Beyond the Gates of Evermoore

by Krista Wolf

  “A jeweled egg, huh?” he asked, looking down again. His hands were strong and calloused. A man’s hands. They moved with practiced ease over the smooth wooden surface. “Are you looking to steal it?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So you just want to admire it?” smirked Lucus.

  She returned his smirk with one of her own. An understanding passed wordlessly between them.

  “I know the object,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  Her face lit up with excitement. “You do?”

  “Yes. Although I haven’t seen it in a while.”

  Melody knelt beside him, laying her fingers over his wrist. His hand stopped moving.

  “Where is it?” she asked.

  He looked at her sternly, then down at where she grasped him. There was a strange warmth there, an electricity that somehow existed in their touch. Melody took her hand away. He began sanding again.

  “The egg you’re talking about to belongs to Lady Neveux,” he said.

  “You’ve seen her with it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where would that be?”

  “In the manor,” Lucus shrugged. “She takes it out often. To admire it. And to—”

  All at once the blacksmith stopped speaking. He was staring at her now. Staring at her chest.

  “W—Where did you get that?”

  Melody looked down, following his gaze. Dangling from her neck was the Heart of Isolomara. It must’ve slipped from beneath the collar of her dress when she first knelt down.

  “A friend gave it to me,” she told him.

  “A friend?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucus looked skeptical. He eyes were still fixed on the glimmering pendant. It was like he was mesmerized by it.

  “Do… do you think it’s pretty?” Melody asked, confused.

  He stood up suddenly, placing one hand on either side of her arms. His grip was strong and firm. Melody had no choice but to rise with him.

  “Listen to me,” he said urgently, his voice going low. “That guy, the one you came here with?”

  “I didn’t come here with him.”

  “But I saw you…”

  “He wasn’t with me,” Melody explained. “He’s… well, he’s sort of a colleague. But he’s not—”

  He shushed her by putting a finger over her mouth. Melody stopped talking.

  “Hear me out,” Lucus said. “That man. The one who saved you from the dogs, who went with you into the house?”

  Melody stared back at him, her throat going dry.

  “Don’t trust him.”

  13

  The walk back to the house seemed longer somehow, possibly because she had so much to think about.

  Eric?

  It didn’t exactly make sense. He was a member of the Order, and therefore one of her brethren. He’d saved her life, possibly even twice, and was dedicated to the same goal she was.

  Why the hell wouldn’t I trust Eric?

  Still, Lucus had been firm. Insistent. She’d tried to get him to explain himself, but the smith had gone right back to doing his work.

  “I can’t say any more,” he’d told her solemnly. “I’ve already said too much.”

  Melody sighed, looking up at the house. Evermoore looked somehow different today, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. The best way to describe it, she thought to herself, was that the luster was gone. There were cracks in the paint now, small chips in the once smooth wooden columns. Surely they’d been there yesterday as well, only she just hadn’t noticed them.

  You were too busy taking it all in, she told herself. Not to mention being chased…

  Melody re-entered through the side patio, being sure to wipe her muddy feet clean in the wet grass. Though she’d gone to the carriage house looking for answers, somehow or another she’d returned with even more questions.

  She was able to search most of the manor’s lower levels before Eric finally caught up with her.

  The house itself was fantastic — every room was decked out with only the most beautiful of vintage decor. Considering that most of what she was looking at was over two centuries old, Melody spent a lot of time marveling at the quality and condition of it all.

  Money… she thought to herself, a little jealously. It must be nice.

  It was incredible to her that anyone could have this much wealth; enough excess cash to so painstakingly restore Evermoore to this precise of a condition. Room by room she was continually impressed, from lavish sitting rooms to parlors and private offices. Melody saw trinkets and baubles that would be priceless on today’s market: crystal figurines, intricately-woven tapestries, porcelain miniatures of various animals. Everything seemed chased with gold, or bedecked with jewels, or carved from some sort of precious stone.

  None of it looked like an egg, though.

  She cut through the ballroom again, a little sad that she never got to dance through it with her beautiful gown. By the morning light she could see scuff-marks that, she reasoned, were intentionally left on the floor for historic purposes. Long-forgotten steps from long-forgotten events, made by the ghosts of people long since in the ground.

  “Boo!”

  Eric’s voice startled her as she was about to spin in a circle, just to say she’d danced there too. Had he waited an extra five or ten seconds Melody would’ve felt pretty foolish.

  “Oh hi,” she said, trying to sound casual but not doing a very good job of it.

  “I missed you this morning.”

  “Yeah, well I got an early start.”

  “I can see that,” he smiled. “You must’ve stepped pretty lightly to avoid waking me up. I usually—”

  He stopped, mid-sentence, and squinted down at her.

  “What are you wearing?”

  Melody held out the sides of her dress and forced a smile. “What, this old thing?”

  Either Eric missed the joke or just didn’t care for it. His face was still drawn with confusion. “Where’d you get it?”

  Her mouth opened and she almost told him. For some reason however, she didn’t.

  “Found it in one of the drawers in my room,” Melody lied. “Much better than running around in that big sweaty gown.”

  “Found it…” Eric repeated.

  “Uh huh.”

  “In your room…”

  “Yes.”

  Why are you lying to him?

  Truthfully, she didn’t even know. But the lie had come quickly and easily, and so now she was stuck with it.

  “What have you been doing all morning?” Eric asked.

  It was almost an accusation. Almost, but not quite. Either way, she didn’t care for the question, or his tone.

  “I’ve been looking for the egg,” she hissed loudly, “while you’ve been sleeping!”

  Eric looked suddenly hurt. His expression went immediately from accusatory to wounded.

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  Melody shrugged. “Well you certainly weren’t helping.”

  He stepped into her, and she froze.

  “Look,” he said. “That’s not what I meant.” His eyes had gone soft now, his voice apologetic. “I was only wondering why you didn’t wake me up. Take me with you, like we discussed.”

  “It was early. Almost still dark outside.”

  “So?” He reached out to touch her, and Melody found herself almost flinching away. His hand slipped around her waist. Gently he drew her closer. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

  “I just want to finish this,” she sighed. “Get out of here already. This place… this place is…”

  He patted her placatingly. “I know.”

  “Do you though?” Melody pulled back to look at him. “There’s something nagging at me, Eric. We’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. Less than a day, and it already feels like—”

  He nodded as if he understood.

  “Like we’ve been here forever?”

  14

  His words finis
hed her sentence, exactly as she was about to say them. That alone was strange, but Melody also realized she’d seen him do this before. It was just like…

  … just like his argument with the Colonel.

  “Well did you find anything?” Eric was asking.

  “Not yet.”

  “Maybe we’ll have more luck after we eat.”

  Melody shifted. “Eat?”

  “Yes,” said Eric.

  “And what exactly are we eating?”

  Eric stood up, stiffened his body, and deepened his voice to do his best possible Lurch impression:

  “Cakes in the Sun Parlor…”

  It turned out the Sun Parlor ran the back length of the entire house. It was a long, beautiful glass room filled with tiny side tables and semi-comfortable chairs.

  “These don’t look like cakes,” said Melody, scanning their spread.

  “Well that’s because they’re sandwiches,” chuckled Eric.

  Breakfast or brunch or whatever they were having consisted of platters of finger foods. Melody saw cold pudding, sausages, boiled eggs, and small ‘cakes’ of cured meat sandwiched between some type of heavily floured bread.

  None of it made her very hungry.

  “You’re not eating?” Eric asked, loading up a frilly white plate.

  “No, not now.”

  Some of the Evermoore’s other guests were there too, spilling out onto the back lawn with their own little plates of food. The banker seated across from them at dinner last night was smiling and talking loudly with the man who’d sat at the head of the table. Anabelle and Emily were seated in the shade.

  A little further out in the grass, the Colonel was playing some sort of game with colorful balls and sticks. He was talking gruffly and laughing often. At first Melody was sure he was speaking to himself, but then she saw the slender young man from dinner playing with him.

  “Is that croquet?” she asked Eric, squinting into the sunlight.

  “Something like it, I think,” he replied.

  She used to play croquet with her brothers. Back during her childhood summers, using her grandfather’s old set. The sticks they were holding now looked like mallets. The balls were striped the same way, in one direction.

  Melody made her way out onto the back lawn, careful not to step into the game’s path. The Colonel and his opponent ignored her, and that was just fine. She was more interested in what lay behind the house, where the property gave way even further to a beautiful series of back gardens, stretching all the way out to a large, sweeping hedge. She could see marble pathways back there. Stone statues, set among beds of beautiful wildflowers.

  “Do you think the egg might be—”

  She turned back, but Eric wasn’t there. He was still up near the Sun Parlor, all the way back by the house.

  “Eric!” she shouted, motioning him over.

  He didn’t see her, or rather, he didn’t acknowledge. Melody sighed in frustration. For someone who wanted to be helpful, he sure as hell wasn’t.

  Forget him, her inner voice told her. Do your own thing.

  She continued on, choosing one of the wider paths. It wound its way past a waist-high, wrought iron gate. There were roses and daffodils. Hyacinth and lavender and gladiolus. She knew the names, the colors, the leaves and flowers… gardening had been one of the few things she and her grandmother had bonded on, that her brothers had not.

  Up ahead the path split beneath a pair of stone arches. A small hedge maze stood just beyond them, immaculately groomed and well-cared for.

  Melody continued on, her feet moving all on their own. It didn’t occur to her that she’d entered the maze until she was six or eight turns in. She stopped immediately.

  It’s not big enough to get lost in, she assured herself. Just tall enough so that you can’t see over it…

  Moving more slowly this time, she kept walking, kept turning. And all throughout, Melody kept breathing in the fragrant smell of flowers. It was a calming, soothing scent — almost intoxicating in its sweetness. At the very least it was…

  Distracting.

  She shook her head clear and looked up. Somehow she’d made it to the center of the maze. There was a statue there — the breathtaking likeness of a beautiful woman holding a tray with both hands. Birds fluttered playfully in the water of the tray; both real ones as well as a few sculpted out of stone.

  Beneath the statue was a large pool of clear water. A standing fountain.

  Thank God!

  Melody shrugged out of her dress before even thinking it through. Stripped down to her underwear, she stepped into the pool and submerged herself up to her neck.

  “Oh… Oh wow…”

  It was only about three feet deep. But the water was so cool, so refreshing, it was almost like being reborn. Melody floated on her knees, feeling the dirt and grime of the last twenty-four hours just slough away, cleansing her inside and out. She dipped her head back. Submerged her hair. Washed herself with her hands, moving up and down her arms and legs, until she felt human again.

  She had no idea how long she spent in the fountain. Maybe five minutes, maybe twenty. When she was finished she stood up, stepped back onto the flagstones surrounding the statue, and patted herself mostly dry with her bunched up dress.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Melody gasped, whirling around at the sound of the voice. Lucus was standing there, just on the far side of the hedge maze.

  “Y—You scared the hell out of me!”

  “Sorry,” he said, but didn’t budge.

  She almost squirmed beneath his gaze, but somehow didn’t. Lucus was looking at her the way a man looks at a half-naked woman, and that was to be expected. But beneath that, there was also more. A certain concern in his eyes, that superseded anything sexual.

  “You don’t seem like you’re sorry.”

  The blacksmith shrugged. His shoulder-length black hair shrugged with him, brushing the tips of his broad shoulders. His cloth shirt was stuck to his body by sweat. It was as if he’d been running to get here.

  Melody wrung out her hair, then casually began slipping back into her dress. He still didn’t look away. Neither did she.

  “What is this place?” she asked. “It’s beautiful.”

  He paused before answering. “It was the Lady’s garden.”

  “Was?”

  Lucus’s eyes shifted slightly, almost in frustration. Like he was searching his memory for something, but couldn’t find it.

  “Anyway, why can’t I be here?”

  He paused, taking a deep breath. Considering. Deciding. Finally, he turned and looked behind her. Melody followed his gaze…

  The other side of the garden was shrouded in mist. The mist. The one that had rolled in when she’d first arrived. The one that was somehow still here.

  “That’s why,” said Lucus grimly.

  Melody’s eyes narrowed. The strange rolling fog lingered just on the other side of the hedge maze, stretching in both directions. She could see pathways and flower beds that continued beyond, but that part of the garden had already been swallowed.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her throat was suddenly too dry.

  “You should get back to the house,” said Lucus. “The house is safe.”

  The house…

  Melody turned and looked back. Over the top of the hedge she could see the slight rise leading up to the house. From the back, Evermoore manor was every bit as impressive as the front. Only now it seemed faint. So very far away…

  “Go on,” said Lucus. “The thing you’re looking for isn’t here anyway.” He gestured around the beautiful little circle in the center of the maze. “Not in this place. Not now.”

  “Not now?”

  He took a step forward. This time though, he actually smiled. It was a warm, gentle smile, and it eased her almost immediately. Especially when Lucus bent to pluck a small white flower from the foot of the statue.

  “Do you trust me?” he as
ked her, stepping closer. They were toe to toe now. Chin to chest.

  “Sure,” she said with a half shrug.

  Lucus reached up with one hand and slowly tucked the flower into her hair. Very gently, he pinned it behind her ear.

  “Then stay away from this place,” he said.

  Melody yawned. She had no idea why she was yawning. She tried stopping herself, then yawned again.

  “O—Okay,” she agreed finally.

  Lucus nodded. His hands grasped her shoulders for the second time and spun her around. Then her feet were moving again, and she was back in the maze.

  Getting out of the hedge was somehow tougher than getting in. Everything seemed more disjointed on the way out, the turns more confusing. The steps she took seemed smaller, too. Like she was dragging her feet.

  Finally she was back in the garden, passing beneath the stone archways. She took the path through the small iron gate, and was halfway back to the house when she noticed something.

  Someone was watching them from the third floor.

  Up above, in one of the high windows, a lone figure stood hunched against the glass. Melody stopped, shielding her eyes with her hand so she could peer upward…

  It was a person. A woman, most likely. Her figure was bent and wizened, her arms hanging limply down at her sides. But it was the expression on the woman’s face that made Melody’s blood run cold…

  It was the face of rage.

  She shivered involuntarily. Feelings of fury and resentment were almost palpable as she began walking again. She moved quickly, averting her eyes. Refusing to look up anymore, for fear of further angering or disrespecting the woman in the window.

  By the time she stepped onto the Sun Parlor’s decking again, Melody was sweating and shaking.

  15

  “Where’d you go?” Eric asked, running up quickly. “I turned around and you weren’t there!”

  Melody stood next to the platter of cakes and fruit, staring down as if seeing them for the first time. She brushed his concern aside as she reached for a glass of water.