Retribution (Sebastian Trilogy Book 3)

by Rosen, Janey

  “Yes, Mummy.”

  “The bad lady is in Hell.”

  “Yes, Mummy. But Daddy says Hell is in the dungeon, like the…what was that, Daddy? Like the Milton thing you just thought about.”

  “Hell is in the dungeon, Joe?”

  “Yes, Mummy. Daddy says be careful. I love you.”

  “I love you too, darling. Thank you for coming to see me.”

  “Oh, Mummy?”

  “Yes, darling?”

  “Tell Grandma I love her and miss her trifle…yes, Daddy? Daddy says watch over Grandma.”

  “I’ll tell her, darling.”

  “Don’t forget the white feather, Mummy. Bye.” His image fades, my golden child leaving me alone once more.

  Pondering what Joe meant in the dream—or if indeed it was a dream, and yet my eyes are open, so how could it be a dream—movement in my right eye snaps me back to reality. The door to our bedroom is opening. The moonlight illuminates the room with blue hues. This dream is strange, so real. In this dream, my eyes are wide open. I see the figure of a woman enter the bedroom. She stands stock still on Sebastian’s side of the bed.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “It’s me,” is the whispered reply.

  “Me, who?”

  “Scarlett…Sarah Dorling.”

  “Nonsense,” I reply. “Scarlett is dead. She walked into the sea and drowned.”

  The figure laughs, a shrill sad laugh, tinged with irony and mirth. “Always so fucking stupid, aren’t you, Mrs. Dove?”

  Goosebumps rise on my arms. My scalp prickles. Oh my God. I’m awake. “Scarlett!”

  “The penny drops.”

  Reaching over to the bedside lamp, my arm outstretched, I don’t see the heavy weapon. I feel the breeze as it nears my head, feel the blow as it strikes me. Then darkness envelopes me.

  Chapter 17

  My head hurts. I can’t focus properly. Where am I? Trying to reach up to my head, my hands won’t move. Feel sick. Scared. Sebastian?

  “Well, hello, Mrs. Dove. Nice of you to join me.” The voice sounds as though it’s at the end of a very long tunnel. It’s familiar and yet foreign to me.

  “What…where am I? My head hurts.”

  “Does it really? I’m so sorry about that. Your ‘headache’ will be the very least of your worries soon, dear.” The voice is familiar to me.

  “Who is it?” My mouth is dry. I try to swallow. No saliva.

  “Did I beat your memory out of your pretty, empty little head?”

  I wonder why my hands won’t move. “Who are you?”

  “Scarlett. Remember me? Poor dear Scarlett. Do you really think I’d simply walk out to sea?” Her voice is shrill, cruel, and sardonic. “And leave you and Sebastian to live happily ever after? My Sebastian?”

  “Scarlett is dead. She’s gone…inquest… drowned.”

  “She’s gone. Inquest. Drowned. Can you make more sense, please, dear?”

  “What do you want with me?” My voice wavers, tears pricking my eyes. I’m so very scared. Is this a nightmare? Am I really insane? My wrists hurt. It feels like rope cutting into them. She’s tied me up? Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I want Sebastian.

  “Very good question indeed. What I want with you is for you to be gone, Elizabeth.”

  “You’re insane.” My body is trembling. Shaking uncontrollably. Shock. Cold.

  “You are probably correct. Insane? Yes, most likely. In love? Yes, most definitely.”

  “Let me go. Let me go.” The tears pour down my cheeks, my chest heaving as I struggle to free myself of the restraints which only bite further into my flesh.

  “Struggle if you wish. I know you enjoy pain, as do I, of course. We have something in common. Whoopseedo! We share a common interest. Oh, that and Sebastian. We share Him. My Lord. He who deserves so much more than you.”

  “Sebastian…will…be…fucking…mad,” I hiss, my voice faltering through terror.

  “Can you just please try to speak in a coherent sentence, Elizabeth. The Queen’s English, if you please.”

  “Let me go! Oh my God, let me go.” I scream, the fear wells up, I can’t control it. I need Sebastian. Dear God, let him come home.

  “Sshh. Please refrain from shouting, dear. Your voice echoes down here.”

  “Down here? Where…cellar…chamber?”

  “Give the lady first prize. Yes, dear, you are in the outer chamber. You are in the good company of His Lordship’s finest wine collection. Aren’t you a lucky girl? Of course, I’d have taken you to the inner chamber, the chamber of pain, but that’s a private place. I won’t violate that place with the likes of you.”

  “What do you want? Whatever it is, you can have it.” My brain tries to rationalise the situation. Keep her calm, give her what she wants. “I’ll leave, Scarlett. You can have him. I don’t love him. He’s yours.”

  “Aww, thank you, Elizabeth. You really, really mean it?” She laughs a demonic cackle. That’s when I realise I’m naked.

  “My clothes…my nightdress.”

  “Gone, I’m afraid. I’m sorry if you’re feeling rather cold, but I’ll warm you up soon enough.”

  “How? How have you survived?”

  “So easy.” She giggles. “Smugglers’ tunnel. You see, I found a tiny door in the far wall of my room. Months ago, you understand. I wondered where it led. Explored one day. Takes me through the cliff, right to the beach. Been there centuries at a guess. Perfect. I stayed there for days, sneaking to the kitchen for food at night.”

  “All this time? These days when Sebastian and I were happy?”

  “Yes dear. When you thought you were happy. I’d watch you both at night. While you were fast asleep, I’d creep into your room and watch you.”

  “You’re fucking sick.”

  She laughs.

  I feel her presence near me, if only my eyes would focus. The nausea is overwhelming. I’m so very cold; my body is trembling with fear and the biting cold. “Please, Scarlett. Please.”

  “Please, Scarlett…please. You’re pathetic. Do you know that? You disgust me. You…you should be punished.”

  “No, Scarlett. Don’t make things worse for yourself. I beg you.” I’m sobbing uncontrollably, my body wracked with fear. “Let me go. Don’t hurt me.”

  “Beg all you like, sister. You love pain. You’re going to love what I have in store for you.”

  I can hear her. My eyes won’t work properly. Damn my eyes. I can make out the shape of her. She’s moving around. I think I’m on the far side of the wine cellar. Try to remember, Beth. What is on the far side of the wine cellar?

  “Saint Andrews Cross,” she says as if reading my mind. “I dusted it off especially for you. Oh, I’ve spent many an hour tied to that. Marcus, mostly. Once with Sebastian. He was the best, of course.” She’s got something in her hand. What is it? Damn my eyes. “Then you came along. Sweet, mixed up Elizabeth.”

  “Please, for God’s sake, stop,” I implore. What is she doing?

  “As I was saying, then you showed up. It could have been the perfect family for us. Your kids were kind of cute. Perfect for Him of course. An heir and a spare.”

  Something tickles across my abdomen. It’s soft. Oh Christ. What is she doing? Thwack. The flogger bites into my flesh with a painful sting.

  “Alan was a lousy screw. ‘Limp dick’ I called him. Had to get rid of him first. What the fuck was the boy doing in the car?” She screams, her breath hot against my cheek. I can make out the outline of her face, contorted with rage.

  “Dear God. That was my son.” The strangled cry that follows isn’t from me, it’s from some feral animal. I realise it is from me. “Nooooo. He was a boy. Just a boy.” My head falls forward to my chest. So tired. Take me, Joe. Come and get your Mummy. She’s ready to come to you.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The pain is bad pain. It hurts so much. It continues unrelenting until I feel a trickle of something warm running down from my breast to my groin. Dear God, ple
ase take me. I want my mum. Mother.

  “Where’s my mother?” Please, no. Don’t let her hurt Mum. I’m aware that I’m whimpering like a baby. I need my mum.

  “Mummy is sleeping.” Her voice is ice cold. My eyes focus now. Something glints in the dim light. She has a knife. Oh. God. No.

  The first cut burns. If someone thrust a burning hot spike into my flesh it would feel like this. The second cut hurts less, the third hardly hurts at all. Then darkness comes.

  “Mummy, wake up.” Joe tries to lift my chin with his little hand. He’s crying.

  “Don’t cry, Joe. Mummy’s coming.”

  “Mummy. Mummy.”

  “Darling, it’s fine. Mummy is nearly there.”

  “Sebastian is coming, Mummy. Don’t go to sleep.”

  “Mummy’s very sleepy, darling.”

  “Sebastian is coming. Daddy says you have to stay awake, Mummy.”

  “Mummy’s tired, Joe. When I wake up, we’ll be together. Won’t that be lovely?”

  “No, love. Wake up.” The voice is deeper, a man’s voice. Alan’s voice.

  “Alan? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Beth. Don’t go to sleep. Do you bloody well hear me?”

  “Yes, Alan. I hear you. Are you still talking to me? After what I did to you?”

  “It’s done, Beth. In the past. It’s too soon for you. Be strong. He’s coming for you.”

  The voices fade as the darkness claims me. So very tired now.

  Cold water hits my face and trickles down my chilled, aching body. My eyes snap open, my vision clear enough to see. The cellar. I’m in the cellar. Scarlett. She’s laughing at me, standing with an empty bucket, water dripping down the red gown she’s wearing. My gown. Her face is deathly pale, her lips smeared with blood red lipstick.

  “Wakey, wakey, Elizabeth.” She steps toward me. I recoil but have nowhere to go, my arms and feet spread wide and tightly bound. “You were dozing, dear. Did I give you permission to sleep? No, I did not. First lesson of submission, darling: do as you’re damn well told. Second rule of submission: avert your eyes. In other words, don’t fucking look at me.” She slaps my face, forcing me to look away, but I can’t take my eyes from the bizarre and surreal vision of her. She slaps harder. My teeth bite my lip. I wince as hot tears tumble down my cold cheek. “Do. As. You’re. Told.”

  “Yes, Scarlett. I’m sorry.” My teeth chatter noisily.

  “Good girl, that’s better. You see, when you’re respectful to me, I am lenient with you. That’s the way it works.”

  “I…I understand.” My gaze darts around the room, avoiding her sneering stare, desperately searching for something I can use to free myself. It’s hopeless. Nothing is within my grasp and my hands are bound.

  She’s dancing. Pirouetting around the cellar holding an imaginary man, no doubt Sebastian. “Watch me dance, Elizabeth. Don’t I look the belle of the ball? Aren’t all eyes upon me? Aren’t I with the most handsome man in the room?” The sight is grotesque. My red gown hangs limp from her slight frame, the lacing undone at the back so the dress barely stays in place. The black net underskirt trails torn behind her as she nimbly dances across the cobbled stones. When the imaginary music stops, she comes to rest before me. “Don’t you think the dress looks better on me?” she asks, holding out the skirts.

  “Def…definitely. Yes.” My head nods in exaggerated agreement. “May I have some water, please?”

  “Me, me, me. Do you ever think about anything except your own needs?” She hisses, wagging a finger in my face. “Sel-fish.” She elongates the word to highlight my wrongdoing. “I just gave you a whole bucket of water.” She roars with laughter. My mouth is so dry.

  “Right, my lady, we are going to play a little game.” She tugs my fringe, snapping my head up so that our eyes meet. “The game goes like this. I ask you a question about His Lordship. If you get the answer correct, you win a treat. If you get the answer wrong…uh-oh…you win a punishment. At the end of the round we shall see if you know enough about Him to be His. Simple, yes?”

  “I don’t want to play…please just let me go…”

  She slaps my face with the back of her hand. “Don’t be a bad sport, Elizabeth. Okay, question number one: What date is Sebastian’s dead mother’s birthday?”

  “How the fuck…do I know that?” The anger is boiling inside me once more. Fuck her games. Fuck her.

  “Is the wrong answer…whack-whack-oops. That’s the noise from TV game-shows, incidentally.” She giggles and walks away from me. Scarlett tips out items from an old wooden chest before retrieving whatever she was searching for. “Your punishment, dear contestant, is this.” she clutches a cane and approaches me, snapping it across her palm. Thwack, it bites the flesh across my thighs. My eyes sting with tears as something warm trickles down my legs.

  “Question number two: What aftershave does His Lordship favour? Now think about this one, I’ve made it easy for you to win a treat.”

  “Sandalwood!” I cry. “It’s sandalwood…his aftershave is sandalwood.”

  “Whoop, whoop, and the audience go wild. Everyone loves a winner. So, your treat will be…” She walks back to the chest, returning with something hidden behind her back.

  Oh no. Oh God. Please no more pain.

  “The Hitachi wand. Oooh! The audience is excited.” She wields the wand around as though it is Darth Vader’s light sabre. It resembles a microphone a pop star would use. Pressing a small button, the wand jumps to life, buzzing noisily in her hand.

  “What are you doing?” My eyes are wide, fearful, as she approaches me holding out the wand.

  “Relax, bitch. You’ll enjoy this.” She thrusts the large round head of the wand against my crotch. The powerful vibrations clench my core against my will. My body writhes against the restrains, involuntarily. I cry out in anguish and abruptly she cuts the power.

  “Nice, huh? I like that one too.” She tosses the wand back in the chest. “Next question. It’s gonna be a tough one: Give me the first name of His Lordship’s great-grandfather. Real first name, no nicknames.” She laughs hard, clutching her stomach.

  “Just do it…give me…the fucking punishment, you sick, twisted, whore.” The words spit from my mouth, my limbs tensing as I await the inevitable pain.

  She looks genuinely shocked. Her red lips form a pout. “It’s no fun if you don’t play properly.” She looks confused, scratching manically at her head. “You’re not trying. And you’re not being nice.” She looks like a sulking child.

  “Maybe I don’t want to play your game.” I laugh viciously at her. “Perhaps you are just such a bad game-show host that it’s not any fucking fun.”

  She cocks her head to one side, her finger playing along her bottom lip. “Fine,” she says, her voice shrill. “We won’t play any more.” She walks to the chest and slams the lid down with such force that the wood splinters. “I’m going to leave you now, Elizabeth, to think about your behaviour. When I return, I want you to apologise for spoiling the game.” She pivots on her heel and leaves the cellar.

  My body hangs limp, my spirit broken. I didn’t plan to die like this. I was supposed to grow old and grey, die with my family at my side in some old folk’s home. What will they think when they find me? What will be left for Sebastian to bury? Bella won’t be able to see me, or kiss me goodbye. Too tired even to cry anymore, I screw my eyes shut and welcome the sleep that comes.

  Chapter 18

  Something wakes me. Voices. Noise. Falling. Strong arms holding me. Scarlett’s voice, begging. Sebastian shouting. “Sebastian?”

  “I’m here, darling. Fuck. Oh fuck, no. You’re going to be all right. Ambulance coming. Police. Stay with me.”

  “I’m cold, Sebastian. So very cold. Tired.”

  “No. Wake up. Stay awake. Going to find her and fucking kill her.”

  My eyes open but the room is blurred again. When I blink, my vision clears. I see Sebastian’s back as he runs from the room. The stone is cold under
my cheek. Cold and hard. Push myself up. Need to stand. Need to follow him. Danger. My head swims as I sit up. I’m so very cold, my teeth chattering. His jacket is over me. I push my arms in the sleeves. I hurt. The pain is unbearable. My body is criss-crossed with red lines. How? Blood lines, lines of blood. Scarlett has a knife. Oh no, not Sebastian.

  The steps are steep. I hold onto the rope and pull myself, step by painful step upwards, onwards. The hallway. Sebastian’s shouting upstairs. Need to find him. One step at a time. Need to get upstairs. The warm stuff is running down my tummy. Mustn’t stain the carpet. I climb with a calm determination. I suddenly feel calm. I know what I must do. I must save my love. My feet travel faster, lighter. Another landing. More shouts. More stairs. A door. Throw the door open, the pain hurts. The cold blast hits me. Outside. Roof.

  Sebastian stands a little in front of me. The wind whips at my hair, bites at my skin. So very cold. Scarlett is in front of Sebastian, so close to the edge. Sebastian is talking to her. Commanding her. “Come to me, Scarlett,” he says, his hand beckoning her. “Kneel before me.” She remains where she is, her eyes now lowered. Her arms are stretched wide like an angel, her face pallid white like a porcelain doll. “Scarlett, move away from the edge. Do as I say.”

  Her voice travels on the wind. “No, Sebastian. For once, I’m defying you. I will always love you…belong to you. In the next life, you’ll be mine.” And then she is gone. Just falls backwards. Sebastian is screaming, a deep tremulous roar. He’s on his knees. Sobbing. I need to comfort him but I can’t move, suddenly too tired. I want my mum. Darkness.

  ***

  “Elizabeth.” A voice calls to me from afar. Sebastian’s voice. I must be a ghost.

  “Am I dead?” My voice is feeble. Not my voice. Can one speak when one’s dead?

  A hearty chuckle. Sebastian’s voice. “No, darling, you’re alive. God knows how, but you’re alive. Come back to me. I need you.” He’s crying.