by Elle Klass
Chapter 2
Since the day I found the hidden room in the study I’d run past it. I wanted no part of it, yet was curious. Was the sword in the room? Is that where he kept it?
Isandro, whispered a voice. Isandro, it came again, high-pitched like a girl and so quiet it was barely audible. I rushed to the entryway and twisted in a circle, searching for who was calling me.
“Who’s there?” I asked the air.
Isandro, come to the secret door.
“No!” I ran to the front door and thrust it open, moist air hitting my face. My mind was undoubtedly playing tricks on me. It was guilt eating at me for lying to my father.
My mind a-flutter, I couldn’t concentrate. The voice spoke my name over and over, repeating in my head. I lifted my eyes from my paper and glanced at the other students and studied the teacher. No one else heard it. The voice in my head grew stronger throughout the day. Isandro, I’m lonely. Isandro, come through the door and play with me.
When the bell let out, I rushed into the woods, falling against a tree, cupping my hands over my face. “Go away!”
“Who are you talking to?” asked the voice of an angel.
I lifted my head to see Clara’s shining blue eyes filled with concern. Her golden locks bounced against her shoulders as she moved closer to me.
“No one. I... uh,” I stumbled over my words, embarrassed.
“Oh,” one word, not even really a word, but I heard the unmistakable inquisitive tone. “Why don’t we walk together?” she suggested, holding her book pouch against her chest.
I didn’t hesitate. My heart longed for her. We’d never spoken, but inside I’d always loved her. “OK.” I picked my book pouch from the ground. She held out her hand for me. I accepted and a slight buzz tingled through my body from my fingers to my toes. We let go and she rubbed her hand but didn’t say a word, neither did I. It was strange, but maybe a buildup of static. I slid the bag over my shoulder.
The next few days we walked home together through the trees. The breeze from Matanzas Bay on our backs. Her blonde hair and light complexion made her blue eyes vibrant.
Clara pulled a blue hydrangea from a bush and tickled my cheek. “Soft, aren’t they? I love these.” She twirled, her long skirt flowing as it wrapped her legs.
They were beautiful and delicate like her. I picked another and tucked it behind her ear. “That’s better.”
She smiled and giggled then leaned closer to me. Her face so close I smelled her sweet scent. It lured me like magic. “Thank you.” Her soft lips met my cheek, melting me inside.
Emotions and feelings I’d never felt before rose to the surface. This girl was special. She was more than a friend. I glanced into her blue eyes and took her hand in mine, warmth and electricity buzzed between us but we didn’t let go.
Huguenot cemetery on one side and the glassy water of Matanzas Bay on the other, Clara stopped. She turned her head and peered over the cement wall at the graves. Many of them non-Catholics who’d perished from yellow fever in the early to mid-1800s.
“Do you really think it’s haunted?” she asked, her eyebrows poised in an inquisitive V.
I shrugged. I didn’t really think ghosts existed, yet was perplexed at the voice that spoke... only to me. “I guess that depends on whether you believe in ghosts.” It was a safe answer. A month ago I would have said no, but now I wasn’t so sure that I wasn’t being haunted by something.
She glanced into my eyes. “I think it’s possible,” she said with confidence as if she knew something about the afterlife.
I grabbed for her hand and she accepted. We strolled hand in hand then cut through a small patch of woods. We sat beneath a tall tree. Rays of sun filtered through the leaves and shone against her flaxen blonde hair.
“Two little lovers,” said an all too familiar voice. One I tried hard to avoid since the day in my father’s study -- Lawrence.
I shifted my eyes from Clara to Lawrence. He stood with the sun to his back staring at us. How long had he been following? “Hi, Lawrence,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
He sauntered towards us then stopped, leaning his back against a tree. “We should come over again, soon.”
Clara glanced from me to him and, as if caught in that moment my nerve endings were on edge, she said, “Go away, Lawrence. You’re no good.”
He pushed off the tree and plucked a flower then stalked towards her, leaned down and pulled her hair back, sliding the flower behind her ear. “Be careful who you choose to spend time with.” He walked off, leaving us both questioning the intentions of that moment.
She plucked the flower from behind her ear and tossed it to the ground. “Don’t worry about him. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Clara said as she rose from her spot and scampered away.
That night the voice woke me from my sleep. Isandro, come. Its soothing nature coaxed me out of bed. I slid my hand along the banister as I crept down the stairs, avoiding the creaks. I didn’t want to know who was calling. Was it a ghost? I wanted the voice to go away back where it came from. Yet I found myself outside my father’s study, my hand pressed against the door.
Isandro, it called. The voice didn’t whisper through the air but went straight into my head. My imagination, yet I couldn’t turn away and run back up the steps like I wanted. Like I knew I should. If my father caught me, I’d get a licking.
My body, moving against the better judgement of my mind, pushed the door. I stood in the doorway staring into my father’s office. The voice called again, coaxing me inside. “Who are you?” I asked, pressing my ear against the secret door.
Rabina, she called but the words never lingered in the air. The words, her calls for me, went directly to my head. Open the door.
Without thinking, or even remembering, I found myself staring at the heavy door as it slid open, darkness behind it. I lit a candle from my father’s desk and stood at the entrance, debating, but it wasn’t that I really had a choice. The voice compelled me, forced me to move into the darkness of the tunnel.
I stepped cautiously, using the light to guide me. “Rabina?” I called. Candlelight bounced off the walls and ceiling, revealing the pattern of the stone.
Closer, Isandro.
The darkness swallowed me except the tiny flame that moved with each of my steps. A musky odor assaulted my nose the further into the tunnel I went. I was so far into the tunnel I couldn’t see my father’s office anymore. I felt stupid and scared. I was following a voice in my head into my father’s secret room that turned out to be a tunnel with an abrupt ending.
I felt along the wall, holding my flame against it. The stones were sealed. Trepidation filled me then and I turned on my heel but I couldn’t move back to the safety of my father’s study. Instead I held the candle staring at the stone wall. It was a dead end. There was nowhere else to go.
Isandro, it called, much louder this time. I took another step closer to the wall, my face only centimeters from it. I swallowed, shivers ran the length of my spine. Light flickered against the grooves in the rock wall. I rested my free hand against it.
A bolt of heat shot through me and into the brick. I dropped my hand, hitting the corner of a jagged stone it caught the side of my hand, causing a laceration. I lifted it to my mouth and sucked.
Creaks and moans churned from the wall as if a pulley system made of chains were opening something. To my left, the bricks grumbled as they slid open. I gasped and my feet carried me over the threshold to the other side.
It wasn’t a choice. The force that coerced me into the secret room, that wouldn’t let me leave now, made me step into the area. The musky smell grew ten times more repugnant, causing my nose to wrinkle in disgust. It smelled as though a cast of people had died.
The flame sparked and grew when a blast of chilly air hit it. Staring at me through the darkness was a pair of shining eyes.
Chapter 3
My eyes grew wide as the ghostly eyes moved closer, shining at me through the darkness. I wante
d nothing more than to run.
Isandro, you don’t need to fear me. The voice cut through my skull. My mouth dried from fear and I gathered my spit and swallowed hard.
“Rabina?” I asked.
“Yes.” She responded in actual words that sliced the air between us.
“I...” My breathing sped up as I struggled to get the words out. She stood close enough I saw her in full. Long, dark, straight hair fell against her chest and her shining eyes I now saw. They were blacker than her raven hair. She was beautiful and real -- alive.
I felt intimidated in her presence as if I shouldn’t be glancing upon her beauty. Anything normal I should have felt or said didn’t come to me and my words dissipated.
She couldn’t have been older than me, was possibly younger. “You saved me.” She grabbed my hands before I could pull them back. Her skin felt cool. But probably mine did too as it was chilly where we stood.
“We should get you out of here.” It made sense. She couldn’t live down here. There was no food, no sun, nothing but an awful stench and the absence of light.
Her full, heart-shaped lips formed a smile. “No, I can’t leave here. I only wanted you to join me. I am lonely.”
A cool finger brushed against my cut. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d originally thought. She dropped my hands and turned around as if ashamed.
“What’s wrong?”
Her elbows at waist level, she lifted her hands to her face. “Nothing. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to talk to.”
I touched her shoulder and she spun around, dropping her hands to her sides. “Why are you here?” The question playing on my lips finally dropped.
She slid her tongue across her lips as if appreciating every bite of a good meal. Her black eyes peering into my soul. “I have a disease.” She dropped her eye. “I’m allergic to daylight and so I spend my days here.”
I couldn’t imagine what that would be like. “Then I will come see you again.”
“I would like that.” She lifted her eyes and met mine. Our gazes froze.
“I have to go now.” I stepped back into the corridor. I’d been down there too long already. I was a bit surprised when the constraining force didn’t stop me from leaving as if I was meant to meet her. That moment was somehow my destiny. “Do you need anything?” I asked before closing the door.
She shook her head.
“I’ll return then, as soon as I can.” I pushed the jutted stone and the door returned. Chained pulleys that I hadn’t noted on the other side of the wall clinked as it fell into place.
An eerie feeling advanced through me and I practically ran through the corridor into my father’s office, quickly shutting the door. It wasn’t Rabina that put the fear into me but what my father would do if he caught me.
I took a moment and rested against the wall, catching my breath, then pushed forward and padded to the door, attempting to be church mouse quiet so he wouldn’t hear me. The whole idea of sneaking up the stairs because I’d be too loud was preposterous since the loud clanking of the door hadn’t woken him.
Once I reached the top of the stairs I slipped into my room and pulled the covers tight to my chin. Would I visit her again? Every part of my senses and intuition screamed and begged for me to never return.
Chapter 4
The sun spilled through the curtains, announcing morning’s return. I blinked my eyes a few times, adjusting to the bright light. A dull anxiety resting in my gut. Rabina’s pale skin framed with black hair and eyes took residence within the folds of my brain. Had I really snuck into my father’s office, ran through the corridor and met her? Was she real at all? It couldn’t be. I wasn’t brave enough to go against my father. He was a mighty man and didn’t tolerate disobedience and Rabina was too beautiful to be anything other than a dream.
It was preposterous; people don’t live in the ground. What would she eat? How would she bathe or go to school? Shaking my head and scattering the all too real image of Rabina from my mind, I readied myself for school and grabbed my satchel. Slipping it over my shoulder, I plodded down the steps to the kitchen for breakfast.
My parents didn’t give me the evil eye or say anything about my sneaking into my father’s office. It was ridiculous because they would have heard the secret door open since it clanked and moaned.
“Drink your milk,” my mother ordered as I finished my bowl of grits, took a sip and placed the glass back on the table mostly full.
“Yes, Mom.” I picked the glass back up and swallowed the rest of my milk.
I couldn’t concentrate on studies in class, my mind returning to the dark hall and Rabina. “You’re far away,” came a sweet voice.
I turned to see Clara’s sparkling blue eyes and near-flawless oval face. “I didn’t sleep well.”
She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Meet me tonight in the cemetery.”
I opened my mouth to speak but she was already gone. I couldn’t imagine any reason she’d want to meet in a cemetery at night. The spirits of the dead crawled over my skin as I considered whether I should.
When darkness fell and my parents were soundly asleep I slunk down the stairs, again avoiding the creaky steps, and slipped out the door. Meeting Clara at night was preposterous, yet edgy. If I was caught I wouldn’t be able to sit for a month.
Clara hadn’t been specific about which cemetery but I had a good idea the one she meant. The one we passed on our walks home -- Huguenot. The one haunted by the judge whose golden teeth were stolen, and the victims of a yellow fever outbreak. Hair prickled over my arms as shadowy figures edged into my side vision with the ghostly thoughts.
When I turned my head I was alone, reminding myself that ghosts didn’t really exist. Rabina was human. I even forced a chuckle to lighten my mood and wash away the tension, but it didn’t really work. Matanzas Bay’s breeze pushed against me, sweeping my hair over my forehead. Running a hand over the top of my head I forced the hair back into place and out of my eyes.
The curves of the sign moved upward into an arch, a circle enclosed a triangle, beneath were the words Huguenot Cemetery. My father once said the circle-triangle symbol was used because the people buried there weren’t Catholic and so were considered pagan or satanic. It made me wonder if that’s why there were so many ghost stories circling this particular cemetery. The spirits were unsettled...
It was difficult to live in a city that bounded with hauntings and ghost sightings even though I’d always thought them silly... still it was what horror was made of. A warm hand touched mine and a tingle buzzed through my extremities. Out of shock, and spooked from my own ruminations about graves spread out before my eyes, I jumped.
Clara chuckled. “It’s me.”
All my restless thoughts evaporated when I faced her. Clara was irresistible to me. I admitted to myself I had a crush on her since we first met in school. There was something about her beyond her obvious beauty and kind personality that attracted me. One day, maybe she would be mine and so I’d followed my twelve-year-old heart.
The Matanzas breeze steady in the night carried her curls over her cheeks then dropped them in place. Her natural blush lips curled into a smile as our eyes met.
I tented my hands for her to crawl over the cement fence of the cemetery so she wouldn’t get a rip or snag in her jeans. She rested on the curved top before jumping to the ground. A hand on her slightly jutted hip, she cleared her throat.
I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled as I lifted myself over the short cement wall.
She giggled. “Not scared are you?”
It wasn’t so much fear as it was an intense gut feeling tonight wasn’t going to go well. Headstones of all shapes and sizes; some crosses, others appeared like above ground tombs walling us in, but my mind forgot all about them and my quirky gut as it rested on Clara.
She took my hands in hers. A shock buzzed through my fingers and up both my arms.
“Do you feel that?” she asked.
I no
dded but lacked any words. A chill ran up my spine as an icy breeze blew over us. The dim light of the crescent moon gave this resting place of the dead an extra-spooky feel and I swore I heard spirits chattering. You don’t even believe in ghosts, I reminded myself unconvincingly.
Inside the cement and wrought iron fencing, trees enclosed the graves like protectors. Their leaves rose from the dirt and tumbled in the air surrounding us like we were standing in the center of a water spout on land. I let go of one of her hands and grabbed a leaf that sailed past me. The breeze caught it then pushed it across a pointed headstone. All the other leaves dropped then.
An impish smile played against her lips. ”Take my hand again.”
With a questioning raise of an eyebrow I rested my hand in hers. The leaves growing from the branches above us rustled. I let go and they suddenly stopped as if the breeze moved on -- except there was no breeze. The air was still for the moment.
Both brows lowered now, I didn’t understand what was happening or what exactly she was trying to show me. She held her hands, open palmed, in front of her chest and moved them towards her. From the ground rose a small bouquet of wildflowers from a grave beside us.
I watched. My mouth dropped open as the bouquet suddenly fell to my feet. I stuttered as the words tried to form, “Did... you. What...?”
She grabbed my hands again. “We, I’m stronger with you.”
“What are you talking about?” The words finally made their way out.
“Since I was little, I feel energy sometimes when people touch me, but when you took my hand the other day I felt a surge pulse through me that stayed until we let go. After then things started moving around me when I would think about them. Little things like my pencil at school or a page in a book would flip itself, but with you we made the leaves swirl.” Her words were so confident I couldn’t tell her all that was impossible.
People don’t control such things with their minds. At the same time the buzz of energy between us was real, a buildup of static that maybe forced things in its field to move. I convinced myself in the moment that that was it. Of course, it was the only logical conclusion my mind could find. “I think we should go home before we are caught.”