The Ghosts of Ravencrest (The Ravencrest Saga Book 1) (12 page)

“Who’s there?” Belinda nearly choked on fear. She stepped into the dim hallway and with trepidation, followed the smacking sounds, straining to tell which direction they came from.

On silent feet, she crept back down the passage. The air felt heavy, colder than just moments before; she was surprised to see no frosty plumes as she exhaled.
 

A noise came from behind her; a whispery fluttery sound, like a swarm of scuttling insects. At first, it sounded far off, then the sound rushed her, coming up fast from behind, louder and louder, until she felt something cold caress the back of her neck. She gasped, whirled, and braced herself.

Nothing was there. The whispering stopped, as did the smacking sounds and the cries. Her ears were filled with the pulse of her own pumping blood. Trembling, she stared down the long hallway.
I’m making an appointment with Dr. Akin. This isn’t normal.
The thought comforted her, despite what it implied:
I’m losing my mind.
Deciding to head back to the chapel room, she turned. And stopped.
 

A small high sound escaped her. Her blood turned to ice. Time ceased.
 

Three women -
Nuns!
- stood before her in a V formation, the central one close enough to touch.
 

Belinda felt the scream die in her throat.

The nearest nun tipped her head and blinked solid black eyes at her - there were no whites at all, just endless glossy black. It was a garish contrast to the gray skin of her face, and the blue tint of her thin lips. The other two nuns flanked her, their faces just as gray, their eyes just as black.
 

In unison they smiled, their lips peeling back to reveal blackened, impossibly pointed teeth set into raw, bleeding gums. The first nun raised a clawed hand, pointed a gnarled finger at Belinda. “For you.” The whisper brought with it the stench of rot, of dead things, of time. “For you,” echoed the other nuns.
 

The leader held a persimmon out to Belinda. “Eat.” The word was a gust of rancid wind and Belinda’s abdominal muscles tensed as her stomach threatened to expel its contents. “Eat,” echoed the other two sisters.

Belinda took a step back. Then another. The three nuns, as if tethered to her by an invisible string, moved with her. But they didn’t walk, they floated. “No,” said Belinda. “No. Please, no.”

The nun’s smile faltered, and as if sharing the same mind, the other two mirrored her expression. The persimmon rested in the clawed hand hovering before Belinda’s face. Then, like strobe lights, the sconces flickered. She wanted to run but the rapid flashes disoriented her. The closest nun began to change and Belinda gasped. With each new burst of light, she saw her own face superimposed over the nun’s.

She stared in horror at this terrible flickering mirror-image, backing away, as the nun - now her doppelganger - moved toward her, proffering the persimmon. “Eat.” The other two nuns repeated the word. “Eat, eat, eat.” The three of them chanted, their commands overlapping.
 

Belinda felt her sanity slipping away. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, and she stepped backward. The lights pulsated faster now; the nuns moved closer with jerky lunatic movements in the bursts of light. “Eat, eat, eat.”
 

Unable to peel her gaze off her false twin each time her own face flashed over the nun’s features, Belinda screamed. Black empty eyes. Gray skin. Grisly bleeding mouth. But still recognizable. And closing in.

Belinda squeezed her eyes shut. “Nooo!” Her voice shrilled down the corridor, bouncing off the walls, echoing back at her.
 

And then it was over.
 

Belinda opened her eyes.
Not quite over
. The lights were on. The hall was silent.

But the three nuns stared at her, doleful expressions on their faces. As one, the trio turned, gliding down the hall, away from Belinda.
 

She watched their backs with unbelieving eyes. As they floated into darkness, the central nun left a thick trail of blood behind her. The coppery scent of it invaded the hallway and this fresh horror renewed Belinda’s terror. Her skin was covered in gooseflesh and cold sweat as she ran down another lit hall. There couldn’t be many more turns before she reached the cabbage-rose corridor that led out of the east wing. She came to another passage and took the corner fast, grappling to keep her balance, her heart pummeling against her ribs, her feet pounding on the hard floor.
 

And then the lights went out. She was blind, Gretel without breadcrumbs. Somewhere behind her she heard distant, cackling laughter.

Keep your hand on the wall and go forward. That’s how you get out of a maze.
She wasn’t sure it would work, but she had to try. She began walking, her fingers feathering across the wall, terror mounting each time she came to a doorway.
What if it’s open now? What if … God, stop thinking like that!

The air went frigid and she heard the cackles again, closer. She started to run, but tripped on the carpet and fell to her knees, then scrambled up as fast as she could. Her sense of direction was gone, but her fingers tingled with memory and she found the wall and continued on.
 

She saw her breath puff through the icy air.
They’re coming! They’re coming! I’ve got to get out of here!
Her hand hit another doorway and found no door. She ran past it, refusing to think about it, not caring if she ended up crawling as long as she got out.

Follow me …

The new voice stopped her. It wasn’t the nuns; it was the voice of a young child. “Who’s here?” she whispered. “Who’s here?”

Follow me …
 

Further down the hall she saw a blur of red. She halted and stared. Before her eyes the vision transformed into the figure of a little girl in a long red dress that sparkled and shone like velvet kissed with snowflakes. The girl was no more than five, with blond ringlets, pink cheeks, rosebud lips and eyes of blue steel. She beckoned Belinda forward.

Follow me … Hurry!

“Who-?” Belinda stopped, shivering with cold, and heard the cackles approaching from behind. She almost looked back but the little girl’s voice saved her.
 

Hurry! Hurry!

The child turned and fled up the hall. Belinda gave chase, following her through the darkness. They turned twice more and Belinda saw light spilling across the threshold. She was almost free.

The little girl’s voice called out.
Run! Run!
 

Belinda raced toward the heavy carved door, but it slammed shut with booming finality, inches from her face.
 

She clutched the doorknob, yanking it, pulling with all her strength. It wouldn’t budge. She screamed at it to open, pounding it with her fists.

The little girl was gone. Belinda’s screams went on in the darkness.
 

BOOK 4:
 
CHRISTMAS SPIRITS

Ravencrest: Present Day

“Hey, careful!” Walter Hardwicke said as Thad slammed out of the back of the limo.

“Sorry,” Thad called. He was already halfway to the kitchen door, his book bag on his back and a drawing clutched to his chest. Behind him, he heard the door slam again; his sister, Sour Cynthy, was slouching along behind him.
Oh, well.

Nearing the kitchen, he saw Riley Doring on a ladder fixing one of the old-fashioned pole lanterns that lit most of the walks at Ravencrest. Thad stopped at the foot of the ladder and looked up. “What’cha doing?”

“Changing a light bulb,” Riley said. “What are you doing?”

“I just got home from school. Friday’s the last day!”

“That’s nice.” Riley glanced down. “What have you got there?”

Thad grinned and held out his drawing. “I made this today. I want to show Belinda!”

“Very nice tree,” Riley said. “Christmas in June?”

“Yeah! Do you know where she is?” he asked as Cynthia halted beside him.

“That I don’t. Better ask inside.”

“She’s gonna laugh at you, Thaddy-
ass
!”

“Will not. I’m gonna tell Dad you said a dirty word!”

“What, your name is a dirty word, Thaddy-ass?”

Riley grinned at Thad. “I’d punch her if I were you.”

“I’m gonna tell on you, Riley Doring!” shrieked the sour one.

Riley only laughed and returned to his task.

Cynthia huffed and walked into the house, slamming the door behind her. Thad waited a moment before letting himself into the big bright kitchen. He was happy to see his sister wasn’t still there as he approached the tall dark-haired man in white who stirred something in a large pot on the stove. “Hi, Mr. Stavros,” said Thad.

The chef looked down at him. His green eyes twinkled when he smiled. The maids always called him things like
hot
, and
yummy
and
the Greek God.
Thad assumed they were referring to his cooking which was really good. “Hello, Thad,” he said. “Are you here for your dinner preview?” They did this almost every day after school, and no one ever knew about it. It was like being in a secret club and Thad looked forward to it. He stood on tippy-toes. “What is it?”

“This is your first course. Onion soup.”  Mr. Stavros held out a ladle. “It’s hot.”

Thad blew on it and sipped. “Yum! Can I have-”

“Not until dinner.” The cook put the ladle in the sink. “We don’t want to ruin your appetite.”

“But it’s just soup.”

The cook shook his head. “No can do.”

Thad sighed. “Fine. Then I’m not going to show you my Christmas tree.”

“Your Christmas tree?” Stavros cocked a brow in that way that made him look like a bad guy on TV.
 

Thad held the paper close to his chest and nodded. “Yep.”
 

“Come on now, don’t be like that. I want to see it.”

Thad shook his head.

“What if I give you one more taste of soup?”

Thad considered; it was really good soup. “Well,” he said, drawing out the word. “I guess.”

Mr. Stavros brandished a clean spoon and gave him another taste, then Thad held his picture up.

“It’s very nice,” said the chef. “Your dad’s going to love it.”

Thad nodded. “I want to show it to Belinda first. Do you know where she is?”

Niko Stavros tipped his head. “Who’s Belinda?”

“Oh,” said Thad. “She’s our new governess. She just started.”

“Ah. Another one already, huh?”

Thad nodded. “Yeah. And she’s real pretty, too.”

“Is she?” The cook smiled.

Thad wondered if Belinda would like Mr. Stavros as much as the maids and other ladies at Ravencrest did.

“I’m going to go find her,” said Thad. “Thanks for letting me taste the soup!”
 

Mr. Stavros winked and turned back to the stove.
 

Thad started down the long hall and just about jumped out of his skin when the new maid, Phoebe, came out of the big linen closet halfway down the corridor. “Thad, you scared me!” she exclaimed.

“Me, too!” Thad liked Phoebe. She was nice. “Have you seen Belinda?”

“No, not today. I’d try upstairs.”

“Thanks.” He started walking.

“Thad?” called Phoebe.

He turned. The maid approached and leaned down. “Mrs. Heller was out there just a minute ago.”

“Thanks!” He proceeded with caution; that old witch was the last person he wanted to run into!  

He could see the entry hall, sunny and bright, beyond the dark arch, but no sign of Mrs. Heller. Still, he crept forward, keeping to the shadowed edges of the corridor. When he reached the end, he hunkered down behind a big blue and white vase and peered into vast room. It was empty, except for his sister, who was posing in front of a floor-length mirror near the entry doors, putting her hands on her hips and making fish lip faces. Torn between teasing her and sneaking past, he opted for the latter.
 

 Clutching his drawing, he tiptoed along the edges of the great hall, pretending he was a spy delivering an important painting to King Arthur, and his sister was a bad guy who wanted to take the painting to her evil boss, Mrs. Heller. He glanced back. She was still stuck on the mirror, running her fingers through her hair and jutting her chest out.
 

He made it to the back of the hall and took the stairs as fast as he could. On the landing, he looked down and saw Cynthy finally starting toward the staircase. She hadn’t seen him and didn’t see him now. His mission had been successful.

Thad thought he heard music coming from his father’s office as he scurried past on his way to Belinda’s room, but his dad probably just forgot to turn off his stereo; he was rarely back from Manning Memoriam this early and the music was so soft he wasn’t even sure he had heard it.
 

Once inside the family quarters, he stopped at his room to shuck his backpack then continued on, drawing in hand, to Belinda’s door. He knocked, but there wasn’t any reply. “Belinda? It’s me, Thad. Are you in there?”
 

She didn’t answer.
Maybe I should check and make sure the bad guys haven’t kidnapped her.
He put his hand on the knob and started to turn it.

“What are you doing, Thaddeus?”

At the sound of Mrs. Heller’s voice, Thad turned and tried to run, but she caught him in a shoulder pinch. “No running, Thaddeus!”

“Ouch! Let me go!”

“You know the rules, young man.” Mrs. Heller jerked him.

“
You’re
breaking the rules, not me!”

Mrs. Heller’s grip tightened. Pain shot down Thad’s arm. “Excuse me, young man? What did you say to me?” She shook him and Thad tried to squirm out of her painful clutch.

“Ouch! You’re not even supposed to be here! This is
our
house!” It was true. This part of the house was for the family only.

Her grip softened but her voice was hard. “I have my reasons, and they’re none of your business.”

Thad moved away from her. He hated looking at her but he felt like he had to. Her eyes were like pools of thick tar. Thad raised his chin. “I’m telling Daddy.”