by Eden Beck
I keep picturing Romulus’ face that night he came to the cabin. I keep hearing his warning.
“Hey guys,” I say, my mind turning over ways to avoid going up to the mansion at all. “There’s actually a—a barn over here that has that old vintage car inside. We should go check it out.”
“A car?” Tom asks. I knew that would sound enticing to him.
I manage to steer them toward the barn and away from the house, hoping that we can hang out here long enough to forget about going to the mansion entirely. But any hope of that dissipates the moment we arrive—and spot the massive padlock stuck on the front doors.
I wonder if the boys told their father about my being inside the barn, if he’s the one who locked it up to keep me out … or if Rory did it himself.
“Ah, well,” Tom says, aiming a swift kick at the bottom of the door so that it rattles unpleasantly in the clearing, “nothing left to distract us now, Rina.”
I cringe at the nickname.
Before I can make another suggestion to veer them off the path, Jess, Tom, and Aimee all start running back up the hill toward the big house. The alcohol is definitely kicking in now because when Aimee nearly runs smack into a tree. When she does, Jess and Tom burst into a fit of laughter and make a game out of who will make it up the hill first without falling down again.
None of them is successful.
I stay a few steps behind them, close enough not to lose them but far enough not to get pressured into joining their stupid drunken game. It’s not that I’m a spoil-sport. I’ve had my fair share of fun.
It’s just …
I feel the press of greenery and rot in my nose, followed by that crisp spike of fast-approaching fall.
After all the warnings, all the signs, this seems like the kind of night that leads to manhunts looking for lost teens … only to find at least one of them face-down in a ditch.
Or eaten by wolves.
I force myself to clear the thought from my mind, but even as I do, I swear I hear the far-off echo of a howl. I stop in my tracks, trying to tune my ears to make out the sound. The harder I listen, however, the harder it is to hear.
When I search for the others, they’re barely visible up ahead.
For a second, I weigh the little bottle of vodka in my hand. Somewhere, far off, that lonely howl nudges into the back of my mind again.
Fuck it.
My shaking fingers twist the lid from the bottle before pouring the entire contents down my throat. It burns as it tears through my body, awakening my senses and dulling the fear. I take in a sharp gasp of air and hurry off after the rest of them before they disappear into the night entirely.
The forest is thick with trees and dusk is truly starting to set in by the time we reach the top of the hill. I can still hear the sound of wolves howling in the distance over the top of Jess and Aimee’s screeching laughter. If anything, it’s louder now … but the vodka has taken the bite from the sound.
No one else seems bothered by it, so why should I?
Tom is barely able to stand up straight without needing to catch his footing. None of us minds, since it gives us all a good excuse to pause and take in the sight before us.
I see now why it’s something of a local legend. Why visiting it is a rite of passage.
The mansion is even bigger than it looked from down below. Standing in front of it now is humbling to say the least. The house sprawls around us, dug into and springing out of the land as if it grew from it itself. Compared to it, we’re but smudges in the darkness.
“This is the biggest house I’ve ever seen!” Aimee says with her mouth hanging open.
It’s a big house, sure, but certainly not that big. Then again, that’s a thought coming from the most sober mind here.
“That means it’s going to be extra fun to explore!” Jess threads her arm with Aimee’s, and the two of them skip up to the front entryway of the mansion.
“I doubt we’ll be able to get inside,” I call from behind them, a hint of hopefulness sneaking into my voice.
But it’s for nothing.
“Hey, would you look at that,” Jess says smiling as she pulls the handle on the door. “It’s open.”
12
Sabrina
As surprised as I am that a mansion like this was left sitting unlocked, I’m even more shocked by what the house looks like when I step inside.
It’s like I’ve stepped out of real life and into a fantasy novel.
The entryway is massive, with wide multi-story windows overshadowed by a giant tree seemingly growing from the ground in the center. On one side, a staircase winds upward formed from some of the tree’s enormous branches, with a staircase winding downward on the other side formed from its herculean roots.
The trunk of the tree itself is bigger than our entire cabin. It looks to be still alive, as though the house is now just an extension of its appendages.
“How much have we had to drink?” Aimee asks. “Because this shit is bonkers!”
I agree, it is bonkers. Bonkers enough that I can’t bring myself to laugh at Aimee for her dated choice of words.
“Okay so which staircase should we try first?” Jess asks, wasting no time. “Flip a coin?”
“Nah, let’s go down,” Tom says as he starts walking toward the stairs. He stops at the top, his glazed-over eyes scanning the tree-root steps with a hungriness I’m not sure I like.
Jess steps up beside him. “Why down?”
“Because down is always where the wine cellars are,” he smirks.
The girls giggle and follow him as he starts his descent.
I stay where I’m standing by the door for a moment, but it takes them a few steps down to notice. When I see Jess’ expectant face turn back my way, I shake my head.
“You guys go on ahead,” I say. “I’m going to stay up here. Take a look around.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs as they descend the stairs until I can no longer see the tops of their heads. I know I should follow them down, keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t end up drinking themselves to death on a ten-thousand-dollar bottle of Bordeaux.
In fact, I should just stand here by the door and keep watch. Any self-respecting person would do that.
But I’m too enchanted by the house to do that. Too curious to see what other secrets may hide inside.
This is where Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb live.
No wonder they seem so out of touch with reality. Anyone who lives in a house like this would be.
Myself? If I lived here, I don’t think I would ever leave.
The interior of the house is truly spectacular. Everything from the floors to the bookshelves to the massive, gnarled kitchen island is made of a similar, almost living-looking, wood.
I peek my head into some of the vast open spaces, each room leading to yet another in a seemingly endless parade of luxury. It would be completely feasible for me to get lost in here.
I bet the same thing holds true for the cellars. My friends have probably found themselves lost in an underground labyrinth of tunnels. The sort of place someone might wander into, only to never find their way back out.
There’s a moment where I find myself back at the top of the stairs in the main foyer, and I consider following them down. Every so often I catch a snippet of laughter from down below—but from the sound of it, they found what they were looking for.
But I haven’t yet.
I don’t know what I’m looking for here, but there must be something. Otherwise, I never would’ve agreed to come.
Right?
Instead of heading down to join them, I walk up the staircase leading to the second floor.
Upstairs, the bedrooms are incredible and numerous. The ceilings are painted to look like the night sky, which gives the rooms an illusion of being outside. Room after room is painted the same way as I walk down the twisting hallway, peeking into doorways left ajar.
There’s a feeling as if the whole house is holding i
ts breath. I often find myself following suit, not realizing I haven’t breathed in a moment until all my breath comes out in a rush and I have to take in a lungful of air just to keep from silently suffocating.
I continue along this way, moving slowly and following the pattern of stars painted on the ceiling overhead until I come to one room that’s different from the others. Here, among the stars, is a painted full moon that seems to glow even as the light outside is fading.
Something draws me into this room where all the others left me looking in from outside. My fingers search the dim until they find a switch that turns on several strings of glittering lights that drape from corner to corner making the bedroom look like a virtual fairyland.
I stand in awe as I look around me.
As much as I didn’t want to come here at first, I have to admit that it is pretty spectacular. There are several personal effects scattered around the room; stacks of books, a small pile of metal rings on one of the dressers, and an easel that still has paint cups sitting on a tray.
I walk over to the easel and touch one of the large brushes leaning against the tray. I wonder who else lived here besides the mansion’s old owner, and what kind of work they did. Romulus sure doesn’t strike me as the artsy type. I bet whoever used these paints was the person responsible for painting all the night sky murals on the ceilings.
“What the hell are you doing in here!?”
I know that voice, even without having heard it for the past few days.
That voice belongs to Rory.
Before I have the chance to turn around, Rory grabs me by the arm and whirls me around to face him. I try not to stumble over my own feet.
He stands in front of me, dark hair falling into his eyes—but not enough to hide the rage burning inside them.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “We were just looking around and—hey, what are you doing here?” I realize my question sounds entirely stupid because this is his house, after all, and I’m the one intruding.
Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to care about my question at all.
“Who’s we?” he asks.
“Me, Jess, Aimee, and Tom.”
There’s no point in lying. If they haven’t been discovered already, they will be soon.
His face contorts a bit at the mention of the last name I say.
“Where are the others?” Rory asks. His voice is getting more tense and his grip on my arm has started to hurt. For the first time, I feel a flutter of fear in my stomach.
I’ve been caught.
The idea hits me like a brick in the gut.
I knew it the moment he spotted me, the moment he jerked my sorry ass off the mat. But it’s taken me a second for that to set in … and what that means.
We’re trespassing on their land. I’ve seen Rory react when I’ve overstepped my boundaries before with the barn, and this time I’ve leaped steps ahead and gone and broken into his house.
So, it’s no wonder my pulse quickens to the point that I can feel my blood rushing in my ears.
“I said …” Rory repeats himself after a moment of my dumb silence, “where are the others?”
I don’t hesitate this time.
“I think they went to check out the wine cellars.”
At this point, I’m really just hoping he lets me go home without pressing charges.
Rory stares off at the space above my shoulder, saying nothing. I wait for as long as I can, but the silence weighs too heavy, and I find myself babbling.
“The door was unlocked, I’m really sorry Rory, we didn’t know anyone was here.”
“And that made you think it was a good idea to come inside?” His eyes flare like they’re made of black flames as he finally looks at me, really looks at me. He sure does “angry” well.
“Come on,” he growls at me as he pulls me by my arm and leads me out of the room.
We don’t stop until he’s dragged be down into the wine cellars, the voices of my friends echoing ever louder with each step.
Jess and Aimee are sitting casually on top of old wine barrels as they wait for Tom to try and pop open a bottle without a corkscrew. As soon as they see Rory and me, they hop down and put on their most guilty looks. Tom, on the other hand, ignores us and puts the top of the wine bottle in his teeth in a stupid, testosterone-filled attempt to pull the cork out.
I don’t know how he does it, not when Rory is standing here looking like rage itself incarnate.
“Get out!” Rory bellows at them. Even Tom stops now. “You all need to get out of this house, off this property, right now.”
“Dude, look, we’re sorry we came in without asking, but we weren’t going to—” Tom is interrupted by Rory’s most vicious hollering yet.
“I said get OUT! And don’t stop running until you get to the cabin.”
The girls both look terrified enough to wet their pants, and try as he might to look nonchalant, so does Tom. He finally sets the wine bottle down and scrambles along with them back up to the front doors to leave.
I quickly start to follow them, anxious to get back in my house but not looking forward to the three of them spending the night, since there’s no way I’m letting a single one of them get back behind the wheel. Not now, after they’ve raided what looks like a half-century’s collection of fine wine.
This whole expedition was a dumb idea.
More than dumb. I’ve never seen anyone as angry as Rory right now, and I’ve seen angry. I just want to get out of here as fast as I can.
But as I get ready to run up the stairs behind the others, Rory grabs my wrist and pulls me around to face him. For a minute, I’m afraid he’s going to hit me. I flinch up against his touch, readying myself for the blow that never comes.
For a second, he looks taken aback. He freezes when I flinch, his eyes searching my face in confusion. Instead of hitting me, he pulls his face close to mine and whispers in my ear.
“Please, Sabrina … get back to your cabin fast and stay inside.” I can feel the breath of his words on the side of my neck.
When he pulls his head away, he looks at me and I see something in his eyes that I didn’t see there before.
Not rage. Not simmering anger. Not even disappointment.
It’s fear.
I can’t imagine that Rory would be afraid of anyone, but perhaps it’s not himself that he’s afraid for. Perhaps it’s me.
13
Sabrina
Rory’s warning isn’t the first I’ve been given since I arrived. This time, the sound of it chills me to the core. As soon as Rory lets go of my wrist, I run up the stairs and out the front door. The others are already well ahead of me, fueled by their numbing inebriation.
I run as fast as I can until my lungs are on fire, and I don’t stop until I reach the cabin.
By Monday morning, the adrenaline from the events of the other night have finally faded enough for my heart to beat at a normal pace again. I managed to keep a good poker face when I told my mom that I spent the weekend doing a whole lot of nothing, when in reality I spent most of it mopping vomit from the cabin floor.
Not my vomit, mind you. From the way my head was spinning after my run-in with Rory, it should have been.
The encounter was dream-like enough that somehow, I’m still surprised to see him, Marlowe, and Kaleb back at school on Monday. As much as part of me wants to know where they’ve been, I try my hardest to avoid all three of them so that I don’t end up having to meet with Rory’s wrath again. And even though I have a million questions to ask them, I’m not sure that I’m ready to find out the answers.
So I take the roundabout way to my locker and end up spending a few minutes pushing through kids that can barely reach up to my shoulders just to get back to the high school hallways so I can grab a few things from my locker.
All my efforts are for nothing, however, because as soon as I close my locker door I have to stifle a scream when I discover Kaleb standing right on the other side.
“He
y,” I say, trying not to seem as startled as I actually am. I’m not very convincing.
He doesn’t waste time with any sort of greeting. His eyes are intense and he’s looking me over as if I were just in a dogfight.
“Did you get bit?” he asks.
“Excuse me?”
“I said,” he continues as he leans in a little closer to examine me further. “Did you—”
Before he is able to finish his sentence, Marlowe and Rory show up and each grabs him by an arm.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rory says in a low tone to him.
The two brothers each put an arm around Kaleb’s shoulders as they walk him away from my locker. But not before Kaleb turns and calls back to me, loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear.
“If I were the one to catch you in my bedroom, things would have ended very differently,” Kaleb shouts. He has just enough time to throw me a grin before turning back around with his brothers.
The buzz of conversation starts back up around me in the hallway, and I’m not sure if I heard it right or if I simply imagined it, but I think I hear Rory say something to Kaleb in a gruff voice.
“Don’t be a jackass,” Rory grumbles to him. “You know damn well that if it had been any other night, things would’ve been different.”
My head rushes. There’s no way I heard that right.
I’m left feeling unsure of how to move my arms and legs as I become aware of the eyes on me from all around. That little exchange didn’t go unnoticed.
Whispers break out between where I linger at my locker and the three boys have stopped at the end of the hall. They’re too far for me to overhear any more of their conversation, but they aren’t the only ones with my name on their lips now.
I open my locker back up to toss all of my books back inside except the one I need for my first class. I don’t feel like being burdened down with a lot to carry. It’s a habit I picked up once mom and I first went on the run. I only like to have what I absolutely need and can carry, just in case I need to make a break for it. I close my locker again—this time without finding anyone standing on the other side—and head to my first class.