Chapter 14
Her pulse thundered as she sprinted from the room.
Her skirts tangled around her legs making her stumble as she barreled through the door, realizing moments after entering the hall she’d left his bedroom door open.
If she left it open, he would know, he would see.
She spun back, breath ragged, and pulled it closed.
It was impossible to forget the whisper of words near her ear. The way it clung to her like frost on a brittle morning. Even as she fled, the air felt colder. Heavy. Aware.
Her feet carried her down the stairs, her shoe slipping on one of the treads.
She stopped herself from falling by gripping the banister and halted there in the middle of the staircase.
She pressed a hand against her fluttering heart, willing it to slow as she inhaled, exhaled deep breaths.
But it didn’t help, and the fear was still there, pulsing through her.
The frigid air, it seemed, chased her down the stairs.
She started again, not knowing where she was going. Only that she had to get out. Down the stairs, into the light. Away from the dark. The shadows. The death.
At the bottom of the stairs, she saw the front door open to the early afternoon light. It was raining again. The stoop and beyond glistened with the delicate drops of rain. It dropped off the eaves of the manor house, its rhythmic sound normally smoothing.
Just beyond the door, Gabriel emerged from the garden into the pale afternoon light.
His coat was dotted with rain. His hair flattened by the drizzle.
In one hand, he carried a jagged piece of broken glass from the greenhouse.
In the other, a lantern glowing faintly against the gray afternoon.
He looked up as she burst from the door and stumbled into the drizzle.
She tripped over her skirt, losing her balance and starting to pitch forward.
“Victoria!”
He dropped the shard of glass and lantern and lunged for her.
He caught her, his arms encircling her with startling swiftness.
She fell against him, grateful for his warmth, his presence, his everything.
She grabbed his coat in her fist, crushing the material in her trembling fingers and pressed her head against his chest, just under his chin.
He clutched her, holding her, wrapping his arms around her.
As if he knew what she needed. As if he understood what she’d experienced.
“Something happened,” he said. His voice was low, taut, full of tension against her ear. As though seeing her this way—frightened, shaking—unraveled something inside him.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the words, the feeling, the terror shifting through her.
“Tell me,” he said, more gently this time.
“I…I heard her. She spoke to me.”
He stiffened against her. “I think we better go inside.”
She shoved out of his embrace and stumbled backward. “No. I don’t want to go inside.” Her hands fisted at her sides.
He bent to pick up the discarded piece of glass and lantern. “Come inside, Victoria.” His voice was low, stern. His expression was guarded.
Gabriel didn’t wait for an answer as he headed inside the manor, his feet leaving muddy footprints on the floor and his clothes dripping rainwater in tiny circles.
She remained where she was a moment longer, her hands still fisted, as the drizzle coated her from head to toe. Somehow, that didn’t matter much.
But if she wanted answers, she had to follow him inside.
Swallowing hard, she stepped back into the manor, closing the door behind her and sealing them inside a deathly silence.
She heard Gabriel rattling around in the kitchen—muffled noises from dishes clanking. Her body was rigid as she started to shiver, the cold seeping into her damp gown. She clutched her elbows, trying to ward off the shivering, but she was chilled to the bone.
Gabriel emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with a teapot, cups, and scones. He paused there a moment, their eyes meeting. His face was still devoid of emotion.
“Come to the sitting room,” he said.
Without waiting for an answer, he headed down the hall, shadows trailing after him. A violent shudder went through her as she forced her feet to follow him.
In the study, he poured tea into the two porcelain cups.
He added a lump of sugar to one, stirred, then picked it up and held it out to her.
He knew she liked one lump of sugar in her tea.
Then he placed a dollop of cream in the second cup and sat on the end of the settee, waiting for her to do the same.
He acted as though this was nothing more than afternoon tea on a bright sunny day. It was not. It was a dark, gloomy day, and she was learning, all too quickly, her newly inherited manor was haunted.
She gripped the cup so tight in her hand, her finger cramped. He sipped, pretending everything was well.
Finally, she blurted, “I read it.”
He froze, his gaze on some distant plane she could not see. He refused to look at her as he held his teacup halfway to his mouth, his fingers leeching of color. When he made no response, she forged on.
“The journal under your bed. Your handwriting. If she finds this, it means I’ve failed to keep her safe.” Her voice broke. “What is this place, Gabriel? What are you?”
His jaw clenched, the muscles flinching there. Still, he would not look at her.
“Why were you in my room?” His voice was low, accusatory.
She deserved that. “I was looking for the key to the locked cabinet in the study.”
“There is nothing there for you to see.”
“Then why is it locked, Gabriel?” Still, he did not answer. “You moved that book from the locked cabinet, didn’t you? You didn’t want me to see it.”
“No.” His reply was curt, cold.
“Why?” she demanded. Sudden hot tears burned the backs of her eyes. She had almost wanted to trust him and now, this betrayal.
“I hoped you would never find it.” His gaze was still fixed on something in the distance. He could not bring himself to look at her.
And that infuriated her. “Because of what it says?”
Silence.
“Gabriel, look at me,” she demanded.
Finally, his gaze flickered to hers. In them, she saw a myriad of emotions. Regret. Remorse. Guilt. And something ancient and otherworldly.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice raspy and soft amid the hush that filled the room.
“You know who I am,” he replied.
“But you haven’t aged. You hide in the shadows. You vanish when I blink. Are you even alive?”
“I’m no ghost.”
“But you’re not just a man, either, are you?”
A flicker of something old and sorrowful passed through his eyes. “No.”
She remained still, trembling from cold and revelation. “Then what are you?”
He sighed, dragging a hand through his wet hair. “I was bound to this place by a promise I didn’t understand. The house…it remembers. It holds on to what it loves and what it fears.” He looked past her again, to that place in the room he’d been staring at. “Lenore is both.”
Victoria’s throat tightened. “And me? What am I to it?”
“You’re blood.” His voice softened. “The last of the Ravenwoods. You’ve awakened something that’s been dormant for years.”
A crack of thunder in the distance made her flinch. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
He put down his cup, rose, and crossed the distance between them in three strides. “Because I wanted to protect you.” His hand hovered near her cheek, but didn’t touch. “Because I failed once before.”
She stared at him, tears threatening once again. “You mean Lenore. Who is she?”
He flinched upon hearing her name.
But there were still questions she had burning through her.
Who, exactly, was Lenore? What happened to her?
Why was Gabriel trying to protect her—and what from?
She pressed her lips together wanting to ask them all, but didn’t.
She watched his expression intently, as the pain flashed through his eyes for a brief moment before he concealed it.
Finally, he nodded, pain shadowing his features. “She was once like you. Curious. Bright. And the house…it took her.”
What did that mean—it took her? How? Why? Fear pierced her, hot and wild.
There was no doubt in her mind something sinister was happening here in this place she thought to call home.
She paused a long moment, then Victoria whispered, “Will it take me, too?”
Gabriel looked at her then—truly looked. In his eyes she saw truth and honesty. “Not if I can help it.”
He meant it when he said it. His words were firm, valiant.
A faint muffled whisper wrapped around them. Lenore again? Gabriel’s eyes darkened as he continued to look at her.
“Come. Sit with me. Rest. You’ve had a fright.”
Then he turned away and sat once again on the settee. A fright was putting it mildly. She had questions. Numerous questions. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to answer them.
But she recognized an olive branch when she saw it. So, she sat near him on the settee. He refilled her cup, warming her tea, and handed it to her. She took it, grateful for the warmth pressing through her hands as she held it close to her face. The steam curled upward, giving her comfort.
They sat in amicable silence for a time, listening to the faint rumble of thunder and the patter of rain outside on the windows.
“The greenhouse will need to be repaired. It is beyond my skill,” he said, then, as though that were the most pressing matter.
“Were you able to remove the tree branch?” she asked.
“No. I will need to hire someone to do that as well.”
He set aside his teacup, then reached into the folds of his coat and drew something out.
“I found this in the greenhouse.”
Her breath caught as he held it out to her. A doll with a faded face, and a faded blue dress. Her doll. She’d left it in the greenhouse.
“I remember this,” she whispered. “It was mine. I thought I’d lost it long ago.”
She took it reverently and placed it in her lap, cradling it as though it were made of glass.
“When you were a child, I found it in the west wing,” Gabriel said softly. “I tried to return it to you, but you and your parents were already gone. Today, it was in the greenhouse.”
It did not explain how it ended up in the greenhouse. Perhaps whatever sinister force lurked moved it there.
Something in his voice curled around her, drawing her closer. She thought back to her life here in the manor when she was young. Though he may not have realized it, Gabriel confirmed the one thing she long suspected—he was part of this house then as he was now.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze still fixed on the doll. She could not look up at him.
“The day is late,” he said as he got to his feet. “I should prepare dinner.”
Before she answered, he left her alone in the room, with nothing more than memory fragments and a relic from her childhood.