Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Hennessy: Sometimes you need to distance yourself to see things clearly.
A month flew by, and nothing had changed about my environment. I’d seen my uncle a few times in passing, but other than that, I was mostly alone with all my uncontrolled thoughts and emotions.
At first, I believed I made some friends with the girls at school, but other than running into each other in the halls, I didn’t hang out with any of them, including Onyx’s sister. I had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her brother or just being a Devereaux in general.
Is there a difference?
Today was five weeks I’d been at the Graves, and for the first time, I was going out to venture on my own to see all the historical buildings in town. I was on my way out of the garage with a bike I’d found in there when Alfred halted my descent.
“Miss.” He greeted me in an easy tone. “Please let me drive you.”
Reluctantly, I gave in, mostly because I didn’t want to get lost on a bike at night. I only had maybe an hour or two of sunlight left.
Once I was sitting in his SUV, I opened the window, and Alfred got right down to business, stating, “You sure know how to hold a grudge.”
“If that were true,” I replied with certainty in my voice, “I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.”
“So you don’t need a friend yet?”
I sighed, surrendering. “I guess I could use one.”
He didn’t waver. “You look sad, Miss Belladonna.”
We locked eyes through the rearview mirror.
“Not sad, just lonely.”
He nodded in understanding. “The Graves can be a lonely place sometimes.”
Seeing as he was in a talkative mood, I kept it going, enjoying someone to chat with. “How long have you lived here?”
“All my life.” He slid the car into Reverse. “Where to?”
“Umm… I’m not really sure. Take me to the oldest building in this town.”
“You attend school there.”
“Oh… I didn’t know that. Well, then take me to the second one.”
He looked next door at the Devereaux estate. “I won’t have to drive you.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that either. What’s next? Is this property the third?”
“No, miss. How about I drive you to the Litchfield District instead? There are plenty of old buildings for you to explore.”
“Hmm… how did you know I was into that?”
He didn’t answer, driving out of the driveway.
I couldn’t tell you what made me open up to him, but all of a sudden, I didn’t hold back, confessing, “I’ve been here for five weeks now, and I’ve yet to have one conversation with my uncle.
I have no friends. Everyone avoids me like I’m living up to my last name, avoiding me like the plague, like I’m a poisonous plant or person…
And I’ve somehow managed to fall into a set of rules I’ve yet to hear.
I go to class. I pretend I don’t see everyone falling at the Brotherhood’s feet.
I come home, and I’m alone…” Pausing for a second, I contemplated what I was to express, “Why am I here if no one wants me to be?”
“To get a grade A education. It’s what your father would’ve wanted.”
My wide stare shifted to his on the rearview mirror again. “You knew my father?”
“Yes.”
“So he did attend the Graves?”
“Yes.”
I was so shocked he was actually answering my questions that I didn’t know what to ask next.
“He’d be very proud of the young woman you’ve turned into. He loved you very much, Hennessy. I hope you know that too.”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t know anything. My family barely speaks about him.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “Even your mother?”
“My mother the most.”
“Interesting,” he commented.
“You knew my mother as well?”
“Yes.”
“Did she also attend the Graves Academy?”
“No.”
“Oh…” I breathed out. “But you met her here? In Connecticut?”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t understand… she told me she’s never been to this state.”
“It was a long time ago. People tend to forget the past when the people who lived it are no longer with us.”
“Are you talking about my father? Do you know how he died?”
“Hennessy—”
“That’s the first time you’ve called me that. This must be bad.”
“Miss,” he clarified for the second time. “The past is already buried. I highly advise you not to get your hands dirty by digging it up.”
“No,” I disputed. “It’s staring me right in the face everywhere I go, but no one will tell me why I’m a leper. In the jungle, Alfred, where I’m from, when the group turns its back on one of their own, it’s only because they’re as good as dead. Is that what I am here? Dead?”
“Miss,” he spoke in the softest tone. “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time here. I promise it will get better for you.”
“Then this is a test? Am I passing or failing?”
“You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”
“Well, I suggest you try to make some friends. You’re much stronger in numbers than you are alone.”
“That sounds like an army. What… or should I say who, am I supposed to be defeating? The Devereauxs?”
“He’s your uncle's best friend, and you’re about to become family with them.”
“Only through marriage.”
I could tell he was weighing his words, especially when he replied, “Some stories are history you’re born with.”
“What does that mean? You act like my family holds the key to my future.”
“Most families do.” He smiled before informing me, “We’re here.”
“That didn’t take long.” I felt like he was trying to get rid of me.
He gestured toward the homes. “The district isn’t far from your uncle’s. There’s a pathway in the woods that’ll actually take you back to the Graves. I’ll pick you up in an hour?”
Defeat quickly settled into my bones. “How about I just call you when I’m ready?”
He agreed and gave me his cell phone number.
After I watched him leave, I thought about what he shared on a dangerous loop in my head.
I needed straight answers, not cryptic warnings everyone was adamant about laying on me.
I decided right then and there that I was going to get to the bottom of this.
Even if it meant confronting my uncle, which was probably why he was avoiding me to begin with. Trying to change my state of mind, I noticed that every street looked frozen in time under towering apple trees. Autumn was breathing all around me with its crisp cool air and gorgeous amber tones.
The scene in front of me looked like it was taken directly from a postcard that you’d send your family while on vacation. Everything was alive, calling me to investigate. It was too perfect, too untouched by modern hands.
From the white picket fences to the weathered Victorian houses and the cathedrals that appeared to be touching the sunset. I heard church bells in the distance, echoing through the evening.
It was Friday night. This place should’ve been packed with people hanging out. No children were playing in the park, and it looked deserted. None of the stores were even open. No cars were driving by.
Despite the town feeling alive, it was dead inside.
Standing in the middle of the street, I couldn’t shake the certainty of being watched.
Out of nowhere, a historical museum caught my attention with its pointed archways and spiritual vibes.
I was always a firm believer in going with your gut.
My feet moved on their own accord, marching straight to the old building that seemed to have been there for centuries.
With one foot in front of the other, I tried to make my way inside. Disappointment quickly set in when I realized the building was closed for renovations.
I turned to leave, but at the last second, I knocked on the mosaic glass, seeing if maybe someone was in there working and I could take a peek. When no one answered, I walked around the back of the building. My curiosity was getting the best of me.
I checked all the doors until I realized that someone had already tried to break in. One of the mosaic glass windows was broken and covered with thick tarp paper. Not allowing the cold or debris in until they fixed it.
I wonder how long it’s been broken?
I gently pulled the cover away, trying to sneak my way inside. It was a tight fit, but I managed to slide in until a shard of glass accidentally slid across my wrist.
I gasped, immediately feeling the sharp pain slicing along my inner forearm, cutting the protective bracelet my grandmother made me. I never took it off. The red beads scattered across the floor, as if in warning.
It was.
It should’ve been enough for me to haul ass and leave. The bracelet was literally trying to save me from myself, but I didn’t see it. Or maybe I did, and I chose to ignore it. I had to find the truth everyone was trying so desperately to hide from me.
The shard of glass cut me deep enough that I was bleeding, but not enough that I’d need stitches.
I grabbed the scarf around my neck, wrapping it around my wound, thankful I decided to grab it instead of a jacket.
I was wearing a cream-colored dress, with a long-sleeved shirt under the straps, and boots.
As soon as I wrapped my wrist, the scent of old paper and polished wood assaulted every one of my senses. The museum was definitely under construction. It probably wasn’t safe for me to be in there, but I couldn’t help myself.
It merely reminded me of what Onyx said to me the night in the woods.
“That’s your pride talking. Now let’s see if it’s louder than your curiosity since you lack basic common sense.”
I guess I was proving him right. I hated that after all these weeks, he was still on my mind. At school, he pretended I didn’t exist like everyone else. As though everything that happened the night in the woods between us was a figment of my imagination.
I couldn’t say he was pushing me away, since he’d never let me in.
I still felt his honey-colored eyes following me everywhere, even when I was in my bedroom.
It was the weirdest thing, the feeling of being watched 24/7.
I even started taking my clothes off and putting them on in the shower, thinking it was the only place I had some real privacy, or at least I hoped I did.
The walls of the property had eyes everywhere, and I couldn’t hide from them. It was designed that way, being a Devereaux’s estate. The evil spirits lurked all around.
The museum felt that way too. It was heavy with emotions I didn’t understand.
All the glass cases were empty. I roamed from display to display, finding nothing.
All the artifacts had already been removed.
I guess it made sense since they were remodeling.
The only thing left behind was a few shelves stacked with books that served no purpose to me, just some old dictionaries and such.
“I’m not going to find any answers here.” I turned to leave, but my boot caught on the uneven antique rug below me. “Shit.” Stumbling forward, I caught myself against the bookcase before I face-planted on hundreds of years of history someone was trying to remodel into new.
Are they burying the past, or have they already done so?
It was the only thing on my mind as a loud thunk echoed across the room, and I froze. They didn’t feel like real books that were pressed against. They were made of metal. After considering it for a minute, I lost the battle and touched them all around.
“What is—” I pulled out one of the books, but it didn’t move. Instead, it slowly opened a door behind me that was made to look like a bookshelf. “Mierda,” I murmured. “Fuck.” Shivers coursed up my spine.
I had a bad feeling about this, but again, nothing could stop me. Subconsciously, I glanced over my shoulder, thinking someone was there with me. I came up empty, but I still felt someone’s strong stare on my body.
Swallowing hard, I stepped toward where the door led. My heart hammered in my chest as I headed inside, as if I were walking to my own execution.
Ten steps.
Twenty.
Thirty.
I knew because I counted.
The pungent smell of bleach hit me, and my hand immediately rose to cover my nose and mouth. My heart pounded so profusely that I found it hard to breathe. My lips parted, and my chest heaved with each passing moment that escalated. Panic began to set in, and my mind already started running wild.
I anxiously tried to gather my thoughts.
I didn’t budge.
I couldn’t.
As soon as I walked into what looked like a monument of some sort, I took in every last detail. There in front of my eyes were crests built into the concrete walls around the room. The same emblem on Onyx’s blazer was in the center of the rest.
My gaze shifted to all the names, starting with Devereaux. Their separate crest was the same one on their estate. I saw Hawthorne. Their design had thorns and deep-rooted branches. I didn’t recognize any of the other names until I came upon the last one.
“Wait a second…”
I gasped, turning as pale as a ghost when I saw it. There in gold lettering, staring back at me was my last name.
Belladonna.