Page 19 of When Bones Whisper
Each dark memory was edged with a faint, ethereal light, and for a moment she wondered if she was dying. The creature was still feasting upon her like a wild animal. She could still feel him suckling on her throat, yet, now and then, she felt a hint of his emotion pulse through her, as if they were melding into one.
In the last memory, she felt a jolt of panic, and it was not her own.
Fortunately, the abyss snatched her away before she could feel anything else, but not before she heard a rush of whispers sound into her ears, welcoming her as the next victim to join the ghosts haunting Sallow Manor.
Chapter Six
“Death is coming.”
Charlotte sat upright, panic surging through her as she awoke to darkness, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. She tried to recall the dream that had her spluttering those three words, but the more she tried, the faster it slipped away.
She gripped the sheets and glanced around at the shadows of the monochrome furniture across from the four-poster bed. While she couldn’t remember what had happened in the dream to so violently jolt her awake, she couldn’t shake the sense of doom building in the pit of her stomach.
The faint scent of lavender wafted into her lungs, and she grabbed the side of the mattress. For a moment, she’d forgotten where she was and who she was with. She looked around for any sign of the vampire, but there was no one else with her. Aside from the gentle patter of rain against the windows, everythingwas silent—too silent, as if the house had forgotten to breathe. Or perhaps she had gotten so used to the creaking floorboards and groaning walls of Lovett Manor.
Slowly, she brought her fingers to her throat, surprised to find nothing there. The pain was gone, along with any evidence that Nathaniel had bitten her and invaded her memories. The thought of him perusing her head and peering into the more vulnerable corners of her mind welled up a rage so potent in her core that she fisted the blankets and clenched her jaw.
Her eyes drifted to the drapes and the sliver of moonlight peeking through, just enough to illuminate a path to the dresser. Dust motes floated in the peppered, white light, and she watched them, thinking only of the vampire and his fangs on her throat.
She reached for the locket around her neck. It was the only thing she had left. The witches likely took everything in the manor after they found she’d escaped, or worse. Painted scenes appeared in her mind’s eye of the bloodbath that likely awaited her back home.
Tears pricked her eyes. She didn’t want any of this, but death seemed to follow her wherever she went.
Chills ran over her bare arms, as if the air was thick with something unseen and it was crawling all over her. Before she could dissolve into a panicked mess over the events of the night, the floorboard creaked beside her bed and her eyes widened. She didn’t move and held her breath, listening intently to the sound of something dragging itself over the floorboards and over to her window.
A woman’s soft voice spoke into her mind, the sound a familiar, sickly sweet whisper.
End it now, before they torture you.
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. A full-body shudder ran through her back, arms, and legs.
Click.
Her eyes widened when the glass of the window rattled as the latch opened. Slowly, it swung open, and a gust of cold air swept into the room.
The voice floated in again, but the tone deepened, now disconnected and broken in places.
There is nothing to be afraid of. Death is freedom.The voice said all too sweetly.You crave it, and it craves you. End your suffering.
Her toes curled against the linen, fingers gripping the blankets. Charlotte glared at the door, suddenly desperate for the vampire to return.
The dream suddenly splashed into her mind like icy water. Her dead mother was reaching through the bars of the graveyard, desperately trying to get out. It was Alice who had warned her in the nightmare, telling her the witches were coming.
No, that they were already there. That she was already dying.
She threw the covers off her body but was too late. Cold, invisible palms pressed against her cheeks before releasing her. The stench of sulfur wafted through the room, forcing bile into her throat. The voice spoke again, the sound echoing in her head.
Just one jump and all of this will be over. You can be with your family again.
Her scream came out as a dry, raspy gurgle. No matter how hard she tried to yell for help, nothing was coming out. Trying to move was like wading through water. Every movement was slow, and her body was heavier than usual. Her limbs moved of their own accord, as if they were attached to invisible puppet strings.
With a tumble, she fell off the bed, her body crawling toward the open window.
She didn’t want to die. No matter how painful life could be, she did not want it to end. A surge of fire spiked through her, the same one that she’d felt the night her father believed he'd killed her. She could have gotten up to help Alice, but she didn’t. Instead, she played dead, frozen and weak, watching when her sister took her last breath. Because she wanted to survive, and by the look on her father’s face, nothing could have stopped him. Not her. Not Alice. Nothing.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
The voice spoke again, responding to her thoughts in a way that made Charlotte’s stomach turn.
