The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  “Fine.” I smiled back, feeling lost for a small moment. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  “So you’re fine?” He winked. “Then shall we be off?”

  “Sure.” I stood from my bed, noticing something in his grin. It made my stomach tighten. He paused at the door, letting me go through first.

  My doctor strolled up, scowling. “Miss—”

  “Don’t worry,” Marcus interrupted, extending his hand to his chest. “She’s coming with me.”

  “Oh good.” The doctor smiled. “You’re quite a lucky girl. Dr. Dragomir doesn’t usually take patients on. I hope your memories come back to you.”

  “What?” My eyes darted confusedly between them both.

  Marcus put his hand out for the doctor. “It was nice seeing you again, Frank. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  He smiled and shook his hand. “You too, Marcus. Take care, Hanna.”

  “Thanks.” I felt more lost than ever as we walked to the elevator.

  “Really?” I cocked an eyebrow at Marcus as the doors closed. “Doctor?”

  “Yes.” He laughed. “I have several doctorates.”

  I frowned. “Is one in psychology? I might need it.”

  “It is indeed.” He stood rigidly at the door to the elevator, not looking back at me.

  The elevator dinged for the ground floor and he turned then, smiling. “Shall we?”

  Maybe it was the way he smiled or the close quarters, but something about him picked at me. I leaned in. “What cologne is that?” I sniffed the air around him, feeling funny. As inappropriate as it was, it was a good funny.

  “Sorry, I’m a bit like Santa would be for little kids, but only for women. It’s not intentional.”

  “What is it?”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale of it, making myself dizzy. When he turned and walked away, I followed like the Pied Piper led me.

  We made it out to the dark car at the front of the hospital and an older driver opened the door for us. My head had cleared in the clean air.

  I inhaled deeply again but gave him a look. “That’s weird.” I stepped back, unsure about him and the car and everything else going on. Why would Roland want me to go with this guy?

  “Just get in.” Marcus nudged me to the car.

  Once inside, I opened the window and put my head out.

  Marcus laughed. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “It’s making me carsick, that’s all,” I lied. “Who are you?” I asked out the window.

  “All in due time, love.”

  “It’s Hanna, not ‘love.’”

  “Actually, it’s not. Hanna isn’t your name.”

  I pulled my head in the window, stunned by his absurdity. “What?”

  “No, your real name is Maria Hanna Jekyll.”

  “Jekyll? No, it’s Holland.”

  “Believe whatever you like, but I was there when you were born.” He put his hands in the air. “Your father changed his name several times in his life. Your real last name is Jekyll. Your first name came from his mother, an Italian woman who married a Scottish man named Jekyll.”

  “In the 1700s, right?” I laughed but he didn’t.

  He grinned mischievously. “You’ve read the journals then. So you know everything.”

  “I don’t think there’s any knowing of anything with my father. He was insane. It’s too bizarre to try to understand.”

  He leaned into me. “There is much for you to understand, Hanna.” His breath swept softly across my face, increasing my heartbeats. My breath became ragged as he leaned against me, speaking slowly, “I’ve always wondered about you.”

  “Why me?” I peered into his dark-blue eyes, so dark they appeared to be black from a distance. Up close, they were crystal clear and navy. The darkest, longest lashes I had ever seen framed his beautiful eyes.

  He was beautiful in a way I had never seen before, like a celebrity.

  His skin was olive and smooth as if no beard grew on his face, although up close I could see a faint stubble. His dark hair sat perfectly coifed on his head as if done by a stylist. He had a slight faux hawk, with his hair pulled forward and not one strand out of place. His face was strong with chiseled cheekbones and jawline.

  He examined me as I did him.

  His upper lip twitched as if he wanted to say something.

  The car stopped, bringing me back to reality and before he could say what he wanted. “Where are we going?” I blurted, cutting the tension and the staring contest.

  “We’re here,” he said, still staring at my mouth.

  “What are you?” I whispered.

  “Nothing. And everything.” He smiled wide. “After you, my lady.” He extended a hand.

  “Thanks.” I climbed out, feeling ridiculous as I exited the car. The strange and silent driver held the door for me. I turned to the older man. “Thank you.” He tipped his hat.

  Marcus climbed from the car and gave me his arm. I took it, reminding me of Mary in my father’s journals until I glanced around, realizing I was home.

  “Why are we at my house?”

  “This isn’t your house, Hanna—it never was. The Tudor is your home. This is your aunt and uncle’s home. We are here because it’s the night they never thought would come.”

  “Oh my God, just once I would LOVE a straight answer out of someone.” I rolled my eyes, irritated by the seemingly cryptic behavior of everyone around me.

  “No, I’m serious. They never loved you. Your father and I were friends. I’ve watched you grow up. But I’ve also watched them.”

  “So you’re like a creepy uncle in the story? Only you look maybe five years older than me, so that makes as much sense as the rest of it.” I pulled away from him.

  He laughed again. “I guess in some ways I’m the closest thing you have to family. Well, and Roland of course.”

  “I want an answer.” I glanced at the house. “Why are we here?”

  “I want you to see what they are doing this evening, the night before you return home.” His voice sounded distant as if he were already disappointed for me.

  “Probably watching TV. It’s what they do.” I stared up at the two-story house. It was like any house on the block. The lights were on inside, making it seem warm and homey.

  We walked from the sidewalk of the quiet, empty street to the lawn of the house I had always considered home. But we didn’t go to the front door. We crept along the side of the house to the back porch. He walked ahead to the kitchen window, crouching to stay out of sight. I glanced about, guiltily sneaking around the house like a criminal. I stepped slowly to his side and peered in the kitchen window carefully so as not to let my face be seen.

  My uncle was at the table mixing something: a white powder into the sugar canister. I turned to Marcus. “Poison,” he mouthed.

  “You’re an idiot.” I frowned again, staring in the window to see him wearing rubber gloves while doing it. He closed the lid and handed it to my aunt who appeared distracted by something she was reading. She put the piece of paper down on the table in front of him. I couldn’t read it from where I crouched.

  My aunt put the canister on the counter and frowned. “Now bloody well remember not to use the white sugar. Tell Hanna you’ve switched to honey.”

  “I know.” He read the letter. “What if we just asked Hanna for the money? She would give it to us.”

  My aunt flew into a rage, slamming her hand down on the counter. “YOU IDIOT! YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF WE TELL HER ABOUT THE MONEY? SHE’LL LEAVE AND TAKE IT ALL WITH HER. SHE’LL FORGET ABOUT US. SHE’S A SELFISH TEENAGER WHO HAS NEVER THANKED US FOR RAISING HER. WE’RE OWED THIS!”

  My jaw dropped as I shrank down from the window. My head swiveled to Marcus. “The cookies,” he whispered.

  “I don’t underst—” My eyes widened. “Oh my God! The cookies? The cookies we ate the night she died? You mean they killed Rebecca?” My entire body shivered with
the treachery and disbelief of what he’d said.

  “She was poisoned. It wasn’t released to the media because you were missing and the culprit was never found. Police always like to keep a bit of information mum.” His words were hard to hear.

  “They poisoned us?” I whispered softly, glancing down and realizing the gravity of the situation. “How could they?”

  “Money, Hanna. You have a lot of it.”

  “No, I don’t.” My skin crawled.

  I crept back from the window and snuck off the deck and into the backyard. I ran through the bushes behind the house.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to run until my legs collapsed beneath me.

  Why had the police not told me?

  How had my father not seen it as a possibility?

  How had someone like Marcus known and no one else?

  I wanted answers and I knew where to get them, but I didn’t know how.

  I screamed when I was deep in the woods, nearly to the stream that was a mile from my house. I stopped running, bent over huffing my breaths, and screamed.

  I screamed for Rebecca who never got the chance to scream.

  I screamed for my parents who never got to know me.

  I screamed for my father who had blindly placed me with hateful people capable of murdering my friend.

  “You can’t kill them. You will be caught.”

  I spun, finding Marcus standing next to me, not out of breath, not sweaty as I was from the run. I didn’t know what he wanted from me or where I fit into his plan, but I could see he wanted something. Why else would he have cared enough to show me what he knew about my aunt and uncle?

  I screamed at him because I was done with not having answers, “WHAT ARE YOU?”

  “I already told you.” He laughed. “I am everything and nothing.”

  “Really?” I laughed and cried simultaneously. “You’re God then. Hey, God! Well, God, what I want for Christmas is a gun.” I laughed harder, realizing I was making no sense, but then I felt it. The sweating progressed, the world spun, and a scream filled my ears. I stared at Marcus as my world distorted. The last thing I would later recall was his beautiful face laughing, but backing away.

  Chapter 5

  Even grumpy pancakes can’t cure that

  “Hanna?” Roland’s voice soothingly woke me from my restful slumber. I moaned as his warm hand brushed against my face. “I’m so sorry. I thought you would be like your father.”

  “Hmmm?” I opened one eye, squinting against the dim light of the room as it threatened to bring an instant headache. “Roland?”

  “Yes, it happened again, dear.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Fortunately, Mr. Dragomir was with you.” His tone changed to one I recalled from earlier when he warned me against the man. It was cautionary.

  I glanced past him to where Marcus stood in the entrance to my room. He was stone-faced. My throat was raw. “I need some water.”

  “Here.” Roland passed me a glass from my nightstand.

  “Thanks.” I smiled weakly, taking it. “What happened?” No sooner had I gotten the words out than everything from the night before came rushing back. “My aunt and uncle, I need to deal with them.”

  “Yes,” Roland acknowledged. “Mr. Dragomir was kind enough to fill me in on the latest discovery—although I dare say he might have known the entire time.” He lowered his voice, “Forgive me for assuming you had done it.”

  I shrugged. “Nothing to forgive. My family is still the reason my innocent best friend is dead.” I hated those words. I glanced past him to Marcus. “What happened?”

  “Tread carefully, Hanna.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you truly want to see?”

  “I want answers. I want to see.” I pulled back from Roland whose face grew severe.

  “Don’t look,” Roland warned.

  “I have to,” I contested. “I need this. I need to see what happened when I blacked out. I can’t stand not knowing.”

  Roland closed his eyes. “Just as your father would have said.” He stood from my bedside and walked to the doorway. “I will leave you two to it then. I will make you something to eat.” He left the room silently as usual.

  Marcus came to my side, pulling out his iPhone. “I think I can reasonably say that man doesn’t like me.”

  “You should worry. Roland is like a dog; if he doesn't like you I suspect I shouldn't.” It was a rude thing to say, but I felt as if I had known him an eternity. It was possibly due to reading about his life from my father’s perspective. To my father he was a savior and true friend. I didn’t quite share my father’s beliefs. Something about him bothered me, perhaps his scent or the way his scent made me feel. Or maybe it was simply that Roland didn't like him.

  “Don't be rude, Hanna.” He touched the phone several times and then held it in front of my face.

  A movie played on the screen, a video he had filmed.

  It was dark and grainy but there was enough light from the moon to see me in the forest behind my house.

  The movie started with me screaming in agony, clutching my face. My knees buckled. I knelt on the forest floor, shouting as my face twitched unnaturally. Then I fell back with my legs trapped underneath me. My skin quivered and twitched as if snakes slid around under it. Suddenly, a leg shot out from the forest floor, stretching to the size of a whole human being. The other leg did the same. Muscles bulged from my veining legs. My pants and socks ripped, revealing my ruddy skin. My body grew from the waist up, again shedding my clothes, except what stretched with me. My head shook back and forth violently.

  The screaming grew to a horrendous level. I sounded as if I were slowly being murdered. My face ripped last, the screaming stopped when it was done. Where I had been, stood something unimaginable. It was nearly identical to the thing in the movie of my father, only slightly more feminine, if that was the word for it.

  It was huge and bulging with hideous features, a monster of horrifying proportions. Its head pivoted around, smelling the air. It glared into the camera and laughed. It charged at Marcus and the video ended suddenly. There was no hair on its head, no feature that indicated it could be me, except the eyes. They were my honey-brown eyes.

  I stared, horrified and unsure of what to say.

  When I did speak, my words were a whisper, “It’s true. It’s all true. I’m a disgusting freak. I’m a monster.”

  “That’s not you. That is something unnatural, Hanna. It’s a part of you that can’t be controlled nor helped.”

  “I need to find my father’s chemist. I need the elixir he was working on. Roland said it’s something that will control the changes.” A cold sweat covered me as I was hit with the realization that my father was a monster.

  “Do you have any idea who it was?”

  “No.” I tilted my head. “There are so many secrets and even more lies. And half the truths sound like fantasies.”

  “Welcome to the world of the hidden truths.” He clasped his hands together. “I’ve been helping your father with his work for a couple hundred years. I know of the tincture you’re thinking of. The whole point to it was so he’d be able to control when he changed. Change at will, so to speak.”

  I shivered, thinking about the hideous creature I had become. “Why would he want to change?”

  “I need to discuss the possibility of a partnership with you.”

  “What kind of partnership?” I couldn’t help but distrust him.

  “Your father and I had an agreement which required an exchange.”

  “What kind of exchange?”

  “A simple one. I would need only a few droplets of your blood every now and again. In return I would give you what I gave him.”

  “Help in chemistry?”

  “Not exactly, but sure.” He sounded puzzled for a fleeting second and then smiled, making laugh lines appear around his ancient eyes. He looked older for a passing moment as if a shadow had cast upon the room. It lifted as quickly as it had set, and he was back to be
ing possibly thirty on a haggard day.

  “So, you will take a bit of my blood and work on the elixir to cure me?” I questioned again, watching his eyes intently.

  “Yes,” he answered without so much as a flash of hesitation. “Precisely.”

  “Your meal, my dear girl,” Roland interrupted, carrying the tray to my lap.

  “I will see myself out, Roland.” Marcus winked, walking from the room.

  I eyed the tray and then Roland. “How did you know?”

  He chuckled. “Oh trust me, your father hasn’t cooked a meal in the seventy-five years he and I have known one another. I made this for you when you were a small girl.”

  The chocolate-chip pancakes with happy and angry faces hit me right in the feelings. “Why don’t I remember you?”

  “We were never to meet, you and I.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  “For now.” I lifted my fork and took a bite. The pancakes were divine and exactly how I recalled them being.

  Roland left as silently as he had entered, as always. I glanced at the phone beside my bed and called out to him. “Roland, wait. I have to call that police officer.”

  After a second, he poked his aged face back in. “The young officer from the hospital? His name was Andrew Paulson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He left again and shouted at me from the hall, “I will find the number and arrange for him to come right away.”

  “No, I want to call. Please.”

  I picked at my angry-face pancake, remembering how I had always eaten it first. I’d wanted the anger gone first.

  It had always made my parents laugh.

  And as much as I remembered the pancakes, I didn’t recall my parents making them. They just brought them in for me. I thought back on all the meals, realizing every one was that way. I wondered what Roland could have done in his past to warrant such treatment. He had never eaten with my family, nor had I even seen him until he found me in the forest.

  The pancakes tasted perfect. I savored the memory they brought. I remembered my parents, together and happy. I remembered my mother’s smile. So beautiful.