by Strange, KT
Thirty minutes until the alarms went up.
Thirty minutes to go looking for more information about the mysterious Lilah. There was no way I was escaping unless the perfect opportunity presented itself to me, but that was a secondary objective. The Barrons were teaching me one thing… knowledge was power, and I needed knowledge.
Silence in the hallway told me it was safe to move, and I began a slow, sneaking creep along it. The doors to the rooms were closed, and when I opened them, most were empty, or had furniture that were swathed in drop cloths to keep the dust off. They looked like bedrooms, unused and quiet. How many rooms did this place have, anyway?
Also…
Wasn’t there an entrance to Buck’s apartment around here somewhere?
Light pooled on the carpet at the far end of the hall where it fed into the grand entrance, with its marble flooring and giant chandelier. A voice in the distance, shrill and berating, sounded like Sarah Barron. If the staff were smart, they wouldn’t be anywhere near her when she sounded like that.
But my curiosity was piqued. Cat-quiet, my feet whispered across the plush runner rug, approaching the corner as her voice grew louder. I was nearly at the mouth of the hallway, when I saw her, down below, on the first floor, pacing and speaking on her cellphone.
She gestured in my direction with arm, her words echoing in the giant entry-way. Her shoulder dipped and she started to turn.
Heart in a panic, I dropped to the ground, flattening myself. My face pressed to the floor.
“She’s completely ungrateful. I told Barron I didn’t want his little bastard here, but of course he overruled me. You wouldn’t believe it…” She trailed off, her footsteps clacking over the marble. I trembled, and lifted my head a little to hear better. It sounded like she was moving under the overhang, where the upper level of the house acted like a balcony to the lower.
Then I heard a noise that shot ice through my veins.
The circular stairs below had statues that lined the walls, curving with the steps as they rose on either side of the entrance hall to meet at the top.
The first statue was a young woman, in marble, from the torso up, but in her arms was a carved wooden guitar, with strings and everything.
Twaaaaangrrr-rrrrr…
The sound of nails dragging along the strings.
Sarah was coming up the stairs. I got to my knees and looked around.
There were no alcoves up here. No shadowy place to hide.
“It’s Lilah all over again, except this one is fat in comparison,” she said, her words washing over me. It sounded like her voice was right beneath me, which meant she was almost a third of the way up the stairs. If I didn’t move fast, she’d see me there and…
A door at the exact opposite end from the stair landing, of the circle that the second level balcony made, stood in stark relief. I’d never been through it. But she was going to see me and-
“No, he won’t let Buck come home either, and I don’t know what I’ll do without him, even if he’s fucked the filthy tramp in his own bed and everything.”
A flicker of rage for how she was talking about me bloomed in my chest and I started crawling, keeping low. If she got too far up the stairs, she’d see me if I was standing.
Twenty feet…
My knees burned on the rug as I tried to move as fast as possible without making noise.
“I’ve told him he can have his little plaything for another two weeks, but then he must send her somewhere…” She paused, and so did I, ten feet from the door.
Had she heard me?
She laughed.
“Well of course, maybe Europe if she’s lucky. We still have friends who run a school for that type in England.”
I didn’t let myself breathe a sigh of relief, but made a break for it, my fingers scraping the door just as her voice leveled out, clear and loud. I glanced over my shoulder.
She stood at the top of the stairs, back to me, her head tipped back to take in the giant portrait that stretched from five feet above the floor to nearly the full height of the ceiling at twenty-five.
I’d never noticed it before, probably because I’d always been downstairs and the last time I’d come up the stairs I’d been a little preoccupied.
It was a family portrait.
I recognize Buck instantly, even though he couldn’t have been more than five years old.
There was Bernard Barron, years younger, and Sarah, still a pastel fairy demon but thinner.
And next to Buck, her hand on his shoulder, a taller girl, maybe fifteen, maybe sixteen, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun with bangs cut straight across her forehead.
A girl.
A sister.
Lilah?
Sarah cackled and bent forward, and that’s when I saw her other hand, with a tinkling glass of ice and alcohol in it, reminding me that I was crouched out in the open, a second away from discovery if she turned around and spotted me there.
My fingers brushed the doorknob and I twisted it softly, my heart hiccuping as the door swung open near-silently. Darkness spilled out from the room, and I slipped inside, standing slowly and pushing the door nearly shut.
Sarah laughed again, staggering forward toward the portrait.
“You’re right, I should tell him,” she said, and then snarled, pulling her shoulders back, her spine arching. With an unholy shriek, she threw her glass at the portrait, hitting Buck’s cherubic fave with a smash. Crystal sparkled and exploded, alcohol dripping on the painting. “You’ve ruined everything!!”
Shock exploded over me at the same time as she sobbed and sank to her knees, sagging down-ward like a wilting lily.
I shut the door quietly, and clicked the lock, backing away from it in case she suddenly realized I was there and turned her drunken rage on me.
Turning, I found myself in the room with windows that were right above the main doors to the Barron mansion, curtains pulled back and the ambient light from outside splashing in and giving me enough illumination to see by.
The carpet was dusty, and it smelled like it had been shut up for a long time, sad and abandoned like so much of the estate.
There was a bed-shaped lump at one end, under what looked like a crown-shaped chandelier that dripped with pink gauze and tulle.
Everything, more furniture, like a seating area by the window, and a desk area, were covered in more drop cloths. Above the desk, a plain linen cloth had been nailed to the wall, hiding something textured behind it.
I walked to it, and lifted a hand, pulling it back.
A cork board, papers stuck to it yellowing and curled, revealed itself.
A few polaroids, a skinny brunette girl, identical to the one in the portrait, smiled for the flash.
And above it, letters cut out of flowery paper spelled out a name.
L-I-L-A-H.
Chapter Sixteen
Everything was finally starting to make sense. Buck had an older sister. I wasn't sure why he'd never spoken about her, but I guessed from the way everyone mentioned her name… She was either dad or long gone. I explored her old bedroom, feeling like I was staring into someone else's soul, like I was trespassing. But I hope somehow this girl, hood gone before me, could help me now.
And also there was a little problem of Sarah Barron standing outside the room on the second floor landing. It's not like I could go back out right then.
Crossing the bedroom, which felt stuffy, but not dusty, I stood in front of her bookshelf. How long had she been gone for? No more than ten years, if I had guessed her age right, putting her in her mid to late teens when Buck had been barely into elementary school. I ran my fingers along the spines of her books; they were arranged by color-
My finger caught on the edge of a pink diary, and I pulled it out, sitting on her bed with it in my hands.
A water-color kitten stared back up at me from the cover.
What the hell did I think I was doing? Finding information, that's what. Without another thoug
ht I opened it up and check the date on the front page. It was from 13 years back, when back would have been four or five. Around the time I suspected the portrait had been painted. I quickly skim the page, feeling like I'm violating her privacy, but at the same time needing me information.
I keep telling Dad that I'm not interested in going to law school, but all I want to do is art. But it's like talking to a wall, or wet cement. He just wants to keep me stuck in the same life that he has, or maybe make sure that I'll be useful to him once I'm grown up and out of the house. I think he thinks that if heat wraps me in a long and drawn-out educational pursuit I'll forget all about Heath.
But I never will forget about him.
Sometimes I wish Buck had never been born, because leaving this house is so much harder with him here.
I've got to go to dinner now, although I'm not looking forward to it.
I wish you were still here Heath.
XO
Lilah
So Bernard Barron had always been an asshole, even to his first born. I wasn't surprised. I look forward a few more pages, trying to suss out when she had disappeared and for how long she had struggled with her father over her educational future. I also wanted to know who Heath was. The more dirt I had on the family, the more likely it was that I'd be able to negotiate my release, and protect my uncle.
A shriek outside the room interrupted me. I sat bolt upright I got to my feet, spelling the diary on the floor.
“Well where the fuck is she then?"
My absence had been discovered. I knew that in the depths of my heart that if I turn myself in, the punishment would be worse than anything I could ever imagine. I looked around the room, trying to figure out my next move. There were a set of French doors at the far end, and I ran to them. I noticed a balcony on the second floor at the front of the house when I'd first come here for that rager party that Buck had thrown.
To my shock, the doors opened under my hands and I stepped outside, smelling fresh air for the first time in weeks. The balcony lay in front of me and to either side, covered in red tile which was definitely not the fashion and was clearly old and hasn't been re-done recently, underfoot.
I didn’t think, just ran to my right, to the side of the house that had trees closest to it.
The railing next to me was made up of thick white columns, and I kept ducked down low just in case anyone from the ground was looking up… on the off chance.
Getting caught was not in my plan. The tile cut up at my bare feet, and I hissed in pain.
My heart lifted as I got to the end of the balcony, and another set of french doors were there, the familiar navy curtains of Buck’s private apartment hanging in them. With a silent prayer, I touched my fingers to one curving, weathered doorknob.
The door swung open and I trembled.
I stepped inside, and was hit by his scent in the air, and the memory of all that we’d done, emotionally, sexually, in this room. It was dark and shadowy, most of the curtains drawn, but it was blissfully silent.
And, best of all, there were those stairs to the outside.
I crept through the studio apartment, freezing for a moment before I went down the stairs, expecting an alarm to go off, or someone to grab me from the shadows at any moment. I needed to breathe. I could do this. I could get out.
I hesitated on the landing at the door to the back of the house, his private entrance, then opened it.
Crisp air rushed over my skin and the forest was only yards from me.
I was feet from freedom. I hovered there, seeing all those trees and the brush that would protect me from being found… I’d need something to cover my bare feet, that were already aching from the old tile I’d run across on the balcony.
I pulled open the coat closet that was just inside the entryway in a hope I’d find something there, and with a sigh of relief I found an old pair of Keds, probably left from someone like Paige, or from one of Buck’s parties what felt like a lifetime ago. They were a little big, but I laced them up with trembling fingers.
And then, edging outside, holding my breath, my heartbeat shuddering through my veins, I looked around.
There was no sound of shouts, or voices. If they were searching for me, it was limited to inside the house at least for now. I crept forward, inch by inch, staying low, an easy target in my pj’s and borrowed shoes.
The edge of the forest drew closer, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.
I bolted forward in an explosion of motion, flat out running to the woods. I crashed into the brush, jumping over a low shrub, and I was in the cool shadows. November melting into December had decimated the leaf coverage, but I kept running anyway.
If I ran deep enough I could turn right and go parallel to the road that would take me home.
Branches scratched at my skin as I ran, and I stumbled over a root, pitching forward. A branch slapped me in the face, a hot line of pain slicing across my eye as I closed it too slow.
I dropped like a rock and cried out, hand covering my eye. My knees hit the ground and I sobbed in shock, before stuffing my other hand into my mouth, biting down to keep from making more noise.
Fuck. Fuck. I needed to stay quiet. My eyes watered with tears and that stung even more, and I cried into my hands, whole body shaking.
Get back on your feet.
I staggered upwards. I had to. I had to do it. I had to keep moving.
Pulling my hand away from my eye just let a rush of fresh pain shoot through my skull. I clapped my hand back over it and breathed in and out for a few moments. The forest around me was quiet and still, the distant chirps of wintering birds the only noise.
I could take a second. I was safe, for now. It was still daylight. I let myself catch my breath and I closed my good eye. I could get home like this, with one hand over my eye, if I had to.
It wouldn’t be so bad. Just one step at a time. Depth perception was overrated, wasn’t it?
A breeze lifted, pulling at my hair and made me shiver. A soft crack sounded out, like a branch breaking. I pressed up against a nearby tree, trying to hide against its bark. Silence again… nothing. It was nothing. I needed to keep pushing.
Glancing around as best I could with one eye, I took a shaky step then started walking, holding my other arm up to guard my face. I couldn’t lose a second eye and be totally blind.
I stumbled over a small trail after a minute, barely more than a ghost of a track through the trees, and I followed it, keeping my attention on the Barron mansion as it faded in and out of view to my right. Always to my right. If I kept it there, I’d make it to the bend in the road where it curved around the far edge of the Barron property. I had to keep walking straight.
I froze when I saw movement in the mansion’s windows, as I passed the opposite end from Buck’s apartment, in a rare break in the trees that gave me full view. The upper level, right there, I saw him…
Bernard Barron standing, staring out at the woods.
I shrank back, hoping he hadn’t seen me.
My attention diverted, that’s when two sets of hands grabbed me from behind, wrapped around my waist and chest, and dragged me backwards.
Chapter Seventeen
“Shit shit shit, stop biting me,” Reid said as I sank my teeth into his hand. I growled and he let me go, Cael holding me steady.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I whisper-hissed at the two of them, still pressing my hand to my injured eye. “What the actual fuck.”
They’d pulled me through some deep bushes, giving us more protection and buffer space between us and the mansion… and Mr. Barron. If he’d seen anything at all.
Cael peered through the brush.
“We need to go. Are you alright? You’re hurt.” He frowned, pressing cool fingers to my cheek. I didn’t want to lift my hand away, but I did. He leaned in and took a good look.
“A branch hit me,” I said, “I think it got me in the eye.” His expression pulled down into a grimace.
“Our doc
tor will come look at it once we get you safe,” he said. “Can you walk?”
I felt dizzy and out of breath, even doing my push-up regime hadn’t prepared me for so much physical activity after what had to have been a month in a five star hotel lock-up. I didn’t need to say anything. The two of them exchanged a serious look and Reid nodded.
“I’ve got your back,” Reid said, and Cael nodded, turning around.
“Wait-” I protested as Reid grabbed me around the hips and lifted me up. My arms wrapped around Cael’s shoulders, and his hands tucked under my thighs as he settled me, piggy-back style, against him.
“Good?” Reid asked, his tone oddly comforting and concerned at the same time. I wasn’t used to anything other than psychopath from him.
“Running,” Cael warned me, and he took off. I clung to him, trying not to bounce hard against him for his comfort and mine. I kept my eye shut and ducked my head against his shoulder. Reid paced with us, barely breaking a sweat as we went.
Fifty feet… then a hundred. It didn’t even feel real as we broke away from my crystal prison, and deeper into the woods.
“Almost there,” Cael said, the slight sound of strain in his voice. A ditch appeared in front of us, and on the other side, the road. Cael made a noise of frustration.
“I’ll get dow-”
He dug in and ran hard, and I shrieked as he jumped it, the ground spinning under us. He skidded to a halt on the gravel at the edge of the road. My thighs ached from hanging on, and he turned, as Reid followed us with a little more ease since he didn’t have a sack of wet cement on his back.
A dark SUV sat waiting, a driver in the front seat with sunglasses on.
Cael let me down and my legs trembled.
“We are never doing that again.”