Page 9 of When Bones Whisper
“Alice.”
Run and don’t come back. Leave your home, Lottie. Get as far away from here as you can.
The frantic voice in her mind twisted her ancestor’s expression into something far more insidious.
“Sister,” she choked out, but her ancestor’s command boomed into her head, silencing all else.
Stop!
You are making a mistake by taking those bones,the spirit warned, the words fading as she ran, her calves burning with each step, each breath like a sharp, cold dagger in her chest.
Rain pelted her body, saturating her blouse and long skirt. Dark locks of hair slathered against her freckled cheeks as she raced down the foggy path until she reached the looming silhouette of the tall manor. She halted by the gate, panting deep breaths.
Thick, heavy tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at the inky night sky, blinking away raindrops. Her chest heaved with each sob as she wailed into the silent, unforgiving night. Her voice. She’d heard Alice and she hadn’t imagined it.
Her sister was in pain.
With another controlled scream ripping through her dry, sore throat, she looked at the house. Alice had warned her to run, told her not to come back. She couldn’t trust the spirit of her ancestor. There had to be another way to help free her family. She just had to find it. Because she could not die, not when she’d not even started living yet? For her entire life, she had waited for things to happen to her, for a future to bloom out of fantasies in her mind, but the massacre woke her to the truth: she could die tomorrow. Death had once been little but a rumor to her young ears; it was now a heavy force, constantly reminding her that tomorrow was not promised.
There was no waiting anymore. She had to survive, because she wasn’t ready to go yet, but, ever since the night of themurders, death’s icy touch had followed her, and she had a horrible feeling it was closer than she knew.
A prickling unease replaced the heavy raindrops that had abruptly stopped. Charlotte peered through the dark bars, her fingers clamping around the bones in her hands. A burning scent of sugar and decaying vegetation filled her nostrils. Her eyes flicked to the arched windows of the manor, the lights flickering erratically inside.
Something was wrong.
Heavy layers of mist shrouded the shadowy depths of the garden, and the once vibrant green lawns were now a dry, sunbaked brown. With a gasp, she spotted her carefully tended flowers, now drooping and brown, their petals withered and lifeless.
Everything was dead and something was standing behind her, casting a shadow over hers.
Chapter Three
Ragged breaths sounded behind her. Charlotte sucked in a deep breath, determined not to glance over her shoulder, instead focusing on the shadow smothering her own. A harsh scent of sulfur burned into her nose, making her grimace.
Slowly, she turned her head over her shoulder. As she did, the silhouette disappeared.
Wonderful. That was all she needed. More ghosts haunting her.
Her heart stumbled, and she wondered how long the organ would continue ticking after the string of frights she’d had recently. At least the surge of adrenaline numbed the agony of the searing pain in her legs and torso.
She sighed, glanced back at the gate. With one step forward, she jumped, almost dropping the bones when she spotted a cockroach in the path of her boots. Its antennas probed the air,the moonlight glinting off its mahogany exoskeleton. “Careful,” she whispered and stepped out of its way. The insect scuttled under the iron bars, its wings flickering as it ran out of sight.
With a deep breath, Charlotte pushed open the gate with her hip and slipped inside.
Time seemed to stretch out for an eternity with each echoed step along the gray path to the front door. The closer she got to the manor, the further away it appeared. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, prickling into her cheeks and neck in an icy caress.
She assumed that after coming face to face with a spirit, she’d feel a little braver around the paranormal. It wasn’t the first time she’d been around a ghost. In fact, she’d gotten used to the dead haunting the halls of Lovett Manor since she was a child, but their presence was only made known with knocks on walls, footsteps at midnight and items falling from shelves. Never had she seen a full apparition until tonight.
She scanned her surroundings, walking stiffly ahead. Dead roses hung over the sides of the pots on either side of the large oak door. Even the lion’s head knocker was now a warped, twisted metal gargoyle.
The door creaked open, and Charlotte walked inside, closing the door behind her. A wave of heat rushed over her. After a few seconds, she peered outside through the long window, surprised to discover the garden was as before.
A cold tingle skittered down her spine.
“Demons,” she said with a drawn-out breath. Ghosts could not cause illusions like that. With a shiver, she turned her back tothe door, refusing to give it another thought. If it was a demonic entity that had stalked her from the graveyard, she wasn’t about to give it any attention to invite it in further.
A loud dong resonated from the grandfather clock, disrupting her wandering thoughts. Her uncle and cousin would be home soon.
She headed toward the attic, her legs as heavy as lead as she ran up the staircase, coming to a stop at the top. Hunched over, she leaned against a cool marble column, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. The dull ache that had been with her all evening transformed into a sharp, stabbing pain that spread through her joints. She crouched, a loud groan rumbling from her throat as her stiff knees cracked, sending a jolt of pain through her legs.
