Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
FENRIR
PRESENT
Hayami had been joking when she said I could watch her shower, but there was a split second when I’d hoped she wasn’t. That I might get to glimpse her as she washed that perfect body—preparing it, ready for me to ruin.
She was likely teasing about me standing outside the door, something I considered until I realised how weird it was. Instead, I retreated to the security room, clock-watching her usual twenty-minute shower window, give or take.
Junko’s journal sits in my back pocket, and for some reason, it feels more dangerous than the gun I carry.
What had Junko felt in this house? What was Junko like when she first married Devall? Whatever she was, it couldn’t have been the same woman who walks Devall Mansion now, her face gaunt, her eyes haunted.
I pull the book from my pocket and place it on the desk before glancing at the screen.
Hayami’s room is empty, the bedsheets roughly made, the door to the en suite firmly closed. Flicking open the pages of the journal, I skim-read the next entry.
Day Three
I hate it here. I want to leave. Even in the confines of the sitting room, the only room I seem to be able to tolerate in this house, I still have the urge to run out the door, into the forest, and never look back.
Barrett and I sleep in the master bedroom, the room I feel most uncomfortable in. I’m not sure why this is, but as soon as I enter it, it’s as if the whole room is closing in on me. I can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s as if the walls are suffocating me.
This evening, I asked Barrett if we could sleep in a different room, but he explained that the security cameras were only set up for this one, and it wouldn’t be safe to sleep in a different one, as we’d only brought a scant amount of security staff with us.
His response was direct and to the point, as if I were one of the staff.
He never asked me why I wanted to move rooms.
We’d just had sex. There’s no lovemaking involved. This is purely practical. He wants an heir. Male. Someone to carry on the Devall name.
Shortly after I married Barrett, I plucked up the courage to ask one of the staff what had happened between him and wife number one, the fiery redhead known as Eileen.
It was tricky to work out which staff to ask.
Most of them are incredibly loyal to Barrett, I think out of fear more than respect. But there is a maid, Sybil.
She’s small, her back bent, with some sort of skin condition on her hands, which means she has to wear gloves, so most of the other staff keep their distance.
But she’s hardworking and has been with the household for years.
She makes sure there are fresh flowers in my room, that my towels are soft, and that my bed is always turned down.
She even got me a buckwheat pillow when it was clear to her that I was having trouble sleeping.
The next time we were alone, I asked her what had happened between Barrett and Eileen.
She didn’t answer me. So, I told her that I wanted to be a good wife to Mr Devall and that I was a little afraid that I would make the same mistakes Eileen had.
Sybil sighed and said that as long as I followed the rules and was faithful, then I would not disappoint him.
I felt myself blush, then went on to ask about what had happened to her.
Sybil had been organising my dresser, moving things that didn’t appear to need moving, when she told me their marriage was never destined to last. That all the staff knew it the minute he brought her here.
She explained that Eileen was a rare bird, beautiful and exotic, and Mr Devall was the collector. He wanted to own her, possess her, and show her off to the world. But she didn’t want to be collected. She wanted to be free. One day, she was here. The next, she was gone.
I asked if she’d just left, and Sybil simply told me that was what she told herself. The thought turned me cold.
I’d then asked about his second wife.
Sybil recalled that no one knew exactly what had happened, but that she had been with child.
Barrett had been pleased and was eager to give her the best care and all the attention she needed to ensure that the baby would be healthy.
He took her away to one of his holiday homes, thinking the mountain air would do her good.
Then Sybil had paled, her voice faltering, and my stomach sank.
I had to press her, which I didn’t like doing, but I could tell there was something she was holding back.
It was with a quiet voice that she told me that no one knew the details. Mr Devall had only taken a skeleton staff with him, as he wanted Noa to have the rest she deserved. But something happened with the baby, and because the place was so remote, they couldn’t get her to a hospital in time.
I didn’t ask any more questions about her because I knew the ending. Noa died. The baby died.
But there was one thing I did want to know.
I asked her which holiday house.
I’ll never forget the way she raised her head and stared at me, clutching her cloth as she said, “Belial House.”
So, you can imagine my horror when, after five months of marriage, Barrett announced we were to take a holiday to Belial House.
Why would he bring me here? Why would he want to return to the very house where he lost his second wife and unborn child?
It’s ghoulish. I just hope my reproductive system is in full working order and I can give him what he wants and quickly.
Because I don’t want to be in this house any longer than I have to.
A woman and a child died here. I don’t know how or why, but I feel as if the house is trying to tell me exactly what happened.
Junko’s words have me in a chokehold, but something tugs at me. The stillness of the screen. The emptiness of Hayami’s room.
I stare at the screen in silence, waiting for the door to the en suite to open.
Twenty minutes.
She’s been in there for twenty minutes, and there’s still no sign of her.
Last night’s vision of her plays out: the gaping mouth, the way she’d thrust her fingers into the side of her cheeks and stretched them, the blood oozing from behind her teeth.
Twenty-one minutes.
Maybe I should take a stroll up there.
I open the small drawer in the desk and place the journal inside. I don’t want Hayami to find it, not until I’ve read it and know what kind of content is in there.
Padding out of the security room, I make my way to the stairs.
A dull thudding noise resonates through the house.
My eyes scan the stairs, my ears straining, trying to work out where the noise is coming from.
As I climb, it gets louder.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
It sounds like….
Fuck.
I run, leaping up the stairs, and fling open the bedroom door just as her scream rings out from the other side of the en suite.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
The door is locked.
“Stand away from the door!” I shout, bracing my full weight against it. “Stand away from the door!” I repeat before slamming my body against it.
It doesn’t budge.
“Please, get me out of here!” Hayami’s high-pitched screech travels from the other side of the door, panicked and raw, as if her voice is scraping the back of her throat.
This time, I back up so I can run at the door, throwing myself at it, but it won’t open.
Fuck!
“Hayami, I need you to listen to me. I need you to stand in the shower cubicle. Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she whimpers.
“I’m going to shoot the lock. You can’t be near the door, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Move, now. Shout ‘yes’ when you’ve moved.”
I wait. Seconds. Too long. Much too long.
“Yes,” Hayami hollers.
Thank fuck for that.
Unholstering my gun, I aim it at the lock and fire. The explosion reverberates against the metal, making my ears ring.
Using my foot, I push the door open and step inside. The blackness has mixed with the steam, making it appear as if the darkness is swirling.
“Hayami!” I call out, and she comes bounding out of the black, a towel clutched to her body. Her hair’s in wet tendrils around her shoulders, and her eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them.
“Thank God,” she says as she throws her arms around me, but I don’t have time for embraces. I pull her from me.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” I scan her face, her body, her arms.
“I’m okay.” She gulps. “The light blew when I was in the shower. I managed to find the door, but then I couldn’t find the lock. I started to panic. It was so dark, and then I felt something on my leg.”
“Someone was in there with you?” I arch my head into the doorway, ready to push her to the side and tackle whoever the fuck is in there. She must sense my thoughts, as she grips harder onto my forearms.
“No.” She shakes her head, her reply sounding as if I’m being silly. “There was only me. I’m sure it was just a draft from somewhere, but when you can’t see and you start to panic, your mind plays tricks on you. You start to convince yourself that something weird is going on.”
“Fuck.” Finally, convinced she’s unharmed, I pull her back into me. Not even thinking, I wrap my arms around her and let out my pent-up breath.
“Sorry if I scared you,” she says into the crook of my arm. “I scared myself.”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re all right.” I push her back slightly, examining her face again to make sure I haven’t missed something, before realising I’m holding on to her.
“Do me a favour,” I say, quickly letting go of her and stepping back. “Never lock that door again, do you understand?”
“I won’t. Although, I don’t think there’s much of the lock left.”
We both glance at the door. It’s on the bathroom floor, the handle completely blown off.
“I can rehang the door,” I say.
Seconds pass, and I wonder if holding her or letting her go is what’s created the silence.
She steps back and clears her throat. “I should get dressed,” she says, pulling at the towel.
I nod and turn to leave.
“Hey, Fenrir,” Hayami says.
I turn, more at the surprise that this is the first time she’s called me Fenrir and not one of her pet names for me, such as Beast or Hellhound.
“Sorry for scaring you.”
“You didn’t scare me,” I tell her before leaving the room.
It’s not a lie. She didn’t scare me. Her rational brain has already filed it away as hysteria, the normal reaction when one of your senses is deprived. But after what I’ve already seen and what I’ve just read in Junko’s journal, I’m not so sure it can be explained away so easily.
Hayami didn’t scare me.
But something did. Something in this house.
I just have no idea what.