Betrayal (25 page)

I saw nothing. Several oak trees were scattered along the sidewalk so I prayed nothing was lurking behind them or within them. I quivered with fear, but proceeded.

Once I was halfway to the Bergnum’s house, I noticed that the lights were on in the front of the house, I’m guessing the parlor. Its front gates were tall and foreboding. Healthy vines that looked more like spider webs crept along the right side of the large manor and ran all the way up to the roof. As I stood in front of the mansion I stared at the grim mansion across the street and was now petrified with the thought of going in. The fact that I had supposedly grown up in it didn’t comfort me at all.

Suddenly a familiar bone chilling sound halted me dead cold, and almost sent me sprinting back to the Capius’ mansion.

Howling werewolves.

They seemed a little closer now that I was of off the Capius’ property. The vision of demonic red eyes and drool, hanging from ferocious, sharp teeth, paralyzed me where I stood. As suddenly as the howling had started, it stopped, and then started again. I tried to block out my fear, and tried to focus on why I was out here in the dark, at this dangerous hour in the first place. I took another deep breath to calm my raging nerves. It was now or never, so don’t be a punk, I thought.

I stared at the huge mansion before me and finally crossed the narrow dirt road. The Tieron estate was enormous, appearing somewhat larger than the Capius mansion, with grounds that took up a little more than half the block. The landscaping was neglected, and in need of immediate attention. Even though it was quite dark, I could see that the flowers had long died, and there was nothing left but some dried weeds and sun burnt shrubs.

Besides the dismal outlook of the front garden, the house itself was gloomy and deserted, yet mysterious. Anyone seeing the house this way would guess that it was uninhabited and threatening. It was a ghost of a house which was once a home. I seemed even darker on the inside, since all of the curtains were drawn shut. I had figured that the house would be poorly lit, if at all, which was the need for the oil lamp in the first place.

Once more, I looked up and down the barren and murky street. I boldly stepped up to the intimidating gates, and was fixed where I stood. The tall gates were virtually covered with dried and tangled vines. I pushed open the gates, and they instantly gave way as some of the dried and twisted vines snapped and tore free. I closed the gates behind me, and began the dreaded walk up the wide path to the wraparound porch. Up close, the mansion looked even more daunting. The black solid oak doors stood out like a gaping black hole that could swallow a person up.

I hoped that once I crossed the threshold of the mansion, I would learn all of the secrets to my existence on the other side. No matter how horrible, frightening or devastating the secrets may be, I had to know the truth. I needed to know if there was more to what Thaddeus explained. I wouldn’t exactly go as far as refuting it. I’d seen enough in a day to know that I was amongst very powerful beings, and that I may very well be one myself. But, I had to know why I wasn’t allowed to go to the house I had grown up in; my parents’ final home. There also had to be more to the passing of my parents, besides the fact that they were dead. I was convinced that the answers were within the walls of this house.

Then it hit me. How am I going to go about getting within the walls of this house? I didn’t have a key. I took a couple steps back, and surveyed the front door again. The dead silence was deafening. I thought that maybe a key may be hidden somewhere around the entrance. I reached up and swept my hand across the top of the frame. There was nothing there and now my hand was covered in two years’ worth of dust and dirt.

Perhaps a key was concealed underneath a flower pot the way my mom used to keep one for me for all the times I would lose my keys. I looked around the porch for a moment. It was completely bare of any flower pots, planters, or anything at all.

I reached for the huge brass door knob, and realized my hand was shaking. I wasn’t exactly afraid, just anxious. As my hand was about to make contact with the doorknob, something let out a low sigh. I instantly jerked my hand back, and stepped about a foot away from the double doors. It sounded as if the exhalation or moan had come from the house itself; as if it could actually breathe. All of a sudden the doors cracked open about halfway without my ever touching them. Did the door really just open on its own? Oh Christ, what am I doing here? Was there someone in there?

I stood at the entrance still a foot away from the doors. I was deathly afraid to take a step further as I looked into the darkness of the house.

“Is there someone there?” I said, just above a whisper.

Dead silence, just as before. The wolves had stopped howling, and there was no breeze. The air was as still as the Sierras in the distance. I surveyed the porch, the front walk, as well as the dirt road once more. I saw no one, and heard nothing. The last thing I needed was someone going by, and witnessing me lurking around my own house, and not going in. I seriously had to work myself up to enter the house.

I stepped in slowly, and the darkness enveloped me immediately. I quickly shut the front doors. I fought off the urge to run back out, and waited a few seconds so that my vision could adjust to the abyss of blackness. The house smelled musty, and needed to be aired out. Finally, I could make out the spacious foyer. I could barely make out some type of desk or dresser placed against the wall on my right. I walked toward the bulky object, and set down my lamp. Once I had it lit the spacious foyer was instantly flooded with the dim light.

My eyes darted around quickly as I tried to take in all that surrounded me. I could see that the lamp was actually resting on a sidebar. The sidebar was empty besides a chunky layer of dust and thick cobwebs. Unlike the Capius’ estate, the walls were bare of any paintings or photographs. The mahogany molding gave the cream colored walls the appearance of an empty picture frame.

The tap of the sole of my shoes echoed on the marble floor and throughout the house as I walked down the foyer. I went through the first archway on my left. I was in what I guessed to be the parlor. The huge room was void of any furniture except for the long and darkly hued drapes that hung against the five floortoceiling windows. Luckily the drapes were drawn shut, or my lamp would be easy to detect tonight by anyone passing by the house or anyone looking out of the huge windows of the Bergnum mansion, across the way.

I tiptoed throughout the first floor, through the dining room where a chandelier hung covered in a fur made out of dust and cobwebs, the study where there were still shelves up against the walls, the enormous sunroom where shadows from beyond the windows scared me right out of the room, and then into several small rooms that I had no idea how they had been used. I stopped once I reached the kitchen. Every room was the same; vacant and extremely dusty. I fought the urge to sneeze several times, and lost the battle as I exited the kitchen.

Whatever I had hoped to find wasn’t going to be found on the first floor. Nothing here triggered my memory, and I was puzzled by that fact. Here I was standing in the house that I grew up in, the place that I had once called home, and not a blur of a memory came to me. Upon coming here, I had expected a flood of flashbacks to hit me once I entered the house.

“Why couldn't I remember a damn thing?” I said, and listened to my voice echo.

Maybe I’d have better luck on the second floor. I tiptoed up the stairs, carrying the lamp, and tried not to let my shoes tap against the steps of the winding marble staircase. I didn’t want to make any noise even though I believed that I was alone in the house. Once I was on the second floor, I went into the bedrooms. They were huge and quite a few, so I wasn’t sure which one was mine. I gave each room a complete walk – through. I even checked out the closets. It was the same as the first floor; void of any furniture with a carpeting of thick dust as if the house hadn’t been lived in for the past ten years; not two.

The last room was decorated with a combination of mint and ivory striped wallpaper, which I immediately liked. Even the walls of the walkincloset had been wall papered in the same refreshing print. Stepping further into the spacious closet, I was distracted by a rickety floor board beneath my foot.

The floorboard was about a foot long and six inches wide. The slightly raised board wasn’t perfectly aligned with the others. After I tapped on it a few times, I saw that it was completely loose, and practically coming up from the floor. I bent down to push the panel back into place and lifted it.

“Ugh!” I screamed, as I fell backward, causing the loose floor board to shift onto the board that adjacent to it. Once I calmed myself down, which took some doing; I peered into the space where the floorboard had been placed. I realized that the hideously hairy spider, as black as freshly poured tar, had scurried somewhere into the foundation of the flooring beneath the floorboards. I was thankful that the creepy thing was gone. Ugh. I didn’t really care for the whole ‘It’s more afraid of you than you are of it’ theory.

Suddenly, my eye caught a glimpse of something else in the open space between the floorboards boards. Something was tucked underneath the floorboard which was parallel to the loose one. I siked myself up, and lowered my hand slowly and carefully into the open space, hoping that the nasty spider was long gone and weaving a web elsewhere. Whatever was wedged under the board felt like a box or a block or something. I tugged and slid the object toward the opening, and then wiped the icky dust off of my hands and onto the skirt of my dress. It turned out to be a stack of chocolate brown, leather bound books. There were four in total.

The stack was tied with an ivory silk ribbon the way you would tie up a gift. I untied and removed the delicate ribbon. Before I opened one of the books, I listened to hear if there were any sounds coming from anywhere around the house. Other than my rapid breathing, which was probably due to the excitement of finally finding something in this huge house, there wasn't another sound. I wiped the dust off the books with the hem of my ruffled skirt. The leather was worn and supple. I moved the lamp closer and saw that the pages were edged in gold. I opened one of the books. Although the first page was blank, I realized that it was a journal. When I turned to the second page, I was stunned by the penmanship. It was in my handwriting.

I flipped through each of the books from cover to cover. The entries were all written in my hand. When I looked at the back covers, I found my very own signature. It was flawless; an exact match. The diaries were mine. Obviously this must have been my room. I guess it made perfect sense that I loved the wallpaper.

I had to take the diaries with me, but didn’t want to have to explain the diaries, or worse, give them up. So I gathered the journals, and wrapped the stack in the skirt of my petticoat, tying the ribbon around them as if it was a sack. The makeshift sack hung against the outer side of my thigh. No one would ever detect that I had a stack of books under my skirt if I got busted leaving my house, or entering the Capius’ mansion. I put the loose floor board back in its place. I could see how someone could miss that floor board. You would have to step deep into the closet and step onto the board to know that it was loose. It appeared perfectly positioned between the four other boards surrounding it.

I quietly headed back down the stairs, this time with a bit of urgency. My mind was preoccupied with those little leather bound journals. I knew that they would help jumpstart my memory, and I was dying to know what had been written in them. Maybe some or all of my questions will be answered at last. Maybe it was a real mirror of who I really was and am. Neither Bethany nor Evan could possibly know my deepest thoughts.

As I made my way down the long staircase, I was suddenly jolted by a thunderous rumble. The noise caused the house to momentarily vibrate. I paused at the bottom of the stairs. Then I heard a horse’s neigh. My heart began to race. Someone was in front of the house. Why would someone come here at this time of the night? Why would someone come to an empty house? I didn't know what to do. Don’t panic, I told myself over and over. I couldn’t let anyone catch me here, although it was my house. I had been ordered not to leave the Capius’ estate. I was told over and over how I would be in danger if I left the mansion, alone. Now they’d be proven right.

I thought to hide, but where?

I heard the doorknob turn from left to right then back again, but the door didn’t open. I was certain that I hadn't locked it from the inside. I turned out the flame in my lamp, and ran into the parlor. I couldn’t hide behind any furniture because there wasn’t any. Why the hell had I chosen to hide in here? Obviously, because the parlor was the closest room. If I had tried to make it to the rear of the house, the person on the other side of the door would definitely be in the foyer by then, and would have surely heard me or worse, seen me scurrying through the house.

I leaned against the far left wall where I wouldn't be seen from the archway. I prayed that the visitor would bypass the parlor all together and head towards the back of the mansion, into one of the other numerous rooms, or even better, head upstairs. That way I could flee out the front door, and escape the danger I had been warned about all along. Damn it, I could kick myself right about now. I had to wonder if the risk of coming here was worth the chance of getting captured or, I dread to even think it, killed…again. Finding the journals had yet to prove their worth. I wished like hell that I would live through this night to find out if they were.

I heard the doorknob click open. A long and slim shadow of an overcoat blowing in the dry breeze was cast onto the floor of the foyer by the cascading light of the moon. I nervously held onto my medallion and involuntarily pressed my body firmly against the wall. Suddenly, the wall melted away and I fell through it. I landed hard on my back, on the cold and rough dirt floor. It took all of my strength not to shriek in pain. Amazingly, I still had a firm grip on the oil lamp. I set it down on the ground next to me, and sat up. Where ever I was, was pitch black, and had a faint smell of burnt coal. My vision was having a hard time adjusting to the darkness. I reached into my pocket for another match.