A long breathe left her body as it sighed with comfort, her nightgown and slippers raising a flicker of hope within. She was abashed that no one had awoken like she and claimed terror as she had. Pensively she made her way over to the doorway and stood, observing the swaying door before dipping her head out into the dark corridor. Her room was on the second floor, the guests rooms located on the first floor. With shaking hands and a faint intake of breath she made her way down the corridor, lifting an oil lamp and turning it on. The corridor, its walls a soft cream came a live as the oil lamp filled it with reassurance. Her hands still shaking she picked up the oil lamp and made her way quietly towards the stairs. She stopped, her feet steadying themselves upon the top step. With caution she bent her body over the banister slightly and held out the lamp, looking downwards, her eyes scanning the winding stair case and resting upon the ground floor, filled with silvery light. With furrowed brows she began to descend the white marble steps slowly, the cold air biting at her face and eyes. As she came to the first floor she walked away from the stairs and held the lamp high, her gaze turning up and down the corridor in search of life. It was empty, the guests asleep and unaroused by the terrifying noise and gush of wind that had awoken her so suddenly. With another deep breathe she made her way back towards the stairs and once more descended the steps, her hair dancing amidst the swirling air. The sound of a door swinging against a wall filled Mary’s ears as she came to stand upon the first floor, her eyes wide with fear as they beheld the sight before her. The large black, Georgian front door had been flung open, now swinging hauntingly against the coat hanger as a cloud of snow filled the reception hall, lightly covering everything in its midst. Her body stood frozen as she digested the sight before her, acknowledging the increasingly possibility that someone had invaded her house. The cold air wound its way up her nightgown and strangled her internal organs, the pinch of coldness deep and inconsolable. With shivering contemplation she made her way to the door and set the oil lamp down on a nearby table. Cautiously she found the door handle and curled her fingers about it, forcing it over to meet with the door frame, quickly she locked the door and with an anxious sigh leaned her body against the large black door, closing her eyes for a brief moment.
The house remained quiet as Mary quietly, guided by her oil lamp searched the rooms of the ground floor. The doors had also been forced open, but she found no evidence of an invader. Instead the rooms had been subjected to the force of the gust of wind that had consumed the sleeping house, causing paper to fall to the ground, books to fall from their shelves, vases to crash onto the floors and blankets to be cast from the sofa’s, lying unceremoniously on the ground. Without a thought, Mary began to put things to right, starting in the dining room. Becoming active helped to take her mind off the fear that still caused shadow and doubt to linger ever so heavily in the back of her mind. In little time she entered the library and began to tidy its contents a little more calmly, she was adamant that if there was a burglar they would have shown themselves, but such an assumption did little to calm her nerves, how could she explain what had happened? As she closed the door of the library behind her she made her way to the stairs. As she ascended the marble steps once more she heard a door opening on the first floor and stopped, lowering her oil lamp and turning the light down, the house falling under darkness once more. Mary moulded her body to the wall as the sound of footsteps came from above. As she stood frozen, her eyes fell upon a black figure that came into view, stopping by the banister of the first floor and turning. Mary placed a hand over her mouth as the figure bent over the banister to get a better look. After what seemed to be eternity, the figure moved away from the banister and disappeared from view. Mary found herself the centre of a conundrum, what was she to do? Her mind began to hyperventilate as she searched for options. With a deafening thud in her ears, an answer sprung from within. The kitchen. Ada, Bram and Peter had decided to take refuge in the large kitchen below, having been too tired to return to their own lodgings so early in the morning. With a quick leap of her heart, Mary turned quickly and tip toed down the stairs, wounding her way round the bottom of the staircase and heading towards the servants stairs, which lay beyond the library. As she tip toed with quite some speed she heard the sound of footsteps once again, this time on the stairs and with haste made for the door of the servants stairs and opened it wide, marching with focus down the steps until she reached the kitchen, bathed in darkness. Three bodies lay slumped over the large, wooden table that was positioned in the centre of the large Georgian kitchen, filled with utensils and the smells of food, particularly baked bread.
The footsteps grew louder, causing Mary’s heart to start jumping with desperation.
“Ada!” she whispered loudly, roughly thumping the sleeping man on the back, her eyes on the door of the kitchen. Ada didn’t move no matter how hard she thumped him. Fear beckoning her onwards, she moved to Peter, her most favoured guest with whom she had spent quite a bit of time with in the last two weeks, both sharing a love of ancient civilisations. “Peter, please wake up!” she cried with no success. Peter’s body merely shook at her touch. Mary looked at the men with confusion, why where they not waking up for her? Turning to the door, the footsteps drew closer, now upon the servant’s stairs. Quickly she turned out the lamp and scurried under the large kitchen table, crawling to the centre where she set down the lamp and curled her legs up to her chin, lowering her mouth to her hands as the unidentified person entered the kitchen. Mary felt an odd sensation run through her as the person entered, their feet stopping before the table, bare and still. Silence ensued the kitchen like a knife to the heart. With a shiver, Mary watched on in horror as the bare feet began to make their way around the table, moving away towards the worktops. Mary’s eyes rested upon the feet, taking in the bare legs and hem of a nightdress. Just as she began to recognise the person, her ears quipped as the sound of a knife grazing the wooden worktop. Mary bite down on her hand as the person turned and made their way back towards the table, coming to stand behind Bram. The quiet and shaking kitchen now filled with a high pitched voice, unlike any voice Mary had heard before. The sound of the voice coursed through Mary as though she had been internally inflicted with fire. Mary bent her head in agony as the voice began to utter words she could not understand. With her hands she roughly placed them over her ears for protection. Then she heard the swing of the knife carve through the air and stab through the body of Bram. Mary shocked began to crawl backwards as the voice reverberated about her and within her, a flow of heavy blood now beginning to journey its way down from Bram’s back to his legs, where large blobs of red blood began to dot the tiled floor beneath him. Mary listened, her stomach churning with nausea as the person took out the knife and stepped where Peter sat, motionless, swinging the blade through the air again and bringing to down, plunging it into the depth of the man’s back, his body clearly shaking with the attack, as blood sprung high into the air. Mary let out a gasp which prompted the person to stop what they were doing. Mary shuffled backwards into a chair, which squeaked loudly against the tiled floor.
With trembling lips and shaking hands she squirmed as the person bent down before her, piercing red eyes penetrating her soul. Mary let out another cry as the being let out a low laugh, the knife within its hands, blood dripping down the point of the blade.
“Don’t be frightened,” the person said with menacing eyes. Mary let out a breath.
“Eveline? Is that…is that you?” Mary whispered with alarm.
“Come out Mary, there is nothing to be afraid of,” Eveline said darkly. “I was just attending to some business.”
“What…what business?” Mary whispered, unable to move from her spot under the table.
“Getting rid of unwanted persons,” Eveline shrugged, moving backwards and rising to her full height once again. Mary became riddled with confusion and angst as she tried to process her current predicament. Eveline was unlike her usual self, and those eyes, so red and so
very piercing had caused Mary’s soul to burn wildly. Mary felt tears spring to her eyes as Eveline stabbed the unconscious Ada. As blood began to pool around the lifeless bodies, Mary forced herself to think, she needed to alert the rest of her guests and to do this she would need to create a diversion. Eveline pulled out a chair and took a seat, near to the door, wiping the blood stained knife on her white linen nightdress. “You can’t hide under the table forever Mary, but it angers me not, I have…,” she spun the knife about in the air. “All night in which to wait, although to be perfectly honest my master may not be as patient as I.” Mary, hiding in the shadows found the oil lamp and turned it on. The kitchen now was bathed in a golden light, light that illuminated the dark figure of Eveline. Mary bite down on her lip as she took in the young guest, so very unlike herself. Blood was splattered across her nightdress, but what was more shocking to Mary, was Eveline’s body and face. Her veins where black and her eyes red, her thick wild hair fell about her thin body, glimmering in the light. As she observed Eveline with terror she took in a deep breathe, the only way she could get out of this kitchen was by hurling the oil lamp at Eveline, praying that the flame would create a diversion. As though reading her mind, Eveline smiled lazily. “You don’t seriously think that fire can kill me do you?” Mary forced her mouth to stay shut, whatever had happened to Eveline, Mary knew this was not her, she seemed almost possessed.
Possessed.
Mary shivered at the thought, she had known that something serious had been going on under her roof these last few days, but had been kept at a distance. Had something happened to make Eveline turn into a possessed creature?
“Do you like riddles Mary?” Eveline asked with a curious expression upon her face. “How quiet you are. I shall give you a riddle and you shall try to answer,” Eveline threatened as she sat back against her chair with a malevolent look upon her face. Mary shuffled herself away from the table as Eveline crossed her legs and mused. “Alone I roam, seeking out my prey. Alone I stalk, under shadow of night and day. Ageless runs my overflowing cup of morality. Your end is my eternity.” Mary’s chest rose and fell abruptly as she took in the words, trying to make sense of the riddle. Eveline sat forward, her head bent in Mary’s direction, a smile upon her lips. “Well?”
“I…I don’t know,” Mary muffled pathetically, her wides wide with terror, her face drained of colour.
“Think,” Eveline said darkly. Mary dropped her gaze from Eveline and shook her head. She couldn’t think, couldn’t think beyond the darkness that gripped her.
“I shall let you off this once,” Eveline sneered. “Would you like to know the answer Mary?”
“Yes…, please.”
“Why death of course!” Eveline laughed, pointing the blade in Mary’s direction. “Now, one last riddle and this time you shall answer as my patience is starting to dwindle.” Mary clutched at her oil lamp, her fingers trembling and cold. “With wings of darkness I fly. With a venomous sting you cry. Between life and death, cling. Devour all but that which I depend. Until grown my offspring have fed.” Mary curled her toes within the comfort of her slippers as she tried to take apart the riddle, unable to source the answer. “Would you like a clue?” Mary shook her head vigorously. “It is a type of wasp.”
“I…,” Mary whispered with faint breath. She was no scientist and had no idea what kind of wasp Eveline was talking off, but she knew her life depended upon her answer and so muttered, “Yellow jacket?” Eveline looked at Mary briefly before erupting into an episode of laughter, her high pitched laugh causing Mary’s mind to erupt with wild pain. After several minutes, Eveline stopped laughing and rose from her seat, bending down under the table.
“Malum,” she whispered perversely as she crawled towards Mary with dangerous eyes. “Faux. Falsch. Incorreto. Sbaglito.”
“Please,” Mary cried out as Eveline came close to Mary.
“Please,” Eveline said with bitterness. Mary felt an ice cold hand clasp at her ankle and cried out. “The wasp is known as Ichneumonidae, a favourite of my masters.”
“Eveline please, I mean you no harm,” Mary cried out as the hand about her ankle tightened.
“I’m not Eveline you bitch! Well,” Eveline laughed aloud. “I suppose I am Eveline.”
“What…I don’t understand?” Mary pleaded as she tried to move out of the reach of Eveline, bringing the lamp with her.
“Oh don’t doubt that Eveline is in here somewhere,” Eveline smirked, using her free hand and running it up and down her body. “You should hear her screaming out to you, touching really. No I have another name, would you care to guess?” Mary shook her head as she gulped. “I am Nathaniel.” Mary looked into the pair of red eyes. “Demon captor and servant of the great Lagar or known to you by the names of Lucifer and Satan.”
“No,” Mary whispered as she readied herself, distracting Eveline with conversation. Finding that the moment was right, she lifted the oil lamp and slammed it against Eveline’s head, throwing her to the ground and knocking her mortal body out of consciousness. The lamp burst upon the floor, the flame flickering and dying as the pool of blood drowned out its fire. Quickly, Mary crawled out from under the table and without looking backwards, ran from the kitchen and up the flight of stairs to the ground floor, closing the door behind her. Summoning all of her strength she made for the stairs and with haste made her way up to the first floor. Upon finding herself in the dark corridor of the first floor, she made her way down the corridor towards Eveline’s room. Beneath her she could hear the door of the kitchen open.
“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” came the lyrical song from below. “With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.” Mary forced the door of Eveline’s room open and entered. Her eyes fell to the large four poster bed, which was empty. With shock she ran to the bed and pulled back the sheets. “Theodore?” she whispered desperately. She turned from the bed and looked about the dark room, Theodore was nowhere to be found. The sounds of Eveline’s footsteps drew closer as Mary ran out of her room and down the corridor to Galean’s room, opening the door quickly and scanning the room. He was nowhere to be found either. As she stood in the doorway, the song stopped and the air in the corridor stood still. She could feel Eveline’s gaze upon her. “Time is running out.” Mary turned slowly until she found herself facing Eveline, who stood perfectly tall with her right hand outstretched, clasping the hilt of the bloodied knife. Mary knew in that moment what would happen next, she knew that she should have run, should have fought for her life but her body wasn’t so accommodating to her wishes. Instead her body froze, her feet refusing to budge. Any lingering traces of warmth drained itself from Mary’s body as she watched Eveline swing back her arm and throw the knife through the dark corridor. At first she didn’t feel a thing, only that the force of the blade piercing her heart forced her backwards, her body falling to the ground, heavy and unyielding. She felt her head hit the carpeted ground roughly and cried out. As she found focus, a sudden stab pierced her chest, the pain coursing its way around her body. She tried to sit up but failed, tried to lift her hand in order to take out the knife and failed. A solemn tear fled her eye and fell upon her cold cheek as the body of Eveline came into sight. Mary tried to crawl backwards but found she couldn’t, her body becoming unresponsive to her thoughts. Eveline said nothing, she simply bent down and tugged the knife free from Mary’s heart, a painful cry swallowing up the air around them as Mary tried to keep herself awake.
*
Nathaniel looked down at the corpse of Mary last time before striding away, making for Estelle’s room which lay at the far end of the corridor. Within Eveline’s mind he could hear her cry out, pleading with him to stop. With an iron fist and strength greater than Eveline’s, Nathaniel forced his host to shut up.
“Please, not my mother!” Eveline tried to cry out as she felt the force of the creature within her hurt her mind, which grew smaller and tighter with each passing minute. At fi
rst she had been unaware of what was occurring, herself feeling disorientated and sedated within. When Nathaniel had forced her to stab her first victim in the back she felt the true nature of the creature, which was not only speaking through her but forcing her to use her body for his own purposes and intent, which seemed to be murdering those within the Georgian house. She could feel every vein, muscle and nerve in her body as the demon wielded her like a helpless lamb being brought forward for slaughter. She felt the same emotions as the demon, herself falling victim to the surge of happiness and maliciousness that the demon forced upon her. She swayed between a drowning sensation and a hyperventilate state of extreme happiness. She could smell the blood upon her skin and dress, smell the stench of death that filled the house and worse yet smell the stench of the demon within. When she had awoken from her sleep she found her bed empty, now it had dawned on her that certain guests who should have been in the beds sleeping where missing, including her husband.
Eveline felt herself open the door to her mother’s room, felt her feet enter the gently lit room, its walls a warm marigold and her mother happily asleep, her face at peace as her chest rose gently. Eveline tried to stop her body from moving but could not, she tried to shut her mind to the demon but could not. Nathaniel growled deeply as they stood over Estelle, whose eyes stopped moving as though aware of their presence. Eveline looked on as her mother opened her eyes.
“Eveline?” she said sheepishly as she rubbed her eyes with her arm and yawned aloud. “What is it?” she asked gently, her eyes now opened wide. Eveline looked down through her eyes and screamed out within.
“Run! Run!” she cried out much to the joy of the demon who hurt her once again, her mind attacked as though by ice. Estelle looked up into her daughters face and frowned.
“Eveline you don’t look well,” she said kindly, pushing herself up so that her back found itself against the headboard of her bed. The room stood still as Estelle’s eyes fell from her daughter’s face, to her right hand, in which was a bloodied knife. “Why do you have a knife?”
One Crown & Two Thrones: The Prophecy Page 34