Moonless (6 page)

18

Pain

Night shadows played fiendishly about the room. Alexia twirled to the bed, the bureau, the open panel, the waving drapes . . .

The mirror in the corner.

His hands clasped at his back as he stood before the glass, unnerving stillness in his poise. His hair hung, softly moving in the reflective surface, straight nose turned to the window, pensive frown pulling at his mouth and stretching his scar. The cool luster of his skin was a beacon, like a lighthouse over a black sea.

His gaze turned on her.

She gasped.

Even in the absence of light, his eyes revealed a night sky, endless and filled with mysteries she ached to explore. A hint of oak and nectar rolled across the waves between them, a sweetness she yearned to consume.

She inhaled. “It is you!”

“Alexia?” Her name drifted in over her shoulder.

She spun. Father’s footfalls echoed in the hall. Lamplight crept through the open door. If Father caught the mysterious trespasser, he was doomed—more than doomed! She twisted and sucked in a breath.

He was gone.

Father ducked into the room. “What are you doing, child?”

“I . . . I . . .”

“You have company to entertain.” He caught her arm and guided her quickly away. “People are asking where you ran off to.”

She glanced back into the room, empty now. Oh how she longed for it not to be!

She spent the rest of the night in a daze, watching for
him
to reappear in the crowd. Instead, she endured until the evening mercifully ended.

Why had he come? What did he want with her? How had he snuck into her chamber? Would he return?

In bed, Alexia tossed and roused all night, positive she’d wake and find the blue-eyed mystery there. She stepped out to the balcony, left her windows uncovered, and watched for movement in the forest.

Eventually she gave up and drifted off.

Walking easily through the trees. Sunset. Darkness. Water—her face in the ripples. Running. White light! Breathlessness. Pressure on her back. A crystal droplet hits the ground, exploding to reveal a flower-like gem. Pressure. He reaches for her . . .

She roused in a chair, facing the open balcony. Morning light streamed through the curtains.

He would come if she went to the woods. He would come!

She bided her time until early afternoon when Father was occupied shooting targets with his friends before hurrying toward the trees. The burns remained, not as vivid—ash washed away. Broken branches dangled awkwardly from wide oaks, marking the path of a hasty retreat.

She took a deep breath. Go or stay? Find him, or remain and wonder?

Longing overwhelmed the sane voice at the back of her head. Cautiously, she darted forward over moss-blanketed stones, patches of light illuminating the leafed fingers of grayed bark far above her head.

A rifle fired.

She flinched but kept walking. Father and she were on bad terms. Not only had she sufficiently deterred every potential offer last night, but she’d managed to hide away until most of their guests departed today. Abby was right. At least fifteen men had asked her for her hand
in marriage, another three offered theirs, and two even suggested running off together!

The trees thickened. Alexia progressed steadily on, never thinking to halt or terminate her hunt, fueled by the discomfort of last night’s memories. The sky disappeared behind a leafy awning as the afternoon waned. Stray beams of light broke about her, deepening in hue. Her stomach rumbled. How long had she been moving? An hour? Two? Three?

Sunset.

She stopped. This felt familiar, too familiar.

She shook it off. Father had certainly gone mad with worry by now and planned to quarantine her to the house with a constant nanny-watch. She would not find her blue-eyed enigma.

Turning back, she stepped into a puddle. Her reflection rippled.

Last night came back in a rush, hazy images of half-perception, rushing glades, panting as she moved in fear.

Something thrashed in the clearing and pulled her head up. A deer perhaps?

“Hello?” she called shakily.

Nothing.

The last streak of sunlight disappeared. Gnarled branches reached toward her. Odd shadows played over the swaying leaves, shifting in a demonic chorus. She inhaled a hint of fleshy decay and grimaced. The breeze ceased. Hairs on the back of her neck stood up, a chill tickling down her spine like the lurid touch of a devil spawn.

Alexia shook the impression away and focused. Her imagination was getting the best of her, personifying her deepest fears.

Still . . .

“Is someone there?” she breathed, little more than a whisper.

Wheezing gurgles met her ears. She spun.

Nothing.

What kind of creature made noise like that? Had she imagined it as well?

She swallowed. The swift thump of her heart echoed into her ears. “Hello?”

A snigger rippled in a circle about her. She twisted to follow it, catching snatches of something—something moving, fast.

A growl.

She dashed headlong the way she’d come.

Movement erupted behind her.

Her skirts caught on the underbrush. They snagged and tore, twigs scratching her legs. She ran harder, one arm before her face to fend off the branches. They raked across her sleeve. She gasped as they cut into her flesh.

Alexia’s feet thudded the ground in rhythm, echoed by another distant set—faster ones.

Chest heaving, she sucked in air, but could not draw enough. Invisible fingers squeezed at her airways. Her lungs pulsed like she was being dragged under a great watery swell. The whoosh of leaves turned her head as an upright silhouette crashed through her periphery. Blackness blinked at the corners of her vision. Her muscles burned.

She would faint before she could outrun her pursuer!

She gulped in air. Perspiration chilled her skin. The rasp of her own breathing filled her ears.

“Help!” she screeched. Father would find her. He’d track her. “Father! Anyone!” But she’d gone miles. Even if he’d begun looking, she’d wandered too far.

A bough slapped her across the face. White light flashed. She blinked it away, uncertain whether her legs were still under her.

She couldn’t outrun this thing. No one would hear her, but she screamed anyway. “Help me!” It was an empty plea.

Weight pummeled into her back. She flew forward as the ground rushed up. Her head smacked a rock and the wind jarred painfully from her lungs. A cry tore from her throat as warm liquid slid down her cheek.

Sight blinked out and back. Pounding echoed through her ears, growing louder. Pressure crushed down through her spine, like a boulder digging into her back. Pain. Piercing, searing, tearing the flesh. A scream—hers?

Blackness.

She tried to lift her arms. They remained pressed into the spongy moss, but she wouldn’t give in!

“Please.” It sounded meager. She forced her eyes open as fire tore through her vertebrae, another shriek wrenching free. Tears wet her lashes.

Stop.

A headache tensed through her skull. The air around her stilled. It hung stagnant as she blinked and watched one crystalline drop fall tediously slowly to the ground. It flattened against the dirt and expanded into a beautiful ring of translucent fingers.

She tried to suck in a breath, but the air refused to move. The creature tearing at her back had frozen. Her brain burned. “Please.”

It was too much. She let go. The searing in her head dimmed and claws burrowed into her muscles.

Before she died, she wanted to see the sky—one last vision of the stars to light her spirit’s way. She turned her head.

A face. Handsome, luminescent. And fierce blue eyes . . .

All went black.

19

Frenzy

Alexia lay on her back, on something soft—a bed, cocooned in blankets. Warm fingers encased hers. She forced her eyes open.

Raven wisps curtained luminous peachy skin above her, her aunt’s lips pressed with concern. Sarah’s olive eyes widened, and she gasped. “Charles!”

“Alexia?” He landed at her side, candlelight flicking deep shadows beneath his eyes and across his cheeks. “Thank God!”

“What . . . ?” She blinked and focused on him.

Sarah’s eyes brimmed with tears. “We searched for you up and down, in and out—!”

“I went for a walk.” Alexia lifted a hand to her forehead. Her fingers trailed over smooth skin. But that didn’t make any sense. She had been injured in the woods after being chased down. Hadn’t she?

“A drink, Alexia?” Father retrieved a waiting glass from her bureau. She stared after him, recognizing the lace curtains and mounted mirror of her room.

Her aunt leaned in. “Charles found you in the woods an hour ago. He said they scared someone off.”

Her throat seized.

Father slipped the cup into her hand and propped up her head. “You may speak with her later, Sarah.”

Her near-sister glared. Father met Sarah’s fury with a clenched jaw. She rose begrudgingly and stomped away, slamming the door.

His focus returned to Alexia. “What happened?”

She shivered. It couldn’t have been—not what she remembered.

“Please, Alexia, tell me.” His warmth astonished her. Did he comprehend that what had passed seemed ultimately impossible?

“I went for a walk.” She swallowed.

“And?”

She bit down. She didn’t dare speak of the blue-eyed wonder—or menace—or about how certain she’d been of her death. How could she? She didn’t fully understand it herself.

Father sat quietly, brows low, gaze fixed on her quilt. His shirt and waistcoat were wrinkled, his hunting boots muddying her floor. Deep lines cut beneath his tired eyes. He shook himself. “Are you hurt? Hungry? Sleepy?”

“I am well, Father. You should rest.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but nodded instead. “I do not want you wandering alone out there. Not ever. Do you understand?”

She nodded, eager to comply. Satisfied, he secured her inside her room with a candle burning.

She climbed out of bed and paced back and forth. A plethora of questions burst upon her, and she couldn’t face them. She had no answers. The balcony exit reflected her frown, panes black around her gleaming countenance. She touched her smooth brow again and turned her arms over, but unbroken skin glistened back.

The attack felt real. What had he done to her—if she wasn’t losing her mind altogether? Forced her to sleep and imagine her own demise? Maybe he wasn’t
human
. Perhaps he was a wraith with an insatiable appetite for others’ suffering.

She crossed her arms and glared at the dark glass leading to the outside world.

But then, why hadn’t he hurt her when he’d appeared in her room?

The memory of him standing next to the mirror sapped the moisture from her mouth. Alexia hugged herself and willed the image to vanish. She closed her eyes, opening them quickly to be sure hers was the only presence.

Lightning flashed. She fell back against the vanity, knocking several items to the floor.

This was absurd. She’d survived! He must not want her dead. And yet she could not quiet the thundering of her heart.

She bent to recover the treasures which had fallen from her vanity, telling herself how foolishly she had behaved. That . . .
thing
, whatever ran her down couldn’t possibly exist, because
he
. . . he was too fantastic to be real!

Her fingers fell over a malformed card. They stilled.

He
did exist.

She couldn’t deny that, and so did Northbend, Wilhamshire. So what terror would surface next? More death predictions? Hungry red-eyed beings?

She leapt behind the vanity, shoving with all her might. The stubborn bureau groaned across the floor, scraping the wood’s finish, rattling in protest until it finally came to a halt.

There.
She stood back, pleased that it covered the majority of the balcony windows. She seized a blanket from the bed, threw it over the curtain rail and blotted out the storm. She sat, satisfied. Nothing and nobody would come through and seize her. Of that she was certain.

She hoped.

20

Unwelcomed

The hairs on the back of Charles’s neck prickled. He halted mid-step. The abandoned hall waited, dim in his candle’s glow. Darkness seemed to swell on the outskirts of light, shrinking the ring of safety.

He straightened to his full height, eyes wide. Every muscle twitched with awareness, tensed to strike. He turned, slowly.

A silhouette stood in the gloom, arms crossed.

Charles’s nostrils flared. “What happened to her?”

The visitor’s head bowed.

Charles’s pulse sped, his breathing shallow and quick. “Was it you? Did you—” Eyes pierced into him. Even from the murk, their power weighted his tongue like a brick. His knees wobbled. He held himself still, unwilling to back down.

“She is not safe here.” The words struck him like an axe. He stumbled backwards and hit the wall.

He lifted a finger toward the man, shaking. “You brought this upon her.”

No reply.

Fury burned in his veins. “Get out! You leave my family alone!”

The intruder stepped closer.

Charles clasped the candle in both hands like a rapier. He blinked and the trespasser was gone.