by Lani Lenore
“Celia…”
“What?” she snapped, and immediately felt sorry for it, but she did not apologize.
“You need to be calm. This is the best we have.”
When had Adam become the voice of reason? How many times had she seen him come near to bursting? But he was right; she knew that. They could not leave now. They’d be washed away. Although these things went through her head, she did not feel like being reasonable or logical. She did not feel like calming down.
“You promised you’d tell me,” she blurted, refusing to sit or come further into the room.
Adam lifted his head from where he was slumped forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. He looked at her blankly, keeping his mouth shut, but she would have to insist.
“You said you’d tell me what you found out and explain why it made you trust that murderess, Luci.”
He continued to stare at her, and she was surprised to see that there was no anger around his eyes or mouth for her harsh comments. He remained very somber, and her own defenses began to dissolve like they’d been splashed with acid.
“Perhaps now isn’t the best time,” he tried, but still she would not let him.
“We have nothing but time until the rain stops,” she pressed. “I can’t see how it could be more perfect.”
“It’s…sensitive,” he said, and Celia felt anger burning inside her. She’d heard those words before; Maynard had said them to her when he’d tried to take her away—when he’d also denied her the truth. No more! She couldn’t bear to be without the truth for another moment!
“I want to know,” she demanded firmly. “If it concerns me, you have no right to keep it from me.”
There was silence within the shed as the rain continued to fall viciously outside. Adam looked so tired as he considered things within himself, and though she cared about him and his inner torment, she did not break her resolve. He must have seen that in her eyes, for eventually he spoke.
“You’re right,” he sighed, defeated. “Come sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”
It was not too much to ask. Though she was restless, she realized how her legs were trembling beneath her. Celia stepped across the room and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. The sheets had not been cleaned in ages, but she had greater concerns. Adam remained quiet a while longer and did not look into her eyes even when he finally began.
“Alright, here it is,” he said, speaking carefully. “As we had already suspected, there was no incident. We didn’t hit our heads and lose our memories. We didn’t have any memories of another life. We’ve always been here.”
She listened, hearing his words, but not comprehending. She had suspected Adam to be one of them, but not herself. A LaCroix? Why would their own family lie to them about their origins?
“I started remembering the house, and I thought that was very strange,” Adam went on. “I couldn’t let it go. That’s why, in the chapel, I asked you to stay with me while I searched for answers. Maybe that was selfish… But I found a portrait, and the man in it shared my face.”
Celia knew this. She had seen the same painting and it had made her doubt Adam. But what did it mean? How could he have been in that picture and still be so young? There was no way that he could be Hugh LaCroix. She didn’t interrupt him to ask, but she expected him to have an explanation.
“Luci let me into that library simply because I asked. I didn’t fully understand then, but I found it odd that she would obey me. Eventually I came to realize that she would do anything I asked. She considers me her master—because I have his face. The man in the portrait was Hugh LaCroix, and I look exactly like him. But more than that, somewhere deep inside me, I also have his memories. And now I know why. Do you remember when we found the chapel and there was a list of Sacraments? You read them to me and I wasn’t fully paying attention, but there was one about man creating man, wasn’t there?”
“Yes,” she said briefly, remembering all too well how those Sacraments had baffled her; however, she did not know where this was going until he said it.
“Well, Celia, they created us.”
Celia’s breath caught in her throat and the sound of her blood pumping became all she could hear. She drifted away from his words, but wondered if what he had said made any sense. He was telling her that they had been created and not born? That they had no memories because they had no lives? Celia tried to link this thought with everything that had happened, and still she found herself in disbelief. Of everything, this was so much worse than all else she had heard or seen.
“How do you know this?” she asked, her voice so quiet that she could barely hear it herself.
“I got into Baltus’s room, looked at his papers. He has records of everything from the day we woke up here, and beyond that! Luci and Margot are the same as us. They were created as well, but apparently didn’t suit his purpose. The man you saw in the hood is also like us. We were made after them, much more like humans than they are.”
Like human, but not human. What a harsh thing to think. Suddenly terrified, Celia reached out and gripped Adam’s hand. Against her own skin, he felt warm and alive.
Even if he isn’t.
“Why?” she gasped. The word was little more than a whisper. Her throat was closing.
“I don’t know. To fulfill the Sacrament I guess.”
Celia’s mind was weighed down. There were so many questions that should have been sprouting from the roots of this new idea, but she was barren. She could not have thought of another question to ask if she’d wanted.
I’m not real, she thought, and the truth played across her over and over again like Adam’s fingers on the piano keys. I’m not real…
“Are you alright?” Adam asked. His hand was in hers, but he seemed far away. She understood his reluctance now. He was still dealing with the truth himself, and he hadn’t known how to tell her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have made him.
“I’m not sure,” she uttered.
Celia looked at her arm, wondering how near the teeth had come to breaking the skin. She could see dark spots beneath the surface, throbbing with pain. Even through that, she was aware that Adam had coaxed her near to him, but at this moment, she did not feel the usual warm sensations his presence gave her. She felt numbness as he put her hand to his chest and looked into her eyes.
“This is real,” he assured her. He was speaking of everything, and yet nothing specific—their relationship, their love. She felt what she could only assume was a heart beating in his chest, but she did not respond.
He moved in to kiss her mouth, and she did not resist. She felt his lips and the hand on the back of her neck, solid and real. They were not apparitions, and though they were not made by God, did that mean they did not have a right to thoughts and feelings and lives all their own? It was too much for Celia to consider. She simply closed her eyes, feeling his lips, his hands at her back, unlacing her dress.
She let herself be lost in him again, their bodies pressed together in the cramped shed, on the bed that was not clean. She refused to think, concentrating only on what she felt as a living, breathing creature, with so many of the same lusts and needs as any other. Adam manipulated her body lovingly, and she focused on the numerous muscles he used in order to glide in and out of her so easily. He had his own will, as she was sure she did as well. They were not simple puppets.
Though his pressure brought her to ecstasy, the bliss did not last long enough to keep her thoughts at bay. They returned with a vengeance, and her sorrow was even worse. When it was over, she cried, but this time he did not leave her. He said nothing as he rested by her side, holding her trembling body, and eventually the rain stopped.
Chapter Twenty
After several more hours, the rain ceased, just as the sun was ready to show its face over the hills. Adam and Celia had been undisturbed in the rooftop room, and though Celia felt blank and confused from the night before, she’d managed to get a few hours of sleep. She’d been exhaus
ted, in her mind and body.
Sitting on the edge of the small bed, she pulled on her shoes as Adam opened the door to peer out across the rooftop. It was time that they made their escape while there was still a cover of darkness. Since there was no doubt that Irving knew they were missing by now, this was the only chance that they were going to get.
“Are you ready?” Adam asked her quietly, stepping toward her in the dark room.
Celia looked up at him and, with a bit of urging, nodded her head. She was still in shock from what he had told her, feeling numb inside, but she insisted on putting that behind her for now. She would keep it in the back of her mind until they were away from this house, hiding safely beyond the woods, and then she could forget about it completely. Perhaps she didn’t have a life to go back to, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t start a new one.
Adam touched her shoulder, and though he didn’t speak another word, she knew what he meant. He needed her to be brave and press forward with him. That was exactly what she intended to do. They moved toward the door of the shed, slipping out onto the roof. Adam led the way through the standing puddles, and Celia kept herself quiet. She did not know where they were going, but she did not question it. He led her to the edge, and there, the answer presented itself. She recognized their way out.
There was a lift at the side of the house, supported by a scaffold and a system of ropes and wooden gears. This must have been what Luci had intended for them to use, but Celia still had her doubts about it all. The ropes looked old, and she could only hope that they would support their weight, but this was the only way down without trying to go back through the house. Could Irving have suspected that they might go this way? Would he be at the bottom, waiting for them? Celia hugged herself, wishing for miracles.
Adam stepped onto the wooden floor of the lift. It was covered at the top, but the weather had gotten to it over time. He tested it with his weight and it seemed sturdy. Celia watched him as he took a few moments to observe the land below them, making sure that no one was in sight. Feeling paranoid, Celia looked behind her across the rooftop, but they were alone in the faint light of the coming morning.
“It seems safe,” Adam said, holding his hand out to her. “Come on.”
Trusting him, she took his hand and walked onto the lift. She could feel a shift in the platform with her added weight, but Adam did not waste time in lowering them down. He unhooked the rope and began to operate the mechanism manually, lowering them as they began their four-story descent.
Celia gripped the railing as she listened to the grinding sound of the lift, fearing that the sound of it would alert their enemies. A cold wind whipped around them and gray clouds were keeping the dawn from showing its usual majestic hues. She wondered if it would rain again before they made it to lower ground, which might be hazardous since they clearly had to stay off the road, but she tried to keep that from her mind.
I just have to believe in this effort, she told herself. It’s all I have left.
The minutes dragged by, and once or twice, Celia was sure that the ropes were going to snap and they would plummet to their deaths, but eventually the lift settled against the ground, and Celia hardly had time to step free of it before Adam was pulling her along.
They had come down on the west side of the house, and considering that the manor was built along the edge of a cliff, they had limited options of where they would go. The road stretched out in front of the house, there were trees lining the hillside, and beyond that, Celia did not know the grounds at all. She supposed that Luci had given Adam further directions, but she didn’t ask for fear that her voice might be heard. Adam led her forward with her hand in his, and thunder grumbled disapprovingly overhead.
She saw Adam looking around the area, his head turning to the left—then he picked up his pace and pulled her forward hastily. Celia looked toward what he had been observing and was able to notice that there was another building in the distance. It may have been the stable where they kept the horses—she couldn’t tell—but there was no mistaking the light that was shining within. Someone was inside there, searching for them, no doubt. Celia wondered if taking a horse had been a part of Adam’s plan. If so, it appeared that escaping had just been made harder for them. There were sounds in the twilight morning—barking dogs—and Celia feared being tracked by the animals.
They moved off into the dark trees that were still dripping from the previous shower. The ground beyond the road was uneven terrain, rocky and sloping unpredictably. Still, they had no choice but to move directly into the trees. She trusted Adam, and she followed where he took her.
The forest was quiet save for the sounds of their footsteps and the pattering of water hitting the leaves above. Celia tried to keep her eyes forward, focusing on what was waiting to greet her ahead—as if ignoring the positions of her pursuers would keep them from seeing her. If she didn’t see them, they couldn’t see her. It was childish logic, but it was what she had resulted to. She continued downward, nearly tripping over the rocks.
That was when she saw it, and the sight stopped Celia in her tracks. In front of her, resting on its side and slick with rain, was an overturned carriage.
The wooden wheels were still, the forest indifferent toward its shell, but Celia could not avert her gaze. She was confused by the existence of it, her thoughts twisting around in a cyclone with no end and no beginning. The carriage accident had been a lie—Adam had said so—and yet here it was before her.
“Adam,” Celia started, knowing she shouldn’t be speaking, but she could not hold it in. “I thought you said there was no accident.”
She looked toward him, and he seemed just as shocked as she was to see it, but he had not answered her before he jerked his head toward a sound above them on the road. There had been a flash of movement, a breaking branch, and Celia knew they had lingered too long.
“Hide!” Adam instructed her urgently. She hesitated, but had no time to argue.
Letting go of her hand, Adam fled from her, moving up the slope toward the road, and though she wanted to cry out for him not to go there, she couldn’t risk raising her voice. Celia had to let him go and did the only thing she could do. She turned toward the carriage.
It was dark beneath the wreckage. No one would see her there. It was merely a hiding place and she tried not to let her mind wander further than that, but it was hard to ignore the human arm with bloody fingers that stuck out from beneath the edge—no doubt from the crushed driver.
Did I know this man? Have I ever once seen him before?
Closing her eyes briefly, Celia turned her face away. She settled herself in the shadows and looked upward toward the road. She could see Adam near the edge, just before he walked out of her sight. She didn’t understand what he was doing. There had clearly been someone there, and yet he was walking directly into the path of danger. Celia knew that she couldn’t stop it now, but she had a bad feeling about this plan, and would do nothing but hold her breath until he came back to her.
Adam climbed the slope quickly, putting space between him and Celia. He still had the fireplace poker in his hand, which he’d picked up after talking with Luci in the basement room. It was the only thing he had for a weapon. It was good enough, and he would not hesitate to use it again. He had seen a flash of movement on the road above them, and he had acted on instinct. He was doing the only thing that he knew to do. Someone was near, and if he stayed with Celia then they might both be caught. He had to at least distract them from her position, and with any luck, he would take care of the problem and he could rejoin her. He was not afraid to kill if that was what it took to protect her. He’d already proven that with Anjessica.
Anjessica… I’m sorry. He believed he knew the truth about her pregnancy, and he hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but he had seen that she was no longer herself. She’d been an animal, attacking Celia as she had, and he had beaten her down as if she were nothing more than a rabid dog. Adam regretted that, but it had to be d
one, and he would continue to do whatever it took.
Reaching the solid ground of the road, Adam saw that the sky was getting a bit lighter as the day came on, but it was not enough that he could see through the trees clearly. There was something out there, but he could not find it. He lent his eyes back down the slope, looking toward the wreckage where he had left Celia. She was out of sight and he could be pleased with that. He couldn’t see any threat stalking near to her position, and he assured himself that she was safe as he continued his search. He turned around to examine the darkness—
—and standing in the middle of the road was a man.
He was wearing a dark jacket with a hood pulled up around his face, shrouding his identity in shadow, but Adam knew him. This was the man that he had seen lying on the table in the basement, unmoving but not dead—the man that Luci had said was broken. Apparently, he’d been fixed.
He has my face, Adam thought, but he is not like me.
The hooded man held his ground. Was he waiting for Adam to run or make a move? Adam kept still as he examined the man. This was a brother of his, and it was possible that he had been created first. If he had been made a bit better, perhaps Adam would never have existed at all, but he tried to smother those thoughts. There was only one thing that he needed to remember, and that was what Celia had said when she’d been describing Maynard’s death: this hooded man could not be killed.
Adam wasn’t sure what he hoped for in this confrontation. Irving or Baltus would have been easy to deal with, but he wasn’t sure about this clone. Perhaps the hooded man would submit to him as Luci had, but he could not count on that. Adam knew they were the same and yet he could not understand the differences between them. If Adam had been shot, he believed that he would die, yet this other before him could not. Luci had said they were not twins. What made Adam more human? He clenched the iron rod tighter, preparing for the confrontation.