* * *
After a night that offered a mere two hours more slumber than the previous one, fatigue still had a loose hold on Lysithea, though a hint of restlessness had also crept into her bones.
“I think I shall explore the manor a bit,” she announced after finishing her midday meal.
“Do as you please,” Terran replied nonchalantly from across the table. “Though it might not be to your taste.”
“What do you mean? Is it that filthy?”
“That is not so much an issue, though you will run into a fair amount of dust.”
“Then what is the issue?”
Clearing the dishes, Terran wore an enigmatic smile. “Tell you what. How about I let you know after you’ve finished exploring today? It will be more amusing that way, for me at least.”
Feeling a twinge of apprehension, Lysithea asked, “Is there something dangerous I should be aware of?”
“Not at all. Apart from the second-floor bedrooms, all the rooms are easily accessible. The third floor, in particular, offers many interesting sights.”
“You describe it as though it were a tourist attraction,” she commented with a sense of unease. What had started out as a way to spend a relaxing afternoon had quickly turned into something with a sinister edge.
“Come to think of it, that is a rather apt description. You must remember that this place was where everyone once came to indulge in the most contemptuous revelry.”
She recalled him describing how a notorious drug trader had thrown parties here long ago. Though Lysithea had no interest in such gatherings, the implications of what she might stumble upon intrigued her. As despicable as the events that once took place in this manor might have been, they were a part of its history, making them worthy of note.
“Enjoy your tour.”
Terran, as was his custom, gathered the dishes and walked to the kitchen to begin cleaning. His cooking was improving, which was curious in itself, but she resolved not to praise him out loud. After all, if he started taking his skills for granted, there was a real chance he might start slipping. It was best to keep him on his toes.
That said, his flippant attitude remained unchanged. His offer to let her sleep—and nothing else—in his room had apparently been genuine, for he had not made any awkward interactions since. His actions attested to his lack of ulterior motives, but she was still cautious.
They met only during meals, so it was at these times that Lysithea scrutinized Terran’s behaviors. She had observed that he had become neither kinder nor insolent toward her. He showed none of the prickly traits one might expect from a man who had been spurned.
Could it be that he was truly that transparent? Everyone has something to hide, so she would simply have to keep watching and waiting.
Lysithea soon found herself ascending the grand central staircase alone. Upon reaching the third floor, she stepped out onto the indoor balcony that connected with the landing. Gazing down upon the grand hall that spanned from the first floor to the third, she was struck by a sense of wonder.
The mosaics on the marble floor remained vivid despite the years, and the ceiling was still cloaked in faded frescoes. The manor’s boisterous and resplendent gatherings must have once rivaled even those of Arman Castle. Looking at what had become of the splendid manor, she felt a certain pang of loss. She related to the building, feeling that they shared similar plights, for she, too, had been cast off, her original purpose in life long forgotten.
She decided to start with the west wing. As Terran had said, all the doors were open, but seeing as the manor had gone unmanaged for so long, the multitude of transient visitors had stripped the rooms of anything valuable. Lysithea could only imagine with sorrow that her family’s castle had suffered the same fate by now.
With a tinge of bitterness, she picked up a book that lay discarded in a corner. The dust-covered tome had been ripped from its cover, but the pages that remained contained information about herbs.
Roland’s green bloom, when consumed raw, paralyzes the nerves within five minutes. Foal’s honeyweed, crushed and brewed into tea, is noted for its effectiveness against insomnia.
Finding such a book in this place, Lysithea wondered if the drug trader had actually been a physician. Regardless of its origins, she found herself charmed by the peculiar compendium of herbal knowledge. Deeming it better to read any book than to languish idly in the manor, she took the worn volume with her as she left the room.
Her continued exploration suggested that the west wing of the third floor had once upon a time been the personal domain of the manor’s former owner. During her brief probes of the various rooms, she found a few foreign books in languages she couldn’t understand, fragments of broken vials, and tools whose purposes completely eluded her.
Wondering if the east corridor would offer similar findings, she opened the first door with little expectation. As the door swung open, a twisted human face startled her, causing her to collapse to her knees, clutching her chest as she stared down at what she slowly realized was her own reflection.
“What is this place?”
The mirror she first encountered was not alone; the room was filled with its shattered counterparts. From her position sitting on the floor, she dug her fingers into the thick wool rug that spanned the entire room. Cracked mirrors of varying shapes and sizes encompassed the walls, all bizarrely focused on the room’s center.
Lysithea stood up and cautiously walked into the center of the room. The mirror-lined walls reflected her image from every direction, giving the impression of countless eyes embedded in the walls watching her.
Brushing the goosebumps from her arms, Lysithea hastened out of the room. After taking a moment to collect herself, she moved on to the next one, which contained several beds almost resembling a hospital room, save for the sturdy cloth rings hanging from the ceiling that evoked grim images of people being hanged at the gallows.
The further she ventured down the east corridor, the more reluctant she felt to open each new door.
“Though it might not be to your taste.”
Unable to deny the truth in Terran’s words, she decided to cut the adventure short by checking only one last room. Upon opening the door at the end of the corridor, however, Lysithea quickly regretted this last act of bravado.
This final chamber was painted a muddled reddish-brown from ceiling to floor. Wooden and iron restraints were scattered around the room, and an assortment of tools had been set up on a table in a corner.
There was no doubt about it. This was a torture chamber.
Lysithea took a deep breath before stepping into the grim space. The wooden floorboards here creaked ominously with each step. When she looked down at her feet, she had a vision of blood seeping from between the floorboards, forcing her to focus her gaze on the walls, which did not offer more pleasant sights.
She stifled a gag.
The restraints bolted to the walls were undoubtedly meant for binding arms and legs, while the maces, rods, iron tongs, branding irons, spiked whips, gags, and chastity belts waiting to be used were stained with rust-like blood.
Lysithea had heard tales of aristocrats with such dark tastes, but for her, a woman untouched by even the most simple of carnal experiences, the contents of this room were shockingly perverse.
As she was about to turn away, determined never to step foot in this room again, a grating sound echoed from underneath her feet. It sounded as if sharp claws were scraping at the walls. Then the screaming began again, only this time, it wasn’t coming from across the manor but almost from right beside her.
She bolted from the crimson room, her footsteps thundering through the empty corridor. Her knees ached from the ferocity of her reckless descent down the stairs. While glancing behind her to ensure she was not being followed, Lysithea collided with Terran on the second-floor landing.
“There’s someone in there!” she burst out, clinging to his shirt.
“Lysithea, calm down,” Terran said, his arms wrapping around her in a soothing embrace. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone’s in there! In this house!” She looked up with tear-filled eyes and added in a tense whisper, “I heard something, Terran. There’s someone up there. No, it was coming from beneath the third floor, under the floorboards.”
“You mean to say that there’s someone else here?”
“I don’t know if it was a person, but something was scratching at the floor,” she said, her voice shaking. “From beneath the floor. Something was—”
“Lysithea.” Terran’s voice was calm, his gaze composed as he looked down at her. “Think about what you’re saying. As I’ve already mentioned, only the two of us are here. If you ask me, you’re just overly sensitive after all the trying events you’ve been through recently.”
“But I heard it. We aren’t alone in this house. There’s someone—”
“If you heard anything, it was probably the ghost I warned you about,” Terran said, cutting her off decisively.
Lysithea felt a moment of foolishness but regained her composure enough to respond.
“And I’ve already told you that I don’t believe in such things. I don’t know if it’s a person, an animal, or the wind. Just please check it out for me.”
“You want me to check it out so that you may ensure that you win our bet?”
Lysithea was at a loss.
While she had no right to make such a demand of him nor the financial means to compel him to undertake such a distasteful task, this was a matter of security. Why was he not taking this more seriously and instead dismissing it so easily as being a ghost?
With a resentful gaze, Lysithea said, “There are screams resounding through this house every night. Have you not heard them?”
“I do hear something akin to screams when the blizzards are particularly fierce. I can see how the howling wind could be mistaken for a woman’s wailing, but common sense would tell you it was the former and not the latter.”
It wasn’t a woman’s voice. Lysithea was certain of that, but the problem was that Terran seemed all too ready to brush off her concerns.
“I mean, apart from the blizzard noises,” she said. “There are other sounds at night that cannot be blamed on the storms.”
“Really?” Terran replied, shaking his head as if perplexed. “As you know, I go on patrol each night, but I haven’t heard anything. Not on the second floor nor the third.”
“You’ve heard nothing at all?”
“As far as I was aware, every night has been quiet,” he replied with a shrug. “I thought that was one of the charms of this place: the silence.”
Silence? What silence?
Lysithea clenched her teeth. She knew what she had heard. The cries of a man echoed through the manor every night, and just now there had definitely been something—or someone—scratching from below the floor.
“Lysithea, are you all right? You’re sweating.”
Terran’s hand tenderly swiped at her forehead, but she pushed away from his warm touch, turning back toward the corridor.
“What has gotten into you?” he asked, seeming genuinely puzzled. “What’s—”
“Leave me alone!”
Ignoring Terran’s call, Lysithea wiped the sweat from her brow as she strode through the western corridor. As soon as she entered her room, she slammed the door and closed her eyes. Leaning against the door, gasping for breath, Lysithea found herself inadvertently honing her senses on her ears.
She was listening for the screams, for the desperate scratching.
Was she truly going insane? Did that explain why Terran had heard nothing?
At the moment, the manor was so quiet that a faint buzz seemed to ring in her ears. For now, at least, he was correct.
Determined to catch up on lost sleep and escape this twisted reality, Lysithea crawled into bed without even changing her clothes. As she slowed her breathing and tried to relax, she told herself that everything had been a nightmare. That was all.
Just a bad dream.
Her premonition would come true far sooner than she could have imagined.
* * *
A hand yanked at Lysithea’s skirt, pulling it up while its owner pushed himself between her legs. After tossing her onto the bed, her assailant tore the front of her dress, ignoring the way she clawed at his arms, shrieking for someone to save her.
“I’d suggest you stay still, Lady Lysithea, unless you want this knife in your neck instead.”
She grimaced, chills running up her thigh in the wake of the cold dagger’s tip that he delicately dragged against her soft flesh. With a flick of his wrist, her garter belt fell loose.
“Spread them,” he said with a hideous sneer. “I always like this view better than having them all naked. Leave a bit to the imagination, I always say.”
With no choice, Lysithea lowered her hands, ceasing her resistance. She could do nothing as he hurriedly undid his trousers with the hand that still gripped the dagger while fondling her breast with the other.
“Take a good look around, my lady,” he said, dropping his trousers to reveal himself in all his grotesque glory. “This is what a true revolution is.”
His fingers hooked her undergarment and dragged the delicate fabric down.
“Now it’s time for—”
A gunshot echoed within the secluded room of Arman Castle. Her ears rang painfully from the sound. The distant noises that had been so hectic before this point felt like they were coming from underwater. In fact, her whole body felt too heavy as she pushed the dying man away. As he slumped onto the floor with a final groan, she bolted out the door.
Lysithea ran breathlessly, barefoot through the snow, glancing back with each near stumble. Her footsteps were stark against the virgin powder. Just when she thought she had escaped, the sound of a horse being whipped reached her ears, followed by a dark shadow that began to overtake her footsteps.
The Phantom.
“Stay away!”
Her cries were futile against the Phantom’s encroaching darkness. He was a black tide surging over the white expanse, threatening to break on top of her.
Somehow, she managed to scramble up a snow-covered hill. Atop it loomed the manor, its windows flung wide, the crimson curtains fluttering wildly. But as she slammed into the door, she found it locked.
“Terran! Help me, Terran!” Lysithea pounded on the door. She could see his silhouette in the farthest room on the second floor’s west side, but he made no effort to rescue her. “Terran! Please open the door, I beg you!”
As she screamed, the Phantom began to ascend the hill, a liquid shadow following him and seeming to infect the very earth with his evil intent.
“The sea is freezing over, Lysithea,” Terra said, his voice emotionless.
“No, it’s not too late! I can make it!”
“The Phantom has found you.”
“No!”
“I heard a most interesting tale.” Terran’s eyes, the color of polished brass, watched her struggle to pry open the door. “Did you know that there is a ghost in this manor?”
Lysithea could only slump against the door as the rising inky water reached her knees. She slid down, falling into its biting, cold embrace. With a whimper, she choked out her last breath and fell into a numb abyss.
* * *
Lysithea woke with a start, her body drenched in cold sweat, tears streaming down her clammy face. She sat up and gasped for air. The chill of the sweat trickling down her back sent shudders of discomfort through her limbs.
She hurried to the fireplace, shedding her clothes on the way. As she warmed her chilled body before the flames, she noticed a washbasin at the foot of her bed.
Had Terran visited her while she slept?
Had he noticed her crying?
Lysithea shook her head, realizing how vulnerable she felt when left alone in her own mindscape. This was no time to dwell on her weakness. She needed to wash up and get back to sleep quickly. Night had fallen, and the screams might return. While she still didn’t believe in ghosts, she knew she wasn’t hearing things. Something was making those horrid noises.
Right on cue, as she wiped herself down with a wet towel, that distinct cry began once more to compete with the roar of the blizzard.
Lysithea hurriedly ran to lock the door. After the metallic click resounded, silence settled around her again, but it didn’t last long. No matter how she wished to ignore the anguished screams, she could not escape. Without realizing it, she backed away from the door until she collapsed onto the bed.
If it wasn’t a ghost, it had to be a person.
Right?
Too frightened to move, she resigned herself to another sleepless night.
That’s when something else Terran had said rang through her memory—his offer to sleep in his room.
For some reason, her heart thrummed faster at the thought.