by Alice Ayden
Maines showed Cora the red bracelet she’d tossed away a few moments ago. “Did Johnston give this to you?”
Cora winced. “Apparently. Gives me the creeps to know I’d been wearing that as if it would help me remember something…” Cora struggled with the words. “Never wanted anything of his to be that close to me.”
Maines sighed.
Cora could tell he was holding back. She figured he knew more than he was telling, but most people knew more than they told her. She didn’t push it.
“Well, I’m back to the garage,” Charlotte said, lunging towards them.
Cora forced herself to look away from Maines to focus on Charlotte with her slicked back hair and redder than blood lips which her black and white pantsuit emphasized.
“Damn, Maines. Why are you so smoking hot?”
Maines shrugged. “It takes effort.”
“Well, I’m still catching up on Lost,” Charlotte said. “I got me the whole series. Why would anyone want to leave that island? Sawyer’s always shirtless, and you know Hugo has a food stash hidden somewhere. Kate’s spunky like me, and I’m not bothered by The Others. Kinda like ‘em. But I can’t get over the guy who doesn’t age. He has the most beautiful eyes, and I’d kill for his lashes. But why doesn’t he age? It bugs me, dammit. Why?” Charlotte muttered as she walked away.
“Detective Maines,” Mrs. Kiness arrived out of breath. “Major dilemma. Can you come with me?”
Maines hesitated.
Cora nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
Maines left with Mrs. Kiness.
“Is this where the party is?”
Cora turned to face Natalie. Her mind swirled. She couldn’t catch her breath. She quickly closed her eyes then opened them again. Yes, Natalie was standing there. It wasn’t a dream.
Natalie hesitated when she saw Cora struggle, but she played with the necklace he had ordered her to wear.
Cora recognized the gold locket; she knew what that necklace meant. Her mind wanted to wander off the leash. She didn’t know what to do. She ran. Cora stumbled inside Ausmor. She looked for Lillia or Evan or Mrs. Kiness or Detective Maines. The rooms spun in a thousand different kaleidoscope directions. Across the hall, Mags and her minions studied the scene. Cora: the weakened member of the clan. Singled out, she would have been easy prey, and they plotted her take down.
Her world no longer safe, Cora willed her legs to move. She held onto the staircase. Cora followed the stairs. “Get to the second floor,” Cora muttered to herself. It would make it more difficult to attack. She needed less open ground for the Other Morgans to build up speed and pounce. Maybe another weakened member would stray into their field of vision.
Cora followed the stairway to the second floor, but voices boomed from each of the rooms. She still wasn’t safe. She continued to the third floor. High above the party, she relaxed a little as she glanced down at the people. Something caught her eye in one of the rooms. A shadow? Cora tiptoed down the hall and looked into several rooms.
“Psst,” someone whispered.
Cora followed the sound into one room and another. The door closed behind her. Cora lunged for the door and tried it, but it locked. She knocked on the door. “Hello? I’m in here.”
Cora wanted to scream, but she figured one of the Other Morgans got their jollies playing tricks. When enemies expect one behavior, give them another. Cora didn’t know if she just made that up or if she borrowed it, but it did sound Art of Warish. She wouldn’t make a scene - not at another party. She pressed her ear against the door: silence.
“Don’t panic. They’ll find me.” Cora thought about being found by the wrong person. Her stomach skipped, and her heart raced. “I’m okay. I’m going to be okay.”
The light under the door produced just enough shadows for overactive imaginations, so Cora searched for a light switch. She flipped the switch and realized which room she stood in. “No.”
Someone had trapped Cora in the smallest of the Austen bedrooms which was decorated with an antebellum bed and chair. The floor creaked behind her.
Cora couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. No escape. The room had only one door and no windows. Cora wanted to scream, but nothing came out. She closed her eyes. “Not this room. Any room but this one.”
Cora heard movement behind her. She slowly turned around but couldn’t open her eyes. Cora knew what would happen next. She wasn’t alone.
Chapter 32: Plaything
As Oliver pressed his ear to the door, he realized Natalie accomplished everything he asked. Most would not have noticed Cora’s barely perceptible recollection of the locket. Her sad hazel eyes focused on Natalie, but a small shift of fear invaded. That fear hid recognition of Oliver’s existence.
Waiting outside the room, Oliver understood Cora would not scream or make a fuss. She did not suffer from the banality of normal reactions.
Light emerged underneath the closed door. Cora had turned on the light. Her mismatched memories swirled. A thousand different things had to be timed just right to get her to voluntarily go to the room on the 120th. Oliver wondered if she would ever appreciate his efforts?
No one would find her for awhile. The third room on the third floor was a former nursery but glorified walk-in closet. Cora should have died in that room. At first, her survival annoyed Oliver before he realized she survived for him. Without her, he would have been cursed to the most ordinary of lives.
Everyone should have a plaything like Cora. Oliver saw to it that Cora would be reunited with the demons in that room, but he had to be patient. Cora didn’t always comply with his timetable. From the ruins, Cora would have either clarity or collapse. All of Oliver’s work ensured that Cora was not alone in that room.
Chapter 33: 3rd Room on the 3rd Floor
Cora backed away from the door and prepared for the worst. The air thickened as if waiting for rain. A whisper brushed her cheek.
Cora ran to the door, but the handle wouldn’t budge. The door locked from the other side. She had to steady herself. She closed her eyes tight. The whispers grew louder. Something moved behind her. She couldn’t lose it. Not in that room. She had to think of something.
She opened her eyes. Something caught her attention in the cheval mirror. Funny, she hadn’t noticed that before. The mirror used to be in the room when Emily Austen, Cora’s mother, lived there. Cora walked to the mirror and angled it to see herself; six year old Cora stared back at her.
Little Cora never liked the room. Her mother used it in between hospital stays because her mother didn’t like large rooms or windows or much of anything. Some of the servants said the room haunted and hurt their mother - the only explanation they offered for the screaming and crying.
A hide and seek master, little Cora finally found the perfect hiding place. No more lying in bed at night planning a good spot only to have Mrs. Kiness find her in less than thirty seconds. That day, Mrs. Kiness promised she’d play hide and seek, and Cora knew she wouldn’t find her in the third room on the third floor.
While six year old Cora waited, she heard a whisper or a whimper coming from the other side of the bed. She couldn’t tell which. Cora believed the rumors: something haunted the room.
Cora hid behind the chair closest to the door so no one could see her. Little Cora shut her eyes tight and held her breath. The whimpering grew louder. Footsteps sounded closer. Someone yanked the chair from its position revealing her.
Emily Austen stood over Cora. With mangled hair and glazed eyes, she didn’t look like her normal beautiful self.
Cora didn’t know her mother had returned. She wondered why no one told her. Normally, the staff prepared. Her mother leaned down and brushed Cora’s hair from her eyes. Cora felt something on her forehead, and a drop of blood slid down her cheek. She looked up at the ceiling, but the ceiling wasn’t bleeding. She watched as the blood hit the ground and pooled. Blood streamed from each of her mother’s wrists.
Emily knelt down, unraveled her blanket and
immobilized little Cora by wrapping it around her. Emily stood up and dragged the knife across the outside of her own arm. The blood poured. Then she placed her finger to her mouth to make sure Cora stayed quiet.
Cora struggled, but the blanket tightened around her; she fell backwards and hit the floor. Her mother smiled an unearthly grin, but her mother rarely smiled. Cora had never seen her mother happy.
“They tried to keep me from you,” her mother whispered. “Grand Maeve. Samuel. Now they can’t.”
Her mother took the knife to her own throat.
Cora instinctively closed her eyes.
With only moments to live, Emily lied down beside Cora and pressed her hand hard over Cora’s mouth. “You can come with me.”
Cora gasped for air as she gagged on her mother’s blood.
Someone pounded on the other side of the door. The handle yanked this way and that, but it didn’t open. They pounded louder. “Where’s the key?”
Cora recognized Mrs. Kiness’ voice as she struggled to remain conscious. Tired of fighting, she closed her eyes.
After a few minutes, Cora came to and jumped up. She yanked at the blood in her hair and her mouth, but there wasn’t any. Cora realized she wasn’t six year old Cora anymore. Dizzy and nauseous, Cora sat down on the bed and closed her eyes. The memories started to make sense as if a deck of cards had been shuffled out of order. Her head ached as the memories pushed inside her brain to get where they needed to be.
After a few minutes, her vision cleared, but the room remained in focus. Cora didn’t want to move or jinx anything. Was this it? The key? Cora tried to remember the many pink bullet points Lillia had given her about dissociative amnesia.
“She tried to kill me.” Cora hoped the room wouldn’t blur again. It didn’t. “My mother tried to kill me.” Cora expected a myriad of emotions all swirling to find their place. “This is the source, isn’t it?”
Cora’s heart calmed. Her stomach didn’t churn. Aware of what it meant, Cora glanced around the once terrifying room. “I always knew this, didn’t I?” She let the realization settle and take root.
“It wasn’t her fault. She was sick.” Cora thought about it. “She shouldn’t have been out of the hospital.” It all made sense. The tiptoes around the truth… The placating…
“She killed herself in front of me.” Cora let the words sink. “She tried to kill me. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t her fault.”
At the time, Cora told others she didn’t remember. She never told anyone the truth. Emboldened, Cora moved to the edge of the bed and gingerly stood up. “I’m okay. I remembered, and I’m okay.”
Her body tingled from her new found strength. The room wasn’t as scary as it used to be. The bed and chair - ordinary pieces of furniture. The blood spilled had long since been cleaned. She waited, but the air wasn’t oppressive. She listened, but she couldn’t hear whispers. She closed her eyes, but that dreaded feeling of someone watching didn’t take over. Her heart didn’t lurch; her mind didn’t race. She collected the serenity. After a few minutes, she smiled.
Then the realization hit. Cora gasped. “It’s just like that girl I read about in the newspapers. Her wounds. Just like my mother’s.” Calm dissipated as dread took hold. The room’s air thickened and sweat trickled on Cora’s forehead. Then, the thought occurred to her. Someone had locked her in. Someone wanted her to remember. Why? Fear increased to full blown panic as her mind flashed through different terror scenarios.
Cora slowed her breathing. She placed her hand over her heart as it slowed to more of a gallop. “I’ve faced the worst of it, and I’m still here.” Cora looked at the locked door, but the door stood half opened. She hadn’t imagined someone locking her in. Why did they unlock it? Cora tiptoed to the door and saw no one on the other side. Conversations from the party drifted up the stairs. Cora hesitated to leave the room once so dreaded.
She turned around to face the empty room. “It’s okay, mom. I don’t blame you. I’m not six anymore. I’m going to be okay.” Cora wanted to say more, but she didn’t risk it.
She stepped out into the hallway, closed the door, and leaned against the railing overlooking the stairs and party below. All the dreaded whispers and screams from the party didn’t seem so obnoxious now. Cora took a deep breath feeling as if she’d just yanked off a constricting sweater or finally told off a clingy friend. “I’m alive. I did it.” Cora looked down at her dress. “I’m still here. I survived.”
“Cora.”
She jumped and turned.
Natalie grabbed her. “We don’t have much time. It’s not just Johnston. He’s not the only one. Oliver’s here. He’s coming. Don’t tell him I’m here.” Natalie disappeared into one of the rooms.
Someone cleared his throat. Cora turned around and into Johnston.
“Having fun with mommy?”
Cora backed towards the room she’d just come out of. “I thought they arrested you.”
Johnston crept closer.
As she stared into his eyes, she saw him hit her, kick her, grab her. Cora didn’t have the complete memory set, but she had enough. She stared deep into his eyes. “The screams. The attacks. You killed Jessica, didn’t you?”
“I wish.” He smiled then grabbed her and kissed her. She couldn’t push him off. His vinegarized tongue forced its way inside. She bit down. Hard.
He let go and wiped the blood from his mouth. “Stupid whore.” His eyes raged as his sickening thoughts increased. He grabbed her and spun her around so she didn’t face him. He cupped his hand over her mouth and yanked her towards the stairs. His mouth inches from her ear, Johnston whispered. “Forget. And we can do this all over again.”
Cora realized what Johnston wanted and struggled to get free. She kicked at him, but that only made him hold her tighter. She clawed at his hand until he bled, but that only made him move faster. Cora bit him. He whimpered but continued. “Another sloppy trip should do it.”
Cora couldn’t release herself from Johnston’s vice grip. She looked for Natalie who peeked around one of the doors. Too terrified, Natalie held her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. She couldn’t let go of the door as if it held her up.
Cora grabbed the banister, but Johnston’s strength yanked her hand away. Cora had one choice. She used all her strength to force her boot into Johnston’s shin. Right at the top of the stairs, Johnston lost his balance. He didn’t let go of Cora. They both fell backwards. Cora finally lost consciousness when they hit the second floor.
Chapter 34: Surrender
After the ambulance left, Natalie meandered through the last of the 120th lingerers. Most of the Austens and Morgans had followed the ambulances carrying Cora and Johnston to the hospital, so Natalie recognized only a few stragglers. Making her way through the remainders, Natalie interrupted a throaty laugh belonging to Mags. Natalie didn’t know why she hadn’t gone to the hospital. “I’m sorry about your son,” Natalie hesitantly said.
Mags waved her away like a persistent mosquito. “He’s fine. Always is.” She turned back around to face her minions. “That’s why I fired that housekeeper.”
While the crowd laughed, Natalie backed away as various groupings smiled at her lucky escape from the Morgan-Stonston matriarch. Six months in a cellar - but Natalie could still identify types. In the center of the room, the gossipers scanned for their next target. Beside the trays, the foodies devoured every free appetizer. Glued to the walls, the flirts drooled over their fantasy conquests. Drifting in and out like cigarette smoke, the sycophants angled to meet and greet.
Natalie sought the front door and the salvation of darkness. Then her pulse quickened; she could always tell when Oliver watched from the corners of the cellar. He was here. Her stomach folded onto itself. Her eyes rapidly blinked.
She didn’t know whether to continue moving towards the front door or find him. She peeked around the entrance hall and scanned the parlors. Standing by himself in the corner of the Sky Parlor, his preda
tory glare punctured her. His eyes betrayed the evil he intended. Natalie understood the broken rules: she warned Cora and Johnston attacked. With Johnston in the hospital, Natalie would receive the brunt of his anger.
The first time in six months seeing him outside the cellar, Natalie missed the cellar’s limitations. Now, dangerous choices beckoned. Without thinking, Natalie ran out the door, through the side yard, and to the woods. She couldn’t stop herself. She had to get clear of the party lights and seep into the darkness undetected. She had to hide.
She didn’t look behind her until she stood in the safety of the tree line he’d used to watch Cora. Hiding behind a giant oak, Natalie didn’t flinch as the bark dug into her palms. Shadows darkened. Crickets abruptly stopped their chorus, but the frogs loudly snored in the distance. Dry leaves exploded beneath his boots as he made his way closer.
Natalie’s focus shifted from trees to Ausmor to the road ahead, but he’d used every hiding place. Her options? Stay and face his wrath or try to escape. He’d catch her, but she’d be free for a few minutes.
Natalie pushed off from the tree and ran. Still weak from her cellar months, Natalie focused with the concentration of a downhill skier zigzagging around trees, bushes, and fallen limbs. Faster. Faster. She wouldn’t be one of those helpless victims she’d seen in movies who fell, lost their way, then lumbered into the crazed ax killer.
“You just killed Grace.”
That ended the chase. Natalie stopped, closed her eyes, and waited.
He circled her for several minutes. The air shifted, and his cologne permeated the space. “Look at me,” he whispered.
His eyes darkened by the night, he grinned as if amused by her insolence. He grabbed her by the throat and pushed her into the tree. Her head hit with such force, she could only mouth the words, ‘I’m sorry…Oliver…’ She almost slipped. She almost used his real name. He’d have killed her for sure.