Chapter 25
25
Samantha
The moment I got out of my own head was the moment Ramone devastated me. His expert touch annihilated my resistance and I collapsed, shattering and convulsing around his mouth and his hand. His grasp was the only thread keeping me tethered—to him. Afterward, he carefully pulled me from the chair and placed me on his lap as he sat on the stairs, deep in thought. I sank into him, letting him hold me and kiss me, his beautiful hands rubbing and caressing me in comfort while my heart rate returned to normal.
“Told you I’d make you scream,” he said.
I felt myself blush as I let out a small laugh. He’d visited me at night before, in the bedroom of my home and touched me, but while that hadn’t felt real, this did. He’d seemed a little restrained here, not letting himself go as he had with me times prior. I wanted to ask him about it, but the timing felt off, and I was still confused.
Ramone guided me off his lap and stood up, brushing loose debris from his pants. The sunlight streaming through a hole in the wall remained unchanged, highlighting the same dust particles in a glowing beam. The atmosphere had an eternal quality, as if we were freeze-framed and suspended in time.
“What time is it?” I broke the silence, suddenly cognizant that I may have missed untold appointments and a shift at work. People could’ve been looking for me.
He motioned with his hand and the door set into the wall slowly opened with a groan. It took longer, this time, than when he’d opened the last door without physical touch. “There’s no time here, not truly, not the way it's understood where you’re from.”
“Wait. What do you mean?” I was about to ask how he was able to open doors that way but his statement about time took precedence.
Ramone kicked a piece of wood out of the way with his boot, beckoning me with his fingers. “Time works differently here. Faster, slower. It varies. There was more consistency at one time, with the passage being slower and the setting and rising of the sun at what you would consider normal hours. Something happened and that changed.”
“You don’t know what happened?” I wanted to believe him but was wrestling with my altered reality.
“I’m not from here. I’ve spent significant time here, but it's not my home. I wasn’t present during the alteration.”
We entered a dimly lit hallway, candles springing to life when we stepped inside. The air was damp, and an earthy scent permeated our surroundings. The sound of dripping water somewhere in the distance punctuated the silence. I paused, catching his forearm. “Where are you from?”
“Somewhere beneath you.” Images flashed through my mind, bringing a flush to my skin. His breathy response instigating images of myself seated on top of him, naked and pleasuring myself. Blinking, I pushed the thoughts away; it wasn’t what he meant.
He couldn’t have meant socially; he seemed as if he had more money than God. “You’re not beneath me. Are you from Boston?”
Ramone glanced at me before his gaze snagged on something behind me. My eyes followed his to a table set in an alcove with various antique items spread across the surface, catching my attention. The items would’ve fit in perfectly in my shop, with the silver candlestick holders, small jars, and other curiosities. The focal point of the table was a large crystal ball perched on a brass or gold base with four intricately curved legs.
It was exquisite. Unlike similar items in The Crow’s Nest, this was opaque glass, with a moving, twirling iridescence visible inside the frosty ball, swirling around inside the interior. The mass twisted and curled, becoming visible when it touched the crystal before disappearing again somewhere in the depths.
Ramone muttered off to my side, reaching for something, and I paid no mind. I was transfixed, mesmerized by the glittering display before me, never having seen anything like it. I’d heard of those who’d claimed to receive visions by gazing into a quartz sphere, but I’d never seen or heard of activity truly inside one before. I stretched out a finger, gently placing it on the smooth surface.
The iridescence responded, and I held my breath, fearful of disturbing the connection. Pictures filled my mind, of a young, thin girl. Immediately, I remembered her as the woman who’d visited me once, while I was imprisoned in the cottage. Kiara. I knew she was gone, that information transferred to me by whatever force existed inside the glass dome. More images poured into me, showing a desolate landscape tinged in orange and red, blood flowing through sand, bones and bodies under a crimson sun. Dark emotions replaced the sense of wonder—anger, vengeance, loss, right before I saw myself lying in dirt, blood on my hands, dark clouds covering the sun.
Groaning, I dropped my hand to my side and braced myself on the edge of the table. Ramone held a bottle in one hand and latched onto me with his other. “What just happened?” he demanded.
I shrank back a little, but he didn’t let go. “Answer me,” he hissed, yanking me closer.
My hands flung out, flattening against his chest. His eyes turned dark as he peered down at me, his gaze piercing my own. “I don’t know,” I croaked out. “I don’t know what happened.”
Dropping my hands, I noticed the black glass bottle he gripped by the neck, his knuckles white, stretching the ink along his skin. The container was entwined with tarnished sliver filigree, delicate swirls winding up the bottle in a graceful taper. He flipped it, catching it around the wide body and held it by his side. “You will tell me what you saw,” Ramone warned, not letting the subject drop.
“I will once you tell me how you open doors without touching them,” I challenged him. He’d been responsible for the roses, the necklace, and who knew what else, while not showing up on my security cameras due to whatever trickery he’d engaged in. I’d realized this when he opened the castle’s front door, although I hadn’t wanted to think much on it, hadn’t wanted to admit there was more to all of this.
He wasn’t who he claimed to be—I knew that now without a doubt. And I’d seen him in the crystal ball with Kiara. The images of destruction were so brutal I wasn’t certain I’d ever be able to repeat them out loud.
He stepped even closer, backing me against the damp wall, leaving no space between us. “The same way you used the scrying glass a minute ago,” he answered.
“All I did was touch it.”
Ramone tilted his head. “All I did was tell the door to open.”
“Why are you acting this way? I don’t understand what the problem is.”
“You’re about to become a very wanted woman. You never should’ve touched that.”
How was I supposed to know? “You didn’t tell me; you know what kind of store I run. It's natural for me to be attracted to unique items. And you didn’t answer my question.”
Ramone’s head jerked up. “We have to go, we’re not alone.”
I took his offered hand, and we followed a long hallway, the wall sconces lighting as we approached them. It wasn’t clear whether Ramone was lighting them, or if they were motion-activated. I leaned toward the former as I hadn’t seen any modern technology in the crumbling, decaying castle.
Ramone’s boot knocked against stone when we stopped at a short set of steps. My hand had begun to sweat in his, but he wouldn’t let go, keeping a stranglehold on my palm. He stepped onto the lowest stair and sealed my mouth with his fingers as he looked over my head.
The dripping sound I had heard earlier still resounded, seeming unnaturally loud in the silence. I focused, trying to pick up on any other disturbance when I heard a barely audible noise. Ramone moved his hand slightly, pressing a long finger against my lips indicating he wanted me to stay quiet. He leaned down, pulled me onto the step, and switched our places, pressing his lips to mine in the process.
We waited. There was a door at my back, and I didn’t understand why we didn’t go through it. Nor did I understand why he didn’t just do whatever he’d done to take us to this world to get us out, or why I couldn’t just wake up. I had too many questions that I wanted answers to and if the noise we’d heard was any indication, we now had company, as he’d said.
The knife Ramone held earlier was back in his hand, reflecting the dim, yellowish light. It was probably only a minute or two before a shadow began moving across the brick-lain floor, but it felt like so much longer.
The shadow grew in length and the atmosphere changed, a weight pressing down on my chest as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the hallway. I reached out my hand to grasp Ramone’s shoulder, my fingers sliding off his shirt as he took a step forward.
Not daring to move, I held my breath as the silhouette came into view, revealing a man. The hooded figure stopped several feet in front of us, arms at his sides before he used both hands to lower his head covering. The man was paler than Ramone but built much the same, tall and fit. His dark brown hair was held back with a band and had a few small braids scattered throughout the length. He looked untamed, and wild, with leather pants covering his legs, the style of his hair, and a cloak over his shoulders.
Ramone stayed quiet while the man stood there staring at us. His back was to me, but I could sense his unease over our new company, tension evident in his stance.
Finally, the stranger spoke. “Ramone. Imagine finding you here?”
“Ammar,” Ramone said carefully. “I could say the same.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” The man glanced at me before returning his gaze to the man standing between us.
“Nor you.” Ramone’s body appeared to relax a small bit. “Why are you here?”
Ammar wet his lips, his gaze darting between Ramone and me. “Investigating. Seems something happened. Lucian’s dead, Victor is missing, nearly everyone is gone.” He paused. “And it seems as if you are responsible for the majority of these unfortunate events.”
I could feel the anger radiating from Ramone and stretched out my hand. He moved forward before I had the chance to touch him, hoping to somehow calm him. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about cursed wine, would you?” Ramone asked.
Ammar appeared genuinely surprised. I had no idea what they were talking about and listened intently. “What wine?” the man asked.
Ramone shook his head. “Why are you here?” Ammar’s eyes drifted up to mine, again. “Look at her one more time and I will slit your throat. She’s off limits,” Ramone warned.
Ammar glanced down at the blade in Ramone’s grip. “I don’t want your woman, but I do know she looked into the glass,” he said, referring to what must’ve been the crystal ball that drew me in when we’d arrived.
“Answer me,” Ramone spat. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
The man laughed. “It’d take more than that to truly kill me.”
“I watched you die.”
“There’s ways around that.” He smirked. “I should let you know, if I could find you here, so can others.”
Ramone’s head tilted. “If everyone’s dead, what is there to worry about?”
“Dead, missing, vanished. Who knows? Is that the cursed wine you mentioned?” Ammar pointed at the bottle.
“Care to try some?” He held the bottle out and the other man didn’t move.
Ammar’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have any knowledge in regard to a curse on wine. You should ask Julian about that.”
Their conversation was worrisome, making me eager to get out of this place and just go home. If this was a dream, I wanted to wake up. “Ramone,” I said quietly, wanting to get his attention. He ignored me and continued speaking with the newcomer.
“Where have you been?” he asked Ammar.
The man hadn’t moved a muscle since he stopped in front of us while Ramone had seemed like a coiled snake, ready to strike if the opportunity presented itself. He was stiff but guarded in his small movements, slowly approaching Ammar. He took another small step closer to the man, leaving me feeling more exposed than I would’ve liked. I had no idea what to do if this confrontation ended poorly, or if others came for us.
“Don’t concern yourself with that. You should be more worried about how you’re destroying everything and with what happens next.” Ammar leaned against the stone wall and crossed one leg against the other, folding his arms together.
I stepped off the stairs and hurried behind Ramone, placing my hand on his arm. He twitched as if he’d forgotten I was there but didn’t look at me.
“We’re leaving,” he announced. He reached back, grabbing for me and snagging my arm roughly.
Ammar muttered, “Nice clothes.”
Ramone ignored the intended insult as a smirk crossed the man’s face and he pulled me past him, leading us out the same way we’d entered. It was a struggle to keep up with his long strides and I almost stumbled when I cast a look over my shoulder. Ammar stared at us, his eyes glowing a golden shade as we hurried away.
Pulling my arm back when we arrived near the table with the crystal ball I asked, “How did that man know I touched this?”
He took a deep breath. “It only works if someone has magic. This building is encased with magic. You touching it was equivalent to a motion sensor alarm.”
“I don’t have magic.”
“You wouldn’t have the shop you do if that was true; or be here right now.” Ramone adjusted his grip on the bottle, glancing down at it.
My shoe scraped against the stone beneath it. “Who would come after us?” I expected Ramone would keep me safe, but what if too many pursued us?
He lifted his gaze. “Don’t worry about it. I suspect he’s bluffing.”
“You just said I set off some type of alarm.”
“Yes, but Ammar is the only one who came. Lucian and Victor, who would celebrate my demise, are gone.”
My eyes flicked toward the hall. The other man didn’t seem to be following us and everything was quiet and still. “I thought this would be a bit different than it turned out to be,” I said, meaning our excursion to the castle. I’d pictured exploring as if it were a national park, not whatever was going on, now.
“Don’t touch that again,” he warned.
Stopping, I stared at the ball of glass. The impulse to smooth a finger along its surface was overwhelming. I wanted nothing more than to gaze into its depths. “Why not?”
Ramone moved behind me, wrapping his arms around mine. “It's not a good idea right now.”
“What will happen?” Even though what I’d seen was terrifying, I was still curious in case I viewed something different the next time I touched it.
“I don’t know, for sure. No one at all should’ve showed up.” He let go of me after directing me toward the door we’d exited through and then looked at the bottle he held, turning it under the meager light.
While I waited for him to lead us back to the room with the platform, he kept glancing between the crystal ball and the filigree-covered bottle he held. “I need you to do something for me,” Ramone said. “I need you to carry this. Do not open it, just hold it.” He held the bottle toward me and I accepted it.
“What are you doing?” I couldn’t decide if he was stealing it or not, remaining in a state of confusion over this alternate world. Was it stealing if this place was only real for some people? How could things come from a dream world? Could someone from here come looking for the ball? If everyone was dead or disappeared, as that man Ammar had said, perhaps it didn’t matter what happened to the item.