Chapter 17
LANEY
K enna was gone again.
After training finished, she was placed on guarding duty, working twilight shifts. I stayed up for her most nights; I hadn’t been sleeping well recently anyway. Her presence soothed me as if she could protect me from the things in my mind. It was my preferred sleep aid.
But last night was a rarity. I took my medication and as much as I fought my eyes to stay open, they fell shut before midnight. That was why it took me until this morning to raise the alarm. I ran to my office and found Forrester along the way.
“Was she picked up on any security feed?”
“No,” he replied. “Last night she went into her room and the door hadn’t opened since. Are you sure she isn’t still asleep?”
I shook my head, adamant that if the duvet on her side of my bed laid undisturbed, it meant that she never came. I know her routine well enough now to know that this disappearance was not scheduled. Doubt seeped into my veins, a feeling that her charisma had turned me blind to her true routine.
Forrester sat behind my desk. “Laney, she’s strong. You don’t need to worry–” “I’m not.” I snapped and then sighed, but I do , I wanted to say. “It’s just…she didn’t come home last night.” It didn’t occur to me until I saw the slight edge on his face that I’d implied that home was me. Could this get any more humiliating? It was already embarrassing enough to beg him to help me find her.
“Have you checked her room?”
“Yes.” I looked over his shoulder to peruse the motion detection log that recorded no movement the entire night, making me question whether she had a twilight shift at all.
His doubt hurt but I pushed through it. “And the barracks?” He asked.
I dropped my shoulders. “I’ll go look again.”
“If you don’t find her, don’t worry.” He tried to soothe. “People often find their own way home . Have faith.”
Have faith. Mindlessly, I looked for her brown eyes in every face in the mess hall, training rooms and offices underground. These were the parts of the estate that were the coldest, and the chill seeped into my bones. When it became one o’clock a thumping in the back of my head punctuated every breath I took. With each beat I suppressed a flinch.
It was why I hadn’t seen a man approach until I felt my body become glued to the brick behind my back. My head weighed down my movements. I could only decipher fragments of what this man was saying to me.
“I know,” he threatened. “...days are numbered, girl.”
“What?” I said with elongated vowels.
“You.” He punched a finger in my chest. “Took something from me. You’ll lose…”
It was like I was swimming in muddied water. I could identify the words, but they weren’t clear. His tone indicated a threat, but I didn’t even recognise the man.
“Name?” I managed to breathe out, before wrestling the accompanying words that would make it make sense. “What is your name?”
“...ren.”
Huh? “Ren?” I repeated but he hadn’t stopped to listen. The pounding in my head caused unease in my stomach.
“You’ll remember that name, Laney. It’ll haunt you.”
“So, Ren, can you give me a minute I need to—” I almost hurled. He took a violent step back.
“Crazy bitch.” He slurred. Or I heard it slurred? I didn’t know anymore. I bent forward, placing my hands on my knees, suppressing the nausea as best as I could. He obviously wanted to be heard, and I wanted to understand his words, but with my migraine and Kenna missing the blood filled my head to the brim.
When I looked at him again, he didn’t seem as disgusted. Just proud. “Better take some drugs for that.” He laughed at me.
I cocked my head to the side but didn’t say anything more. It was like I had missed part of the conversation. I didn’t have to wait long before he spelled it out for me. The water suddenly cleared. “Watch. Your. Back.”
Then, he walked away. Defeated, I walked back to my room too. The sun was too bright shining in through the blinds when I entered it. But wait– I had curtains in my room. Not blinds.
And there she was.
Her wardrobe doors wide open with clothes scattered around her as if she just tumbled out of them.
“Kenna!” I shouted over her. “What were you doing in there?” She’s safe. She’s safe. I didn’t lose another person.
“I don’t know.” She responded.
“You’ve been in there for hours?” I said.
She gave me a blank stare. “Hours? I went to bed only a couple tens of minutes ago, I swear. There was only darkness for a while and a voice, saying that they were coming. And now suddenly, I wake up here.”
I lifted an eyebrow, but internally sighed. There was something in her face that I didn’t trust. I didn’t want to hear her lie to me again, so I told her my truth instead. “We were worried about you.”
“We?”
“Me.” I admitted.
She responded with a smile, running into my arms. I welcomed the warmth, but I stilled. Kenna was a confident person and always got what she wanted but I knew her well enough that hugging was not in her character. My arms wrapped around her nonetheless, until Father walked into the room.
“What is this commotion? Quieten down.”
I looked at my father and jumped from her arms.
“Kenna,” I said, “Have you ever been known to sleepwalk?”
“Only as a child, but never since.”
“Things of the mind are often electrified in dreams.” Father added before walking away. Apparently, the mystery was over.
I nodded. “Especially in nightmares. With finding Tilly and the tension on the estate right now, I can totally understand that the stress could induce night terrors.”
She was visibly shaken, but in her hand, she clutched a black flip phone.
☆
We were seated in the living room. Father and I were nearest to the warmth of the fireplace. Neenan was at the door routinely looking over his shoulders, and Kenna was reclined in her seat, looking on affectionately but with an edge of nerves.
Grandfather Edward’s grand funeral was scheduled for next week. The family portraits that he collected were delivered this morning, so that we could choose a piece to display at the procession. It was a big extended family affair, one I wish Tilly had, because she was just as important in my eyes. It was a big deal getting artwork that demonstrated strength despite turbulent times. We’ve been here for hours.
“Oh look, father, you were so cute when you were younger.” I held up a painting of a short chubby corgi; their button noses did look the same. Neenan snorted.
A hush descended on the room. Only the sound of wooden frames shuffling echoed in the room. I looked toward Kenna. Our eyes connected and a small smile graced her lips.
“How about this one?” Father interjected.
I scrunch my nose. “Too frumpy.” The next painting froze me. “Kenna, I’ve found your long lost twin.” My eyes refused to leave the painting. Kenna stayed silent on her approach. “It’s beautiful. Look at that colour.” I looked up at her and she forced a smile. “Your pale skin, wow. It’s your match.”
“Who is it?” Kenna inquired.
I searched the frame for an inscription. It was vintage, possibly 1930s, and the corners of the painting were stained dark brown. “I can’t tell. I want to hang it in my room, though. It’s stunning. Just look at the floral background on it. It’ll look so good! Father?”
“Oh. Go on then.”
We scurried off to my bedroom, placing the painting on various walls. I went to test it over my bed, but Kenna suggested that it should go over the vanity, and it was perfect. The light from the window would hit it just right, she said. And I believed her, though it was night right then.
I handed the picture to her.
Her hands trembled.
“Are you alright?”
“It’s the chill.” She replied.
I covered her hands with mine. “I just need to get some tools to hang this up, okay?”
She nodded as I let go.
“Father!” I yelled as I halfway skipped down the hallway. “Where is the tool kit?” When I heard no response, I shouted, “Neenan?” Silently, I returned to the living room where Neenan and father were huddled over a particular painting. “What is it?” As I got closer, I saw that it wasn’t a painting, it was an image. It was one of the last group pictures that proudly displayed the union of the Ravencroft and Karstein families.
Father laid a finger on a girl in the second row from the front. My eyes followed the line of women before her. “Oh my god, is that the woman from the painting? She’s so pretty. A great grandmother maybe?” I continued looking along the line, to where I found the youngest girl.
“Get these pictures out of my face!” Father spat.
My heart skipped a beat. “No.” I protested, but I wasn’t entirely sure why. There was something so strikingly familiar about this image.
“It couldn’t be.”