The Victorian Gothic Collection: Volumes 1-3

by Bowlin, Chasity

  It was only seconds, or perhaps minutes, but suddenly, Madame Leola’s head came up again. Her eyes were wide, but rolled back in her head in such a way that only the white was visible. It was a terrible sight. The hair at the nape of Adelaide’s neck stood on end and a shiver raced through her.

  A voice emerged from her, too deep for a woman, too rough to be human. Half growl, half shout, and utterly terrifying, she uttered, “Be gone!”

  Adelaide flinched. As the candles’ flames suddenly flared brighter and higher, silhouetted behind Madame Leola was a dark, hulking shape. It was not a shadow. No light penetrated it. Solid, massive, and looming above them, it was the embodiment of darkness, she thought.

  “Be gone, I say! You have no power in this circle!” Madame Leola shouted again, in that voice that could not be hers.

  The shadows dispersed. The dark shape retreated, but slowly and without any fear. The candle flames stopped their dancing and burned steadily, as they should have all along.

  The mystic’s eyes closed once more, and when they opened, they were once more the pretty blue eyes of the woman who had entered their home only the day before. But they were haunted. Their was a heaviness about her that had not been there before. The woman’s shoulders slumped with what could only be exhaustion.

  “It worked,” Adelaide said. “Your spirit guide showed you what you needed to know?”

  Madame Leola nodded. “I need water… or tea,” she said, and her voice was a broken whisper.

  Lord Mortimer rose, hesitated for a moment before stepping past the barrier of salt crystals, and then rushed toward the bell pull in the corner. As he did so, he flicked the small valve and the gas lamps overhead flared to life. It was a welcome reprieve. From the darkness and what might remain hidden inside it.

  A maid entered, her eyes wide and her face white with fear. He ordered the tea and then returned to the table. Moments later, the girl returned with a tray bearing a pot of tea and cups for everyone, along with a decanter of brandy. She fled as quickly as she’d come, clearly unnerved by whatever strange things were going on.

  When the maid had gone, Lord Mortimer poured the tea. It was an unusual thing for a man to do with women present, but as Madame Leola was trembling and she herself was in much the same condition, Adelaide was grateful for the minor breach of protocol.

  With a cup of tea, heavily laced with brandy, placed before each of them, he nodded to Madame Leola. “Go on.”

  The mystic drew in her breath and began to speak. “It is worse than I thought. So much worse. And I do not know if it can be defeated.” No one said anything. They simply waited. After a moment, she continued. “Whatever dark thing inhabits this house, it isn’t human. This is not the simple case of a spirit who is unwilling to submit to death, or a being that has unfinished business in this plane.”

  “I don’t understand,” Eldren said.

  “If it had been a human spirit, it would not have been able to intrude as it did. I felt it trying to invade my body, trying to take me over and—,” she broke off abruptly and covered her face with a trembling hand for a moment.

  “If it didn’t begin as a human what did it begin as?” Adelaide asked.

  “Evil, Lady Montkeith. If this being ever was human, that was so long ago there is no trace of humanity left in it now… It’s a parasite feeding off both the living and the dead. One it drives mad, and the other—,” Madame Leola broke off abruptly, her eyes widening in horror and her breath rushing out on a silent cry.

  “Tell us what you’ve seen,” Lord Mortimer demanded, rising to his feet, the table before them rocking from the upset.

  Adelaide couldn’t breathe. She could feel it, the horror and the fear that consumed the mystic. It seeped from the other woman, spilling onto her like liquid from an overturned glass. “She will, John. Give her a moment. She’s touched it, you see. It’s entered her mind, passed through it and left its pollutants behind. It will take her a moment to recover.”

  She felt Eldren stiffen at her side, his gaze heavy upon her. Uncertain, she glanced over at him.

  But it wasn’t fear or revulsion, or even disbelief on his face. It was concern. He wasn’t dismissing or discounting her entirely. Instead, he worried for her, Adelaide realized. Whether it was because he truly believed all that was happening around them in that moment or because he thought the house and its oddities had managed to drive her mad, she did not yet know.

  “It uses both as fuel,” Madame Leola finally said, the words escaping her on a shuddered breath. “Fear and uncertainty are like the first course, you see? The agony of madness is the main dish. But it’s what happens after you’ve died here—that is the dessert. This land is cursed and the dead are trapped here, unable to escape this thing. Without the protection of a living body, the soul is laid bare and plucked at incessantly. Consumed by it until only a shadow remains of what they ever once were. They are nothing but inhuman wraiths now… pale, slivers of phantoms that drift through these halls. Just enough left in them to feel anger, resentment, hatred, and perhaps the most vicious emotion of all. Envy. They have enough cognizance left to envy the living and that is where the danger lies.”

  The room fell utterly silent. No one dared speak. The horror of what the mystic had revealed was not something any of them could ever have imagined. And yet, as she spoke those words, there was a certainty to them. An epiphany, even if it was a horrific one.

  “What does it want?” Eldren asked sharply.

  “What every predator wants… to consume. To survive. To flourish. To grow. To spread,” Madame Leola uttered bitterly. “And it will. If we do not stop it, it will succeed. It’s shown you already how far it can reach. You weren’t safe from it in Chester. You, Lord Montkeith, have felt its icy cold touch upon you in London. And I daresay its reach extends even further than we know. But these displays of power are not without cost.”

  “How do we defeat it?” Adelaide asked.

  “Not we, my dear. You. You are the key to all of it and you always have been,” Madame Leola uttered softly. “May God have mercy on you.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Adelaide undressed, but her mind was not on the task. It was occupied with the events that had transpired in the morning room only an hour earlier. As she loosened her corset and removed it, a frown settled over her features as she considered Madame Leola’s words. If it had ever been human. It had never occurred to her that the entity they were dealing with was not of human origin, that it was something older and perhaps more elemental than that.

  “You are deep in thought, my wife,” Eldren said from the doorway.

  “I am,” she agreed. “I keep thinking about Madame Leola’s words. Are you a believer now or do you still think her a charlatan?”

  Eldren stepped deeper into the room and leaned against the bedpost. “I’m not entirely convinced, but I find myself less skeptical than I was before. I felt something in that room tonight, something I cannot explain,” he admitted.

  “I was very afraid… of it, yes, but also of what it might do to her. I know she has been to many places and seen many inexplicable things, and yet I fear that what we have here at Cysgod Lys is not like anything else she may have ever encountered.”

  “I think that is an accurate assessment… What happened to you in here that night last week, Adelaide? What frightened you so that you cannot even tell me?”

  She had put it far from her mind, trying not to think of it and not to allow it to taint the newest phase of her relationship with Eldren. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”

  “That isn’t how it works, Adelaide. I cannot protect you. I cannot help you, if you do not tell me what has occurred. I have an inkling that what we felt in that room tonight might be very similar to what you felt then,” he said.

  “It wasn’t,” she denied. “What I felt that night was infinitely worse. This thing is a trickster, Eldren. It lies. It masquerades and camouflages itself into whatever will terrify us or hurt us the most.
That’s why it took the shape of my father in my nightmares, why it harkens back to the sinking of the Mohegan in so many ways to terrorize me.” Her voice trembled as she revealed all of that, revealing just how frightened she truly had been.

  “And what did it do to terrorize you that time? It was different, Adelaide. I know it was.”

  “It touched me,” she admitted. “It climbed into the bed and touched me in ways that at first, half asleep—I thought it was you.”

  He said nothing, but his jaw hardened and his eyes flashed with anger. “Go on.”

  “It wasn’t—I realized very quickly that it wasn’t you and I leapt from the bed. That was what you heard. I leapt from the bed so quickly that I bumped into the table there and set everything off kilter. But, I felt violated by it I suppose. And afraid that, perhaps the next time, it would manage to do more. That is why I will no longer go to bed alone, why, no matter what time you come here, you will find me awake and sitting up, waiting for you.” It hadn’t even been a conscious choice on her part that she would do so, but after uttering it aloud, she knew it to be true.

  He moved away from the bedpost and came to her, taking her in his arms and holding her close. “I will not let it harm you. No matter the cost.”

  “It may not be your choice,” she said. “I had a long talk with Madame Leola today. About being what she calls a catalyst. She thinks that my presence here has somehow invigorated the powers that exist here. And I cannot help but think this is true.”

  “Does she say how this happened?”

  Adelaide settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Part of it is that I have some connection to this land, to this family. My mother was always a very sensitive person. She seemed to know what others were thinking before they said anything and was able to know instinctively what to do to help those in need. Madame Leola thinks I have a similar ability.”

  “And do you believe that?”

  Adelaide shrugged in dismay. “I don’t know. I was always so sheltered from everyone. As a child, I was rarely around anyone save my mother and father… then Muriel. Even now, I am isolated from others, though by choice at this point. It’s hard for me to know. But I can think of no other reason for all that has happened.”

  “I concede the point, but I worry about her motives. Do you trust her? I mean with certainty?”

  Adelaide considered the question. “She’s come here with no promise of any sort of compensation beyond what Lord Mortimer provides for her. And it is not contingent upon what she finds here… so, I can’t see what her motive would be for pretending or lying. But she is a stranger, and un unknown quantity, so to speak. Perhaps proceeding with caution might not be the worst approach.”

  “Agreed. I’m not saying she’s wrong. I can’t deny that things have… intensified since you arrived here. Whatever the reason may be, I do not believe it is a coincidence.”

  Since they seem to be in accord in regards to Madame Leola, Adelaide decided to broach a more sensitive topic. “Frances cannot stay, Eldren. Something must be done about her.”

  * * *

  Eldren sighed wearily. He didn’t want her there anymore than Adelaide did. But if the child she carried truly was Warren’s, he couldn’t simply throw her out, no matter how he felt about her.

  “I can’t put her out, Adelaide. Not without knowing the truth about the child she carried and about Warren. But we can’t hold her prisoner here, either, even if it would simplify matters.”

  “She’s plotting, Eldren. She lurks and watches like a spider while we tangle ourselves deeper in her web,” Adelaide continued.

  “We are wise to her nature, if not privy to all her ways and motives,” he replied, hoping to sooth some of her fears. “We will not be caught unawares by her and we will prevail… somehow.”

  “I thought I was supposed to be the foolishly optimistic one?”

  Eldren laughed at her wry tone. “I can’t recall the last time I laughed,” he said. “I can’t honestly recall the last time I was happy, and despite everything that is happening, and the difficulties we have faced here, I’m happier with you than I have been in a very long time.”

  He hadn’t intended to say it. The words had simply tumbled out of him, but he couldn’t regret them, not when he saw the hopeful expression that crossed her face or thee happiness that flared in her gaze.

  “I didn’t know I was unhappy,” she said. “I despised Muriel and what she was doing to my father and to me, but I was so focused on her, I didn’t see that I had nothing else in my life that was good. But I do now. We both have something worth fighting for, I think.”

  Pushing himself away from the bed post, he moved toward her and simply took her in his arms. Holding her tightly, he simply savored the moment. They were in a detente with whatever darkness lurked inside the walls of their home. It wouldn’t last. It was only a matter of time until it made its presence known once more and in a fashion that would surely leave them all terrified. The anticipation of those moments, the waiting and wondering, were almost as terrible as the moments themselves. But for now, he would put that far from his mind and simply focus on his wife. His wife. It had been an impetuous choice, to offer a marriage of convenience to a girl he’d only ever seen from a distance, a girl who was alone in the world, but far from the vulnerable waif he might have imagined. But he had no regrets, and he felt that some guiding force had steered them on their current path. He only prayed it was a benevolent one.

  * * *

  Frances paced her room. Charles, the footman she’d been dallying with, had attacked Warren in a fit of jealousy. What the boy had been thinking she could not fathom. While she had never made it clear to Charles that he was nothing more than a stud at service, she had assumed that he would know. Afterall, he was but a lowly footman. What madness could have possessed him to think that she would ever cast off her husband for a servant?

  And yet, he’d stood there, professing his adoration for her and his desire to care for her and his child. His child. The fool would ruin everything she had been working toward. All her well laid plans might be ruined just because of an impetuous, love sick boy. If Warren recovered, if he remembered any of that encounter, all could be lost.

  “I can’t let that happen,” she said aloud.

  You know what you must do.

  The whisper was low and rough, close enough that she felt it slither over her skin and felt the rush of gooseflesh in its wake. It was never far from her, but rarely did it speak so clearly.

  “What must I do?”

  They plot against me… against us. The footman is a danger and must be dealt with first. Kill him. Kill him and hide the body. The others will be picked off one by one or driven mad by my minions.

  The minions had never bothered her. The wraiths and shadows that lurked within the dark corners of Cysgod Lys were indifferent to her. They always had been. The house had called to her. Warren had been handsome enough and manageable enough that she had agreed to marry him long before she’d ever seen the house. But after he’d brought her home, she’d known that it was meant to be. Fate had brought him to her so that she might reign as mistress over it. She’d thought once to wield the darkness inside it, but she’d learned quickly enough that the darkness held the power and that she was the tool to be wielded. She’d accepted that fate, because having power, even if it was secondhand, was preferable to being powerless. And what was a wife if not lacking in power? A widow, or better still, the widowed mother of a very young earl—that would be a woman with power. And if she could shut Charles up, that would be her destiny.

  “Where is he?” Frances asked.

  Lurking in the same chamber you seduced him in.

  The tower. She would have believed him too superstitious to go there after Mrs. Alberson’s murder, but then perhaps he was counting on the superstitions of the others to keep them from searching there for him. She knew that Tromley was having the servants scour the house for him. If they found him—well, that c
ouldn’t happen. He would not be able to hold out against any question. He would simply roll over and offer up anything they wished from him.

  “I’ll need your help… and your minions,” Frances uttered softly. “You must scare the others away and clear a path for me.”

  Have I not always done so?

  Frances didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. From the moment she had set foot on the grounds of Cysgod Lys, there had been an awareness. Long before it had ever spoken to her, she’d known of its presence. At first, it had been soft whispers, so soft that she’d often wondered if they hadn’t been manufactured within her own mind. But then all those whispers had taken on greater significance. She’d been warned when Warren’s mother would be roaming the halls in her rages, so that she might avoid her. When she’d been dallying with another footmen, she’d been warned when they were about to be discovered. It was only then, when she’d voiced aloud her gratitude to whatever it was, that their partnership, for lack of a better word, had been formed.

  The dark force receded. It was like the tide going out as it crept from the room. Frances removed a pair of shears from her sewing basket and placed them in the pocket of her dressing gown as she moved toward the door and waited. Within moments she heard the distant and muted shriek of a startled maid. A dozen set of footsteps followed as the other servants on that floor rushed to check up on her. Knowing that she was finally unobserved, Frances opened the door and slipped from her room, heading for the tower and poor Charlie who would not survive the night.