The Hallowed Read online

  The maid that had escorted her was busily turning down the bed and discovering a nightgown for her. A low fire had been managed in the hearth, filling the space with warmth. Celia took up the time with a further examination of the room, noting the specific designs of the dark curtains before the maid’s abrupt stop and turn drew her attention.

  “I have gathered your clothing and turned down your bed. Is there anything else you require?”

  The maid spoke the words emotionlessly, as if reciting them from a script. In fact, she did not appear to look at Celia, but to peer past her as if the girl were a transparent windowpane.

  “Actually, if you don’t think it rude, I would like to ask your name,” Celia said.

  “Margot, miss.”

  Margot, was it? What had the other’s name been?

  “And was it you who escorted me to dinner as well?”

  Luci. The other’s name is Luci.

  “No, miss,” she replied flatly. “I saw to the gentleman.”

  Celia wanted to remember this, though she could not say that it would matter—or that she could tell the servants apart again—later.

  “Will that be all, miss?”

  Celia realized that she’d been irresponsive for a moment or two, making Margot linger in her room for no reason at all.

  “Oh…yes; that will be all.”

  The dark-haired maid turned and left the room without another word, shutting the door behind her. Celia stepped toward the gown that had been laid out on the bed. It was long and white with lengthy sleeves, and a fancy ruffle was stitched around the hem. The girl lowered her hands to take it up when a small sound reached her ears. It was a pair of short clicks, and the noise was unmistakable.

  That maid… She locked me in.

  Celia was still as silence settled around her like dust in a neglected house, unsure of what to do. It would do little good for her to rush to the door and twist the handle, for she already knew she would meet resistance. But why lock her in? It was not as if she’d even had time to consider vile intentions toward this family or their home. She wasn’t that sort of girl—at least, she didn’t think she was. She felt a bit upset over this, but had to look at the situation objectively. If the door was locked, she wouldn’t get out, but that also meant that no one could get in. Remembering Baltus’s stare, she found comfort in that.

  She turned herself back to the gown, slipping off the faded golden dress she’d woken up in and gathering the gown’s skirt to pull it on, but before she raised it over her head, she halted the action. Having caught sight of her own arms, Celia released the gown, standing naked, raising her arms up to examine her wrists. Her brow furrowed. She had woken up to notice a bruise on her right wrist, and now there was one on her left as well. It was obvious where that second one had come from—the maid named Luci’s harsh grip as she’d dragged her to dinner—but what puzzled the girl was that the bruises were similar in shape.

  Did Luci put this first bruise on me as well? When?

  She didn’t know. An abrupt rattling sound made her dismiss it.

  The noise made her heart jump, sending her flesh crawling across her frame, and she pulled on the nightdress quickly, thinking that someone was trying to open the door. It was a moment after she’d clothed herself, tugging her hair free of the collar, that she realized the sound had come from the opposite side of the room entirely.

  She felt apprehensive, but crept forward to investigate nonetheless. The disturbance seemed to be coming from the west corner of the room, just beyond the mantelpiece where a low fire crackled. She edged closer as the sounds grew louder, and passing the mantle, she caught the utterance of a mild curse through the wall. She came upon the source then, and the discovery was a curious one.

  A small painting hung there before her—a simple image of a forest—but she was sure that the sounds were coming from beyond it. Taking the frame in her hands, she lifted it up and pulled it away from the wall, and there she found a hole.

  The opening was long enough to set her face into. Around it, the wallpaper was torn and the angles of the opening were jagged. She could not tell how the hole had been made, but was certain that it had not been cut purposefully. It was large enough for her to put her hand through if she’d wanted, but she was not planning to reach forward into the unknown. She would look first.

  The sounds drifted through to her easily now, and Celia stepped up to the wall, daring to look. On the other side, she could see into a room very similar to her own, but something was in the way, blocking her line of sight. It was a dark shape, and she guessed it might have been a statue, but she was able to see the man at the windows, attempting vainly to pull them open. She recognized him immediately. It was Adam.

  Oh, how she wanted to speak with him, yet couldn’t imagine what they would talk about.

  “Hello?” she called out before she gave herself the chance to shy away.

  The man stopped his work and turned toward her voice, though he searched around for a moment before he located the hole. He was slow to react. He stepped carefully toward the wall and removed the dark obstruction—which appeared to be an onyx bust—so that he could see her clearly. When that was done, he remained silent, looking at her confusedly through the opening. No doubt he was having his own private thoughts about why the hole was there, but Celia could only concentrate on how her heart pumped faster when he came near.

  So odd. I don’t even know him.

  “Adam...” she said quietly, just to hear the name come off her tongue. He looked at her expectantly at that, perhaps hoping this signified that she remembered him somewhat. She was sorry to disappoint him.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” she asked carefully. “Your name?”

  She peered toward his face through the misshapen hole, seeing that he looked crestfallen and perhaps a bit frustrated by her inability to aid him.

  “I suppose,” he said, though it wasn’t given as a curt response. He simply couldn’t say much more than that.

  “You don't know either then,” she went on. “I mean, you don't know me.”

  “I don't,” he admitted, sounding regretful. “But they say we were found in the same accident, so there must be some connection between us.”

  She stared at him, and he back at her. Celia knew he was having the exact same thought as she was in this moment.

  Who are you, beautiful creature? It is a shame I do not know you.

  “We appear very different,” he said. “I'm not so sure you could be my sister...”

  “No,” she agreed with a swift shake of her head. “I wouldn't think so.”

  Then what? Now, more than any moment before, she wished she knew. She recalled words from the letter. Do not doubt how I feel for you. Soon we will be together forever. Celia slid her hand along the edge of the crack to see if he would take it. The man didn’t hesitate, perhaps needing the comfort himself. He put his hand over hers, though there was barely enough room to do so. His touch was warm, and she was pleased that his hand didn’t tremble as hers did.

  “We need to find out who we are,” he said, interrupting her private thoughts. “They certainly don't know here, so there's no sense in staying.”

  “They are being very hospitable to us,” she reminded him, feeling the need. “They brought us to their home and fed us as if we were hardly strangers to them.”

  “Being locked in this room doesn't feel so hospitable to me,” he said plainly.

  He was locked in as well? That would explain why he had been trying to open the windows, but she wouldn’t have guessed what good it would do him. They were high off the ground, and there was no balcony; however, he was right. It was not a pleasant thing to be locked in, and there was no way she could consider it friendly.

  “I'm sorry. Have I upset you?” His words pulled her back. Had he seen her face change? Did she appear distressed? She’d be lying to say she wasn’t.

  “No,” she assured him nonetheless. “You're right actually.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t feel comfortable here,” he said. “I'm going to tell them tomorrow that I’m leaving.”

  It surprised her to hear him say this, though she wasn’t sure why. From what she could tell about Adam thus far, he seemed to be a man of decision.

  “Will you come with me?” he asked. The simple words brought on a fluttering in her stomach. One would have thought he’d asked her to marry him. “It seems only appropriate—”

  “Of course,” she agreed, making sure to stop him before he rambled unnecessarily. “I wouldn't allow you to leave here without me.”

  “Good.”

  No smile rose up on his mouth, but she was sure that there was relief showing around his eyes.

  “You should try to get some rest,” Adam said.

  Celia gave a short nod, but did not want to pull her hand from his. It seemed the only consolation she had, and she was hardly willing to part with that. After lingering another moment, he removed his hand first, perhaps knowing she wouldn’t. His fingers left a trail of fire in their wake. She didn’t want to, but she accepted the end of this moment by withdrawing her hand from the wall. She wondered over putting the painting back into place, but did so before she turned away. She wasn’t sure why she made that choice—whether for privacy or secrecy—but it felt more secure that way.

  Adam was right about trying to sleep. Even though she didn’t feel very tired, there was little to do in this locked room except think. And since there was really nothing to remember, contemplation may have led her to discover more frightening places among the unknown.

  Adam watched Celia as she glanced at him furtively and blocked the hole in the wall once again. Feeling confident that she would at least attempt sleep, he moved toward his own bed. How long had it been since he’d first woken up here? Two hours? Three? It hadn’t been long at all, and while he knew that he had the appearance of a man who was near to twenty-five, he felt as if he’d just been born those few hours ago.

  Come now; that’s not quite true.

  He knew many things, but none that would aid him in finding a destination for himself. He knew how to read and write, but he couldn’t recall where he’d learned those things or who had taught him. He’d known which fork to use at dinner, knew to wipe his mouth with a napkin, and had enough smarts to know that the sullen Maynard didn’t like him very much. But why did he know those things and yet not his name? Did a babe from the womb know how to reason? Now he had met this young woman, Celia, and he had barely looked upon her face before he was crushed in being told that she had nothing to tell him about who he was. She didn’t know him, just as he didn’t know himself.

  We both have amnesia. ‘Bizarre’, is it?

  From within his pocket, he withdrew a golden watch that he’d found on the bedside table upon waking. It wasn’t wound, but he’d kept it because it was his only possession. Looking at the watch was how he had discovered his name. He needed to see it again. Pressing the button on top of the watch, the cover flipped open and he read the inscription inside.

  To My Dearest Adam

  Love Always, Celia

  He hadn’t remembered himself, and he certainly hadn’t recalled the woman who had given him this watch. He had been so oblivious that he hadn’t even noticed her at the table, but when that man Irving had said her name, he’d known it was her, even though he did not recognize her face. Seeing her had made his discomfort even worse, for he didn’t like the fact that she had also lost who she was. He wished for both of them to know the truth.

  Closing the watch, Adam lay back on the bed, not bothering to change his clothes or put himself under the blankets. He was locked in this room, and even the windows had been fixed so they would not open. He didn’t like this place or the people who lived here. He’d only met them a moment and he already knew that. With or without their help, he was leaving—and he was taking the girl with him.

  Chapter Four

  After what seemed like only a flash of a blank dream, Celia awoke abruptly without weariness. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and darkness had nestled in all around her. Beyond the walls, the night was quiet, and therefore the inside of her room was the same, filled with dead air.

  I can’t sleep.

  It had been so suddenly that she’d snapped awake, and she did not feel that she could close her eyes for another moment. She hardly had trouble recalling where she was, for her surroundings were all she had to remember. She was locked in a room in the LaCroix manor, and if she’d risen from her bed at that moment, there would only be to examine the room she was in. It was still deep in the night, and she assumed that no servant would be along to let her out until the morning.

  She sighed, her head deep in the pillow, wondering how much longer until the morning would come. She missed the sunlight. She felt she hadn’t seen it in years.

  In the quiet of her room, Celia tried to imagine what events might have brought her here, hoping to shake a memory loose from the web with which it had been caught.

  She was in a carriage, dressed in gloves and hat and bustled skirt. Adam was beside her, his fingers curled around a leather-bound tome. It had been a long journey, and he’d planned accordingly. She wished she’d had the foresight. She was too blinded by the happiness of being with him.

  The car was bumping along the uneven mountain road, rocking them with it. Curious about the terrain, she peered out the window, looking down at the wheels that hit roughly against the path. She hoped they would hold. She was prone to worry. After a few seconds, she no longer wanted to look, setting herself back against the seat to take a deep, calming breath.

  Adam glanced up from his book, looking at her. His smile promised that he knew what she was feeling. Of course he did. He knew her well. They shared in this exchange without words. They didn’t need them. She touched Adam’s hand. He squeezed hers in return…

  And then what?

  A crash? One wheel broke loose, just as she’d feared, and they’d careened off the path. She’d tried to hold into Adam’s hand, but the world was tumbling end over end…

  That was all she could muster, but even that was false. She only knew what others had told her, and not a thing more. All of that was simply a fabrication as her mind tried to make sense of it all.

  Useless.

  Since she felt that she couldn’t sleep any longer, going through the trunks and drawers in the room did not seem like such a terrible idea. It would pass the time. First though, she would need light.

  She rolled, only a second’s tick from pulling herself from the bed, but a visible change to the room froze her. It was so dark that she could not see anything, but because of that, it was even easier to notice that the door to the room was now open, letting in a crack of firelight from the hallway lamps.

  What?

  She lifted her head slightly, wanting to inspect, but the obvious sound of a footstep kept her from it. Celia pressed her head back against the pillow, listening to the strong silence that was shattered every moment by a footstep, bringing someone closer to her bed. Who was this intruder? Could it have been Adam, who had somehow gotten out of his room and into hers? She would have liked to speak his name, but something deep within told her to remain quiet.

  The figure was standing over her now. She could feel his presence, though she could not see him through the dark. She kept quiet and still, attempting to keep her breath stifled.

  If I pretend to be asleep, he’ll leave, she told herself. He’ll go away.

  Through the blankets, she felt a hand touch against her leg, sliding slowly along the outer quilt. Her breath caught. She tried not to imagine who was touching her, but her mind could not be stopped. She kept imagining the way Baltus had been staring at her at dinner. Had it been lust in his eyes? Or could she have been completely wrong? Who was this touching her, feeling along her body as if she couldn’t have possibly been aware? Who had such nerve? She wanted to scream and fight, her mind racing, but she couldn’t move, stuck to the mattress as if she we
re tied down.

  Go away. Just go away!

  The hand trailed up her form, sliding up her hip and over her arm. It moved along the slope of her shoulder until it touched her face, dancing across her lips carefully and up the side of her cheek, aiming to touch her eyelids that should have been closed. Her eye lashes brushed against the fingers as she blinked, and the hand had no doubt felt the troubled breathing from her mouth against his palm. At these discoveries, the hand retreated from her swiftly. Even so, the figure lingered over her a moment. She gathered her breath and held it, wondering what would happen. What would he do or say? She prayed for nothing on both counts.

  After just a moment, she felt relief as hurried footsteps carried the stranger away. The door was opened, and she glimpsed the departing shadow against the light from the covered lamps outside.

  Then the intruder was gone, leaving the door cracked open in his wake.

  Celia released her breath, listening. Quiet. There were no more footsteps. Her mind was branching out in so many directions, then returning to tangle over her head. She wiped the thoughts away like cobwebs for the one thing that made sense. Rushing up from the bed, she clasped the door and pulled it shut.

  The rest of Celia’s night was filled with sleepless tossing and heinous nightmares—of people like shadows who wore masks, distorted and missing limbs. She dreamed of figures hidden beneath red robes, wrapped up in secrets. There were visions of clawed monsters in cages, reaching out for her. Those twin maids, connected at the hip, glared at her hatefully from within a faceless mass of bodies. Worms. Humans. Writhing, dancing, and when she passed the night without incident, she was relieved, but exhausted.

  Chapter Five

  The daylight brought on a new sense of security, though it could barely be seen through dark clouds that poured rain from the heavens, but Celia had not forgotten about the night before. Someone had been in her room, and she could not erase the experience from her mind. She had been awake when the rain began.