Chapter 3 - The Queen's Descent
The sound of my mother's footsteps grew louder,
rhythmic and terrifying.
She burst into the chamber,
her hair disheveled for the first time in my life,
her eyes wide with a manic energy.
She saw Thomas,
and for a moment,
the mask of the Southern lady fell away,
revealing the monster beneath.
"You,"
she hissed,
pointing a trembling finger at the man she had buried in her heart.
"I should have burned this house to the ground years ago."
"I should have left you in the wreckage of the car."
Thomas stood his ground,
the iron bar held firmly in his weathered hands.
"You couldn't do it,
Eleanor,"
he said,
his voice remarkably calm.
"Because you needed someone to hate."
"You needed a ghost to blame for everything that went wrong in your perfect life."
Eleanor turned her gaze to me,
and for the first time,
I felt a physical repulsion toward her.
"David,
get away from them,"
she commanded.
"They are trying to destroy us."
"They are lying to you,
just like he lied to me when we were young."
"No,
Mother,"
I said,
stepping closer to Emily and taking her hand.
"The only person who has been lying is you."
"I found the blanket."
"I found the passage."
"And I found the man you told me was a pile of ashes."
Eleanor’s face contorted,
her skin turning a sickly shade of gray in the candlelight.
"I did it for you!"
she screamed,
her voice echoing off the stone walls.
"He was weak!
He wanted to take you away from this estate,
away from the Vance legacy!"
"He wanted us to live in a small house in the country,
like commoners!"
"I saved your future!"
"You stole my father,"
I said,
my voice dropping to a deadly low.
"And you tried to steal my wife and my child."
Emily squeezed my hand,
her fingers cold but steady.
"It’s over,
Eleanor,"
Emily said.
"We’re leaving."
"We’re taking Thomas,
and we’re never coming back to this house."
Eleanor laughed,
a high,
disturbing sound that chilled me to the bone.
"You think you can leave?"
she asked.
"I own this house."
"I own the Vance name."
"And I own every secret hidden in these walls."
She reached into the pocket of her silk robe and pulled out a small,
silver whistle.
She blew into it,
but no sound came out—at least,
not a sound I could hear.
But Thomas’s eyes went wide with terror.
"The dogs,"
he whispered.
I remembered then the three Dobermans my mother kept in the kennels,
the ones she said were for security.
She had trained them to respond to that silent whistle.
We heard the sound of claws scratching against the stone floors above us.
The barking started,
a deep,
vicious sound that seemed to come from all directions.
"They are coming,
Thomas,"
Eleanor said,
a cruel smile returning to her lips.
"And they haven't been fed since yesterday."
The chamber felt like a trap,
the air thick with the scent of fear and impending violence.
I looked at the narrow passage we had come through,
knowing it was the only way out.
"Go,
David!"
Thomas shouted,
shoving the iron bar into my hands.
"Take Emily and get to the car!"
"I'll hold her back!"
"No,
Dad,
we aren't leaving you!"
I cried.
But the first dog was already at the entrance of the chamber,
May you like
its eyes glowing red in the candlelight,
its teeth bared in a snarl that promised death.
