Ravenswood (Ravenswood Series Book 1)

by Christine Zolendz

  “Why won’t you tell me what this place is?” I asked quietly.

  Behind us, footsteps shuffled, increasing in volume and speed. My heart raced hard against my ribs.

  The stranger’s head cocked to the side as if listening, eyes widening, darting from the darkness to me, and back again. “You don’t belong here. You should leave. Now.”

  “What is wrong with you? What is this place? Please, I need help finding out what happened to my grandmother, ” I snapped, yanking my wrists out of his grasp.

  I tried to back away as fast as I could but slammed hard into something solid behind me. I watched at the stranger’s jaw hardened and pulsed, then his eyes glared into the darkness behind me.

  “Madden, I didn’t know you bought company,” a deep voice resonated from behind me.

  I whirled around and stood face to face with the man in black—the man who gave me the picture. “You. You were at my grandmother’s funeral.”

  “Rainey, so nice to see you again.” His eyes lifted to Madden’s behind me and smiled tightly. A thick carpet of ink black beard framed his mouth, curling into decorative swirls from mouth to jaw, accentuating deep red lips and stark white teeth. “You should stay with us tonight. A storm is coming, and it’s going to rage all night. The waters here can get dangerously high.”

  His voice was smooth and low. He raised his hand toward his face and scratched at his chin. On his finger was a ring, a brilliant ruby on a matte black band. The way the faucets of reds glimmered in the dim light was intriguing—like some beacon—some strange current of energy pulling my attention in.

  Behind me, Madden’s hand clenched mine—his fingers like cold steel. I looked back over my shoulder at him, unable to tell if the touch was given to me as a warning or a comfort.

  “Come in, Rainey. We’ll keep you safe tonight,” the man in black said.

  The storm grew louder outside, pounding against the house, as if enthusiastically agreeing to the man’s words. The eerie gray mist drifted down from the top floors; a sinister warning to stay inside and fasten the storm shutters tight.

  I nodded curtly, watching his every move with suspicion—because the truth was—I never told him my name.

  I was walking straight into a den of wolves, wasn’t I?

  But he knew something. The both of them did. I felt it in my gut.

  An icy cold wind, thick as a blanket, settled over my shoulders. Everything in my body screamed for me to run, yet I turned slowly on my heels and followed them both through the dark gray mist behind the spiraling column of stairs. Like a stereotypical dumb girl in the beginning of any horror movie. But there was no stopping my feet or the feeling of a deep dark pull dragging me in and swallowing me whole.

  And I didn’t realize until much later I never retrieved my cell phone from where it fell.

  Chapter 8

  “You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, stepping over the threshold of a narrow walkway. “You know my name, yet I haven’t heard yours.”

  “Bain,” he said, holding my stare, then slipping into the pitch black of the room. “And behind you is Madden.” His voice whispered past with a tinge of a chuckle. “Take my hand, Rainey. There’s no light this way for a while.”

  I raised my arms out, and my hands met with the rough surface of a cool stone wall. “I’m fine,” I said, straining my eyes to see.

  Far off in the distance, the orange glow of a lit torch glimmered along the wall, its fiery flame licking up, showing the curved ceiling of a long, earthy tunnel.

  The three of us walked in slow silence. Madden was at my back, his breath streaming warm air over my shoulder.

  Every worst possible outcome ran through my head.

  They were going to slice me up. They could overtake me and do whatever they wanted. No one would hear me scream. No one would come and get me. I couldn’t stop my chin from trembling or the sparks of hot adrenaline that spiked along my skin, but I could no easier stop my feet from walking farther and farther away from the only way out I knew.

  This was the stupidest, most dangerous situation I’d ever put myself in. I was a certifiable idiot.

  The tunnel pitched in a downward slope, and with such little light there was, it made walking deceptive and me quite clumsy. I could barely see the details of the ground or my feet, yet I could feel the cool damp air of the fog at my ankles as the mist followed, descending with us. Jagged stone and protruding rocks tangled with my shoes, and by the time we reached the first lit torch, I’d fallen three times, skinning my palms and grazing my knees on the grit that covered the ground. Each time I landed, I kindly pushed away the helpful outstretched hands of the men I followed.

  Eventually, the sounds of voices traveled through the tunnel, echoing like ghosts against my ears. We walked on and on—what felt like a lifetime had passed—until the air was loud with conversations and the walls were alight with the soft gleam of pale yellows and reds that stretched out from an almost hidden doorway.

  I stopped just shy of the entrance and peered inside cautiously. A cool rush of wind blew in with us, some remnants of the stormy air that nipped at our heels all the way down. The breeze swept in quick and blew out two candles that flickered at the entrance of the room, and I instantly felt my face flush with the curious glances our entry through the doorway had warranted. The looks bore into my skin as we stepped in through the darkened archway, and the entire assembly of people seemed to hold a collective breath of wonder.

  In the faint light, bodies stilled, and faces—dozens of them, covered in stark white paint, stretched over their skin to look like skulls. Deep, dark kohl was smudged around their eyes and in the hollow of their cheeks. Some bore mischievously drawn lines of blackened smiles that slashed darkly across whitened lips.

  Next to me, Bain smiled slightly, with a hint of something more I couldn’t point my finger on. “Welcome to the Hollow, Rainey.”

  I shrank back against the wall, watching him step forward and make his way through the throng of elegantly dressed skull-faced people. Sweat trickled down my neck and beneath the collar of my shirt, making the material stick to my skin. Along the floor, mist wafted aimlessly in curls, spinning and dipping, then disappearing with the rush of gowns and strange fabrics the partygoers wore. The strange fog seemed to pour down around their costumes and seep through the crooks of arms and fingers, as if each guest were a ghostly phantom. Looking up, I could see we stood in an enormous cavern carved from rock and earth. Slabs of gray stone walls were decked with candlelit scones and long ribbons of greenery that hung like weeping willow branches toward the floor. Strange markings covered the stones, almost as if gouged deep into the rock by some prehistoric creature. The fragrance of pine and moss drifted up, mingled with smoke from a large burning fireplace that took up the length of one wall. Underneath it all lay a more primal scent though; one of salty sweat tinged heavily with sex.

  I watched for a moment, uneasy, feeling the fine hair of my arms and neck stand on end. Deep in my stomach, a sharp ache unfurled itself with desperate need, so urgent it was a struggle to breathe. I shook my head, focusing my thought on the reasons for me standing there.

  My grandmother was dead, and someone here knew something about it.

  The thought was an icy splash of water to my face, erasing the unwanted sensations elicited from whatever drug most likely permeated the air.

  A cool hand gently touched my arm; shivers accompanied the soft sensation. “Rainey,” Madden leaned down and whispered into my ear, “you could leave. I’ll take you back through. This really isn’t a place for—”

  “For what?” I asked, looking up at him. I just made it out of the tunnel of doom intact. Did he think I could stop this now? “I think this seems to be an exceptional place for me right now. That man,” I said, pointing to Bain, who was making his way back toward us with party goblets embellished with glittery gems designed in a pattern to create elegant sugar skulls. “He was at my grandmother’s funeral. He knew her. I ha
ve questions, and he has answers. I’m here to get them.”

  Madden spun to face me directly, turning his back toward Bain. “It’s never that simple.”

  In his eyes, I could see the reflection of firelight dancing, a hypnotic rhythm of colors flickering wildly. From behind him, Bain reached out and held up one of the beautifully decorated glasses for me while nudging Madden over with his elbow.

  “What’s this?” I asked, taking the drink and tilting it to look inside. The liquid was dark and thick, smelling of whiskey and absinthe. A small, curled lemon peel dangled from the rim.

  Bain’s lips pursed, then smiled; it was a smug look that didn’t come across well. “Sazerac,” he said with a hard kick at the end of the word.

  I eyed it suspiciously. “Anything else? Roofy? Arsenic?” I held the cup high and twisted it around, admiring the delicate stones and designs.

  His responding laughter was loud and raucous. “You are very entertaining,” he said, taking the drink from my grasp and downing half of it. “Come, enjoy your drink, and let’s sit and talk.”

  He clasped his hands over mine and yanked me through the crowd, which still eyed me with strange curious glances as they went about their mesmerizing dancing. I looked back over my shoulder toward Madden, but the eerie light of the fire made the partygoers seemed like shadowy forms shifting over him. He did look after me, though, watching me move through the dark room of bodies dressed as the dead. The last thing I saw of him were his hands, pushing through his short, disheveled hair and clasping the back of his head.

  As we walked, the skull faces closed in on us and the floor rumbled and vibrated beneath my feet. My palms grew sweaty and hot, my drink almost slipping out of my grasp. I tried to wipe one on my pants, but Bain gripped me tighter and pulled me further through the crowd.

  Lace clad bodies parted ahead of us into more mist and shadows. My elbows and shoulders bumped against others, fingers wriggling and sliding over my arms and neck. Hands slipped around my waist, stretched across my back. I cringed with the onslaught of sensations and pushed faster against Bain’s back. I tripped over the jagged floor and nearly landed face first along the hard stones. Instead, someone caught me just before I could fall and let me go the instant my footing was once again steady. A gust of smoky vapor blew up from the floor, and I choked on a panicky breath, waiting to feel its sting in my lungs. But the mist was nothing more than water vapors—the host of the party must have had a smoke machine on—still, I was breathing heavily and tore through the mass of bodies.

  Sweat covered my face and chest as I shoved past Bain and found myself in a small, dark walkway in another room. I leaned over, breathing heavily, most of my drink splashing up against my pant leg. Bain placed a clammy palm on my back, against my skin in the small place where the hem of my shirt and waist of my pants should have covered.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, concern nowhere to be found in his voice.

  I bolted upright at his touch and backed away quickly. My gaze scanned the room in front of us, noticing the insignificant details of my surroundings. Tables and chairs took up the room, lit only by small, flickering candles. A few people hovered together, speaking in quiet whispers, seemingly unaware of their newest guests. Narrow stained-glass windows high above cast strange, colorful shadows over the people, illuminating brightly from some faraway light on the other side of the curved ceiling.

  “Come and sit down for a moment,” Bain’s voice whispered in my ear.

  I pulled out the nearest chair and slumped into it without grace or decorum. “Let’s cut the theatrics for a bit. I’m not here for a party or drinks,” I said, sliding the base of the glass over the surface of the table. The stem of the goblet held hundreds of dazzling white beads in the shape of a bone that led up to the smiling, sinister face of a skull. It stared at me as if it was offended by my disregard for a drink.

  Bain tsked dryly at me “Why are you here, then, Rainey?” he said, sitting lithely on the chair across from me and leaning in close. “You’re quite far from home,” he said in a conspiring manner. His eyes snaked down my throat and landed on my grandmother’s necklace. Was he looking to rip it off my neck? I slid it under the top of my shirt and leaned forward on my elbows.

  “You knew my grandmother. I want to ask questions. I found this place,” I said, jabbing my index finger down at the table. “This was part of the evidence she held onto when she died. And you’re going to tell me what this place is and why she was holding an envelope with Rose Delacroix’s name on it, with some ancient looking book inside.” His mouth opened as if to interrupt me, but I lifted my hand up in front of him. “The same Rose Delacroix who owns the vacant house we just walked through to get to this, most likely, illegal rave party.”

  I was about to 9-1-1 his sneaky ass. That’s the exact moment I realized I had no phone. I slapped the back of my pockets to check. Empty. Son of a bitch.

  Bain smiled at me, white teeth shining eerily bright in the gloom of the room. I straightened in my chair, not wanting him to notice my unease. He waved over a waitress with pale skin and dark dead eyes.

  “Give Rainey here an unopened bottle of something so she feels safe.”

  The girl came back with a bottle of red wine, uncorked it, and poured it into an empty glass. It was my favorite wine, from one of my favorite wineries. The coincidence made my hair stand on end. He was trying to make me comfortable, but my gut was screaming to run, again. I pushed the thoughts away. How could I trust my gut instincts right now? I was an emotional wreck, trying to find a killer.

  I pulled back on the stem of my drink and took a small sip. Once the effect of swallowing my favorite wine had slid down my throat, it warmed my stomach and calmed my nerves.

  “Look, please?” I said, nudging back the knot in my throat, trying a nicer tactic. “I need to know what the truth is. Who is Rose? Who was Addy? What did this place have to do with her?”

  “Rose was Addy’s sister.” He said the words without emotion, yet a fire mushroomed deep inside my chest.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I said, more to myself than to Bain. My fingertips idly played across the smooth beads along the stem of my glass. “Why would she tell me she had no family left? Why would she hide a sister?”

  “Yes, why would she?” he asked with a wave of his hand.

  I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. “What do you know of it? How do you know any of this?”

  “Addy didn’t approve of Rose’s business.”

  “And that would be...?”

  “Magic.”

  “Like she’d pull rabbits out of hats?” I blurted out.

  At the table next to us, someone burst into a small fit of giggles, and I glanced quickly in their direction. A woman laughed, eyes fixed on the bowl of food in the middle of her table, her blue eyes sparkling bright in the dim lighting. Her lips glistened with wetness, the juice of some southern sweet fruit smeared around her mouth. It smelled sour to me.

  “Like she made spells and potions and read tea leaves and told futures,” he answered, turning my attention back toward him.

  I’ve heard of worse things to be, I laughed to myself. My grandmother was sometimes a vain woman, but she wouldn’t pretend a family member didn’t exist just because she held a job she didn’t approve of.

  “It still makes no sense. My grandmother wasn’t someone who’d care if you read palms for a living or were a prostitute. Although she had a sour spot for dentists, she never went to them.”

  Bain cocked his head and swallowed his drink in one long gulp.

  “When was the last time you saw her? My grandmother?” I demanded.

  “Will you stay, Rainey? Here with us? You’ll be able to find out all you need to know. Probably much more.”

  Behind him, shadows moved and closed in, figures cloaked in darkness shifted and heightened. Long, distorted arms reached past, grabbing for my wine; fingers, long and gnarled brushing over my shoulders.

  “Whe
n was the last time you slept, Rainey? You look a bit haunted.” Bain shifted closer to me; his breath smelled sickly. “I’m sure you feel the burden of not being there for her. I bet you think you should have come home sooner. I heard you were probably there talking to her through the walls while she was dying. Maybe, Rainey…maybe you believe it should have been you.”

  My cheeks burned, and suddenly I could no longer look in his eyes. I did believe it should have been me. I’m younger; I could have fought back. My grandmother...she, she wasn’t in poor health or anything—but—she never had a chance.

  “You’ve been through so much, Rainey. We’ll get Rose to talk to you, and you’ll see how safe you are here. That you belong with us.” An exhaustion settled over my shoulders, and I yawned, covering my mouth. “Come,” he said, standing. “We’ll set you in a room somewhere in the wood.” My eyes were heavy and my movements slow. I already had a room. I tried to tell him, but I could hardly move my lips. It came out all mumbled.

  “A room with us.”

  On the table, he tangled his fingers through mine, and I tried to recoil, but my limbs wouldn’t do as I wanted. Bain’s skin suddenly took on a greenish hue, and his hands felt like bones that seemed to end in sharp claws. He laughed, and I glimpsed sharp, pointy teeth.

  I lunged across the table and reached out for something, someone, but all the seats around me were suddenly empty. My limbs faltered, my vision blurred, and then there was nothing at all but the sound of the wind and soft caresses against my skin.

  Chapter 9

  Rainey, get up. Rainey, please, wake up!

  I woke with a start. My bones weary, muscles aching. Outside the windows, a storm raged against the building. The wind pounded against hurricane shutters, and rain beat hard against the roof. Between the wooden slats of the shutters, I saw lightning screech through the sky, crashing explosions of thunder that crescendoed through the room. A chill ran through me, my clothes were still damp and heavy, my hair half-dried and tangled in knots along silk pillowcases. Four small candles had been lit and placed on the nightstand next to the bed, leaving me unnerved that someone had been in the room as I slept.