Page 38 of Blood Vows
Who had screamed?
Why had it sounded so…human?
The storm outside hadn’t let up. Rain lashed against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks like some ancient spirit demanding to be let in. But even beneath the storm’s fury, I could still swear I heard them. Faint cries carried on the wind, too mournful, too real to be imagined.
I lay there, staring up at the ornate canopy above my bed, the flicker of lightning spilling brief light across the room. Every shadow seemed to move, every creak of the old manor whispered a secret I wanted to discover, as if it was compelling me to go in search for it.
I pulled the blankets tighter, willing myself to stay put, to let morning bring answers. But the longer I lay there, the louder my thoughts became.
That scream.
That sound of pure agony.
The same sound, perhaps, that might have escaped my own lips not so long ago. I sighed and pushed the blankets aside, swinging my legs out of bed. My toes touched the cold floor, and the chill of it grounded me back in reality. I hesitated for only a moment before pulling on a pair of socks and reaching for the lamp. The warm light pooled across the room, soft and golden, painting comfort where I felt none.
There was no sense in pretending anymore. I wasn’t going to sleep until I knew. The silence pressed in around me as I crossed the room and opened the door. The handle was cold beneath my fingers, the faintest tremor running through me as the old hinges groaned in protest. The corridor beyond was dimly lit, the sconces flickering with low, dying flames that cast the long hallway in shades of bronze and shadow.
I stepped out.
The air felt colder here, heavier. My pajama top clung to my skin from the humidity, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I moved. Each step was careful, the soft pad of my socked feet swallowed by the ancient carpet beneath me.
I half expected him to appear from the shadows, his dark form materializing with that quiet intensity that always left me reeling. But there was nothing. No sound, no movement, only the low hum of the storm outside and the soft pulse of my heartbeat in my ears.
I swallowed and whispered to no one,
“What was that scream?” The words vanished into the stillness, unanswered, like everything else he left me with. Lightning flashed again through the stained-glass windows ahead, momentarily flooding the hallway in fractured colour of crimson, gold, and blue. Then the thunder followed, telling me the storm was right over us, rattling the walls and sending another shiver through me.
I tightened my arms around myself, taking a step forward.
Whatever that sound had been, whatever mysteries this house was keeping, I needed to know. Because until I did, I wasn’t sure which frightened me more. The storm outside, or the one I’d unknowingly stepped into the moment he forced his way into my dreams.
The manor was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers. Every corridor looked the same, lined with portraits of forgottenancestors staring down from gilded frames, their painted eyes gleaming in the lightning’s brief flashes. The deeper I went, the heavier the air seemed to become, like the house itself didn’t want me wandering too far.
But curiosity had already won.
I told myself I was only trying to help, that maybe someone else was in trouble, that I wasn’t simply chasing the mystery that had wrapped itself around him since the night he took me. But that was a lie.
I needed to know what had made that sound.
My footsteps echoed softly as I made my way towards the east wing. The light from the sconces grew dimmer here, flickering as though the storm outside was trying to snuff them out. When I reached the hall that led into the unknown, I paused, uncertain of my decision.
Here it was…the east wing.
The side he told me never to enter.
My stomach tightened at the thought.
I remembered his words, that quiet warning spoken in the same tone he used when he wanted to command rather than ask. The wing that was off limits, private, forbidden. And now, the same wing that had echoed with that inhuman cry.
I hesitated, the weight of that unspoken boundary pressing down on me, but something within me, something stubborn and reckless, urged me forward.
If he didn’t want me there, there had to be a reason. And after everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure I could trust that his reason was protection.
Dust hung thick in the air, swirling lazily with each step I took. The walls here were lined not with portraits but with dark wooden panels, their surfaces carved with strange symbols I didn’t recognize. My fingertips brushed over one as I passed,tracing its grooves. It was smooth, worn from touch, as though someone had done this before me.
A low creak sounded behind me.
I spun, my breath catching, but there was nothing there. Only shadows that stretched long and deep across the floor, bending and shifting with the next flash of lightning. I tried to tell myself it was only the house, only the wind, but my pulse didn’t slow.
