The Spirit Watcher

by Cory Barclay

  At the end of the room, the point landed on Jareth Reynolds, who had been drinking a mug of ale. He sputtered and nearly coughed out his ale.

  “What nonsense is this, Constantin?” Jareth bellowed, his eyes flashing a fierce orange for an instant. “You would do this now? When my son is being celebrated?”

  Constantin grabbed the edge of the white cloth beside him and yanked as hard and dramatically as he could.

  Yelps and cries exploded from the room as eyes fell on the pull-cart.

  Charles Lee’s dead, rotting, grotesque, naked body was splayed on the cart as if he was ready to be autopsied.

  One lady in the crowd fainted and thudded to the floor. Another gagged and had to flee the ballroom, squeezing past Constantin and his stern wife.

  “You bastard!” Overseer Malachite cried, lunging to his feet and thrusting a finger in Constantin’s direction. “You would dare ruin my celebration for your own satisfaction?”

  “Your celebration, Overseer? My satisfaction?” Constantin shouted. “Lord Onyx and his damnable son killed my boy! There must be retribution! Where is that little shit?” Constantin’s eyes searched the room for Tiberius and found him.

  Instinctively, Tiberius scanned the room, trying to find Annabel. It seemed he wanted to hold her hostage or save himself somehow, and he swore he’d just seen her next to the stage.

  But, strangely enough, she was nowhere to be seen . . .

  ANNABEL RACED UP THE stairs, her heart pounding. She hadn’t felt this alive in months. She ran with the hems of her dress hiked up, so as not to trip, and reached the top of the stairs. She knew the general layout of the Overseer’s castle because she’d been here before, in a dream.

  She looked left and right, then ran down a hallway. She came to a large room, where a black cat jumped out of the shadows and hissed at her. She recognized the cat’s white belly and grimaced, clenching her jaw.

  She kicked out and launched Misty into the shadows with a wail.

  Annabel ran across the room and came to another hallway and another fork in the road. She kept going straight, running along the walkway as sunlight poured in from the windows.

  She ran around the labyrinthine halls until she recognized a room ahead. She could tell the noise from the ballroom below was growing in volume.

  She peeked out from the hallway and saw two blackguards standing stoically in front of a large door. A set of gold keys dangled from one of the guard’s belt.

  She took a deep breath and jumped out from the hallway, startling both the guards. They bent their knees and lowered their spears in a fighting stance.

  They must have recognized her face, because the guards eyed each other anxiously.

  “Sirs!” Annabel cried out desperately, before they could get any ideas.

  “Aren’t you the bride everyone’s celebrating downstairs?” one of the guards asked, his voice muffled from his black mask.

  Annabel nodded. She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, back down the hall. “You must hurry, sirs! There’s a commotion downstairs and I don’t know what’s going to happen!”

  “What commotion?” the guard asked. From this distance, the cries from the ballroom were muted.

  “We’ve been ordered to stand our ground outside this room, madam . . .”

  “Annabel,” she said. “But you can call me Bel.”

  “Well, Madam Bel, then you know—”

  “Of course I do, man! But the Overseer himself directed me to fetch you. It seems he needs all the help he can get down there.”

  The guards both looked uneasy and apprehensive. One of them made a move for the hallway, but the other stopped him.

  “We can’t . . .”

  “You won’t hear the end of it if you aren’t down there. I promise you, it’s madness!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s no time to explain!” Annabel actually jumped up and down, excitedly trying to rile up the guards.

  It worked.

  After glancing at his comrade, one of the guards shrugged and said, “It’s worth a peek, right?”

  “Shit, if it means our jobs otherwise . . .”

  “Hurry, there’s no time!” Annabel said.

  “Will you watch this door?” one of the guards asked stupidly.

  “What’s behind it?” Annabel asked, trying to act equally as stupid.

  The guard shrugged. “We’ve just been stationed here. That isn’t our—”

  “Yes, yes” Annabel said, flapping her hand at them irritably. “I’ll watch it.”

  The guards moved toward the hallway, but Annabel was still blocking their path. She had deliberately set herself in front of the guard with the keys hanging from his belt. As he ran toward her, almost bowling her over, she scooted aside at the last moment and deftly dragged her hand across his belt . . .

  The guard felt the pull and slowed down. Annabel crashed into him, trying to divert attention from her failed thievery.

  The guard grabbed her shoulders to steady her. As he did, Annabel managed to unclasp the chain from the guard’s belt.

  “You’re okay, madam?” the guard asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, pointing with her other hand down the hall.

  The two guards sped down the hall.

  Annabel took a deep breath and looked down at her shaking hands. The keys rattled and she held them to her chest, closing her eyes to get her nerves under control.

  She went to the door, put the key in the hole, and heard a click as she turned it. She opened the door and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Who are you?” a voice from the shadows asked.

  “Annabel Lee. You should recognize me from the wedding, Geddon. You were there.”

  Geddon meandered out from the shadowy crook of the room, squinting at Annabel. “Of course I do,” he said. “You’re Steve’s girl.”

  “Yes. I’m Steve’s girl.”

  “What are you doing here, dear?” another voice asked, this one from the other side of the small room. Selestria appeared with her arms wrapped around her chest, as if she was freezing to death.

  It was chilly in the room.

  “I’ve come here to rescue you,” Annabel said. “Obviously.”

  “Why?” Geddon asked. “What’s the play?”

  Selestria rolled her eyes. “Not everyone has an ulterior motive, Ged—”

  “No, he’s right,” Annabel interjected. “I can get you out of this room, but from there you must find your own way out of the castle. I can’t be seen guiding fugitives.”

  Selestria asked, “Why are you helping us?”

  “Because the Vagrant Kinship is in need of your help,” she said, without feeling bad at her little lie.

  Geddon smiled at the news, probably for the first time since his imprisonment. “I knew they’d come for us!” he shouted, punching his fist into his open palm. “I told you, Sela!”

  “Where are we to rendezvous, girl?” Selestria asked, still businesslike in her demeanor.

  “At my parent’s house, my lady,” Annabel said.

  “Please,” Selestria said with a soft smile. “I’m the one who should be calling you ‘my lady.’ I’m—”

  “There’s no time for these pleasantries!” Geddon snapped.

  “He’s right again, ma’am. Unfortunately. You must be away this instant. I’ve distracted the guards, but I don’t know for how long. My parents have created a diversion on the ground level. Whatever you do, don’t go downstairs!”

  Annabel paused, out of breath. She rolled her shoulders up and down, then continued. “Understand?”

  “Yes,” they both said in unison.

  “How can we repay you?” Selestria asked.

  “By appearing at the Lee estate. Can you do that?”

  They both nodded.

  “I’ll make sure to lead him there,” Selestria said.

  Geddon frowned. “I know the way, woman. Steve told—”

  “Ye
s, but I’ll make sure you actually arrive there,” Selestria quipped.

  Geddon was about to open his mouth to retort, but Annabel held a hand out. Geddon and Selestria sounded like a married couple. And if this was what married sounded like, she wanted no part in it. She couldn’t wait to be free from Tiberius, if it ever came to pass.

  Even though she couldn’t trust Geddon, Selestria seemed a bit more reliable. She stood out of the way and opened the door.

  “After you,” Annabel said, waving them on.

  The prisoners left the room and were officially fugitives. Once outside, they looked left and right, then to Annabel.

  “Go that way,” she said, pointing to the left, down a dark, dimly lit hallway. “When you get to a window, I’d recommend breaking it and escaping that way. Or not. I just know there aren’t any exits on the second level of a castle. I think.”

  Geddon put a finger to his temple and smiled. “Smart lass.”

  “Good luck,” Annabel said. “And I’ll see you soon. You should be greeted at my house by a small, creepy looking servant named Lig. Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

  “Very well,” Geddon said.

  Before they parted ways, Selestria put a soothing hand on Annabel’s arm. “Thank you, Annabel. Steve picked a good one.”

  “You’re damn right he did,” Annabel replied, flashing the nymph a smile.

  With that, Geddon and Selestria ran left. Annabel ran right, but not before she locked the door and threw the keys down a hallway, into darkness. She headed back toward the commotion downstairs, hoping her parents were still alive when she saw them again.

  Well, they’ve never really been alive, have they?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Annabel raced to the end of the hallway and retraced her steps back toward the ballroom. She ran nimbly—trying to make her feet fall as lightly as possible—but fast. She had one more thing to do while the diversion downstairs played out, but she didn’t know if she still had time. If she didn’t, she’d have to return for her second task later.

  Her heart ached at the idea of abandoning her plan.

  As she neared the ballroom, she could hear the raucous voices growing louder.

  Will anyone recognize I’ve been missing?

  What if those blackguards return to their post and realize Geddon and Selestria are gone? They’ll know who helped them flee . . . they can’t be that inept.

  As her heart hammered in her chest, she reached the staircase. She took a deep breath and poked her head out from the hallway, gazing downstairs toward the ballroom. From her vantage point, she could only see the first room of the house and the opening of the ballroom. The rest of the ballroom was hidden from view by the stair’s railing.

  Constantin stood near the front of the room, Charles’ body splayed on the roll-cart behind him. Annabel couldn’t see her mother.

  Constantin raised his hands, trying to quiet the crowd. For once, he looked a bit out of control. His explosive entrance had engrossed him. Annabel felt bad—she wanted to do something to help her father, but that wasn’t part of the plan. She had her own scheme: something that her father and mother didn’t even know about.

  As if sensing her presence, Constantin twisted his head to glance up the stairs. He locked eyes with Annabel for a split second. Annabel gave him an almost imperceptible nod, telling him the deed was done. He nodded back, but then had a confused look on his face when he realized Annabel was not coming down the stairs.

  Annabel’s eyes went wide, partly in fear, partly in anticipation. She turned around and disappeared back into the hallway.

  Constantin almost opened his mouth to call her name, but he would be giving away his daughter’s position. So far, no one had noticed she was missing. But it was only a matter of time . . . so where was she going?

  “That’s enough, everyone!” a voice called from the middle of the ballroom. It was a loud, booming voice, and everyone turned toward the sound.

  Overseer Malachite raised his hands and said, “Tensions are flaring. I understand that. But today is a special day, is it not? Can we not celebrate this occasion before we tear each other’s throats out?”

  Constantin replied. “The day in question is celebrating my family’s Naming Day, Overseer. How can we celebrate something that should not even be taking place?” He wanted to mention it was also celebrating Annabel’s marriage, but that would call attention to her whereabouts. He wanted to buy her a little more time to do whatever it was she was doing. He also didn’t want to mention that the Naming Day was only taking place because of the marriage.

  But someone wasn’t going to let that be forgotten.

  “As it stands, Lord Constantin, your daughter’s marriage is still in effect,” Overseer Malachite said. “You are still a member of the Brethren Council because of that, as is your wife.”

  The shouting died down as Jareth Reynolds stepped forward from the crowd. “This is a matter that should be discussed at our next Council meeting, my lord.”

  Constantin gritted his teeth. He wanted to argue. But that would just bring them back to square one. It was clear he wasn’t going to get the marriage annulled on the spot, as he’d hoped. He would have to accommodate these fools for a little while longer. Maybe he could gain some friends within the Council who would support him . . . then he could make his move to break apart Sybil and Tiberius’ marriage.

  “Hey,” another voice said, confused. “Where is my wife, anyway?”

  Constantin felt his stomach drop. He turned and faced Tiberius, who was looking around the ballroom for Annabel.

  As Tiberius scratched his head, Constantin opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off.

  “Guests and friends!” Lady Nersi called from the stage. All eyes turned to her. She sashayed down the steps of the stage and came to stand within the group of people. The lower-born folk ogled and gawked at her, while the Council members eyed her bemusedly. A few of them had suspicious looks on their faces.

  “If we can get back on track, I’d like to hold a private, intimate song and dance for our illustrious Overseer. In return for his gracious hospitality and invitation.”

  A few chuckles broke through the stuffy tension. It was clear the siren was trying to alleviate the situation.

  Constantin raised a single eyebrow at Nersi. He tried to gauge her loyalties. To him, it seemed she had saved him from the danger of having to explain where his daughter was. She was trying to focus the attention back on herself . . . almost as if she knew what Annabel was up to.

  But how could she?

  On the other hand, she could have simply been trying to calm the fiery moods of the partygoers.

  “I like this idea,” the Overseer said, his eye twinkling with lust as he stared at the siren.

  “Does that mean everyone should leave the room?” Constantin asked.

  “Of course not,” Nersi said, shaking her head. Her golden hair swayed back and forth, mesmerizing half the crowd. “But if everyone would spread apart from this center aisle.” She put her palms together and then separated them, indicating where the crowd should split.

  A few Council members grumbled their disapproval at being told what to do, especially by a woman. They glanced at Overseer Malachite. He gave a nod. The crowd split in the middle, without rhyme or reason, and formed a circle with an empty center walkway.

  Charlene came to stand a bit behind Nersi, a flute in her hands. No one had paid much attention to the blue-haired girl.

  “Gentlemen, something cheery, please.” Nersi inclined her head toward the musicians in the corner. After a few head scratches, they started playing, trying to get into the rhythm of things.

  The song started with a single violin line. It was a high, upbeat melody. Before long, the other instrumentalists had entered the fray to play notes over it. The song was beautiful and modern, an escape from the classical and jazzy tunes they’d been playing up until then.

  Almost immediately as the music started, Nersi
struck a pose. Her sudden movement brought a few delighted yelps from the crowd. She gyrated her hips and ambled down the walkway, her arms and body weaving along with the tune. If anyone in the room had seen Terrus before, they’d have known what she was doing: belly dancing. But she doubted anyone in this room had experienced belly dancing before.

  Overseer Malachite smiled and took his chair on the raised platform in front of Nersi. He leaned back, enjoying the pleasurable sight of a beautiful woman dancing seductively toward him.

  Charlene put her flute to her mouth and started popping in notes along the edges of the musicians’ song. A few women in the audience held their hands together in glee, eager to see what would happen next.

  It didn’t take long for Nersi to have the whole room mesmerized by her swaying hips and shoulders and arms. Her full, red lips curved upward in a small, satisfied smile. She didn’t take her eyes away from Overseer Malachite the entire time.

  When she made it to one end of the clearing, she would pirouette or gyrate a certain way in the other direction. She did this a few times, all while the music accompanied her.

  With the exception of the upbeat music and the pitter-patter of Nersi’s feet against the floor, the ballroom had fallen still and quiet.

  Nersi worked the stage masterfully. It was a true testament to her ability to be able to defuse the volatile situation with song and dance.

  Even Constantin was entranced.

  At one point, the music died down and came toward its natural conclusion. As it did, Nersi drew closer to the raised dais and glanced up at the Overseer.

  As the music stopped, she crouched. The last note rang out, then cut to silence. Before anyone could clap or cheer, Nersi leaped from the ground, landing on the dais effortlessly. More startled sounds rose from the bystanders.

  Once she was on the dais, in dancing formation, the musicians abruptly broke into another tune. It was clearly not time to let the music die.

  Nersi was just getting started.

  She danced like a possessed pixie, winding her body around like a snake. Her smile grew more pronounced as she neared Malachite and the music got louder.