by Keary Taylor
I take a few steps back, my eyes going to the window on the middle floor, the second to last on the right. There’s a faint, almost undetectable glow in it.
I step forward, cupping my hands around my eyes as I peer into the windows on the bottom floor. Empty rooms filled with only insignificant items left behind. Dirty, stained carpet, slightly damaged walls. But every one of the apartments is abandoned.
“From the smells, I’d guess it’s been about five months since anyone lived here,” Ian says as he, too, studies the building. His jacket grows darker as the rain continues to fall on us.
I shake my head. “I had no idea the building was in trouble when I moved out. There are sixteen units in this building. It’s weird it would just shut down like this.”
“Sometimes you just never know,” Ian observes. His eyes have fixed on the window with the light on inside.
“It was never a nice place,” I say as I walk around the back of the building. “The rent was cheap. The landlord never fixed much of anything. Guess that should have been an indication.”
Ian follows me around back. There’s a ladder that climbs up the back of the building and connects with the little, wobbly balcony that stretches along the back on the second and third floors. I grab hold of the first, wet, cold, slippery rung and pull myself up.
“What are you doing?” Ian asks. But still, he doesn’t hesitate in following me up the ladder.
“That light that was on is in my old apartment.” I break through the opening and climb onto the balcony. I walk back two units, to the second to last door. The wood around the lock is slightly splintered. I push gently against it, and it swings open without any fight.
Horror washes through me.
A smear of red brushes across the ceiling in the living area. A splash of it stretches from one wall to the other. The carpet is saturated with blood. Footprints walk through it, going into the bathroom.
“Holy shit,” Ian breathes. “Liv, look.”
On the old desk that I left in the corner, because I couldn’t even give the piece of crap away, stands two pictures. One of my mother, the same one that was displayed at her funeral and in the obituary. And another of me. Taken when I was in high school. I was in a dress, my hair done up in an elegant twist that Mom had done. I’m smiling.
It’s a picture I don’t recognize, one I know Mom didn’t take. It’s at an odd angle, as if taken from some distance.
“Who took this?” I breathe as I step forward and pick up the picture. I hover my fingers over the bloody fingerprints on the edge of the picture. I have to take this back to Silent Bend and have Luke run the prints.
“Looks like someone has been watching you far longer than you ever thought,” Ian says. He looks over my shoulder, studying the picture of my younger self.
My eyes turn back to the apartment. There are two little LED lights on the desk, set thoughtfully before the pictures, almost as if this is a memorial. There was thought to it, caring.
But there’s so much blood here. More than I think one person is capable of holding in their body.
More than one person met their death here.
But why were they here?
“You said Jasmine had your mom dug up,” Ian says as he walks around the room, smelling for clues. “One of her Bitten must have come here, looking for who knows what.”
“But who did this to them?” I say in horror. I follow the bloody footprints into the bathroom. There’s blood smeared over the counter, a handprint on the mirror. I walk back out into the living area. “I mean, the place should have been abandoned by then. Who would use this level of violence to get someone out of a deserted apartment?”
“It certainly isn’t a coincidence that it happened in your apartment, Liv.” Ian shakes his head.
My eyes turn back to the photo in my hand.
I came here as my last stop on the road to closing and reopening the door. I’ve been searching for my old self, trying to remind myself who I once was, and make a new person. But every stop has been more difficult than I expected.
But this one… I don’t know what all of this means.
But there’s a cold cube of ice sliding down my spine.
I look back at the small shrine.
“I think we should go,” I breathe. I grab the other picture, the one of my mom. “Come on.”
“You sure?” Ian asks. “Cause there’s something weird going on here, Liv. I don’t like the looks of this. This feels…threatening.”
I shake my head as I go to the back door and pull it open again. “Doesn’t matter. I just need to get home now.”
I climb down the ladder again and make a beeline for the car. I wait anxiously in my seat until Ian sits once more, as well. I pull the burner phone from my pocket and dial a phone number.
“We’re ready to go,” I bark into the phone. “What time will the plane be ready?” I wait patiently for the answer. “Five-thirty. You sure you can’t be ready earlier?” I let out a breath of frustration. “Okay, five will do. Thank you.”
I hang up and look out the window.
“Liv, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Ian asks as he looks from the road to me. “You know something you’re not saying?”
“No.” I shake my head and watch the dark town I grew up in fall behind as we head back for the hotel. “I’m just finished here. It’s time to go home.”
Maybe Ian says something in response, maybe he sits there in silence, I don’t hear a thing as my mind reels. I don’t feel present when we pull into the parking lot once again. My mind is over a thousand miles away. Racing through possibilities.
It’s three in the morning. We have two hours to pack and get back to the airport.
All we have to pack our clothes and newly acquired belongings in are plastic shopping bags. But I’m not even aware of what I’m grabbing and stuffing. I’m not even sure I have everything when I find myself staring out the window.
“Liv,” Ian says. He walks up from behind and grabs my upper arms. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I breathe. I blink five times, fast, clearing the fog from my head. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding slightly frustrated. He takes a step back and goes to grab the bags.
Together, we walk down to the lobby where I check out and pay the bill. Silently, we climb back into the car and start toward the airport.
Ian keeps looking over at me, concern obvious on his face. I try to offer him a smile, to show him that I am okay. But I’m sure it’s not convincing.
We get to the airport early, so when we get the rental car returned, we have forty minutes to sit and wait until the plane is ready for takeoff.
Finally the hatch opens and a worker rolls a set of stairs up to the aircraft.
“Welcome, Miss Ryan, Mr. Ward,” a friendly flight attendant greets us. “We’ll be ready for takeoff shortly.”
I nod my thanks to her. I sink into a comfortable seat and try not to fidget. Ian takes the seat next to me and places a calm hand over my anxious one.
HUNDREDS OF MILES PASS BENEATH us in a flash. It feels as if I just blinked when we land outside of town, a half hour away from Silent Bend.
It’s bright when the wheels touch down. I pull the sun goggles from their box and hand Ian a pair.
“We’re so glad you could fly with us this morning,” the attendant says with a pleasant smile. She’s trying hard to act normal with us wearing sunglasses in the dark airplane, but her smile is just a little too tight.
I offer her a distracted smile and walk down the stairs. Waiting for us just off to the side, in my red Jeep, is Samuel. The second he sees us, he steps forward and takes my plastic bags from me.
“Hey,” he says tensely as his eyes flick up to Ian descending the stairs. But he doesn’t say anything else. He’s at a loss for words at the moment.
“It’s good to see you,” I say as a hint of a genuine smile comes to my lips. I wrap my arms around hi
m, pulling him into a tight hug.
Samuel remains stiff, and I can just feel his eyes on Ian. But neither of them says anything.
“Thanks for coming to pick us up,” I say as I release him and turn back to the car. I pop the back hatch and the bags are piled in. I climb into the driver’s seat without asking Samuel for the keys.
Awkwardly, Samuel and Ian do a little dance of figuring out who will take the passenger seat and who has to sit in the cramped back seat. I’m somewhat grateful when Ian just climbs in back without a fight.
“Your face seems to have healed up okay,” Samuel says uncomfortably. He rests his elbow in the window, scratching his chin with two fingers. The tension in the air is enough to choke me.
“Yeah,” I say distractedly. I’m trying to decide just how fast I can drive without getting pulled over. I couldn’t handle any delays. “Did someone call Rath?”
Samuel nods. “He didn’t seem particularly willing to come back. But he should get there around the same time we do.”
I nod and press just a little harder on the gas.
While our flight flew by, the drive back to Silent Bend seems to take forever. I keep looking at the speedometer, expecting it to be creeping slower and slower. But I’m only gaining speed.
Finally, the familiar little dirt roads crop up. The turn off to Daphne’s house. The familiar roads leading to rundown houses and expansive properties. It seems a miracle the snow is all gone. Spring is evident in the blooming trees, in the colorful flowers. It is the end of April.
But as Nial said, there’s something in the air. Something with a dark edge. Something tense and terrifying. It crawls along my skin like a thousand tiny spiders, creeping up under my sleeve, hooking on to my chest. Sucking the happiness from my veins.
“You feel that?” I ask as I look back at Ian in the mirror.
“Yeah,” he responds simply. “This isn’t over.”
“Things are pretty well put back together,” Samuel says. He watches his town roll by. “But things are tense. Town doesn’t know if they trust us, if they’re eternally grateful for everything we’ve been doing to fix their houses, repair the roads, all of it, or if they blame us for how everything feels, just…doom and gloom.”
I shake my head. It’s all been such an uphill battle. I’ve been trying so hard for so many months now to win the trust of the citizens of Silent Bend. But this Army just keeps going and screwing everything up.
Finally, we reach the turnoff that leads to the Conrath Estate. My heart races faster and faster as I catch sight of a black SUV just a little ahead of us. It turns at the gates to the property and I’m positive it’s Rath.
I’m terrified for what I’m going to find in just a few minutes. But almost as terrifying is facing Rath once more. He left me because I turned my back on everything my father stood for.
And now, I have to beg him to come back. To ask for his forgiveness. To convince him that I am changed.
I pull right up behind Rath and we go through the gates, nose to tail. A breath of relief floods my lungs as the familiar trees that dot the drive surround me. As I observe the expansive grounds that stretch beyond. And finally, when the top of my home comes into view.
The last bay of the garage opens, and Rath pulls straight in. I glide into the space beside him.
Together, the four of us climb out of the two vehicles.
I can hardly look Rath in the eyes. There’s too much weight. Too much shame.
“Thank you for coming,” I say quietly. But I say no more. Because at this moment, I have something else to attend to. I walk past him and open the door in to the house.
It smells delicious and looks surprisingly clean. When I round the corner to walk past the kitchen, I see Katina working. I catch a glimpse of Beth as she heads toward the rooms on the opposite side of the house.
Since the King has left, the staff has returned.
“Alivia,” Nial says in pleasant surprise. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” I say. A crowd stands behind him. My entire house. But there’s a new face. One I’ve never seen, but one I have no doubt the name of. Obasi. My fellow prisoner at the King’s castle.
But I’m distracted. Unable to give a proper greeting to the gathering House members. My eyes are fixed on the doors that let out onto the back veranda as I cross the hall, and enter the ballroom.
My skin instantly warms as I step from the shadows of the veranda and out onto the stone pathway that stretches toward the river. Were I not wearing my sun goggles, I would be blind, in an incredible amount of pain. The sun shines brilliantly, the earth bathed in a white wash of spring warmth.
My heart beats faster and faster as I get closer to my destination.
I can’t be right. There’s no possible way.
A sweat breaks out onto my palms.
“Liv, what are you doing?” Ian’s voice asks behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to see a small crowd has followed me. Ian. Rath. Samuel and Nial. In some ways, I need to face this alone. In other ways, I’m too terrified of what I fear I will find.
I slow as I approach the short fence that surrounds the tiny graveyard. I swing the gate open and take two slow steps forward.
“Alivia?” Rath asks.
But my eyes are focused. Fixed.
Here lies my blood family.
My uncle, murdered by the people of Silent Bend over one hundred and forty years ago.
My mother, taken from this life too soon in such a flawed, human way.
And Henry.
I’m sure my heart is going to leap from my chest, up my throat, and land frantically pounding on the grass at my feet. My palms are slick and my mouth feels dry.
I take the final two steps and lay my hand on the stone engraved with my father’s name.
Henry Conrath.
I press my ear to the stone, listening.
Someone takes another step toward me. Rath or Ian, I’m not sure.
But a rock drops into my stomach.
I back away just slightly. My eyes growing slightly wider.
My fingers come to the edge of the opening. I find just barely enough of a ledge to gain purchase with my fingers.
“Alivia, what are you-” Rath asks in horror, but someone cuts him off.
Gathering my recently gained strength, I yank toward me with all my might. A great popping sound echoes as I break the seal. A rush of cold air hits me as I set the stone on the grass.
A few gasps and more than a few curse words slip from every one of my spectators as I stand. And as my eyes come to rest on the inside of my father’s tomb, every one of my internal organs disappear.
The inside of the vault is empty. No coffin. No bones or decaying flesh. No traces of Henry Conrath.
But lying flat on the stone is a gold chain, and connected to it rests a pendant. I pick it up, my fingers brushing over the cold metal.
It’s my family’s crest. The raven at the center. The laurel encircling it, and the crown that sits atop.
But sitting in the center of the raven, is an oddly shaped hole.
My fingers rise to my chest, to grasp the chain that already hangs around my neck.
Panic rises in my blood as I turn. I push my way through the crowd, who are full of questions and shock and disbelief and theories. Rath who is red in the face and tears in his eyes. I run past them all, my body a blur as I race back to the door I just exited.
My footsteps echo as I walk across the marble floor of the ballroom. My eyes fix on the crest inlaid in the floor as I pull the chain from my neck, releasing the key my father left me in a letter when I very first arrived in Silent Bend.
There, where the raven’s eye would be, lies a small hole in the marble. I nearly twisted my ankle in it just two months ago at Cyrus’ ball. I thought it was damaged, a chip in the otherwise perfect floor.
I sink to my knees as my audience follows me in, others coming to see what is the cause of all of this commotion.
&n
bsp; But I don’t see them. I don’t hear them.
My hand shakes as I hold up the skeleton key. Quivers all the harder as I lower it.
The tip of the key slips easily into the hole. Sinks in for a moment.
It fits perfectly.
Finally, I look up at those that surround me. Nearly the entire House now surrounds me. Watching me with either curiosity or disbelief. Shocked faces and confusion.
I twist the key, and it gives a heavy click. Something pops, and suddenly there’s a grinding sound, coming deep from beneath the floor. Click. Click. Click.
Suddenly, the shape of the laurel that surrounds the raven gives a jerk, and I drop five inches.
I’m sinking, lowering. The air suddenly smells sterile. Cold.
Shouts and gasps of surprise sound around me. My eyes rise up to those that watch as I continue to sink.
But finally, they meet Rath’s. And the expression on his face tells me everything. He’s never seen this before. Had no clue of its existence.
For just a brief moment, I’m back in my old apartment.
The blood.
The violence.
But most importantly, that little shrine to my mother and me.
The reverence it held.
“Rath,” I breathe as I continue to slowly sink, “I think Henry is still alive.”
Keary Taylor grew up along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where she started creating imaginary worlds and daring characters who always fell in love. She now splits her time between a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest and Utah, dragging along her husband and their two young children. She continues to have an overactive imagination that frequently keeps her up at night.
To learn more about Keary and her writing process, please visit www.KearyTaylor.com.
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