Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
S he was in deep sleep when the vision hit her.
“Here. Come.” Death faced her in the middle of a long darkened hallway. A faint glow radiated from the door at the very end but all else was bathed in darkness. Everything around them was pure dead silence as if life itself didn’t exist.
Her gut tightened at the eerie ambiance. She scanned for the life inside her, but her baby seemed dormant. She had seen many visions before, but this felt different.
This felt personal.
“What is this?” she asked the Reaper as she took a hesitant step toward him.
“Your future.” His cloth rustled as he pointed to the end of the corridor.
So, she’d been right. This was all about her.
Tilly stared at her guide. His head was bowed, his demeanor almost reverent. The tone of his voice had sounded different, tainted with a hint of caution.
“Something’s wrong,” she told him.
“No, it’s not. It’s what could be,” he was trying to be reassuring. “Look here.”
The glowing door came zooming forward and soon they were both at its threshold. It was a plain wooden front door, as she’d seen at the entrance of many houses. It was painted a cheery yellow with a welcome wreath hung below the small, frosted window at the top.
“Open it,” Death commanded.
She took a deep breath and pressed her thumb on the latch of the bronze handle. She pushed the door open and instant calm hit her as she surveyed the scene before her.
The entry gave way to a cozy living room to her right. Everything seemed fuzzy, like an old sepia photograph. She noticed the fire in the hearth, the cream-colored sofa sets with blond wood accent tables. And the antique rocking chair.
With Cass. Cradling a child in his arms. He was singing.
His voice stayed low and filled with a warmth that created shivers reaching the very center of her soul.
“Cass?” she called out to him.
“He can’t hear you.” Death came nearer and she detected a faint scent of sulfur and decay.
“But this is real,” she protested, staring into the void of his black linen hood. “It feels like it.”
Death said nothing.
“It’s a vision?”
“You tell me,” he finally said making her take a second look.
Cass was still rocking the baby who was bundled in a yellow and white knitted blanket.
It was winter. And it was frigid outside. She could tell by the frost in the tall windowpanes at the edge of the living room and the howling wind she could hear over Cass’s soothing voice.
But it was warm inside. And Cass was keeping the baby snug by the fire. Singing a lullaby in French she’d never heard before. Sur le bord de l’eau, sur le bord du ruisseau, the similar words being repeated over many refrains.
“It’s mine.” It had to be. “It’s my child.”
Death nodded.
“And me, am I in here?” Hope rose within her. Death had said she would see her future.
“Do you want to be?” The Reaper’s tone sounded ominous.
“Am I dead?” She choked on her words. “Is that what you want to show me?”
Was there an outcome where she wouldn’t survive but her child would?
Death pointed back toward the dark hallway. Away from the snug, warm room. Away from Cass’s reassuring voice.
But she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay here and listen to Cass. To him singing their child to sleep. Watch the infant with the dark eyelashes resting over rosy cheeks peacefully dozing in the loving father’s arms.
She wanted to stay where it felt like home. A sense of safety that she’d never seemed to be able to achieve.
“You have to see both sides,” Death insisted.
She reluctantly padded back into the hallway, slowly tearing her sorrowful gaze from her deepest desire. She took a deep breath to face the horrors of the fate that might await her.
The hall was now dotted with tarnished pewter sconces filled with candles dripping with black wax. The door at the other end was a cold iron gray.
“This door must also be opened,” her guide said as this one, too, rushed forward to halt a mere step from where she stood.
“No.” Her whole being suddenly revolted. She did not want to see the alternative. She wanted to keep the hope.
“Knowledge is power, Mathilda.” He was now talking to her as if she was his tiresome pupil. “You cannot escape your destiny. But you can shape it.”
But she had made her choice. She had risked trusting someone and gone to Cass for help. Decided to have him fully invested in the baby’s and her life. Her choice was back there in the comfortable room.
Her throat constricted. Wasn’t it enough to protect them from harm?
Death pointed at the iron lever door handle.
She willed her emerging tears away and rested her finger on the cold metal. She didn’t want to know but she would do what she had to.
Holding her breath, she pushed the handle, and the door creaked as she slowly pushed it open. A sickening scent of mold and rot rose to her nostrils, and she recoiled for a moment. She wanted to flee but Death blocked her way out. There was nothing else to do but go forth.
She took a sharp inhale, trying not to gag, and took a step forward.
Everything felt old, dust floating in the air. Looming, jagged shadows fell upon wide carved wooden doors opening to tall columns and pews. A faint glow came from a few gothic chandeliers dangling from the ceiling.
She was in the anteroom of a church. An abandoned one.
“Why a church?” She turned back at Death.
He nodded at her. Urged her forward.
She took one tentative step, then another. She passed the old display stands with their moldy pamphlets, all written in French, and made her way down the aisle.
The place was dead silent, as if no enlightened sermon, prayer, or even community chit-chat had graced these parts in decades. Unlike the scene before where everything warmed the heart, this was pure desolation and nothingness.
As she proceeded down the aisle, every step felt like a march toward death.
She took the side steps to the sanctuary and stopped before the large, chipped white and gold altar.
The piece must have once been a beauty, but its wooden sides were now covered in dark soot. A brand-new runner had been placed along the top. The black velvet fabric had been painted with vivid red sigils at each end. Blood or paint, she couldn’t tell, but it gave her the creeps. A dagger knife along with a coil of coarse rope had been placed there, and she feared the worst.
“What is this?” she croaked.
“I told you,” Death intoned. “Your future.”
“Have I seen this sigil before?”
“Have you?” Death asked, unnervingly unwilling to reveal his thoughts.
It seemed so important but no matter how she racked her brain, she couldn’t figure it out.
“It’s ready for a sacrifice, isn’t it?” She turned from the scene to stare at Death with a knot in her stomach.
He nodded in silence.
“It’s for me.” She looked closer and noticed a slim grimoire on the worn lectern beside the altar.
“No! No, that can’t be.” She reached for her belly and was suddenly lanced with incredible pain. She crouched down over herself. Viscous liquid poured between her legs. It was a vision but felt incredibly real. Her heart pumped violently with adrenaline and fear.
The blood, her blood, dripping to her feet was unmistakable. She was covered in it. Tainting her white nightgown as she slowly backed away from the table and turned to flee.
“No, they won’t!” she protested, finding some strength inside her as she ran away from the altar. “They won’t!”
A huge bang echoed in the cavernous church as the dark wooden doors shut ahead of her.
No!
Death was no longer there. She was all alone.
She took off down the aisle, holding her belly as spasms scattered through her body. She nearly slipped on her own blood as she neared the doors, screaming and banging on the heavy, carved wood.
“No!” she screamed, not knowing who she was crying out to. “Let me out. Let. Me. Ouuuut!”
The last word was a scream so powerful that a pressure wave erupted from her vocal cords to explode in the stiff air around her. Stained-glass windowpanes shattered. A multitude of colored, spiky splinters rained down on her. But the doors stayed locked.
She was doomed, trapped. Unable to breathe as a thick shadow descended upon her, clogging her throat and drowning her in malevolence.
“Tilly!”
She woke with a gasp. Both her hands went straight for the baby.
A stirring inside her belly brought her reassurance.
As her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the bedroom light, she realized where she was. This was Chateau Briac. She was in the guest room in the middle of the night. Her heart was still hammering like crazy.
And Cass was right there beside her.
“Cass?”
His head was tilted, his brows drawn together. He pressed a warm palm upon her clammy forehead and her anxiety slowly receded. She was safe. All was fine.
She swallowed hard, blinking away the horrific vision Death had sent her.
“A bad dream?” He removed his hand and settled in on the mattress beside her to listen to what she had to share.
“Premonition,” she rasped, still shaking as she propped herself up on the plump pillows. “They always come true.”
“Of what?”
“Oh god. It was horrible.” She paused and forced her brain to hang onto the small details she remembered.
“What did you predict?” Cass pressed, his grim frown deepening.
“My sacrifice,” she said under her breath. She trembled as if saying it out loud would make her premonition come true. “On an altar in a church.”
“No!” he snapped, gripping her shoulder.
She nodded.
“I won’t believe it.” He was in complete denial. “It can’t be. You’re fine here.”
“I saw the set-up,” she said. “Felt the evil of it all. Experienced the possibility.”
“Possibility?” He didn’t follow.
“Death showed me two possible futures,” she explained. “But the visions felt strange. He usually appears to me in this reality but not this time.”
“It was a dream.”
“A nightmare.” She shuddered. “It was as if he wanted me to feel it all.”
“And what was the other option besides dying?” He remained calm, trying to help her see through this rationally.
“The first vision was of you.” The corner of her mouth curled into a quick smile.
“Me?”
“With our child.” She recalled the peaceful setting. “You were singing our child to sleep.”
“Really?”
“Something about a ruisseau , or a bord de l’eau. It was lovely.”
“Oh yes, a traditional song from these parts. It’s called Isabeau s’y promène . My mom sang it to us when we were young. I’ll probably do that, too.” He lowered his hand on her bump with a gentle, light touch.
“The other vision was the scary one.” She pursed her lips. “In an abandoned church. With the altar made up ready for a sacrifice. It could be real. This vision was a way for Death to help me. He says he’s bound not to interfere.”
“Anything specific you noticed about the church?” He was giving her his full attention. “It might help us to know which one.”
“Yes, the flyers at the entrance were moldy, but looked relatively modern.” She dug into her memory. “And they were in French.”
“So here, then,” he remarked. “In the province.”
“Right. Can’t be Hyannis.” She thought about it some more. “And there were sigils. On the altar.”
“Do you remember what they looked like?”
She frowned in concentration. “I’m not sure.”
“Can you draw it maybe?”
“I can try.”
“Here.” He found a ballpoint pen and pad of paper on the night table and passed them to her.
The wind outside picked up speed, rattling the windowpane and she shivered, not feeling safe at all.
As if he sensed her fear, Cass drew closer to wrap one arm around her shoulders. His warm, powerful body against her made her feel better. She closed her eyes, trying to see in her mind the symbols that had been imprinted on the cloth.
“Here.” She had drawn some sort of curved stylized “M” topped with a tiny circle and small hook below.
“Uhm.” Cass was as puzzled as she was. He reached for his phone and snapped a picture of what she had sketched. “I’ll send this to Justin. He might know.”
“Oh god,” she suddenly realized. “I think this was on my door at Hyannis.”
“You think?”
She grabbed her own device and swiped to the image Lilah had sent her. “It’s fuzzy but it could be the same.”
He peered at the picture. “It’s like you’ve been marked.”
“Damn, Cass. It’s all real.” A heaviness settled in her chest, pinning her with dread.
“Sweetheart.” He wrapped both arms around her and she nestled against him, trying to escape the doom hanging over her. “I will not let anything happen to you.”
“I know.” She pressed her cheek in the crook of his shoulder. “But this is organized. They took me once.”
“They tried,” Cass said softly. “We got to you just in time at the gala. Nothing bad happened.”
“But it could have.”
“I’m here,” he insisted. “My brothers, too.”
“I know.”
“You’re safe with me.
“Cass.” She pulled back to stare at him. “I’m not used to counting on others for my wellbeing.”
“Because of your upbringing?”
“Yes. I mean, I learned early on that I was the only one who could save myself. No parents, no siblings. Not like you have.”
“I am fortunate. But you have me now. You can trust me.” He had said that same exact thing on the bus when she’d told him about the baby, and she truly hadn’t known if she could trust him at the time.
But she knew now.
“I trust you.” She was opening up to someone for what felt like the very first time in her life. It was scary. But perhaps also okay.
“And maybe you care a little bit about me?” The smile that had appeared on his lips was both understated and charming.
She raised a brow at him and retorted, “And exactly how much do you care about me ?”
“You think we’re just a fling?” He seemed surprised.
“If it wasn’t for the baby, would we be together?” And here was why she was holding back. What did they actually have in common? Apart from the music, they were so different. While he loved the limelight and people, she just couldn’t let herself trust many.
“Yes, we would.” The confidence of his statement was unmistakable in his posture with his shoulders expanding, his back straight against the bed’s headboard.
Her heart thawed and she let out a small laugh. “You’re so certain.”
“Look, Till, I could think of nothing but you all this time.” He took her hand in his. “I had every intention to seek you out for another recording session after the tour.”
“Really?” She had made up this story in her head that he’d been relieved that she’d let him go. But maybe it was just that, a story.
“Absolutely.” By the certainty behind that one word and the squaring of his jaw, he’d left no doubt.
“I deleted all your texts and contacts from my phone,” she confessed.
“Ouch.”
“But I couldn’t stop checking the internet to find out what you were up to.” She had to admit that letting him go completely had been impossible.
“Is that so?” He cupped her cheek.
“Yes.”
“There’s a connection there, sweetie. We can’t deny it.”
“Well, there’s this obvious one.” She rubbed her belly and looked down at it to hide her rising emotions.
“Little Antoine.”
“What?” She stared back at him.
“My adopted father,” he explained. “It could be his name. Toinou.”
“Huh,” she said, surprised he had started thinking of names already. “Cute. But if she’s a girl. Cordelia. Or maybe Lola.”
She caught his look on her and saw nothing but adoration. A hint of love even?
“Marry me,” he suddenly said.
Her eyes fluttered in shock. “What?”
“You’re supposed to say yes.” The charmer’s smile returned as his fingers dug into her hair, his hold on her more insistent.
“Marriage?” She searched her own emotions as she considered the option seriously this time. Oh wow, did she love him? “It’s a big commitment.”
“I’m pledging myself to you.” His voice was without a trace of a doubt.
“Oh Cass.” And right there, she knew she wanted him. And maybe she did actually love him.
Or maybe it was because she was fearing for her life. But in this moment, not having a clue about how to respond to him, she did the most spontaneous thing she could think and captured his lips with hers.
A low growl emerged from his throat as he promptly responded to her kiss with passion. He reached for the back of her head with one hand while his other seized her waist.
They tumbled down against the mattress, facing each other. Her round belly was between them, but the soon-to-be-born infant was forgotten for a moment.
Her desire for comfort melted with her need for intimacy, with the potent yearning for him as his lips left her mouth to trail down the curve of her neck.
The tremors of pleasure mounted along her skin. She skimmed her palm along his waist, over his defined abdomen, and around the well-sculpted back. The man was just perfection, with muscles in all the right places.
And right now, he was hers.
The memory of their last time together, with him possessing her with all his passion, strong and thick inside her, heated her body with tingles that traveled all the way down to her spine and deep within her core.
“Oh god, Tilly, I missed this,” he groaned.
“Me too,” she breathed. “I missed you so much, Cass, after you were gone.”
“This is hard,” he stared at her and suddenly let her go.
She looked down at the strong hands which had been caressing her so eagerly a moment ago. “I know.”
“I can’t…”
“Too soon?” She wanted him desperately. And it was not her pregnant body that was stopping them.
It was because they’d only been together for a couple of days. He had asked her to marry him. But had never said he loved her. And she wasn’t sure she could even say it back if he did.
This was no Hyannis. This was serious now. They were about to be parents, but they barely knew each other. They couldn’t sleep together and regret it later. It had to be real. It had to mean something.
“Will you be okay if I sleep next door?” he sounded, all caring and attentive.
She nodded but couldn’t help the feeling of abandonment rising in her.
“I don’t think I can control myself near you right now,” he explained with a half grin. “I actually need to go run myself an extra cold shower.”
“I’m fine,” she said, blandly.
He squeezed her hand. “It will be okay.”
She forced an understanding smile at him. She certainly wasn’t ready to go all the way with him, either. Not tonight anyway. She wasn’t ready to create a scenario that wasn’t possible for them. But her chest felt hollow.
“Here.” He went for the back of his neck to undo the chain holding his Celtic cross. He dropped it in her hand and closed her fingers around it before standing from the bed. “Keep this. It will steady your mind. And I’ll be in the next room. Come to me if you have another nightmare, will you?”
“I will,” she assured him. But she knew she wouldn’t. She would rely on herself for comfort. As she’d always done.
She watched as he crossed the doorway out of her room and she then sat back against the pillows, clutching the silver pendant digging into her palm.
As memories of strange sigils, altars, and daggers ready to slice her open receded, she realized that for the second time, she hadn’t answered his offer of marriage.