Beyond the Gates of Evermoore

Someone was watching them from the third floor.

Up above, in one of the high windows, a lone figure stood hunched against the glass. Melody stopped, shielding her eyes with her hand so she could peer upward…

It was a person. A woman, most likely. Her figure was bent and wizened, her arms hanging limply down at her sides. But it was the expression on the woman’s face that made Melody’s blood run cold…

It was the face of rage.

She shivered involuntarily. Feelings of fury and resentment were almost palpable as she began walking again. She moved quickly, averting her eyes. Refusing to look up anymore, for fear of further angering or disrespecting the woman in the window.

By the time she stepped onto the Sun Parlor’s decking again, Melody was sweating and shaking.

15

“Where’d you go?” Eric asked, running up quickly. “I turned around and you weren’t there!”

Melody stood next to the platter of cakes and fruit, staring down as if seeing them for the first time. She brushed his concern aside as she reached for a glass of water.

“Melody!”

“I— I don’t know,” she stammered. Her mind was clouded. Confused.

“What’s the matter with you? And why is your hair wet?”

She sipped the water, fighting back another yawn. Suddenly she was very tired. So sleepy and utterly exhausted, she could barely keep her eyes open.

“We should… The house. The bedrooms…”

She didn’t even know what she was saying. It kept eluding her.

The bedrooms. Check the bedrooms for the egg…

“We should check the bedrooms now,” Melody finally managed, “while everyone’s outside. This would be… a perfect time… to…”

Her sentence trailed off. A little alarmed, she realized that Eric was now holding her up. He guided her over to the nearest chair.

“Maybe you should lay down,” said Eric. He looked genuinely concerned. “You’re still shaken up from last night.”

She resisted that last part. “No, no I’m not. It’s just that…”

Another bone-cracking yawn. Melody looked down and her water glass was empty. Did she drink it? Her head was still spinning like a top. She didn’t feel any cooler.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Maybe I’ll just close my eyes… for only a minute or two. To clear my head…”

“Come on,” said Eric. “You’ve been running around that maze like you’re Pac-Man, being chased by ghosts and—”

“Wait…” she said tiredly. “H—How do you know I was in the maze?”

“I’m taking you up to your room,” Eric said, ignoring her. “You need to rest.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, not my room.” Her breathing was slow now, very even and deep. “I—I’ll be fine right here. This is… fine…”

Her head lolled back against the frame of the little antique chair. She blinked and was staring up at the whitewashed ceiling of the Sun Parlor, at all the tiny knots and imperfections and scratches in the wood. Her eyelids felt like they had weights dangling from them. Weights that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds a piece.

“I… just… need to…”