M
arcus trudged up the grand red-carpeted stairs that flared before us. I stayed near, my strides in line with his, while Elene followed, keeping her distance from the two of us. He then turned down a hall that appeared to never end, occupied with a variety of doors and no windows.
The man came to an unforeseen stop, and with a trivial pause, he rested his ear against the door, listening for something. All I was able to hear was a stifling silence that idled in the hall as Elene, and I watched in confusion.
I pondered what could be on the other side. Although I was certain it was the one known as Amelia. After quite a period of inertia, Marcus opened the door, its hinges screeching. The noise permeated the room, echoing, and chills passed down my spine as we embarked into the drafty chamber, listening to the groan of the floorboards beneath our feet.
I stretched my neck to see a body lying in the room's midst. From a distance, it appeared as if someone was lying on the bed. Driven by curiosity, I stepped forward and seized a glimpse of a woman with flaxen hair.
There was something more than unusual about her. She seemed young—perhaps a few years younger than Elene, in her twenties. Thin hair glistened beneath the light falling through the window and effected a shine on her pale skin that embodied the appalling moonlight. The young woman looked distressed, as if she was in a great deal of pain.
Her eyelids twitched and were a hue of lilac, pulled tightly over her eyes, exposing sleepy downward lashes. The woman's face appeared like death itself. Harsh lines followed her bone structure, and she seemed to have lost some teeth. For when she inhaled, her top teeth were absent, causing her breath to whistle.
Marcus was first to move toward her, and in doing so, he grabbed her hand and spoke. "This is our—" he paused for a moment in thought, a lump swelling in his throat. I watched with intent as he gulped it down. Marcus stared at the woman's muted-colored hand before continuing, "Our sister, Amelia."
"Do you know what is wrong with her?" I inquired, driven by curiosity.
I moved next to Marcus, leaning over to investigate the woman underneath the white sheet, keeping my hands by my side. My gaze wandered, carefully examining the details of the sickly woman. Despite not being a physician, I needed to act as if I were one so that I played Elene's game promptly.
The first thing I noticed other than her face was her attire. The winter-colored nightgown that grew long with lace caressed the top of her chest. Ruffles collected at the bottom of her sleeves, though the thing that really caught my eye was straggled across her collar. Tinted in rays of gold, in the shape of a heart, was a locket that seemed to drive something deep inside of me.
"We are not sure exactly what has happened to her. It seemed as if one moment she was ambling about smiling and lively as ever, then seconds later, she fell devastatingly ill," Elene said from the other side of Marcus.
Yet, I could hardly hear her. My mind was blank—the only thing I was able to focus on was the woman. There was something unusual afoot, something that caused me to stir.
The locket gleamed blue, mesmerizing me as if it were screaming my name. I reached toward it, inching forward, driven to touch the gold, my body moved of its own accord. I was just a touch away when my arm was clenched by an unforgiving hand.
I turned to meet Marcus's seething gaze, noting the warning written in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, anger resting on his face as he dropped Amelia's hand. I watched as it fell softly to the bed, taking its place like it belonged there all along.
"Do not touch that," he spat, his voice just as frigid as his eyes.
I relinquished, withdrawing my hand, and slipped it into the front pocket of my coat, and in shifting each finger, I recovered control. I felt the soft fabric on the pads of my fingertips, distracting me from the peculiar locket.
"Yes, sir," I affirmed, clearing my throat. "Now if I could have an explanation of what is wrong with this feeble young woman?"
"We are uncertain," Elene uttered, perplexed. "I have just presented her case to you, Doctor." I turned toward her. She played the game dangerously, dangling on every word, enthusing every letter. "We were hoping you could discover what is the matter with her."
Her grin taunted my sore heart, her cerulean eyes snatched my soul from my body. Elene was reveling in her own dirty game and the titillation that came with it. She clearly yearned for this thrill, and here she was getting the reaction she wanted. The joy was emanating from her being.
Something was awry.
Not just with my darling Elene, but I could tell just by the atmosphere of the room that something was not normal. The mood was heavy, weighing me down, and I felt a slight discomfort as I veered away from her, meeting eyes with the malice-filled Marcus once more.
"James, may I have the pleasure to orient you with your chambers?" he asked, smirking crookedly. Hiding secrets within his eyes. "I realize you must be exhausted and in need of rest."
"Of course, sir," I acknowledged.
Quiet mystified the air.
I grew apprehensive as we stood there for a moment, staring at each other with vicious intent. Elene broke the stillness, cutting the tension.
"I bid you welcome, James, but I must retire to my chambers as well," Elene stated, nodding to her brother before gingerly walking away, her hips swaying with her dress.
I gawked at the woman, my eyes lingering for too long. Marcus interrupted with a deep cough, then cleared his throat, causing me to look in his direction. "You must be wondering about a lot, Dr. Brown but—"
"Please, just James."
Marcus nodded. A grimace pulled at the corners of his mouth. He seemed tense as he continued. "Of course, James. I shall respond to your questions in due time."
Behind him, I caught sight of Amelia as she stirred. She clutched the sheets, changing positions with little to no comfort. Her shoulders shifted wildly, her back arched, and neck craned to the left. Marcus and I looked to each other once more, exchanging an alarming stare.
He was the first to whisk to her side, crouching beside the bed, taking her hand in his own, and caressed the tips of his fingers against the top of her hand.
Steadily, he whispered to her, "There, there—calm yourself, Amelia." He bent down in position to place a kiss on her perspiring forehead. Then, with a sigh, he turned toward me, speaking louder. "I'm going to retrieve the poor girl some tea. Would you look after her for just a few moments please?"
I assumed Marcus noticed my reluctance as my lips dragged to respond, the words incapable of withdrawing from my mouth, for he added, "I assure you, sir, I will escort you to your quarters at once upon my return."
I nodded with reluctance. A lump rising in my throat as I watched Marcus quickly vanish from sight. The floorboards creaked as the door banged shut, and I turned to look again at the slumbering woman.
She was breathing softly and slowly, her eyes were shut, yet there was something that coaxed me closer. Her locket was hypnotic—it seemed to buzz and ensnare me. My senses grew faint as I reached for it once more, my hands quivering as the locket grew intense.
I leapt back when Amelia's eyes flew open. Lancing blue orbs locked onto me like seeping teeth. I felt confined, frozen in place, and my lip quivered uncontrollably as she rose gradually from her bed. Her neck tense, showing the contour of her veins.
"Amelia?" I whispered her name, unsure of what to do. "You need to go back to bed!" I yelped, trying to conceal my quick growing fear.
I stared with wide eyes as she twisted her neck, turning in my direction. The vivid blue of her eyes seemed unnatural against her pale flesh. I tried to rescind my hand from the locket, but Amelia was quicker than I.
Her grip was tight, and I felt as it grew stiffer when she pulled me closer. I wanted to cry out, but the words I needed were stuck in my throat.
The once silent room grew cold, and the window frosting over behind her, spidered into thin ice. I felt a disturbance in the room induce chills that ran up my backbone, and hesitated as she leaned in, her voice soft and panicked.
"You're the one," she murmured in a breath, fogging the air. Her grip grew tighter, cutting off my circulation, fingers stressed as they applied pressure. "They talked about you. You're the one," she repeated in a whisper, her icy breath nipping my cheek.
A small high-toned screech erupted in my ears. I lifted my free hand to protect my left ear while attempting to move away, but Amelia held on tight, her gaze even tighter. Defeated, I tore my hand away from my ear and pried my opposite hand from her grasp.
She finally let go, her fingers tore from my flesh, and she dropped down to the bed once more. Her eyes closed, and the usual lilac eyelids returned. I fell to the ground, scampering back against the wall, and struggled to regulate my breathing. For it was still volatile when the door creaked open once more.
Marcus stepped in with a silver tray. Upon the tray was a white porcelain teacup. I stood, situated my overcoat and dusted myself off. While doing so, I noted the black fluid inside the cup as he set the tray down at the foot of the bed.
He noticed my gawking, cleared his throat then revealed, "It was my mother's recipe." He glanced toward Amelia, resting a solitary ungloved hand on her calf. "I see her fussing has stopped." He looked genuine when he asked, "Was she any trouble?"
My heart was still beating rapidly, but I decided against warning Marcus of the incident and kept it to myself, for now. After all, I did not want to appear mad. I felt as if I may have hallucinated the entire thing.
Hallucinations were, after all, brought on by stress and anxiety, and I had plenty. In addition, I was fatigued from the long excursion to Black Hollow and may have fallen asleep for a brief spell, dreaming the entire episode. I concurred that the situation stayed between Amelia and me, at least for now.
"She was no trouble at all, sir," I contorted, endeavoring to disguise the horror on my face. By slowing my breathing, I steadied my throbbing heart, and noticed the room had returned to a warmer temperature. I merely hoped Marcus had not detected how frightened I seemed.
Marcus picked up the teacup and walked over to Amelia, hunched over, he placed a hand behind her head and slowly lifted it. I could not help but step back in case her eyes were revealed once more. He pressed the edge of the cup to her thin lips then placed it back onto the tray, stood upright, and pulled on the edges of his coat. Clearing his throat once more, he stared in my direction.
"As promised, I will show you to your chambers," he said, gesturing with his hand.
His heavy black boots fell flat against the floor, the boards creaking under them. I scurried after, staying close behind, peering back to Amelia once more as we evacuated her room.
It was alleviating being in the corridor once more, and I felt my body loosen as soon as we walked down the hall. The décor seemed to be synonymous to the entrance hall, only the worn wallpaper resembled tears, seeping down to the floors.
"My grandmother married an extremely wealthy man," Marcus sounded from in front of me, his voice tender. "They built this lovely estate in the year 1823."
Stopping at another flight of stairs, he placed his hand on the brass railing, gliding over it. We ascended to the next floor, overseeing an array of paintings plagued with dust.
"I must ask, Marcus, why wouldn't you—" I began but was interrupted quickly.
"It's original, the wallpaper. It would be insulting to replace it. It is one of a kind after all," Marcus declared with a subtle smile as he reached the top of the stairs.
I looked around realizing there were no windows. There, in the hall, was only a single dim light fixture on the wall that barely illuminated the door at the end of the long corridor.
Marcus turned around and I was confronted by his heavy gaze once more. "I apologize, James, my..." he hesitated, stumbling on his words, "mother was fond of her privacy. She had the windows removed so there is not much light up here."
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind as we stood at the desolate door on this level. I felt apprehensive as Marcus fumbled in the pocket of his coat, pulling out a white handkerchief. He then, draped the handkerchief over his hand before touching the brass knob and turned it.
The door opened to darkness, and Marcus was first to walk through. Light flooded the room as he flicked on an oiled lantern in the corner. I walked in after him, my stare falling first on the lumpy mattress based on the floor in the middle of the room, then glanced at the small flame in the corner and realized the room was also windowless.
Marcus disrupted my thoughts and walked over to the door.
"I will leave you to settle in," he said, his hand on the knob, a dark expression on his sunken face. He smiled deviously before shutting the door, leaving me with just my curiosity and uncertainty.