Rose and the Thorn (Fallen Tales series)

Prologue

Patrick
We sat along the grand dining table as my father made a toast. The light of the crystals on the chandelier above us bounced on my younger sisters' faces, making their youth shine. The marble floor slipped under my feet as I grew restless waiting for the dinner to start. But of course, Father had to make a speech. The same speech every Sunday.
"To my dearest family," he rose his glass, "I pray that we may have many Sundays like these. To my darling wife who has given me five beautiful daughters and a strong son," I looked at my lovely mother, whose face shined at my father's. All my sisters' beauty came from her. Their bright blue eyes and short blonde curls.
Father turned to me and smiled, "I hope you find everything you want at University." I smiled at him. I still knew he was upset about me going to Uni. I knew he saw me running the estate like he does. And even though I loved this place, its beautiful marble floors, grand staircases, and green fields that covered over 1664 square miles. But my love for writing couldn't wait.
"And to my lovely daughters, Adelaide, Bethany, Carmel, Danette and Easter, I hope you will grow up to be strong women, who will find nice husbands."
They giggled at the word husbands. As if they didn't spend all day planning what their wedding would be like.
"Now let's eat before everything gets cold."
Just as my fork touched my plate there was a crash. Then a scream. Father stood as we heard another scream. And another. I turned to Father as he moved closer to the door. He opened it and froze. His tan complexion turn to white. It wasn't till he fell on the floor and I saw the axe in his chest that I realized what had happened.
My Mother's screams filled my ears as they came at us. I took the arm of one and forced his blade away from my family before he punched me in the windpipe. Air escaped my lungs making it hard to breathe.
Five or four filled my eyes as well as their swaying axes. Black balaclavas showed no sign of their real faces. Masks of cowards. As one went to stab my mother, I went for him, only to have another stab her to death. My heart was broken, and I wanted to cry out in frustration and anger.
Blood covered the walls and the floor as they slaughtered us. One by one. First my mother. Than Adelaide and Carmel. Danette and Bethany. Easter hid behind me as I tried to shield her eyes. As one came for her the other came for me. I tried to fight for my life as the blade cut through my skin. From my forehead, down my neck and down my torso. But the fight was lost when Easter's limp body hit the ground. When my voice disappeared to hell. When my family's ghosts left me. I only wished to join them.
"Kill me," I begged as only brown eyes stared back at me, "Please, let me be with my family."
"Just leave him," one ordered behind me.
"What?"
"That can be his punishment. To live alone, with no one to love him."
The killer dropped me only to draw another two more lines across my dying body. All I could do was lie there. In the blood of my siblings and parents. Left thinking, why? Why them? Why not me? What did we ever do to deserve this?







Chapter 1
Rose
The clicky clacks of the steel rails against the train wheels woke me. I had been on this train for hours. When will it ever end? Though I had been on the train for hours, I had been running for months. I had planned to go back to America when the story of my father had died down. But the truth was I knew it wouldn't. I will always be the daughter of a psycho.
The landscape turned to hills as we grew closer to the little town of Beast Creek. I looked outside the window feeling like sleep will never come to me again. Trees shaped the land as they climbed up the hill for more sign of sun.
When I got to the train station I noticed the difference from any other place I've seen. The town resembled autumn. Brown, red and orange leaves lied in the gutter, waiting for the wind to blow them to their next location.
Bike racks were in front of every store when there were hardly any cars on the street. People stared at me as if I had two heads.
They don't know your story. I repeated in my head. They don't know you.
I walked up to the first person I saw.
"Hi, can you tell me the way to Pinecone Manner?" I asked.
He quickly shook his head and walked off.
I sighed and asked a woman walking by me, "Hi, Pinecone Manner–." She kept walking as if she hadn't heard me. Okay, rude.
"Down that dirt road," I froze at the sound of a male's voice. A man slouch down next to a building. A grey benny covered the top of his head and his woollen gloves had holes in them.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"The mansion, it's down that dirt road," I turned to where he was pointing. He was right. The dirt road led up the hill, to Pinecone Manner.
"Thanks," I went to head for the dirt road when he called me back.
"Be careful. People say it's haunted," his eyes widened at the word haunted. I scoffed and kept walking. No, you're just drunk.
I was puffed out by the time I got to the top. The beautiful colour of autumn became dark and gloomy. Tall trees blocked out what sun there was, making a fog creep across the damp ground. But everything was shadowed by the giant mansion at the top of the hill.
A ghostly wind made goose bumps appear on my arms as I walked up the steps. Cracks broke through the marble steps letting weeds break loose. A giant woodened door separated me from the inside. My knock seemed louder than it really was. Nobody came. I knocked again only for it to creep open.
It was dark and cold inside. Like death lived here.
Thick curtains cover every window making no light come through. A stair case that led to the gallery, challenged me. My steps echoed through the void as I walked in.
"Hello!" My voice bounced off the walls making it even louder. "Hello!" I repeated. I headed towards another large door. It opened easier than I thought. Nothing but two lounges, bookcases and a fireplace were in there. I frowned and went to move in more.
"Hello," I jumped at the voice behind me.
"Jesus Christ, man," I said looking at a man, probably in his late fifties. His tails made him look from another time. And just by the way he stood I knew he was the butler.
"Let me guess, Rose Hall the new cleaner," his English accent made me nervous. I had only been in this country for over a year. I still preferred America, "I'm Jenson, I'm the butler of Pinecone Manner. Whatever questions you have you come to me. You're not allowed to speak to Sir Patrick, are we clear?" 
"Crystal." I said unsure of what to say. What do you say to an English butler?
"Okay, I'll take you to your room and then give you a tour. Any questions?"
Only one came to mind, "yeah, how much do I get pay?"
"Americans," he muttered, "thirty dollars an hour," my mouth dropped, "for starters. When I think you're doing well, it will raise."
"What?" He looked at me as if I was stupid.
"I can pay you less if you wish?"
"No, no, thirty an hour is fine. It's just a lot of money for cleaning a house." He laughed as if he knew something I didn't.
"Follow me," he ordered. I had one last look around the dark void and followed him. He took me down a dark hallway to a door that was almost invisible against the wall. He opened it, letting light hit me in the face. I followed him down a staircase to a hall. He led me to the third door on the left.
"This is your room," he opened to show a small room with two beds, a wardrobe and a set if draws. Already I had started to have ideas for this room. I placed my bag on the ground as I looked around.
"I'm guessing the rest of your belongings are being shift." His words made me want to laugh.
"No, that's it," I pointed at the single bag.
"Excuse me?"
"That's it, no belongings being shift. One bag, one person, that's how I roll."
"That's how you roll?" He frowned.
"Oh um, it's just what people say. Don't worry about it," I quickly said.
Stop being an idiot. No, stop be an American idiot.
"Trust me, I never worry about things I don't need to. I'll give you half an hour to settle in." Once he was gone I groaned and fell back on my bed.
I couldn't believe I was here. In England. Away from everyone I knew. Yes, people didn't understand me here. Okay, Jenson didn't understand me. But as far as I knew nobody lived here. Everything upstairs was dark and hallow. And when you came down here. Natural light creeped into every tiny corner making the whole Servants' Hall light up.
Why was everything so dark upstairs? Who was Sir Patrick? How long can I stay without the past catching up with me?