Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MAEVYTH

“ H elp me! Please help me!”

The sound of screaming yanked me from sleep, and I jolted upright, searching the dark room. Across from me, Aleysia lay on her side, facing me, her arm hanging over the the edge of the bed. Quiet snores told me she was still sleeping peacefully.

Did she have a bad dream?

Or maybe I’d been the one dreaming. In the darkness of the room, a flash of the Banished Man slipped through my thoughts, and I screwed my eyes shut, pulling the blankets up to my chin.

When I opened them, he wasn’t there.

“No! No, please!”

The voice again. From the vent. Just like nights ago, when I’d caught Aleysia with Uncle Riftyn. Except, clearly it wasn’t Aleysia that time.

I ignored the tremble in my bones, the dark room devouring me, as I imagined that gaunt figure stumbling toward my bed.

“Someone, please! Make him stop! Please!”

I wanted to ignore those cries, as well, but what if someone was hurt? What if that were me, crying out for help, and I went ignored?

Frowning, I pushed out of bed and peered out the window, though I was certain the sound had come from within the house. I padded toward the staircase, avoiding the boards that I knew creaked, and descended the stairs to the second floor, where the corridor stood empty.

There, I waited, listening to see if it was coming from the bedrooms.

Nothing.

Ears perked, I descended the second staircase and swept through the parlor, the kitchen, the library, finding nothing in those rooms.

Resigned to going back to bed, I headed back toward the staircase, and heard the voice again, louder that time.

“Please! Oh, god, stop!”

Twisting around brought me standing before the door to the embalming rooms below. The place where Uncle Felix spent an exorbitant amount of time. What had once been a fun hiding spot, where Aleysia and I would play as children, was now a terrifying tomb, brimming with death. Before I could talk myself out of investigating, my feet carried me to the door, and as I took hold of the knob, I paused. I’d been down there once, or twice, but only whenever Agatha requested that I fetch something for Uncle Felix. The lowest level of the cottage, with its cold, stone walls, lack of windows, and bodies stored in that matrix of suffocating vaults, stirred the darkest corners of my imagination. Dread curled in my stomach like black snakes, at the thought of going down there now, particularly when my head so vividly toyed with me as of late. But after two nights of hearing those awful cries, I had to know.

“What are you doing there?” Agatha’s voice struck my nerves, and muscles taut with the fear of having been caught, I turned to her.

“I … thought I heard something.”

“The house is old. There are many noises.”

“Not a house sound. A cry for help.”

Eyes narrowed on me, she hobbled closer. “Only your Uncle Felix is down there now, and I very much doubt he cried out for help. Which leaves me to wonder if you’re hearing voices?”

In our world, hearing voices was a sign of demonic possession. An evil that the parish banished without question.

“How unfortunate that would be for you, if I were. With you having already sold me off.”

Her lips stretched into something that looked more evil than amused. “I understand Mr. Moros has close ties to a surgeon. One who specializes in matters of the brain.”

The very thought of what she was suggesting stirred a panic in my gut. “It could’ve been the wind I’d heard.”

“Yes. I suspect it may have been the wind. Now, back to bed with you. A young woman should not be up and about at the witching hour without good cause.”

Without another word, I hustled past her and up the staircase, but paused halfway to the top.

“Loathsome child,” Agatha muttered, and the tapping of her cane across the floor alerted me to keep on.

Hidden behind the door to the attic stairwell, I peered through a small crack, watching her climb the stairs, passing the attic for her bedroom. At the click of her bedroom door, I stepped out of the stairwell. Curiosity chipped at my good sense, but I couldn’t let it go. I had to know who was crying out for help.

On the tips of my toes, I slipped back down the stairs and, once again, found myself standing at that ominous entrance to the cellar. Slowly twisting the knob, I pushed open the door, careful not to creak the hinge by cracking it too far. Sticking close to the wall, I clung to the shadows as I rounded the spiral, stone stairwell. The sound of heavy breathing reached my ears, and I slowed my descent, my heart pounding against my ribs. Down a short corridor, I reached the door to Uncle Felix’s examination room, where the breathing grew louder over the sounds of whimpering.

I peered around the corner, and the sight that greeted me sent a shock through my bones. I palmed my mouth, not daring to so much as a breath.

On the examination table, nothing more than a raised stone slab, lay a pale, naked girl, with long black hair spilling over the edges. From my angle, with her head turned away, I couldn’t see her face, but her supine body lay motionless, as Uncle Felix caressed her breast. A look of adoration swirled in his eyes, something I didn’t think the man capable of, while he ran his thumb over her exposed nipples. He bent forward, taking one into his mouth, and my lip curved in repulsion as he seemed to suckle her, his head slowly bobbing, mouth tugging at her flesh, like a nursing child.

“Help me!” The voice practically blared in my ears.

With his fervent suckling, he jostled her body, and her head lopped to the side until facing me.

A scream begged to escape my throat, as I stared into the milky-white eyes of the Lyverian girl from Moros’s manor. Scattered across her face were the yellowing bruises of a beating. A cut slashed her cheek, and through her gaping mouth, I caught a glisten that left me wondering if her tongue had been cut.

“Maevyth!” she whisper-yelled, and I jumped, my foot knocking a bucket just outside the door.

Uncle Felix’s head snapped in my direction.

I drew in a gasp and spun around for the staircase. Taking two steps at a time, I raced back to the first floor, up to the second, and toward the attic stairwell. On passing the vent, the sound of her screams had me covering my ears. When I finally reached the bedroom, I could scarcely draw in a breath, as I stood hunched over, wheezing.

Still, Aleysia lay sleeping. Oblivious.

Bones rattling with fear, I crossed the room for my bed and hid under the covers.

“Maevyth!” a raspy voice whispered, and I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to uncover my face. “Maevyth!”

In the darkness, I whispered The Prayer of Caedes. I didn’t know why. I didn’t believe The Red God would’ve helped me then. I didn’t believe in Him, at all.

“The dead don’t pray!” The voice screamed its words louder that time, and a whimper escaped me, as I lay trembling.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “I’m so sorry.”

The screams silenced.

Whispered breaths of my quiet sobbing bounced off the blanket. “I’m so sorry.”