Chapter 2
PENELOPE
Raven Ridge Manor is not a house at all.
Light rain sprinkles down upon us, the English air a cool chill. The sky already dark despite it being so early in the evening, barely five o’clock on October thirty-first, but it’s pitch as though it’s close to midnight.
Billy takes my hand, aiding me out of the car, and I crane my head back, as he comes to stop beside me, lacing our fingers together, standing quietly at my side as I attempt to take it all in.
Raindrops dust my face as I blink at the heavily clouded sky, peering up at the monstrous home.
The gigantic, black brick building sits on a hill, towering over us like a fortress in the heavens.
The driveway I paid no attention to on the journey up is stone cobbles, uneven and hard beneath the thin soles of my ballet flats I changed into on the plane, reminding me of Italy, somewhere that, in this moment, feels so very far away.
We stand at the mouth of a bridge, wide enough for two double decker buses to cross over it at the same time, with heavy stone walls lining either side of it to stop you plunging into the water below.
A moat surrounds the house, and I can tell as I glance at it, even in the dark, there is a thick carpet of algae blooming across its deadly still surface.
There are spires and turrets on all sides of the building, masses of them reaching up towards the dark sky, disappearing into the clouds, light glowing from various windows and arches.
A cupola sits in the very centre of it all, the domed roof made up of colourful stained glass. A weathervane mounted on its top, a sharp looking spindle piercing the clouds.
“What do you think, Little Lamb?” Billy asks, his voice a quiet rasp, his bloodied fingers a vice.
It doesn’t take much for him to draw my attention, my gaze finding his as I shuffle my feet and turn to look up at him.
He reaches out towards me, his blue eyes holding me captive as his fingers comb through my long, dark hair, and he tucks it behind my ear.
His thumb on my cheekbone, he smooths it beneath my eye, the tip catching my lashes as he does.
“I’m going to make you happy now, Nellie,” he tells me softly when I don’t answer, his usual cocky smirk smoothing into something else, something seemingly more sincere. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you at my side wearing a smile.”
Pretty words.
Pretty hopes.
Pretty lies.
But my heart still hammers harder, my blood still pounds in my ears like a tidal wave crashing through me, and I fall into it once more.
The fantasy that is a big house, money, safety, love.
All of these things I’ve been deprived of for all of my life, apart from that one year I had with Billy.
I had safety then. Love. But other than that, I’ve been at the grabby hands of unmerciful men, thrown into children’s home after children’s home, running away from Social Services more times than I can count since I was big enough to walk.
It never did me any favours though.
Running.
I always ended up somewhere worse, with someone worse.
“Penelope?” Billy’s voice is like a cold echo drumming through my bones, dragging me back to the present. “You okay, Little Lamb?” he asks, pinching my chin, angling my head back so I can see only him.
He blocks out everything of the world around us; I hardly even feel the light misting of rain as I focus on his springy coils of dark hair. The perfect thickness of his brows, the brightness of his blue eyes, the slight part of his lips. Absently, I nod, my throat jumping with my swallow.
“Don’t lie to me,” he breathes, dipping his head down, our foreheads kissing just before he tilts his face, angling his mouth to slant over mine, taking my lips with his own. “I know you, Nellie.”
You think so?
My head cants of its own accord, my eyelids fluttering before I glance up through my lashes. I look at him and feel love. It’s not rational, it’s not logical, it’s barely even sane, but I feel it so thoroughly it could kill me as sure as a blade.
“I love you, Billy,” I whisper. “I am frightened, but not for the reasons you think.”
It’s a truth, bare and raw, but I have spent my life afraid of one thing or another. Being brought here, to this place, with this man, it is what I want, even though I don’t understand, quite yet, what it means.
“I will always protect you,” Billy speaks lowly, pressing his words to my lips. “I love you more than any soul has ever loved another.” His hands cup my head, cradling my skull, as he draws slightly back, peering down at me intently.
Don’t you know that this is the exact thing I’m so afraid of?
“You are mine, my Pair, we are Two,” he breathes, relief flooding out with every hushed word. “I have been waiting twelve long years for you, Nellie, and tonight, the last night of The Obsidian’s calendar year, I end it with you, you end it with me. Tonight,” he pauses, really looking at me now.
I am enraptured, hanging onto his every word like he is the very god I have always believed him to be.
“We are born anew.”
Silently, Billy takes my hand once more, leading me over the cobbled bridge, under a huge archway, a spiked gate pulled up to allow entrance, and then we’re out in a courtyard.
He pauses to let me look my fill, hundreds of windows surround us, lots of them lit, lots of them not.
Before he tugs me gently towards a huge old looking door, black handles and hinges on the dark wood, the iron fittings rattling when he tugs it open.
“This leads to our quarters.”
Billy holds open the door. Flicking a switch on the wall and illuminating the dark space as we enter, the door closing hard behind us, a latch going into place with a clatter.
“Come.”
The air is musty, as though no one has used this passageway for quite some time. I’m still as Billy skirts around me, our hands still joined, and he pulls me down the long, narrow, windowless hallway before leading me up a winding, wooden staircase, creaking with every step.
“Watch your head.”
He glances down at me, making sure I duck as ordered to avoid colliding with a jutting piece of structure, and then we’re at the top.
The door Billy pushes open is only half the width of a regular one, with him having to turn sideways to get through it.
I follow him into more darkness, the door clicking closed at our backs, he releases my fingers.
And for a moment, nothing but the sound of my own blood pounding inside my ears, I feel alone.
Lured into danger by the man with the pretty eyes and sinister smirk, making myself an all too willing sacrifice.
“Penelope,” Billy rasps as soft light suddenly kills the darkness.
Blinking, my vision adjusts, and I find we’re in another hallway, though, this one is grand.
Wide and open, electric sconces lining the mahogany panelled walls, the flooring beneath my feet matching, and polished so well I can almost see my reflection in it.
Gold framed portraits are lit with green glass shades above them, a gentle warm glow from the bulbs inside.
“I didn’t want to bring you through the front door,” Billy informs me, finally drawing my eye from the fancy decor.
His words feel like a glass shard in my throat, impossible to swallow around despite my body wanting to, and only gouging deeper every time I gag, trying to cough it up.
“You wanted to hide me,” is what shakes its way out of me, shame flushing my cheeks when I look down at my feet.
That’s when I feel it, see it. The drying, flaking, bodily fluids between my thighs, down my legs, droplets of blood on my feet.
I’m frowning, even though I don’t want to be, even though I don’t want to have a reaction. I want to not care, but Billy’s brought me to this place, this giant monster of a home, his home, ours, and I already don’t fit here.
“I would never hide you; I just didn’t want to share you yet.”
Of their own accord, my eyes roll up, my long brown hair curtaining my face.
I look up at him through my lashes, eyeing him where he stands a few feet away, his position casual, hands tucked into his pockets, head cocked to one side, his face soft, well, as soft as it could ever look.
He looks like a royal, a prince, perhaps a king, his mere presence enough to rule and to ruin.
His words sound true, but we’ve never been very good at being honest with each other.
Dropping my gaze back to my feet, I lick my lips, sniffing sharply as I inhale.
“Little Lamb,” he coos, and I can hear it, the smile in his voice, it makes my own lips want to curl in imitation.
“Tonight is Novus,” he pauses, and my heart beats faster, waiting for the sound of his footsteps moving him closer, for his summoning of me to go to him.
“October thirty-first is the last day of our year, tomorrow is a fresh start, new beginnings.”
Novus.
It feels strange, the word, yet another thing I have learnt. It makes me worry about what exactly it is that I find myself in.
‘We are born anew.’
“Rebirth,” I whisper, dragging my eyes back unto his.
His lips curl, a small smile tugging up one corner of his perfect mouth. It makes me feel warm inside, my chest a fiery burst of feeling, like his smile is praise.
“Yes, Little Lamb,” he offers out a hand, slipping it from his pocket and extending it towards me. “We need to dress for the festivities.”
My feet carry me towards him, moving me silently across the highly-shined floor.
My fingers slip into the palm of his hand, his own tightening over mine easily, like we fit, as though we always have.
He spins us, heading further down the hall, our footsteps echoing around the wide space.
It’s a straight walk forward, a set of very large doors at the end that he pushes inside of, more darkness, another slam at our backs, and then my spine is connecting with another door, the handle digging into my hip.