Anathema (Causal Enchantment, #1) (5 page)

Now that I didn’t have an audience, I could
shamelessly investigate the plethora of clothes. My hands eagerly
sorted through racks upon racks of stylish clothes, all with
designer tags still attached—
Fendi, Burberry, Versace, Vera
Wang
—names I recognized from fashion magazines but never
imagined wearing. An entire wall housed shoes; I counted thirty
pairs.
Thirty!
From runners to boots with three inch–high
heels, and everything in between. On another wall hung dozens of
wire baskets filled with socks, pajamas, and intimates—including
the infamous thong.

As I rifled through the pile of cozy flannel
separates—my typical choice—my eye caught white lace trim. Curious,
I pulled out a gray two–piece set. I rubbed the material between my
fingers, reveling in the softness. “Why not?” I muttered, stripping
down to try on the slinky outfit. I looked in a mirror. Half my
chest was exposed, the tank top’s plunging neckline bordering on
obscene. “What do you think, Max? Too sexy?”

He pushed past me and, walking over to the
basket of pajamas, stuck his muzzle into it. He resurfaced with a
pair of fuzzy pink Tigger–printed flannels between his
teeth.

“
Yes, Max, that is more me.” I
chuckled wryly. “The old me. This,” I twirled, “is the new me. The
adventurous, confident Evangeline.” My life was full of new
beginnings. “I think I’ll stay in it. I’m not going out in public
anyway,” I threw over my shoulder, leaving the closet.

Max followed, groaning.

Next I checked out the ensuite bathroom—an
outrageously large, spa–like room constructed in white marble and
crystal. The counter held dozens of creams and soaps and the
equivalent of an entire drugstore cosmetics aisle, including some
metal tools that in my opinion belonged in a serial killer’s
torture kit.

Max nosed through the door and sauntered over
to nuzzle my neck affectionately. I giggled. His nuzzles turned to
shoves as he herded me out into the bedroom and toward my bed, his
sheer size easily overpowering me.

I sighed, scratching his ear affectionately.
“I’m not tired yet, Max.” My eyes wandered around my luxurious
suite, taking in every detail from the bed frame to the doorknobs.
“They sure do have a lot of money, don’t they …” I slid my
fingertips along the sculpted mantel, likely worth enough to pay
for my first year of college.

My eyes lifted to the watercolor and that same
twinge of familiarity stirred. The little girl was in a park, with
a swing set and red and white striped monkey bars in the distant
background. Leaning in, I read the signature in the bottom right
corner. My eyes widened in shock. “Sofie painted this?”
Could
it be?
Yes, I supposed it could. I knew absolutely nothing
about her.

A gigantic yawn escaped me.
Maybe I will
sleep tonight, after all.
“Okay, Max. You win. Now I’m ready
to sleep.”

I crawled into the giant bed and burrowed under
the luxuriously soft duvet, suddenly exhausted. Max hovered beside
my bed, watching keenly. “Night, Max,” I said through a yawn,
reaching out to pat his nose. My other hand clasped Sofie’s
pendant, imagining heat radiating from it.

I must have blinked a dozen times before my
pupils adjusted to the dark. It was either late dusk or early dawn,
I couldn’t tell which. Trees towered over me, soaring skyward to
form a canopy so expansive that I could barely glimpse the moonlit
sky beyond. I was surrounded by forest.
Where am
I?

F
rom the corner of my eye, I
saw a person standing motionless nearby. I turned my head to look.
Not a person, a statue—the white woman from Viggo and Mortimer’s
atrium. I frowned.
Hadn’t Viggo called her one of a
kind?

Something burned hot against my chest, like an
ember scorching my skin. Looking down, I realized it was my
pendant. Only it wasn’t the cold, glassy black heart Sofie had
given me. It had come alive, glowing with a swirling current of
orange and crimson. I lifted the pendant off my chest by its chain;
no burns marred the skin underneath.
It must be like a mood
ring, only it gets hot with color changes.
Someone’s
discovered a way to revive that dreadful fad.

A faint breeze caressed my body. I shivered in
response and wrapped my arms tightly around my bare arms.
Bare?
Glancing down, I groaned. I was in my pajamas, the
revealing gray ones.
I can’t believe I left the house in
this!
Peering farther down, I saw exposed toes.
Perfect.
No shoes either.
Did I sleepwalk out of Mortimer and
Viggo’s place?

I sat up and checked the shadows, grumbling,
“Where is that bloody mutt?” The big black dog hadn’t followed me.
I pushed to my feet and took a step forward, the cold, damp moss of
the forest floor tickling my bare skin. A twig snapped beneath my
weight—so slight a sound that it should have gone unnoticed but
instead echoed like a thunderclap in the eerie silence. Nothing
moved. Nothing seemed alive.

My stomach knotted up in panic. I inched back
toward the statue to wait for rescue. My teeth began chattering,
the chilly night air uncomfortable, even with my blazing pendant as
a source of heat.
I may freeze to death out here,
I
realized.
Maybe this statue is the frozen result of another
girl wandering into the woods, never to be heard from
again.

I finally accepted that I had to seek out help.
I stepped hesitantly forward, my feet barely registering the cold
from the ground anymore. I wandered into the mass of bushes and
ferns surrounding the clearing where the statue stood, my face
periodically caressed by a stray leaf as I pushed branches out of
my path. I kept moving, stumbling over roots as the darkness
deepened within the dense thicket, beginning to feel as if I were
being swallowed whole.

“
I’m from Maine and I have zero
basic survival skills,” I admitted sourly to myself. “That will
change. As soon as I get back, I’m signing up for the first
Wilderness for Dummies class I can find.”
And a
psychiatrist
.

My ears caught a faint and distant sound. I
held my breath, listening intently.
Laughter?
It was so
far away, and barely audible … It couldn’t be.
My mind must be
playing tricks on me.
I took several more steps then froze,
praying I wasn’t hallucinating. Seconds ticked by.
There!
This time, I heard a clear howl of mirth in the distance.
People!

I took off like an arrow, abandoning my usual
caution, tearing recklessly through the thick undergrowth toward
the sound. Branches and leaves whipped against my body but I barely
noticed, too busy holding my breath.
Do I shout out to them?
Let them know I’m coming?
I opted for keeping silent,
concentrating on not running headfirst into any of the mammoth tree
trunks. I figured they’d see the glow from my necklace anyway, now
blazing with brilliant light like a beacon in a thick
fog.

I finally broke free of the bushes to find a
moonlit river, maybe twenty feet wide, stretching out in front of
me. I had to grab the trunk of a small tree growing at its edge to
stop myself from tumbling in. Momentary panic clenched my stomach.
How am I going to cross this?
It wasn’t a huge river but
it was October. The water would be icy cold.

Boisterous male laughter rang out. I turned
toward it and saw, maybe a hundred feet away on the other side of
the river, my soon–to–be rescuers standing with their backs to me.
I exhaled and then breathed in slowly, sweet relief filling my
lungs. I was going to be okay.

There were three of them and they were keenly
focused on a large object at their feet. Something was extremely
funny because they were practically doubled over in laughter. They
obviously hadn’t noticed me yet—astonishing, given the noise I had
surely generated while streaking through the forest like a wild
boar.

I opened my mouth to holler but a sound other
than laughter clamped my mouth shut, the short hairs on the back of
my neck standing on end. It had come from a female, and it wasn’t
laughter. All three men crouched down around whatever was by their
feet.
What are they doing?
I squinted, concentrating hard
on the object.

It moved.

A chill of realization slid down my spine. It
wasn’t an object. It was a person.

“
I’ll visit, I promise,” I heard a
male voice bellow as one of them hoisted the person’s body up and
tossed it toward the center of the river. A large rectangular
object followed closely after, entering the river with a big
splash.

The blood coursing through my veins turned icy
as I stood there, my eyes wide with terror. I waited for the body
to resurface, a kick or a splash—some sign of life, some clue that
this was a prank.

It finally sank in. I was witnessing murder.
Someone was drowning right before my eyes. These people weren’t
going to save me. Once they noticed I was here, they’d hunt me down
and toss me in to join their first victim, to hide all evidence.
All they had to do was turn around.

My hand flew to my pendant, trying to mask the
pulsating glow. I dropped noiselessly to the ground and slithered
commando style into a thick mass of ferns until I was adequately
concealed but still able to observe the killers. They loitered on
the edge of the river, chattering and laughing like a bunch of
teenagers while their victim drowned.

Feeling marginally safe for the moment, I
turned my attention to the person in the water. It had to be the
female. Was she alive when she was tossed in? She hadn’t struggled
or even uttered a sound. If she was alive, surely she could only
hold her breath for three, four minutes, tops, if I had learned
anything from high school Biology class.
One … two … three
…
I began counting seconds in my head but couldn’t get past
five
. The sound of my pounding heart kept making me lose
count. The more I focused on slowing it, the more furious the
beating became.

The group’s casual chatter died down and they
turned and began scanning the forest. My chest tightened in alarm
as three pairs of eyes landed on the very bush I was hiding under.
Oh God, they can see me. They’re going to drown me too
. My
body went rigid. Would they go through the trouble of crossing the
river to get to me? Of course they would. I was a witness to their
evil crime.

I waited for splashes, for that menacing laugh,
for a hand to wrench me from my hiding spot. I gritted my teeth as
the burn of my pendant intensified, certain that it was searing my
skin. Thankfully it was buried under my body, otherwise there’d be
a bright red flare to guide the murderers over.

Leave! Leave!
an insistent voice
screamed inside my head.

My palms were damp, my knuckles had turned
white, and a full–scale panic attack was imminent when the group
dismissed whatever had caught their attention and disappeared into
the woods in the opposite direction. I allowed myself the smallest
sigh of relief, afraid anything louder would echo across the
water.

As soon as I judged they were out of earshot, I
crept out from under my bush and darted toward the riverbank. I
silently waded into the water, now too fueled with adrenaline to
notice its chill. I was sure I was too late. I was sure I was
swimming out to find only death—if I could even find her in the
river’s murk—but I swam out anyway.

Taking a deep, resigned breath, I dove under.
Blonde, wavy hair billowed softly beneath me. She was there,
motionless, at the bottom of the river.

I resurfaced, grief washing over me. I was too
late.

Be more certain,
my conscience
whispered. I stalled.
Swim to her now,
it insisted. It was
right. I couldn’t ignore it. So I took another deep breath and
under I went, propelling myself down to the riverbed in seconds to
face her. She had been a pretty girl of maybe sixteen, with a
dainty button nose and delicate, high cheekbones. Her eyes were
closed, tightened in a way that suggested she was alive and in
pain, but her lips—large, plump, pink lips—were parted to allow
water into her lungs.

I was sure she was dead, and yet … My hand
slowly reached toward her shoulder. I jabbed her with my index
finger.