“Now, we’re going to…” I trailed off, glancing around.
The panic threatened to crowd me again, edges of my vision going grey. Options, options…
“We’re going to walk back up to the road, catch a ride from someone, and find a shitty inn to sleep in tonight,” I said, trying again. “You have enough coins to cover one night.”
Anything was better than spending the night in a structurally unsound house in the middle of a graveyard, where ghosts would be wandering about. I thankfully hadn’t seen one yet, because I might faint if I did.
I pulled my backpack suitcase’s straps over my shoulders. The fallen suitcase was wet, heavy and covered in dirt, so I dragged it behind me and used my other hand to push the other one. By the time I got four metres away from my starting point, they may as well have all been lying down in the mud.
My valuables would be damp for weeks.
“We’ve got a fun fifteen-minute walk back to the road. I can call Solstice on the way and tell her how horrible this is so far.”
Rifling through my purse, I pulled out my aristerite. Tapping on the rune to call Sol, I waited for it to flare. It didn’t. My heart dropped down to rest in the mud at my feet. I tapped again, then tried using the other two runes. Nothing, no faint tingle of magic or light. With shaking fingers, I grabbed both of the other marble gemstones I had. My finger pressed to every one of the runes multiple times, and nothing happened.
“No,” I said to myself, clenching my hand into a fist with the stones safely inside. “No. Aristerite always works. It’s the most reliable communication in the realm. I’m just… doing it wrong. Because I’m freaking out.”
I placed them back in my purse and started forward to the front gate, telling myself about how I had to have mess it up under my breath.
The steady stream of words falling from my lips kept me distracted from taking in my surroundings. I didn’t want to see the graves beyond the short fence hemming in the one lane driveway. When I got closer to one of the apple trees, I spoke louder, trying to drown out and ignore the buzzing of flies around its base.
Even without paying attention to my surroundings, I blinked up at the black house in confusion when I appeared in front of it fifteen minutes later. There was no way I’d turned around. The driveway was winding, but didn’t have anywhere it branched off. How had I ended up back here?
Turning on my heel, I started down the driveway again. I paid attention to where I was going, casting glances into the surrounding graveyard to ensure I wasn’t passing the same thing twice. Fifteen minutes of walking later, and I was in front of the house again. “No fucking way,” I muttered, looking up at the rapidly darkening sky. This time of year, with summer faded into the beginning of fall, the days got dark fast. Especially with this cloud cover.
I tried again, knowing the trek was pointless.
Some kind of spell was cast over this property. Maybe an illusion or disorientation magic to keep me going in circles. In any case, I wasn’t allowed to leave. Leaving my bags behind, I tried to find the source of the magic, a little tingle of what it was so I could figure out a counter-spell. There was nothing.
When I ended up cowering on the porch of the house, darkness descending too fast to try to leave again, tears dripped down my cheeks. I’d already been so flushed from the cold with drops of water on my face that anyone walking up wouldn’t be able to tell I was crying instead of simply existing in this damn storm. I collapsed onto a squeaky, moth-eaten bench that was as damp as I was and gave myself a few minutes to cry.
The tears didn’t devolve into a full on panic attack again. I couldn’t let myself shut down, because if I did, I wouldn’t restart. Not until the morning. Fear of sitting out here on this stupid bench where anyone could sneak up on me from three sides overrode my brain’s desire to shut down. Since the property didn’t want me to leave, I’d have to go into the house. In the morning, I would try to figure out why a spell kept me here and how to break the hold of it so I could get the fuck out of this graveyard.
“Hadley, you’re doing great,” I whispered to myself, pressing my frozen palms against my cheeks.
I hardly felt the touch. Hopefully, the blankets I had shoved into one of my suitcases had been spared from the bulk of the moisture, or I’d be shivering all night. Feeling as calm as was possible, considering the circumstances, I stood again and turned to the door with the keys in hand.
I probably didn’t have to use the key, realistically. The only thing holding the door in place was the deadbolt. If I shifted the old wood the right way, the door would no longer be serving its purpose. However, putting that old, intricate key in the lock was the final confirmation I’d been avoiding. This was it. The house my conspiracy theorist uncle had left me. If the door opened with ease, I hadn’t been dropped off at the wrong property. I’d know for certain there was no tasteful two-story waiting for me to claim it down the street.
The key turned, and the deadbolt creaked, sliding out of place.
My hand on the door kept it from falling onto me, and I pulled the keys out of the lock, placing them into my purse. The door was heavy, but I pushed it out of the way with a loud scrape. I leaned the door against the house, cringing when a piece of the siding was knocked off by the movement. Then I peeked inside.
A hallway stretched out in front of me, a window at the end indicating it ran clear across the house. To the left of the hallway was a staircase, engulfed in darkness. The first step was solid and in passable condition, but I couldn’t see the top landing. I wouldn’t be venturing up there tonight. Movement caught my eyes at the end of the hallway, but the frenzied beating of my heart slowed again when I realized it was only a mouse. Critters were to be expected in such an old place. There were so many holes in the walls, both outside and in, that it would be more eerie if there weren’t animals running around.
I pushed all three of my suitcases into the house in front of me, drenching the carpet in the entryway. The fabric was dusty enough I doubted my mud would diminish its condition further. There was no point in putting the door back up. The lock hadn’t been stopping anyone who desired to be inside the house, and the rain was pounding against the building on all sides, getting through the plethora of broken windows. What was one more opening? I just need to be inside. The confined space made me feel less exposed.
The suitcases held in front of me like armour, I wobbled my way down the hallway. Weathered and worn paintings hung on the old black and white paisley wallpaper, three doors on my right and two on my left. The first door on the right was padlocked shut with a new-looking brass lock. Clearly Felix had been here, though I doubted he’d lived here. Recently, anyway.
“Bathing room. If I find a bathroom, then I have a smaller space to defend if someone comes in.”
And no escape, but I wasn’t about to huddle up on a living room couch. Certainly not when I hesitantly tossed open the pair of decorated doors on my left and found the couches facing each other in the middle of the room. The doors didn’t lock from either side, and they hadn’t so much as creaked when I’d thrown them open. Prime conditions for being attacked. Not that ghosts used doors.
Ireallyhad to stop thinking about ghosts. Every time a stray thought about them wandered in, I shivered and my heart rate picked up. Memories threatened to break free of the box I kept them carefully sealed in, and the scars on my right side ached and throbbed like the wounds were fresh all over again.
Closing off the living room, I opened the second door to find a walk in supply closet, and filed that away as an option. Luckily, the last door in the row was a bathroom. I stepped inside with all my bags and closed the door behind me, engaging the lock. A white porcelain clawfoot tub was yellowed with age and use, matching the toilet and sink. Wallpaper adorned this room as well. A white background with a black paisley pattern; the opposite of the hallway. The counter top was cream. I had no idea what material, but it had a crack that carried through to crack the white cabinets below, too.
I tried to flush the toilet and was relieved when it worked. Running water. Not every house had it, because the magic used to power the system was expensive, but in Asteria it was commonplace. I’d be out of my element if I had to fetch water from the well or use a chamberpot for my business. I pushed the suitcases back against the door and opened the closest one, pulling out an old t-shirt. The fabric was damp, but not soaked, giving me hope for my blankets. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I used it to gather spider webs, getting up to stomp the tiny creatures when I had to.
