by HR Mason
Sighing heavily, Runa dropped the phone back into her pocket. Most of the time she believed her mother’s visions were nothing but a bunch of hocus-pocus, but she’d been having experiences she couldn’t explain. Her logical mind had difficulty with the fact that nothing in her life made sense.
The strange warning dreams, the random blue light that flickered from her hands on a regular basis, and the fact that she could control elements with her mind—there was no logic to any of that. Asta’s auras and premonitions didn’t seem half as farfetched as they once had.
Runa vowed to call her mother the next morning and made her way back toward the house. She was emotionally exhausted, hoping to convince her weary body to sleep.
As she entered the house, she glanced at the turret on the third floor, where a faint, unmistakable light glittered behind the stained glass windows.
Runa watched closely. Was it her imagination, or were two distinct silhouettes peering back at her?
Thirty-Two
Departure Cove, Oregon, 1903
Brynja paced back and forth across the floor of Thomas’s study. She’d intended to clear out some of his belongings but was unable to do so. Instead, she’d become a puddle of tears as she rifled through his paperwork. Tears had become all too common since his death.
Six months had passed since her life was irrevocably changed, yet for her, time seemed to stand still. She barely left the house, instead sending the servants into town for anything she needed. She and Ingrid were recluses, tucked away, hidden behind the walls of their self-imposed prison.
Folks in town continued to whisper about Brynja’s role in the sinking of Thomas’s ship. Her staff tried to keep the rumors from breaching the walls of Angelica House, but it was no use. She overheard snippets of conversations, enough to piece together the fact that everyone seemed to believe she was a witch who had cursed her husband and his crew to death.
It broke her heart that people thought she could hurt another soul, let alone the husband she loved more than her own life. She believed in helping, never harming. She still performed her rituals daily by the shore, begging for guidance, some sort of sign of what she should do. But despite her efforts, it seemed her powers had abandoned her, the empty words drifting into the wind, gaining no purchase. Brynja felt alone in a strange, unfamiliar world.
Glancing at her hands, she noticed the flicker of faint blue light emanating from her fingertips. The glow wasn’t as strong as it once was, but it was there. Perhaps her powers remained and were simply dormant.
Only time would tell.
Brynja turned her head toward the door as she heard heavy footsteps in the hall, signaling the arrival of Mrs. Stevens.
“Mrs. Calais, you have a visitor.”
“A visitor? Me?”
The maid’s face mirrored the same look of surprise as her mistress’s.
“Indeed, ma’am. I thought it was odd as well. We haven’t had a visitor at the house in months.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s a man, Mrs. Calais,” Mrs. Stevens replied with a furrowed brow.
“A man? I don’t know any man who would care to visit me. Most people in Departure Cove are too afraid to come here. They fear I’ll put a hex on them.” Brynja scowled.
“They’re daft, ma’am. There was never a kinder soul than you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Stevens. Please go see who the man is and what he wants. I’ll wait for your answer,” Brynja instructed.
Nodding, Mrs. Stevens rushed from the room.
Brynja collapsed into Thomas’s desk chair, her heart thudding as she puzzled over who the visitor might be. Was she in danger? If the people in town truly believed she was a witch, what were they capable of? Witch hunts didn’t happen like they once did, but she understood that frightened people could commit terrible deeds.
It didn’t take long for Mrs. Stevens to return. Standing quickly and smoothing her dress, Brynja raised her chin, reminding herself she could handle anything that came her way.
“Well, Mrs. Stevens? Who is our guest?”
“Ma’am, he says he has a business proposition for you.”
“A business proposition? For me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Stevens nodded gravely, something in her face causing Brynja’s pulse to quicken.
“Very well, I will see him. Send him in.”
Mrs. Stevens gave her one lingering look before nodding and exiting the room. Not even a minute later, she was back, the stranger following in her wake. Brynja pasted a cool smile on her face, steeling herself for whatever the man wanted. The maid ushered him into the study and promptly left the room.
Brynja stared at the stranger in front of her, startled by the way her heart lurched in her chest and her brain screamed out in protest. The blue light flickering from her fingertips, dull only moments before, shot from her hands like lightning bolts as the man drew closer. She shoved them behind her back in an effort to hide the light.
“Mrs. Calais, you are too lovely for words.” The man’s smooth voice slithered like a snake into the room.
“And you, sir, are extremely bold. You show up at my home unannounced, offering no introduction, and your first words are empty compliments,” Brynja snapped.
“The lady has a tongue to rival her beauty.” The stranger chuckled.
“Who are you, and why are you here, sir?”
She forced herself to hold the man’s penetrating gaze in spite of the fact that her hands were shaking behind her back.
“You may not know me, but I certainly know you. I’ve been watching you for some time, and it seems you and I may have something to offer each other.”
“What could you possibly offer me?” Brynja practically spat. “If you’ve been watching me, as you say, you know I have no need of money.”
“I’m not talking about money.”
“Then what are you talking about, sir?”
“Protection. Stability. Status. A place in the community. A way to keep your daughter safe.”
“What makes you think I need your help with any of that?”
“Surely you’ve heard what they’re saying. Women like you can’t be too careful,” he warned.
“Women like me?”
“Witches,” he answered nonchalantly.
Brynja swallowed hard. She felt like a small animal in a trap. If she moved the wrong way, it would be the end of her.
Pulling her bravery from somewhere deep within, she jutted her chin defiantly, refusing to allow the man to believe he had the upper hand.
“Sir, you come here, flinging about accusations, trying to persuade me that I need your protection, yet I don’t even know your name.”
“I do apologize. I truly believed everyone in town knew who I was. After all, I’m the richest lumber baron in the country.”
“Wealth means nothing to me. Your name, sir?” Brynja raised one eyebrow at the man.
“Why, I’m Lucas Everwine.”
Thirty-Three
Morning light flickered through the bedroom windows, waking Runa from her restless sleep. She glanced at the bedside clock, grimacing when she saw it was only six. Chase stirred beside her as his alarm began to buzz. He rolled out of bed, turned it off, and stalked across the room toward the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Runa heard the shower running as she lay in bed pondering what she should say. They hadn’t spoken since their argument the night before, when he’d told her she needed to talk to a therapist. Part of her thought she should just drop the subject, pretend it hadn’t happened, and move on. The other part refused to sweep it under the rug. If they had any hope of getting past it, they should meet it head-on.
After several minutes, Chase emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, his towel slung haphazardly around his hips. Pain and longing flashed in Runa’s belly. She was drawn to him like a magnet, and she wanted him desperately. She wished they could be happy, but it seemed they were too out of sync to find any common ground. Had
everyone been right? Had she jumped headfirst into a rocky marriage? She thought Chase was different, but now she questioned everything.
She waited a few moments while he rummaged through his closet for clothes. After a short time, he emerged, fully dressed.
“Chase, can I talk to you?” Runa sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard and pulling the thick blankets to her chest.
“About what?”
The tone of his voice made it clear that he was upset. If she hadn’t felt so strongly about their need to talk, she would have kept her mouth shut. Instead she pressed on.
“I want to talk about what I’ve seen since coming to Everwine Manor. What I’ve heard.”
“Are you going to start in on that again?” Anger flashed in his eyes.
“Yes, Chase, I am. And I don’t understand why everything I say has to turn into an argument.”
“Because you’re talking like a crazy woman, Runa,” he retorted. “How do you expect me to react?”
“You keep saying that, yet you won’t even listen to what I’m trying to tell you.”
“I’ve been listening. I’ve heard you spin your tales about creaking floors and phantom footsteps on staircases. You even seem to believe my parents are trying to harm you.”
“Because it’s all true!” Runa insisted.
“It isn’t!” Chase hurled back.
“It’s all true, Chase. And there’s more. Last night I saw a light in the turret on the third floor. You told me no one goes up there. You said it’s not safe.”
“What do you want from me?” Chase exploded. “I’ve given you everything a woman could possibly want, and you’re still not satisfied.”
“Chase—”
“Just leave things alone!” he roared.
Taken aback by Chase’s anger, Runa was rendered speechless. She stared at him as he stomped back and forth across their bedroom floor, his face red and contorted with rage. He was barely recognizable.
“If you would just listen—”
“I’m through listening. Something is wrong with you. Go get some help and leave me alone!”
Without another word, Chase grabbed his phone and wallet before storming from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Runa sat in shocked silence, tears pouring down her face. In less than ten minutes, her life had gone from bad to worse.
Instinctively, she reached for her phone and dialed Tawney’s number, heedless of the fact that it was still so early. Tawney picked up on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting for the call.
“What is it, sweetie?” Her calm voice cut straight through the phone line.
“It’s everything.” Runa sobbed. “I need to see you.”
“Of course. I’ll come to you if that works,” Tawney suggested.
“Okay. No one is here but me and the staff.”
“Perfect. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Runa hung up the phone and cried, her body shaking with sobs she couldn’t control. Her life was falling apart.
“I need answers, and I just keep getting more questions. I need to know what’s going on.”
As she spoke the words aloud, an image popped into her head. It was clear and exact, leaving no question about what she must do.
Rising from her bed, she walked across the room, went into the closet, and opened her drawer. Rifling through her socks, she dug all the way to the bottom. There it was, hidden from view but never from her thoughts.
Grabbing the photograph of the woman with Chase, Runa marveled once again at their similarities. The happy smile on Chase’s face was like a knife to her heart. It pained her to admit that she’d never seen him that happy. He’d never looked at her the way he did at that woman.
Returning to her room, she placed the photograph on the table. Then she dug through her purse where she’d hidden the paper with the strange phrase. Sighing, she placed it on the table next to the picture. It was time for answers.
She went into the bathroom and quickly secured her hair in a bun, brushed her teeth, and pulled on some clothes. She barely gave herself a second glance. Nothing mattered except getting to the truth.
She grabbed her phone and sent Emily a quick text explaining she was closing the shop for the day because she didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a lie. The queasiness in the pit of her stomach made her feel as if she were going to vomit.
Heading downstairs, Runa paced in the entryway as she waited for Tawney.
Prompt as always, Tawney parked in the circular driveway. Opening the front door, Runa burst into tears as soon as she saw her. Tawney hugged her tightly, whispering that everything was going to be all right. After wiping her face with a tissue, Runa led Tawney upstairs to her room.
Closing the door behind them, Runa offered Tawney a seat at the table. She sat in the chair opposite. Unable to manage small talk, Runa cut directly to the heart of the matter, shoving the photograph of the woman across the table toward Tawney.
“Do you know who that woman is with Chase?”
Gazing intently at the photograph, Tawney studied it for several moments. Her brow furrowed, but then a look of recognition spread across her face.
“Yes, that’s Chase’s first wife.”
Runa felt like the rug had been pulled from beneath her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t guessed that the woman was Chase’s wife, but the confirmation felt cruel and surreal.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m certain. I saw them around town together all the time back then. They were always on the news for something or other. Her name was Freya.”
“Freya….”
Runa wasn’t sure why the woman’s name sparked something in the back of her mind, but hearing it felt like a gut punch.
“It’s been under my nose all this time and I didn’t even see. I can’t believe I never noticed it until right this moment,” Tawney said.
“Noticed what?”
“The fact that Freya looks so much like you. If it weren’t for her pixie cut, she could be you. It’s disconcerting, and I’m frustrated with myself for not seeing it sooner.”
“I don’t understand any of this, Tawney. Is that why he married me? Because I look like her?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.”
Tears rolled down Runa’s cheeks as she pondered her situation. It hurt her heart to consider that Chase may have married her simply because she resembled his first wife, but she couldn’t deny that it made sense. She’d been told that he’d never gotten over his wife’s disappearance. Maybe she was simply a look-alike replacement.
“There’s something else I want to show you,” Runa said as she slid the paper across the table.
Tawney picked up the paper and looked at the scrawled handwriting spelling out the strange phrase.
“What is this, Runa?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Runa hedged. “I found it somewhere.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Do you know what language that is?”
“Yes I do. It’s Norwegian.”
“Norwegian? How do you know that?”
“I learned the language from my grandmother. That’s part of what drew me and your mother together when we were kids, our shared Norwegian roots,” Tawney explained.
“I had no idea we were Norwegian. Mom never talked about where our family came from.”
“I don’t think she knows much. Your grandmother was pretty tight-lipped. She rarely talked to your mother about anything. Asta knew she had Norwegian roots, though.”
“You said you learned the language from your grandmother. Do you have any idea what those words mean?” Runa’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure Tawney could hear it.
“Where did you get this, Runa?” Tawney held up the paper and frowned.
“I told you, I found it. Do you know what the words mean? Please, Tawney, I need to know,” Runa begged.
“Yes, I know what it means. It says, ‘You are in danger.’”
&nbs
p; Runa’s eyes widened. “You’re sure that’s what it says?”
“I’m positive. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for months,” Tawney explained.
“I know, Tawney. And I know you and Mom are worried. But please don’t tell her any of this. I don’t want to freak her out any more than she already is.”
“I won’t tell her, but you should,” Tawney admonished.
Runa sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Things aren’t so great here right now.” An idea popped into her head. “I think I’ll take a trip to Portland. A bit of space might give me some perspective.”
“Your mom would love to see you. You should surprise her,” Tawney encouraged.
“I think I will. I’ll leave today. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me.”
Runa rose from her chair and Tawney followed suit. Runa hugged her tightly, grateful that she’d become such a source of comfort.
“Go spend time with your mom. It’ll do you both some good.”
Tawney kissed Runa on the cheek. Runa walked her to the front door before returning to her room. Grabbing her suitcase from the closet, she packed enough clothes and toiletries to get her through a few days. She had no idea how long she’d be gone, but she wanted to be prepared.
She hated the way things were with Chase, but she needed some space. She’d actually been afraid of him that morning. He’d been so angry. The way he screamed at her made her wonder what else he was capable of.
Not wanting another confrontation, she grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled a note, telling him she was going to visit her mother and didn’t know when she’d be back. Then she texted Emily and let her know the shop would remain closed for a few days.
When her bag was packed, she dragged it out into the hallway without a second glance at what she was leaving behind. As much as it pained her, she had to get away if she wanted to maintain even a shred of her sanity.
As she approached the staircase, she felt a sudden compulsion to visit the west wing. She knew she should ignore it but couldn’t quiet the voice in her head searching for answers.