Page 35 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
In the study, he poured tea into the two porcelain cups.He added a lump of sugar to one, stirred, then picked it up and held it out to her.He knew she liked one lump of sugar in her tea.Then he placed a dollop of cream in the second cup and sat on the end of the settee, waiting for her to do the same.
He acted as though this was nothing more than afternoon tea on a bright sunny day.It was not.It was a dark, gloomy day, and she was learning, all too quickly, her newly inherited manor was haunted.
She gripped the cup so tight in her hand, her finger cramped.He sipped, pretending everything was well.
Finally, she blurted, “I read it.”
He froze, his gaze on some distant plane she could not see.He refused to look at her as he held his teacup halfway to his mouth, his fingers leeching of color.When he made no response, she forged on.
“The journal under your bed.Your handwriting.If she finds this, it means I’ve failed to keep her safe.”Her voice broke.“What is this place, Gabriel?Whatareyou?”
His jaw clenched, the muscles flinching there.Still, he would not look at her.
“Why were you in my room?”His voice was low, accusatory.
She deserved that.“I was looking for the key to the locked cabinet in the study.”
“There is nothing there for you to see.”
“Then why is it locked, Gabriel?”Still, he did not answer.“You moved that book from the locked cabinet, didn’t you?You didn’t want me to see it.”
“No.”His reply was curt, cold.
“Why?”she demanded.Sudden hot tears burned the backs of her eyes.She had almost wanted to trust him and now, this betrayal.
“I hoped you would never find it.”His gaze was still fixed on something in the distance.He could not bring himself to look at her.
And that infuriated her.“Because of what it says?”
Silence.
“Gabriel, look at me,” she demanded.
Finally, his gaze flickered to hers.In them, she saw a myriad of emotions.Regret.Remorse.Guilt.And something ancient and otherworldly.
“Who are you?”she asked, her voice raspy and soft amid the hush that filled the room.
“You know who I am,” he replied.
“But you haven’t aged.You hide in the shadows.You vanish when I blink.Are you even alive?”
“I’m no ghost.”
“But you’re not just a man, either, are you?”
A flicker of something old and sorrowful passed through his eyes.“No.”
She remained still, trembling from cold and revelation.“Then what are you?”
He sighed, dragging a hand through his wet hair.“I was bound to this place by a promise I didn’t understand.The house…it remembers.It holds on to what it loves and what it fears.”He looked past her again, to that place in the room he’d been staring at.“Lenore is both.”
Victoria’s throat tightened.“And me?What am I to it?”
“You’re blood.”His voice softened.“The last of the Ravenwoods.You’ve awakened something that’s been dormant for years.”
A crack of thunder in the distance made her flinch.“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
He put down his cup, rose, and crossed the distance between them in three strides.“Because I wanted to protect you.”His hand hovered near her cheek, but didn’t touch.“Because I failed once before.”
