A New Fear (2 page)

Chapter 1

The Village of Shadyside
1901

N
ora hated the night.

During the day, she heard a cry or two from down the hall. She heard a thump above her cell or a bump below.

But at night, deep moans and screams reverberated off the walls of the asylum. Nora covered her ears, but she could still hear the cries of the other inmates.

What do they see in their nightmares? Nora wondered. Can it be more horrible than what I see through my window?

Nora peered through the black iron bars. Just as she had every night for ten long months now. The ten long months she had been locked in the asylum.

Beyond the bars she could make out the remains of the Fear mansion against the full moon. How could any nightmare be more terrifying than that?

Nora noticed the workers had made more progress on the road running through the Fear property.

A road they would call Fear Street.

Nora wrapped her arms around her body. She had tried to tell the doctors and nurses that the road was a bad idea. They would not listen.

Why would they? They thought she was insane.

But she knew the bad luck that surrounded the Fears had somehow seeped into their land. Tainted it.

She turned from the window. The darkness always came too swiftly, wrapping shadows around the bed, the table, the chair.

And the cradle.

Bending, Nora lifted her son into her arms. Nicholas gazed at her with trusting brown eyes … his father’s eyes. Daniel Fear’s eyes.

She returned to the window and sat on the wooden floor. Wind whistled through the cracked glass. Nora leaned forward and breathed deeply. The fresh night air reminded her of the world outside. The world she wanted Nicholas to know.

But her son had been born in this place. He had never been outside the iron bars and locked doors of the insane asylum.

Nora preferred to sleep leaning against the window, holding her son. Her mattress stank of stale perfume, blood, sweat, and death. She never used it.

She rocked back and forth. Someone screamed—a high shrill sound. Her son cried softly. Looking at his innocent face, Nora brushed the brown hair away from his furrowed brow.

“It is only the wind. Only the wind,” she whispered. ‘I will take care of you. Do not worry. I will always take care of you.”

Nora felt the warmth of the sunlight on her eyelids. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Another day.

Keys rattled as someone unlocked the door. Nicholas whimpered, and Nora picked him up and held him close.

The door burst open. A large woman stood in the doorway. Martha, Nora’s nurse. Her body blocked the light from the hallway. “It is time for your bath, Nora.”

Martha stepped aside. A young girl darted into the room. “Nancy will watch the babe,” Martha said.

Nancy wore a coarse white cotton shift like Nora’s. It identified her as an inmate of the asylum. She waved her hands frantically before her, an empty smile frozen on her face. “Baby. I watch baby.”

Nora hugged Nicholas tighter. “Could a nurse stay with him?”

“Nancy is twelve. Certainly old enough to watch a baby,” Martha snapped.

“Twelve,” Nancy repeated as she held out her arms.

“He’s sleeping,” Nora lied as she placed Nicholas in the cradle.

“Sleeping,” Nancy said. She sounded disappointed, but her smile remained.

“You must
not
hold him while he’s sleeping,” Nora said.

“Must
not
hold him,” Nancy repeated as she stared into the cradle.

“Just watch him and keep him safe,” Nora added softly.

“Watch him and keep him safe,” Nancy mimicked. She began to rock the cradle and sing a lullaby.

Reluctantly, Nora followed Martha from the room. Martha slammed the door shut and locked it. She wrapped a beefy hand around Nora’s arm and forced her down the stairs.

When they entered the first floor, Nora saw a man banging his head against the wall. “It hurts,” he said. And banged his head again. “It hurts.”

A woman sitting in a corner clawed at her face with her fingernails. Bright red blood covered her hands.

Martha charged over to the woman, jerking Nora with her. She grabbed the woman’s wrist. “Stop it! Stop it, Charlotte!”

“I need to get them off,” the woman whined.

“Orderly! Tie this woman to her bed!” Martha shouted.

“I have to get the spiders off. They are biting me. Biting my face,” the woman wailed.

A young man rushed over and picked Charlotte up as if she were a child. He carried her down the hallway. “I need to get them off,” the woman cried again and again.

Martha tightened her grip on Nora’s arm and stomped toward the stairway leading to the basement. Nora stumbled as Martha yanked her down the stairs.

Martha opened the door and shoved Nora inside
the dark, damp room. Nora pressed her back to the wall. She hated coming here.

Martha pushed open another door. “Get inside.”

Nora held her breath as she entered the room. The light was dim. A scrawny woman with loose skin hanging from her bones stepped out of the cast-iron bathtub. Open sores covered her shivering body. Her teeth chattered.

Nora knew the water was cold. The water was always cold. And the room had no fire to warm it.

An attendant wrapped a blanket around the thin woman and guided her out of the room.

Nora released her breath and the room’s foul odors rushed into her nose. Sweat, decay, mold. She always felt dirtier after a bath in this room.

“Hurry along,” Martha instructed. “You do not want Nancy to play with your son too long.”

Shivering after her bath, Nora followed Martha back to her room. She had dried off, but still she felt damp.

Martha slipped her key into the lock, turned it, and shoved the door open. Nora rushed in.

Nancy stood by the cradle, rocking it back and forth. “Say bye-bye,” she muttered. “Nancy say bye-bye to baby.”

Nora studied her son. His eyes were closed. He slept peacefully.

“Come along, Nancy,” Martha ordered from the doorway.

“Come along,” Nancy repeated in a singsong voice.

Nancy trotted toward the door. Then she spun back to face the cradle. “Nancy say bye-bye. Baby go to new home now. Baby go to new home.”

“What?” Nora gasped. She clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. “What, Nancy?”

“Nancy say bye-bye to baby,” Nancy answered. She nodded her head up and down, up and down.

Slowly Nora raised her eyes to meet Martha’s. “No,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Martha answered firmly. “Nancy is correct. The baby cannot be raised in an insane asylum. He is almost old enough to leave you. They will take him soon.”

Chapter 2

“W
hen?” Nora yelled. “When will they come for Nicholas?” She had to know. She needed to make plans. She would never allow anyone to take Nicholas from her.

“Calm yourself,” Martha ordered. “They will come when they come. Screaming your throat raw will not change anything.”

Nora grabbed Martha’s arm. “What will they do to him? Where will they take him? Please tell me. You must.”

Martha pried Nora’s fingers off her arm. “That is enough,” she ordered. “I do not want to have you restrained.”

Martha made her way to the door. “Wherever they take the baby, he will be better off,” she said over her shoulder.

But he will not have me, Nora thought. He will not
have his own mother. And no one else could love Nicholas the way I do.

The moment Martha locked the door behind her, Nora reached under her mattress and pulled out the rope.

She rubbed it between her fingers. Still not thick enough. And she had been working on it for months.

Nora unbraided her hair and shook it free. It fell almost to her knees.

She separated several strands and jerked them out, ignoring the irritating pain in her scalp.

She wove the hair into her makeshift rope. A rope made of hair, threads from her blanket, threads from her clothes, and anything else she could find.

Nora tried to be gentle as she plucked more hair, but her hands shook. She felt afraid. Afraid they would come too soon. Afraid they would come and take Nicholas away before she was ready.

When she finished the rope, Nora planned to push the chair leg against the cracked corner of the window until the glass gave way. Then she would bundle Nicholas in a blanket, tie the rope around his protected body, and slowly lower him to the ground.

Next she would douse the fire in the hearth and climb up the chimney until she reached the roof. Somehow from there she would find a way to the ground and Nicholas.

Nora rehearsed the escape plan over and over in her mind as she added to the soft rope. The plan had to work. It had to.

The wind howled outside. Nora stopped her work
to listen more carefully. She heard another sound mingle with the sound of the wind.

Someone calling for help! Nora sprang to the window and peered out. She saw one of the doctors run down the front steps. A red-haired boy dashed over to him.

“There has been an accident!” the boy yelled. “A bad one. On that road they are making by the Fear mansion. Three men crushed!”

If only they had listened to her. Nora knew the dark forces of the Fear family would claim more lives. She knew the road would only bring disaster to the town.

Nicholas whimpered softly. Nora lifted him into her arms and rocked him gently. The evil Fear legacy would never touch her son, she promised herself. Never.

The baby drifted back to sleep, and Nora returned him to his cradle. Then she reached up and grabbed another clump of her hair. She yanked it out, gritting her teeth against the pain.

She had to get Nicholas away from this horrible place. Away from the asylum. Away from the town. Away from everything tainted by the Fears.

Nora wove the hairs into the rope. She grabbed another bunch of hair and tore it out.

She felt the warm, wet blood trickle down her cheek. She did not care. All she cared about was Nicholas.

Nora added the hairs to the rope with trembling fingers.

She gazed into the cradle. “Do not worry, Nicholas,”
she crooned. “I will take care of you. I will not let them take you from me. Not ever.”

The door flew open with a bang.

Nora gasped.

“What are you doing, Nora?” a low voice demanded.

Chapter 3

N
ora jerked her head toward the door. Her doctor stood there watching her. She had not heard him enter.

The doctor strode to Nora. “What is this?” he asked, pulling the long, silky braid from her hands.

Nora fought to remain calm. “Since you took away my pen and writing paper, I have nothing to do. The braid is simply a way to occupy my time.”

The doctor wound the rope of hair around his hand. “Very clever, Nora. Did you think to escape with this flimsy rope?”

“No!” she insisted. “But I do not belong in this awful place.”

“That is for me to decide,” he said. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped a streak of blood from Nora’s forehead.

The doctor strode to the door and opened it. “Send
Martha to me,” he called down the hall. “And tell her to bring the scissors.”