Page 64 of Cursed Lifeline

“To truly play the game,” the man behind me says as we slowly take each step back up the altar together, “you can’t let it be over before it ever gets a chance to start.”

The man we’re approaching shrinks back in fear. His body crashes into the cross behind him. He yells out in pain as the symbol of crucifixion comes crashing to the floor at our feet.

“Play with me, Esme,” the man holding me tenderly whispers into my ear as I place the stake against the man with the black eye’s chest. “One. More. Time.”

I joltawake in a hot sweat as thunder crashes through the night and rattles the windows of my bedroom. Lightning flashes, illuminating the dark space in a threatening light. Attempting to catch my breath, I look down at my right hand and swallow hard. From my dream, the weight of the staff I held in my palm warms my skin. Releasing a shaky sigh, I throw the covers off my body and quickly reach my feet.

A shiver rushes up my spine, much like the one in the dream I’ve been visited by several times lately, but it’s not because I’m cold. It’s because I can still hear the voice of the man with the violet eyes as if he’s speaking directly to me.

Pray you love, remember…

As it drifts back to me on a haunting breeze, I spin in a circle making sure I’m alone. The window across the room blows open and violently crashes against the wall. Alarmed, I rush towards it just as rain floods the room. The Louisiana sky suddenly opens, and a treacherous downfall relentlessly cries out into the night.

Rain pelts against my face as I struggle to pull the open glass towards me. Looking out into the night, a raven on a large tree branch catches my eye. A shiver rushes up my spine as its beady stare locks on mine. An eerie moment later, the thunder booms, and the raven instantly takes flight.

Shaking, I struggle and finally succeed in closing the window. Its lock crashes into place just as lightning bolt barrels down across the courtyard before jolting right to left across the ebony sky. Their electric show is felt in my bones as another alarmed tremble courses through my body. Stunned, paralyzed by the dream I’ve just had, and the raven who I’ve oddly witnessed watching me before, I stand very still and try to catch my breath.

I’ve always felt called to more in life. Maybe what haunts me at night are not dreams, but signs I need to follow.

“Esmeralda,” my maid yells as she bolts into the room.

Turning, I watch as her eyes frantically search the empty bed before lifting and taking me in at the windowsill. She puts her hand to her chest and breathes out a relieved sigh.

“Thank heavens,” she smiles as she crosses the space and pulls me into her arms. “Your screams gave me quite a fright.”

“Screams?” I ask, as she pulls back the covers and gently ushers me to bed.

“Well, scream, I should say. Just one. But it was haunting and horrid.” She gestures for me to sit on the mattress, and I oblige.

My maid, Louise, is the only mother I’ve ever known since my own died in childbirth. She raised me to follow the rules of the Martin household until my father met his demise a few months ago. Like a good daughter, I’d like to say I was heartbroken when he died, but my father was a deplorable man, and the world is better off without him.

As I snuggle back under the sheets and stare into Louise’ worried expression, she asks, “Were you having a nightmare?”

Was I?

I’m tempted to say yes because the first thing I remember from my dream is fear. But as I look up into her worried gaze, and my dream comes back vividly, I’m unsure what the correct answer is.

Yes, the dream was frightening and unpleasant. Terrifying even.

But not entirely.

The man with the violet eyes flashes across my memory and I suck in a shaky breath.

“Maybe you shouldn’t travel to New Orleans tomorrow,” Louise says, placing a hand against my forehead before brushing a few strands of my auburn hair out of my eyes.

Since my father died, it’s been arranged that I go live with my aunt. For the past month, I’ve been counting down the days until I leave my father’s estate. The grisly memories of my childhood lurk around every dark corner here and haunt me worse than the nightmare I was having. I can’t be delayed now.

Recognizing the scared look in my slightly panicked gaze, my maid whispers, “You look white as a ghost, mon cheri.”

My eyes widen. A memory comes to mind. It dances across the shadows of my thoughts and hovers on the brink of discovery but then drifts away before I can catch it. My brow furrows.

“I’m fine,” I lie, reaching behind me and fluffing my pillows. “I was just overheated. Summer is coming sooner than we think and...”

“Yes, yes,” Louise agrees, tucking me back under the covers, “You always did have nightmares as a bebe when you got too warm.”

I kick my feet out from under the covers. She gives me a frown but allows me the liberty of the coolness of the night air, even if she is worried I'll catch my death from the spring storm.

“Aunt Camille has been expecting me for weeks now. She’s even planned a welcoming party in my honor. I promise I’m fine to travel.”

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