a split-second, she knocked again and called through the door.
“It's me,” she leaned close to the wood so her aunt would hear. “Time to get up.”
“Sophie?” Aunt Marilyn cleared her throat. “What time… oh my goodness.”
Sophie waited, rocking back on her heels and clasping her hands behind her back, for Aunt Marilyn to open the door. When the lock clicked and her aunt appeared, blond hair pressed flat on one side and spiking out the other and eyes dark with sleep, she smiled.
“Morning,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“Thank you for waking me,” Aunt Marilyn replied, pressing on her hair with one hand and stifling a yawn with the other. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I couldn't sleep.”
She had never been the best liar, but this one left her lips with ease.
“Just put something on and let's go eat breakfast,” she continued, motioning to her aunt's wrinkled nightdress.
Waiting patiently on an armchair in her aunt's room, Sophie closed her eyes and imagined, not for the first time, her meeting with Jude that afternoon. When she invited him to the wedding, a sense of excitement and giddiness was upon her, but that faded as quickly as the bright sunlight in the midst of the forest trees when she had learned what he might be. Now, she was only apprehensive. Every now and then, a trickle of excitement would try to break through, but it never lasted.
Finally, Aunt Marilyn emerged from the bathroom and they headed for the breakfast hall.
“Wasn't that dinner divine?” Aunt Marilyn asked when they descended the stairs to the lower level.
“Yeah,” Sophie hesitated. “The food was good.”
Obviously, the drama of the previous night had not spread and, for that, she was grateful.
“Your father had too much to drink, though,” Aunt Marilyn shook her head, “as always. He was rambling on and sniffling like a little boy.”
“Oh?” Sophie's muscles tightened. She waited, holding her breath, for her aunt to say more.
“It is refreshing to see him so emotionally involved in Katie's marriage. I was beginning to worry.”
With a sigh, Sophie smiled in relief.
“He loves her, of course he's involved.”
She had not quite decided how to approach the subject of her adoption with her aunt, but knew that it must wait until the wedding day was over. Despite her own sense of urgency, she knew the conversation would only cast a shadow on the day her aunt was so looking forward to. Lukas had changed her perception of how her actions and words might affect the already strained relationship between the one person she could count on – Aunt Marilyn – and herself.
She had also failed to consider the notion that her mother would be present for breakfast until they entered the hall. Her breath hitched when she saw the back of a blond head at the table, but released in a gush when the head turned and an unfamiliar face looked up at her. A relative of the groom, she learned quickly upon introduction, taking a seat across from the woman.
Biting into the thick crust of her bagel, Sophie watched as a young woman in a crisp black uniform entered with a tray and piled it with food before whisking it from the room.
“The bride must be taking her breakfast in her room,” said the woman across from her. Patricia, or Paula, Sophie couldn't remember which. She motioned toward the now empty doorway.
“Oh, yes,” Aunt Marilyn nodded. “We won't see them until the ceremony, I'm sure.”
Sophie breathed deeply, relieved by the thought that she would not have to face her mother until that afternoon. Part of her dreaded the moment of that meeting and the awkward conversation she knew would follow, but she also knew it was nec
essary for her to move on – to accept it. She could not predict what her relationship with her family would be like from that point, and if she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure that she wanted to find out.
When Aunt Marilyn rushed them from the breakfast hall at half-past nine, she was bursting with energy, exchanging bright greetings with every passing guest. Sophie followed quietly, her high-spirits waning as time ticked by, drawing her ever closer to the moment she was dreading – Jude's arrival.
The hours passed faster than she could have imagined, faster than she liked, and before long she was pulling the straps of her crimson dress over her pale shoulders and tying the string at her waist. Fearful that the neckline was much to low, she pulled it as far up as was comfortable. Even still, it covered her chest far less than she would like. With a deep breath, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and left the room, anxiety running wild through her.
When she stepped into the front entrance, it was vacant. She walked over the stone floors, an unfamiliar clicking trailing each step, coming from the shoes that felt like foreign objects strapped to her feet. She cringed at the echo they made in the silence. Lifting onto her toes, she kept the points of her heels from connecting with the hard floor.
Her heart fluttered in her chest as she stepped through the door and into the warmth of the morning air. The sunshine would have been bright but for the ceaseless mist that seemed to linger around her. Striding past several tall vases bursting with white, red, and violet, she inhaled their sweet aroma as she descended the front steps. She welcomed the feel of the breeze in her hair. The silk of her skirt danced around her knees as she waited for Jude’s pickup to appear. To pass the time, she brainstormed potential questions for him that might gain the right answers without sounding suspicious. Her mind raced, fighting against the pull of her emotions. She couldn’t help but think of the kiss they had shared. The memory of his lips barely touching her own, of his hand gripping hers, of her stomach doing flips and her mind going blank fought its way to the surface.
The soft crunching of gravel shook her back to the present and she steeled herself for his arrival.
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