“Um… yes.”
“Go ahead,” Felix pressed. “Explain it to me in your own words.”
“Well,” Bronwen started, thinking about it for a moment. “You breathe, and…”
“And what?” Felix urged.
“And… I don’t know. You just live.”
“Correct! You live. So, answer me this—what happens when you stop living?”
Bronwen blushed as three sets of blood-red eyes fixed on her, waiting eagerly for her response. In the courtyard she’d assumed that the crimson hue had simply been a trick of the light. But it hadn’t been. It was real, and as vibrant as the fire’s flames.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “You die, I guess.”
“Precisely,” Felix exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “You live, and then you die. It’s all part of the fundamental circle of life. Then, I ask you, what is life without death?”
“Um… A long life.”
“How long?” Felix shot back.
“Never-ending.”
“You see,” Felix continued, leaning in closer to her, rapt in the sudden intensity of their exchange, “one is not intended to exist without the other. Sooner or later, everything comes to its natural end. As such, death is indeed a part of life. Death is, for all intents and purposes, your birth right. So what happens when that birth right is denied?”
His breath brushed her throat, sending a shiver of electricity over her skin.
“You live forever,” Bronwen whispered.
Felix’s mouth twitched up at the corner. “Yes,” he said. “We do.”
Chapter Three
Crockery Should Be Seen and Not Clean
Bronwen awoke with a jolt.
Why am I downstairs? she wondered blearily. She stretched out her stiff limbs on the chair. And then the memories of the previous night hit her like a tidal wave, dragging her back into the present. It wasn’t her own living room that she had fallen asleep in—it was theirs.
She blinked against a stream of sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. For the first time, she was able to see the view beyond the glass. The room looked out onto a mass of vibrant green trees that tapered upwards as the hills rose outside.
Yes, she was a long way from home.
With the other three chairs empty, Bronwen glanced over to the boys’ alcoves. Their beds were vacant, but the bedding was bunched and twisted as though they had been slept in. Bronwen’s thoughts shot back to their confession, and to the uncomfortable silence that had followed until she’d finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Surely this was some kind of joke? It was one thing to believe in Ada’s eccentric predictions, but eternal life? That was in a whole new league of crazy.
No, she decided. It’s not true. They’re lying. Or else they’re seriously deluded.
With everything that had gone on the night before, it baffled Bronwen to think that she’d managed to sleep at all. Although her sleep had been a long way from restful. The question of eternal life had carried over into her unconscious mind, manifesting itself in nightmares. The memory of one dream in particular haunted her even now. It was the sight of the three boys standing before her, as beautiful and charismatic as they were in life, but gradually their bodies began to crumble and fall away until they were nothing more than skeletons, their bones disintegrating in the courtyard wind.
Bronwen bit her lip. The nightmare was beginning to feel a little too real.
Well, at least I’m still alive, she thought with some consolation. Maybe that means it’s all over, and I can go home and forget that any of this ever happened. She glanced around the ostentatious quarters. The silence was deafening, and the vast room seemed to swallow her into its cavernous depths.
Gingerly, Bronwen rose to her feet and made her way out into the corridor. The door was thick and she needed two hands just to heave it open. Behind her, it slammed shut with a heavy thud.
Out in the corridor, Bronwen leaned over the railing, letting the fresh air fill her lungs. Below, the courtyard twinkled as flecks of morning sunlight settled on the floor.
“Hello?” Bronwen called. Her voice bounced off the stone-walled confines. “Felix?”
There was no response.
Bronwen took a step back and peered along the corridor. Seeing as though she’d not ventured farther than the living quarters, the rest of the castle was still an enigma to her. However, it was as intimidating as it was mysterious.
Okay, she prepped herself mentally. I can do this. There’s nothing scary behind these doors. They’re just rooms. She crept to the next door along and wrapped her hands around the brass handle. Timorously she eased it open.
Jeeze! she thought. So much for nothing scary.
She’d found the kitchen—or what was visible of it, anyway. Dirty dishes and pots and pans were piled high on the draining board and countertops. The floor was layered with crumbs and footprints, and the washing basin had been turned upside down and dumped on the breakfast table, surrounded by a multitude of other discarded objects.
Bronwen prodded at a rogue piece of eggshell on the tabletop. The overspill of yolk had stained the wooden surface yellow.
Disgusting, Bronwen thought, wrinkling her nose. They’re pigs!
She began searching for a clean cup, only to realise that the cupboards were bare. Nothing in this kitchen had escaped untarnished.
I don’t suppose they have coffee, anyway, she thought.
Rolling up her sleeves, Bronwen filled the sink with water and set to work washing a few essentials. That’s how it started, anyhow. Before she knew it, she was cleaning the entire room—washing, drying, scrubbing surfaces, sweeping the floor. By the time she’d finished, the room was spotless.
She blew the dust from the window ledge and pushed open the window to let the morning breeze flow in. The white floor tiles sparkled in the sunlight.
And then a deep voice came from behind her.
“Oh, good god.”
She turned around to see Felix standing in the doorway, one hand pressed to his mouth. Bronwen smiled. “I know.”
“Oh, god.” He blinked at the scene in disbelief, and then shouted over his shoulder into the corridor, “Loki, I beg of you, do not come in here!”
But it was too late.
Loki let out a yelp. “What have you done, Bronwen?”
“I cleaned,” she told them. “I’m sure you’re not familiar with the word, but this is what things look like when they’re clean.”
Alistair joined them now, stepping into the kitchen and quietly observing the scene.
“But…” Loki stuttered. “But you’ve moved everything.”
“Yes,” Bronwen said. “I put things away.”
Alistair wandered to the window, then slowly walked around the rest of the room. He opened a cupboard and peered inside.
“You’ve hidden it all,” Loki cried. “We’ll never find anything now!”
Bronwen rolled her eyes. “How could you find anything before? It was a complete disaster area!”
“We knew where everything was,” Loki argued. “We could see it all.”
“It was filthy,” Bronwen pointed out. “Not to mention incredibly unhygienic. You’ll make yourselves ill living like that.”
“Oh, big deal,” Loki huffed. “It’s not like we’d die or anything.”
Bronwen folded her arms. “I did you a favour.”
The three boys looked between one another.
“Yes,” Felix said carefully. “Thank you, I’m sure.” He shot the boys a private glance before moving on. “Anyway, how nice to see that you’re still here, Snow. It’s a shame I can’t say the same about my crockery, but never mind. Lucky I moved my valuables out of your reach, or no doubt you would have hidden them, too.” He chuckled amiably.
Bronwen narrowed her eyes.
Felix sauntered to the cupboards above the countertops. “Let me see, let me see,” he mumbled to himself. “If I were a saucepan, where would I be
?” He glanced at Bronwen. “Any ideas, Snow?”
She gestured to the lower cupboard units underneath the stove. “There,” she said. “In the logical place to keep saucepans.”
“Very ingenious,” Felix noted. “Although, perhaps next time you decide to go on a rampage, you’d be kind enough to draw us a map.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she replied curtly. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Hallelujah!” Felix cheered. “Cups, please?”
“Cupboard next to the sink.”
Felix shot her a charming smile before retrieving four coffee cups.
While Alistair and Loki settled at the breakfast table, Felix filled the saucepan with water and placed it on the stove. He lit the burner and gathered a handful of herbs and unlabelled jars while the water simmered.
“What are you making?” Bronwen asked.
He glanced at her. “Tea. Go ahead, sit down. There’ll be enough for you, too.”
Feeling particularly cautious, Bronwen joined Alistair and Loki at the table. They stared at her for a moment, then looked at each other.
“I don’t want any tea,” she said, still not entirely trustful of the boys.
But as the sweet scent of honey wafted to the breakfast table, she began to regret her decision.
“So,” Felix carried on, unaffected, “it appears our friend the Severan was a no-show last night.”
“Is there a chance the dates were wrong?” Alistair asked. He blushed at the sound of his own voice and looked quickly down at the tabletop.
“Or maybe the whole thing was wrong,” said Loki, more confident than Alistair despite his younger age. “Maybe the Severan wasn’t hunting you, after all.”
Bronwen thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. My grandmother’s usually pretty spot on with her predictions.”
Felix picked up a wooden spoon and began mixing his concoction. “I suppose the woman did know my name. Not a lot of people know my name nowadays.” He turned to Bronwen, pointing the wooden spoon at her and dazzling her with his captivating smile. “Just to be clear, that is due to my personal choice, not their lack of interest.”
Bronwen watched as he returned his attention to the saucepan. It was true—she’d neither heard his name before nor seen him around town. Felix was more-or-less her age, not to mention exceptionally blessed in the looks department; surely someone would have noticed him by now? Surely, in a small town like theirs, he would have stirred up some whispers? Alistair and Loki, too. How was it possible that these boys had simply been invisible all this time?
“At any rate,” Felix went on, “I think it’s time I paid this Ada Snow of yours a visit.” He glanced over his shoulder and looked pointedly at Bronwen. “She and I need to have a little chat, face to face.”
“Can I come?” Bronwen asked hopefully.
“Day release?” Felix mused. “I suppose it might be quite novel to have my very own portable, walking, talking navigation system. You do know how to get to Grandma’s house, don’t you, Little Red Riding Hood?”
“It’s the cottage at the bottom of the hill.”
“Whoa! Slow down, Snow,” Felix chided. “I’ll never remember such sophisticated directions.” He switched off the stove and poured the steaming liquid into the awaiting cups, then carried all four mugs to the table.
“You made one for me, too?” Bronwen noticed. “But I said I didn’t want any.”
“Suit yourself,” Felix said, reaching for the extra cup.
“No,” she amended, quickly grasping the handle. “I’ll take it.”
Felix patted her on the head. “I had a feeling you would,” he smirked.
Bronwen pushed his hand away and combed her fingers through her hair. “Thank you.” She paused. “You haven’t poisoned mine, have you?”
Felix laughed. “If only all of us were as canny as you, dear.”
She looked at him, confused.
“Cheers,” Felix said, clinking his cup against the others. “To the unknown. May its promise prove to be fruitful.”
“To the unknown!” Alistair and Loki joined in, taking a sip of their hot tea.
“To the unknown,” Bronwen echoed quietly.
****
It turned out that Ada’s cottage was much farther away than Bronwen remembered. Of course, she’d run to the castle in a haze of fear, which wasn’t quite the same as ambling alongside Felix at little more than a snail’s pace. Although, she had to admit, she preferred this way to the trek she’d made the previous night. Navigating her path through the hills in the darkness seemed now to have been a stroke of sheer luck. The trees were knit closely together, and the bracken-covered ground sloped steeply towards the valley below.
Felix whistled as they walked. The tune he carried was smooth and fluid, and sounded almost ethereal—like an old-world flute melody.
“What are you whistling?” Bronwen asked as they weaved in and out of the trees.
“It’s music, Snow,” he replied. “Music to reflect my mood.”
Bronwen shot him a wry smile. “And what is your mood?”
“Musical.” He swept around a maple tree. “So, tell me. This cottage—it’s not in town, is it?”
“It’s on the outskirts.”
“No neighbours?” Felix checked.
“Nope.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to be seen.”
Bronwen ducked to avoid a low branch. “Why not?” she asked. “What’s so bad about being seen? It’s not as though they’re going to look at you and know about your…” She hesitated, then forged on, “Your, um, condition.”
Felix grinned. “My condition? How tactfully put. I think the correct term for it is mortally challenged. No, if you must know, I like to keep a low profile because when you’re as scandalous as I am, it’s bound to create a certain, let’s say, adoration. A following, if you will. Sadly, I’m far too busy to make small talk with flocking admirers.”
Bronwen rolled her eyes. “I think you grossly overestimate your likeability.”
Felix smiled complacently. “Perhaps you grossly underestimate it.” He sighed. “Alas, being this iniquitous, it stands to reason that everybody wants a piece of you.” He wagged his finger at Bronwen. “Case and point.”
“Ha! I don’t want a piece of you. I just want to live.”
“Ah,” he breathed. “Have you ever been witness to a more unlikely alliance? Here you are, risking everything just so that you may live for another day, and then there’s me. What I wouldn’t give for a taste of evanescence. To be as fleeting as an ocean wave. To rise, and fall, and simply slip away again when my journey is complete.” He gazed up at the interwoven branches, smiling pensively at the pale blue sky.
Bronwen considered it for a moment. “Why should I believe you?” she asked, testing for his reaction. “You say you’re immortal, but it’s not like there’s any proof.” She forced her expression to remain impassive while she waited for his response.
Felix shrugged and resumed his whistling.
“Is it true?” she asked.
He glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. A look of impatience crossed his face, as though he didn’t have time to convince her—and didn’t care whether she believed him or not.
“If you are telling the truth,” she went on, “then why would you want to be cured? Living forever doesn’t seem like much of a curse at all. It’s more like a blessing.”
Felix laughed melodically. “How deliciously naïve you are, Snow.”
She frowned. “Eternal life? I’m sure I can think of worse things than that.”
“If that’s the case, then you are even more inane than I thought,” Felix scolded. “To live forever? Never ageing, never growing, never living? Is that what you’d want? To watch the people you care about grow old and move on, leaving you behind to mourn, until you cannot bear to be part of the world because, quite frankly, you no longer belong in it?”
Bronwen flinched at his words. “I’m sorry,”
she offered quietly.
Felix shrugged again. “This isn’t my world but I’m stuck here, and that’s simply the cross I am forced to bear.”
It wasn’t all that long ago that Bronwen had been plagued by her own feelings of not belonging. Nagged by the thought that she was simply drifting aimlessly through life, desperately searching for a purpose. Now, just hours on, she found herself in an unexpected twist—one that brought up new questions. Worse questions. She was being hunted by something. She was marked, Ada had said. What if she wasn’t meant to run from it? Maybe the reason she’d felt so isolated was because she wasn’t supposed to exist, either.
“What if it’s not just you?” she ventured. “What if there are lots of people who don’t belong in this world? Like me, for example.”
Felix shot her an enigmatic smile “You belong,” he assured her. “You’re living your life, and one day you’ll realise the marks that you’ve made. The stamp you’ve left. All those wonderful milestones that make your life extraordinary. Growing older with a family and friends, and, who knows, maybe even having children one day. Eternal life may be long, but it is no life. It is merely eternal.” He stopped talking and turned away from her abruptly, as though he were afraid of what he’d exposed.
“Felix?”
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, speaking of eternities, this walk is taking one. Where is this blasted cottage?”
“It’s just ahead.” Bronwen felt herself relax again. “You know, for someone who’s been around for eternity, you’re not very patient.”
“Two things. One, I am incredibly patient—hence why I agreed to take on a miscreant like you. And two, I have not been around for eternity. Seven bells of hell, Snow! Do you think me as old as the skies? I was human once, I’ll have you know.”
“Really?”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Felix noted dryly. “It was the turn of the nineteenth century. A time when noblemen rode the countryside on horseback, and the land was rich with fertile soil ripe for crop farming. A time when someone like me had a lifetime of promise ahead of them.”
“You were around in the eighteen hundreds?” she asked, trying not to sound too incredulous.
“I was.”
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