“Yes, but if you escort me to my room then you have to come back here all alone and then you will be by yourself,” she argued. “From the look of it you are in far more danger than me.”
Barnabas snorted. “She has a point.”
“That might be true but I am armed,” Myles warned her.
“Well, that is not going to do you any good if someone stabs you in the back like they did Gerald, is it?” she snapped.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to calm down. When she looked at Myles again, her eyes were full of apology.
Myles watched her internal battle and wondered whether it was the residual effects of the kiss they had shared. Was she angry with him for being so bold? Or had the day finally gotten the better of her?
“I will escort you to your room.” Myles’ voice was stilted but determined.
“I can manage, thank you,” Estelle persisted.
She glared at him but then felt incredibly guilty for having taken her bad temper out on him. She had no idea where the ill feeling had come from. Was it frustration?
No, it is concern for him, a dark voice warned her, and she knew it to be true. She hated the edgy, restless feeling she had whenever she contemplated the possibility of something happening to Myles. It made her want to tear at her own hair, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was something she knew she had to accept for the time being.
He followed her all the way to the door. “What’s wrong?” he murmured quietly, aware of his father watching them but unable to tear his gaze away from Estelle’s.
“I just need to think, that’s all. My head is whirling so much it is difficult to get my thoughts in order. I cannot help but feel that we are missing something but I cannot make out what,” she replied quietly.
“Like what; a clue or something?” Myles frowned but couldn’t think of anything.
Estelle sighed. “If they – the killer - wanted to kill Barnabas they wouldn’t bring everyone to the house to witness it, would they? They would wait for everyone to go home, and for you to be in London, and then struck him down just as effectively as they have your uncle. I mean, they stabbed Gerald in the back. They could do the same quiet easily with Barnabas. I cannot help but think that is the key here.”
“She has a point,” Barnabas sighed, making no apology for having listened in on their conversation. He pierced Estelle with a stern look. “Should we take that as a warning?”
Estelle stared at him. Her stomach sank to her knees as she considered what she had just said and realised it made her sound as though she was issuing threats.
“I am sorry you think that way, but no. I did not kill Gerald. I have never met the man.” Aware that as an outsider they probably wouldn’t believe her anyway, Estelle turned to Myles. “It would be best if you stayed here with your father and aunt. I mean, I don’t have any connection to anybody in this house. I am not even supposed to be here. What could the killer possibly want with me?”
Before anybody could argue she swept out of the room and closed the door behind her with a firm click. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, though, she was physically trembling with fear. Her ears were tuned to any sound of movement around her as she hurried down the hallway to her room. She couldn’t ignore the feeling that someone had been watching her the entire time and it brought with it alarmed her so much she quickened her steps and shook with fear.
Once inside the safety of her room, she slammed the door closed and flicked the lock. Only then did she rest her back against the door while she studied the room before her. Thankfully, a maid had left a candle alight. The fire roared away heartily in the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm, cosy glow. Everything was as neat as a pin and, from her vantage point by the doorway she could see that there was nobody hiding in the room. Now that it was safe to do so, she crossed the room and lay down on the bed. She didn’t expect to rest properly because her mind was in too much turmoil. However, within seconds of putting her head on the pillow her eyes closed and the world retreated into darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Her feet hurt. All she could hear were whispers; haunting
ones swirling around her, carried on the thick fog that shrouded everything in gloom. Her gasps were loud, echoed by the thundering of her feet on the forest floor. Panic suffused her. It was difficult to breathe. She wanted to. The need to draw in much needed air was rife, but she couldn’t. Her lungs wouldn’t work. Her eyes grew wider and wider as fear took root deep inside her soul. She yearned to break free of the clawing hands that held her back but she couldn’t. Sweat popped out on her brow. She could feel the warm tendrils turn to icy fingers as they slithered down her cheek. A scream locked in the back of her throat. The need to give voice to it was so strong that denying her the ability to do so brought tears to her eyes. Her anger bloomed but there was nothing she could do to ease the fear to use it. She was locked in a silent battle, determined to flee the hooded figures chasing her, tugging at her clothing with as much cruel determination as the coarse stings of the branches that scratched her.
Suddenly, the crooked face of an aged woman, her eyes spitefully narrowed over a thin twist of lips, grinned maliciously at her. Estelle wasn’t running anymore. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the face that leered at her. Instinctively, she knew the woman wanted something but couldn’t get her mouth to work enough to ask what. The distinct feeling of being warned about something registered on her senses. She knew in that second that wherever she was she was trespassing, and danger surrounded her. Her mouth opened to scream but nothing came out. Her silently piercing scream was audible only to herself. Inside her soul, the warning took hold and blossomed throughout her entire being, ridding herself of the frustration of not being in control of her own being, and replacing it with the need to flee. Before she could, the fog swirled again and cleared enough for her to see the road she needed to take to reach safety. The path she had to use was blocked by the thick, swirling fog still. The only path that was visible was one she didn’t want to take. She knew that it would take her to the one place she didn’t want to go: the crooked cottage, deep in the woods where nothing grew and nobody lived. Strangely, she suspected that the cottage and the hag were linked but also knew that this couldn’t be. Scared, alone, confused, her heart pounding rhythmically in her ears, Estelle spun around, desperate to find a way out. A whimper escaped when she realised she was standing in the centre of a circle of hooded figures, all of them motionless and silent.
What do you want? She screamed in her head, but the words still wouldn’t be spoken. The hag’s cottage was visible behind two of them, a place of refuge and safety, but she knew it wasn’t. It was somewhere she shouldn’t go – should she? Confused and disorientated, Estelle felt the world begin to swirl alarmingly. Pain began to build in her neck. She tried to break free of it but it wouldn’t relent. Her fingers clawed into talons of desperation but couldn’t move the restriction. Her swallow was instinctive but hurt, dreadfully so. So much that…..
Estelle’s eyes popped wide. She stared into complete darkness and gasped for air. Her heart thundered heavily in her ears but there was another sound; one that was not made by her. It was a deep hissing, the tone as dark and menacing as the hands that tried to steal her life. Her mind latched onto that sound while she clawed for breath. The dream she thought she had been having now been made terrifyingly real by the feel of the smooth cloth wrapped tightly around her throat. Whoever it was behind her was strong; their fury unrelenting as they tried to strangle the life out of her.
Panic, fear, desperation warred with the determined need to survive. There was so much she had to do yet, so many things she wanted to try, and too many adventures she wanted to experience. It couldn’t be her time yet; it simply couldn’t. Beneath that pervading horror that death might claim her was a gnawing denial fuelled by an inner core of rage that appeared out of nowhere. She knew that if she surrendered to the fear that clouded her mind and her vision she would surrender her soul in a way that would end her days. She had to break free. She would not be denied the chance to spend more time with Myles.
She lifted one hand and tried to claw at the face, to make them pull away but they wouldn’t budge. The heavy weight on her back pinned her to the bed and rendered her useless to find any strength to dislodge them. She wriggled and squirmed, but couldn’t unseat them and found that each movement made breathing even more difficult. Stars danced at the periphery of her vision. The world started to fade. She felt herself begin to float somewhere off in the distance. It was so surreal it was more terrifying than losing her ability to breathe. The world started to turn black and fade into the distance. She tried to reach out to hold onto it but couldn’t touch it. The feeling of floating out of her body began to build. She knew she was going to die.
Suddenly, the image of Myles appeared in front of her. Like a talisman, she held it before her and thought about everything that might have been. She knew that if she gave in to the need to float away she would lose the precious opportunity to experience the things that mattered. As if to reinforce that, her grandma appeared beside him. Those two people were the most precious people in the world to her. The need to see them again was so strong that it began to bubble deep within her. Like molten lava overflowing from an exploding volcano, it overflowed and solidified to form the solid foundations of renewed determination to survive. Foundations on which she built strength, tenacity, ferocity, and a deep well of abiding love she had never experienced before. With it she found an inner core of fury that burgeoned into something white hot and impossible to ignore. With a low moan she wasn’t sure came from her she growled as her fury grew. A force unlike no other she had ever experienced in her life gave her the strength to push herself upright. As she did so she twisted around.
Her eyes widened in horror when she saw a hooded figure behind her. Unlike the figures in the road, this one was wearing black. Jet black, from head to foot, it – he or she – looked like the Grim Reaper. Shaking, she sucked in a huge breath and tried to wriggle free only for the figure to try to put the ligature around her neck again. Her eyes fell on the only thing she hand; a lantern. Reaching out with desperate fingers, she tried to grab hold of it but was too far away. Aware of her vulnerability if she kept her back to the killer for much longer, Estelle twisted around again, this time slamming a pillow into the murderer, then wriggled forward some more. The killer was busy regaining his balance, and was temporarily distracted enough for Estelle to reach forward and grab the lantern off the small table beside the bed. She didn’t stop to think and twisted around again and slammed it hard at the killer’s head. With the killer temporarily blinded by the hood of their cloak, Estelle yanked her legs up to her chest, free of the confines of her blankets, and slammed them hard into the killer’s body. The soft ‘oomph’ of the air leaving the murderer’s lungs was satisfying, and gave Estelle the strength to redouble her efforts to roll free of the bed. With nothing but a vase close to the bed, she lifted that and threw it at the figure now struggling to get off the bed. Terrified that the killer was going to come at her again, Estelle did the only thing she could think of and screamed at the top of her lungs.
It was a piercing, unrelenting scream that came from the very depths of her soul. It was loud enough to wake the dead, and thankfully, woke Myles in the bed chamber next to hers. Within seconds, she could hear the sound of running footsteps, some of which were the killer’s as they raced for the door.