A sound somewhere ahead in the darkness, made her pause eyes snapping open even though she could see nothing. ‘Hello?’
No one replied to her whisper.
Then again – that sound!
Tense, uncertain whether to rush ahead or back, Mila wobbled back and forth on her hands and knees, ears straining.
It seemed familiar, a stern short clip, over and over, like a beat played by the musicians at dinner. Slowly, hands and knees moving over the dusty smooth floor, Mila made her way forward. The dense blackness made the tunnel seem even smaller, Mila hunching as she crawled, that repetitive rhythm growing louder, a little sharper.
Her hand brushed something, and the soft weathered surface made her jerk away, breath hitching at the back of her throat like when those DeNaga cousins yelled out when she and Addy crossed the bridge to the village by themselves for the first time. Addy had shrieked, loud enough to make everyone’s ears ring but Mila froze, not able to make a sound. Just like that time the fright passed. Her mind recognized that weathered surface. She reached out, patting into the dark and felt the soft but firm outline of the ball. With a happy cry she pulled it close.
Shuffling around, twisting to make her way back, Mila paused.
The sound stopped.
Just then.
Unsure at the sudden sense of dread spreading through her body, making her knees wobbly like that time on the bridge, Mila hunched over the ball, ears and eyes straining.
In the dark her breathing seemed loud.
A voice in her mind whispered to hurry, to rush back to Addy. She’d found the ball, why even think of going further? This dark tunnel was scary. She could be out of it, in the corridor kicking the ball or bothering Nanny for a snack.
Her tummy rumbled at that. Today was baking day and with all the apples ripe Nanny would make the spiced cake Mila loved, full of soft fresh chunks of apple, with that crunchy, spicy sweet topping. They’d eat it with thick cream after the long communal dinner in the Great Hall. After that Mama or Papa, or maybe together like they did on Mila’s birthday with all the different voices, would tell a magnificent story. Mila would curl up in bed mind alight with distant lands and terrifying creatures, or beautiful treasures and clever girls who found them.
That sounded much nicer than crawling deeper still into this dark and grimy tunnel.
Hunched over the ball, clutching it close to her stomach as if it were the favorite cuddly toy from her bed, Mila listened to that voice while thoughtfully chewing on her cheek.
But, another voice piped up, the naughty voice. What if it’s something interesting? What if YOU discover the treasure like the clever girls in those stories? You would get the praise. Mama and Papa would be so pleased that they might not notice your ruined stockings and dress.
Mila’s mouth fell open in horror and she dropped the ball, hands running over her skirt to her knees.
Oh she HAD ruined the dress! And the stockings were even worse.
Now she didn’t know what to do. Going back meant Addy would be happy, but Mama and Papa would be furious. This was her first proper dress, modeled in the same style as Mama’s black lace gown.
And she’d promised them she’d be careful, Mila squeezed her eyes shut trying to ward off the memory from breakfast that morning.
‘Mila, today is an important day. I’m expecting proper ladylike behavior today, befitting to your lovely outfit. Nanny worked very hard on it, don’t you shame her or us today.’
No dessert.
No story.
If they were really angry she might even lose her darling Ayla. Without Ayla to guard her sleep she’d have nightmares.
Mila reached out and pulled the ball back against her stomach, her eyes damp.
Going back down that tunnel didn’t sound good now.
The dark of the tunnel didn’t seem so scary either. It hid her, stopping anyone from seeing the mess she’d made of her dress.
At least Addy had her shoes safe.
They were still clean.
Mila considered that. Maybe, maybe then with her shoes still clean, maybe then they’d just take away dessert and the story.
That didn’t sound so awful.
Before she considered it further, the sound started again.
Back against the wall of the tunnel, Mila sucked a breath in.
Why not peek, suggested the naughty voice. Just a quick look.
Well, if she was losing dessert AND a story, it wouldn’t matter if she snuck a look. A tiny smile tugged at her lips, distracting her from chewing on her cheek.
With the ball between her hands, Mila pushed it forward, using the leather to shunt through the tunnel quicker, listening as that sound grew louder.
The ball hit something solid, Mila stopped just in time to realize she’d reached a corner. Turning, she pushed the ball out. Her eyes picked up something ahead, something white! Breath quickening with eagerness, Mila doubled her speed.
The closer she got the more the white spread, a bright pretty pattern of geometric shapes. It was only when she reached it that she recognized the lacework rectangle.
An air vent.
All the rooms in the Manor Lodge had them, Papa had explained when she’d pointed at the rectangles and asked if fae lived in them. Papa had laughed, explaining that they picked up breezes from other areas, helping to move the air in the manor to keep it fresh smelling. It was also why some rooms smelt of the food in the kitchens, or the incense in the Memory room, depending on the entries and exits of the vents.
Perhaps the tunnel isn’t for maintenance, Mila thought, or perhaps all air vents are tunnels for fixing things.
She’d have to ask Papa.
The sound was even sharper now and when she crawled over to peer out those small holes in the vent, she recognized it.
Footsteps! Pacing, like Mama before she had a meeting with the other Council members of household.
In the spacious room below, Addy’s papa, one of Mila’s DeNaga uncles, paced the wood inlaid section of flooring, right along side the thick carpet spread throughout the center of the room.
Mila understood why, the clip of his smart red dress shoes on the wood sounded impressive. She’d have to try it herself when she got back out the tunnel, marching back and forth, clipping her heels to create that compelling beat, like Mama did.
Important people must do it, Mila thought while admiring the red shoes, wondering if she’d be allowed shoes that red when she grew up.
He paused when he reached the full height bookcases on the far wall, parallel to where Mila secretly watched, and turned his head toward the door.
Watching, waiting to see what caught his attention, Mila hunched over the ball, trying to get a better view of the doorway.
Two voices rang out.
‘In here.’
‘This better be important! I didn’t rush back for the funeral to be dragged into a meeting before I even get to say goodbye! It’s not appropriate.’
Mila gasped at that voice, she knew that voice!
In the company of another of her DeNaga uncles, her Uncle Jeran walked into the room.
Mouth open to shriek his name, hands pressed against the cut out shapes, Mila stopped short, chest tight all of a sudden as if her dress shrunk. Licking her lips and wriggling her shoulders, she crossed her legs, sitting the ball in her lap.
She watched Uncle Vidna, the tight sensation spreading.
Addy’s papa stared at her Uncle Jeran with eyes that scared her. He didn’t blink, his white eyes like Addy’s focused as her favorite Uncle walked into the room, still in his traveling clothes, with that smart green coat with the secret pockets that always held a surprise for her after he’d traveled. For her and for Mama, her Uncle’s eldest sister.
‘Jeran,’ Uncle Vidna pulled his lips back in a smile that made Mila shiver, the tight sensation shifting into stomach twisting churns.
‘Vidna,’ Uncle Jeran’s angry shout made Mila grip the ball tight in shock. ‘You b
astard! I know what you did to Morghan!’
Mouth open in horror Mila gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching the ball tight as Uncle Jeran lunged at Uncle Vidna, his large tanned hands fisted, face twisted with anger.
Chapter Three
Eyes squeezed shut Mila sat motionless, waiting for the thump of Uncle Jeran’s fist.
Instead, a laugh broke out. A laugh that made her skin prickle and shiver.
‘Now then Jeran, don’t you concern yourself about Morghan. She’s dead. Just like you’re about to be.’
Mila’s eyes popped open, her fingers digging tight into the ball as she peered through the tiny cut-outs into the room.
Frozen mid-stride, his fist raised to hit, Uncle Jeran’s eyes bulged at Uncle Vidna.
Blinking, shaking her head at the swimming sensation the vent caused her vision, Mila squinted, trying to understand why Uncle Jeran stood stiff like that. Her head ached with tension, almost as if someone chimed one of the tiny tuning forks the choir used, her teeth humming with the sensation.
Oh no, Mila realized with a spreading horror that turned her body cold, Uncle Vidna used his gift.
Mila shook her head and pushed back, pressing against the back of the tunnel, the ball between her knees and jammed her hands against her ears as the most awful noise began. The sound, a bone piercing shriek felt as if it wanted to pry her skin off her body, ripping away everything. Mila toppled to her side, choking on screams as her throat pulsed in agony, hands curled in torment against her face while tears and sweat streamed down. The room grew blurry and dark, the tunnel as dark as before.
What was Uncle Vidna doing?!
Stop, please, STOP.
‘Vidna!’
The shout rang out and with it sudden blinding silence.
Mila breathed in shallow gasps, trying to be as quiet as possible as she realized her terrible mistake.
She’d called out.
Like she called for Mama, Mila had shouted in her mind.
‘Why interrupt me?’ Uncle Vidna demanded the smug tone from before gone, his breath short and his voice wavering like Grandpa’s.
‘I thought I heard something,’ the other DeNaga uncle said, sounding as if he walked to the door.
Still breathing in short bursts, mouth wide as she tried to make no sounds, Mila turned her head, so close to the vent she peered directly out a tiny star shaped hole.
Her other uncle stood at the doorway, his hand on the doorjamb as he looked with quick glances around.
‘You thought the same last time,’ Uncle Vidna snapped, his voice growing stronger. ‘You were wrong.’
Her uncle at the doorway shrugged and gestured angrily with his hand.
‘We get caught now, and it all begins. I’m cautious! And I damn well heard something.’
Uncle Vidna muttered something so rude Mila’s eyes went wide.
That was something she would get walloped for saying!
‘I’m not done yet. He’s still alive. I’ve almost got it all. Keep a watch out and don’t stop me till it’s done!’
Mila jolted where she lay.
Still alive?
With all those awful sounds, Mila hadn’t even thought of Uncle Jeran. What did Uncle Vidna mean by still alive?
She needed to roll over; she couldn’t see enough of the room from her current position.
Fear made her legs tremble on the inside, her knees fluttery. Breaths coming quicker, Mila squeezed her eyes shut while inwardly scolding herself.
Turn! Turn over! You MUST!
Tears snuck out her closed lids, running in ticklish trickles down her cheeks.
She didn’t want to see.
The mind in her voice kept scolding, reminding her of all the times Uncle Jeran had played with her after dinner in the Great Hall, while the adults continued their long conversations. Of the times he’d surprised her with little presents after his trips away.
He’d promised her wings this trip. Mama had said he teased her, but Mila knew whatever wings Uncle Jeran brought back would be wonderful, not matter what Mama said.
Desperation spread.
Uncle Jeran HAD to be okay.
Barely breathing, body stiff with tension, Mila forced herself to roll toward the vent. It was harder than it should be, as if that awful sound had stolen energy. Each rock she made sounded loud to her own ears, making her flinch each time, holding her breath.
Neither of the DeNaga uncles moved the other still on lookout while Uncle Vidna rolled his shoulders and swung his arms, humming a tune Mila knew well. The familiar song was oddly comforting, helping to relax Mila just enough to push over and sit up in front of the vent.
The sight before her made her head spin, stomach lurching.
Uncle Jeran lay crumpled on the floor, face stone colored, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His curled hands twitched, limbs jerking. His head jerked, those blue eyes she knew so well met hers for a single moment.
Mila jerked away, hitting the back of the tunnel, her blood drained to her feet making her face prickle.
‘What was that?’
The loud demand made her flinch, hunching back and down as much as possible, wishing she could make herself unseen like one of her older cousins was able to.
‘Nothing, fool!’ Uncle Vidna said with such a growl to his voice. ‘Be silent! Let me finish.’
It began again.
No matter how deep she dug her fingers into her ears Mila couldn’t stop the bone ringing shrieks of pain. She lost control of her body, a growing dampness spreading down her thin wool stockings, the scent of urine barely registering as she flopped about in the tunnel, not able to breathe let alone cry out in protest like last time. In the back of her mind something dragged at her, trying to pull her conscious side in but not before the final moment.
A sensation like nothing before made her twist, retching the remains of her breakfast beside the brown leather ball. Like the time she’d watched their cook, in one swift motion, peel then wrench the skin off a carcase Mila felt it as Uncle Vidna ripped Uncle Jeran’s unwilling life energy from his body, a sucking motion pulling back from it like stringy pieces of membrane.
Then nothing. Stark silence.
The voice in the back of her mind reached out, its touch numbing the horror, leaving Mila exhausted. She stared limply through the air vent, able to see Uncle Vidna’s face. He seemed to glow, eyes excited while he smiled from ear to ear, looking back to the uncle on guard at the door.
Mila’s eyes were drawn to the figure on the floor.
Uncle Jeran, after all that pain, somehow looked like he slept, not gray and tired like great Uncle Ilder.
Tired, so tired, Mila did it without thinking whispering his name in her mind, half convinced he’d answer her.
Uncle Jeran. Uncle Jeran, wake up.
It didn’t bring the desired response.
‘See! Again, did you feel it?’
The shout from the uncle keeping watch jolted her alert so sharp she almost cried out, chomping the inside of her cheek at the last second. Tears squeezed out at the pain but Mila stayed silent, lying still and flat in the tunnel.
Sounds rang out, thumps and bangs, while the two DeNaga uncles muttered to each other. Then a sound that turned her cold with terror.
The sound of climbing.
Mila stiffened, not moving a muscle, breathing in tiny shallow pulls of air.
‘Where are you?’
‘We know you’re there!’
Both men shouted at Mila in whispers, making more tears flood her eyes, running down her cheeks. She heard them moving to this side of the room. Her heart beat so loud but she couldn’t quiet it, no more than she could stop the tears.
More than anything in the world she wanted her mama. Right here, right now. Her chest hurt, head spinning as she squeezed her hands into tight fists, fighting the urge to take proper breaths.
A chair thumped against the bottom of the wall.
Her head spu
n faster, black spots appearing before her eyes as Uncle Vidna’s gleaming eyes came into focus.
‘Can you see anything?’
The whisper shout from her other uncle made Vidna scowl, the expression making Mila’s heart want to stop.
‘Alisanne?’
The shout from beyond the room propelled the two uncles into movement, Uncle Vidna off the seat, slipping it back under the desk against the opposite wall in a matter of seconds.
Ears fuzzy, sounds seeming like they came from a great distance, Mila tried to pay attention to what was happening.
‘We’re going to find you. You won’t be able to hide from us for much longer.’ Uncle Vidna spoke quietly before stepping out the door, her other uncle already in the corridor.
The door closed with a jolt then a tiny scraping of metal on metal when they locked it.
With the black dots now giant splodges floating through her vision, Mila took her first deep breath.
Darkness took her.
Chapter Four
The smell woke Mila first, the warmth of the day making the scents of vomit and urine rise. Blinking, hands waving past her face in an attempt to be rid of the awful smells, Mila gasped, remembering where she was.
She sat up, mind ringing with alarm and clutched the ball close while staring through the vent into the room.
Uncle Jeran lay on the carpet his head facing her. Mila put her hand against the vent, calling in a whisper of a voice.
‘Uncle Jeran! Uncle Jeran! Wake up!’
She so wanted for him to blink then laugh.
‘Please,’ her voice broke, a lump swelled in the back of her throat. ‘Please wake up.’
Hot tears ran down her face, her skin tight and shiny.
‘You promised me wings,’ she muttered, rubbing at her cheeks. ‘You promised. You have to wake up.’
But he didn’t.
The sun streaming through the window inched across the floor, Uncle Jeran not moving no matter how much Mila urged and begged. Not a flicker of an eye, or that sneaky tug at the corner of his mouth like when he used to shout to surprise her. His blue eyes, so like Mama’s blue eyes, kept staring into space, seeing nothing.
Finally Mila turned back, body shivering, and made her way through the tunnel, pushing Addy’s ball out in front. The tunnel seemed shorter on the way back but it felt like she crawled from another time.
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