Anathema, Page 3

  I obliged almost mechanically, leaning forward to slide my fingertips along the statue’s toes. They were icy cold. “Very smooth,” I agreed, straightening. Blood instantly rushed to my head. The ground began to sway. I closed my eyes, vaguely aware of a strong hand grabbing my arm and moving me.

  When the dizziness disappeared, I found myself sitting at a bistro table near the statue. Sofie, Leonardo, and the blonde man stood around me, concerned expressions on their faces. What’s wrong with me lately? I felt my cheeks grow hot. “Must be the flight. Or the wine. I’m sorry.” I smiled sheepishly. When Sofie’s distressed expression didn’t fade, I added, “This atrium is spectacular,” hoping to redirect their attention.

  The blonde man’s sparkling cobalt–blue eyes roamed over the gardens, a proud smile stretching his lips. “Isn’t it, though? I hate the long, cold winters but I love this city too much to move to a warmer climate. This atrium is the perfect compromise.”

  “Yes, the gas company agrees whole–heartedly. The fool keeps them in business, heating this place,” a man muttered darkly behind me in a thick French accent. I turned to see a tall, broad–shouldered man with chestnut brown hair and black eyes marching toward us. He was dressed as sharply as the blonde.

  “You ridicule, yet you have no trouble taking full advantage,” the blonde retorted with a deep scowl, pointing toward the bistro table. When his attention fell back to me, his face lit up again. “Welcome to our home, Evangeline! I’m Sofie’s friend, Viggo. That grouch there is Mortimer.” Viggo draped his arm casually around my shoulder as if he were a long–time friend. My shoulders tensed in response, unaccustomed to the closeness. Luckily, if he noticed, he didn’t seem bothered.

  This entire place is theirs? Wide–eyed, I scanned the multitude of balconies again. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

  “Oh, Sofie warned us that you were a darling, with such manners,” Viggo said, smiling. “I hope it didn’t take too much convincing to get you here.”

  Mortimer chuckled deeply. “Sofie could convince a troll to abandon his bridge if she set her mind to it.”

  Viggo threw an unimpressed glare at Mortimer before turning back to me. “But you are far from a troll, my beautiful Evangeline.” He laughed, his eyes twinkling as he pulled me out of my chair and squeezed me in a fatherly side–hug.

  It was how I had always imagined my father would embrace me, if I had known him. My dad had never been in the picture, deciding fatherhood was too daunting the second he learned of his seventeen–year–old girlfriend’s pregnancy. Oddly enough, he had no concerns about scaling treacherous cliffs. It was a freak mountain climbing accident—not the cries of a little girl—that had killed him.

  My face flared with heat at Viggo’s brazen compliment. “Give her room to breathe, Viggo,” Sofie warned. “She’s been two seconds away from a mild coronary the entire trip here.”

  Viggo chuckled. “Come. Let’s show you to your room. You must be exhausted. This way.”

  I turned to follow him. And gasped.

  Four beasts stood in a row ten feet away from me, their unsettling, beady yellow eyes studying me with suspicion. I call them beasts because they were simply too large to be anything else. Their cropped, pointy ears were level with my shoulders—and at five foot nine, I was by no means considered short. Their muscular bodies, covered in glossy black fur, were easily triple my weight.

  One of them sauntered forward, its talon–like claws clicking against the cobblestones with each step. It halted in front of Mortimer for a sniff and a pat, its gaze never leaving mine.

  “Evangeline, meet Maximus, Sebastian, Charleston, and Remington. My fiercely loyal and protective guard dogs.” Mortimer gave the dog a playful shove before pulling its head affectionately into his chest.

  “What kind of dogs are they?” I asked warily, edging back to stand behind Viggo.

  “Oh, they’re … a unique strain. No others exist in the world.”

  “Because their mother was a horse?” I mumbled under my breath.

  Mortimer’s laughter reverberated throughout the atrium. It was deep and menacing and left me unsettled. “I agree, they are much larger than we had expected—and they consume the equivalent of a horse.”

  My hand flew to my mouth.

  “Don’t be worried about offending us, dear Evangeline,” Viggo said, patting my back, chuckling.

  “You don’t like my dogs?” Mortimer’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh, no! I’m just … shocked by their size.” I stepped forward and reached up to stiffly pat the top of a head. I didn’t know whose. They all looked the same.

  Mortimer laughed again, obviously aware of my discomfort. “You will learn to appreciate their companionship, I promise,” he called over his shoulder as he walked down the path toward a set of double red doors embedded in one of the walls.

  I peered at the four pairs of eyes gazing back at me, unconvinced.

  I received the grand tour of their home, or parts of it, because a full tour would have lasted into the wee hours of the night. Viggo explained the extensive renovations while we wove through the countless rooms and marbled hallways, including the construction of an atrium where one had never existed.

  “We could have built an identical home from the ground up for one–eighth of the cost,” Mortimer complained. “But Viggo had to have this location and what Viggo wants, Viggo gets.”

  Viggo only winked in response.

  So they lived together. That meant they were more than platonic friends—although, listening to their interaction, I never in a million years would have guessed it.

  We ended the tour on the top floor. Viggo pushed open a set of double doors, and threw his arms wide. “Your suite, mademoiselle.”

  To the left of me was a king–sized four–poster bed, dressed in layers of feathery pillows and opulent bedding, all in a mixture of white and silvery gray. Circular glass tables on either side of the bed held crystal lamps and fresh bouquets of ivory calla lilies, and a crystal chandelier sparkled above it all. To my right, a white velvet chaise waited beside an oversized fireplace. A watercolor of a young girl picking wild flowers hung over the marble mantel. The softly–hued image stirred familiarity within me, though I couldn’t place it.

  “Leonardo stocked your room with clothing, toiletries, and the like,” Viggo said, placing a firm hand on my back to prod me toward a door in the opposite wall. With the turn of a knob and the flick of a switch, I found myself standing in a walk–in closet filled with a department store–worth of clothing and shoes. “Everything your little heart may require for your stay,” he added with a smile.

  My jaw dropped. All for me?

  “Yes, it’s for you. It should fit perfectly. All new and—” His eyes narrowed as something caught his attention. He walked over and reached into a basket to pull out a lacy pink thong. “Oh, you old devil, Leonardo.” He grinned.

  If there was a competition over whose face turned a harsher shade of red—Leonardo’s or mine—I couldn’t say who would win.

  Leonardo gruffly cleared his throat. “Martha was in charge of those … items,” he answered curtly. Spinning on his heels, he marched out of the room.

  “I should be more careful or I’ll give the old man a heart attack,” Viggo murmured, casually tossing the frilly thing back into the basket and walking out.

  I followed, still shocked by their generosity. At least that solves my underwear issue …

  “It’s late. You likely need your rest,” Mortimer exclaimed after releasing an obviously phony yawn.

  “Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen, should you get hungry. Our staff made sure the fridge was fully stocked,” Viggo added, patting my back.

  They all turned to leave.

  I panicked. “Wait!” Three sets of piercing eyes turned to regard me curiously. “What if I get lost?”

  Viggo threw his head back and howled with laughter. “Oh, you are precious, aren’t you!” He pinched my cheek.

/>   “Maximus will guide you,” Mortimer answered, trying to keep his amusement from showing.

  I turned to find that the massive animal had crept in behind me. I eyed the beast skeptically.

  “Don’t worry, he knows this place well.” Viggo chuckled.

  Maximus stared at me with oddly perceptive eyes for a moment and then, letting out an unimpressed groan, he flopped down beside the fireplace.

  Sofie was the last to leave. She gave me a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Those two can be … overwhelming.”

  I shook my head, giggling “They’re nice. And extremely generous.”

  Sofie bit her bottom lip, suddenly pensive. “I’m just down the hall if you need me.”

  “No worries. I have a tour guide, remember?”

  Sofie glanced over at the big beast, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Well, if you need anything, I’m there.”

  “You’re kidding, right? What more could I possibly need?” I waved to the luxurious suite. “I could die a happy girl here, tonight.”

  Sofie’s face contorted in horror for a second before she schooled it to her normally reserved expression. “Well, good night then.” With another icy gaze at the giant mass of canine muscle, she was gone, walking briskly down the hall.

  “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Maximus. Max.”

  Max groaned and stood. He walked over to stand beside the bed and lifted one paw to the mattress, patting it several times as if instructing me to get in.

  I laughed, my fear of him melting away. He didn’t look so threatening after all. “Are you trying to tell me something?” I glanced at the bedside clock. A quarter to midnight, and I was wired. There was no way I’d get any sleep tonight. But I may as well get comfortable, I decided, heading to the closet to find some pajamas.

  Now that I didn’t have an audience, I could shamelessly investigate the plethora of clothes. My hands eagerly sorted through racks upon racks of stylish clothes, all with designer tags still attached—Fendi, Burberry, Versace, Vera Wang—names I recognized from fashion magazines but never imagined wearing. An entire wall housed shoes; I counted thirty pairs. Thirty! From runners to boots with three inch–high heels, and everything in between. On another wall hung dozens of wire baskets filled with socks, pajamas, and intimates—including the infamous thong.

  As I rifled through the pile of cozy flannel separates—my typical choice—my eye caught white lace trim. Curious, I pulled out a gray two–piece set. I rubbed the material between my fingers, reveling in the softness. “Why not?” I muttered, stripping down to try on the slinky outfit. I looked in a mirror. Half my chest was exposed, the tank top’s plunging neckline bordering on obscene. “What do you think, Max? Too sexy?”

  He pushed past me and, walking over to the basket of pajamas, stuck his muzzle into it. He resurfaced with a pair of fuzzy pink Tigger–printed flannels between his teeth.

  “Yes, Max, that is more me.” I chuckled wryly. “The old me. This,” I twirled, “is the new me. The adventurous, confident Evangeline.” My life was full of new beginnings. “I think I’ll stay in it. I’m not going out in public anyway,” I threw over my shoulder, leaving the closet.

  Max followed, groaning.

  Next I checked out the ensuite bathroom—an outrageously large, spa–like room constructed in white marble and crystal. The counter held dozens of creams and soaps and the equivalent of an entire drugstore cosmetics aisle, including some metal tools that in my opinion belonged in a serial killer’s torture kit.

  Max nosed through the door and sauntered over to nuzzle my neck affectionately. I giggled. His nuzzles turned to shoves as he herded me out into the bedroom and toward my bed, his sheer size easily overpowering me.

  I sighed, scratching his ear affectionately. “I’m not tired yet, Max.” My eyes wandered around my luxurious suite, taking in every detail from the bed frame to the doorknobs. “They sure do have a lot of money, don’t they …” I slid my fingertips along the sculpted mantel, likely worth enough to pay for my first year of college.

  My eyes lifted to the watercolor and that same twinge of familiarity stirred. The little girl was in a park, with a swing set and red and white striped monkey bars in the distant background. Leaning in, I read the signature in the bottom right corner. My eyes widened in shock. “Sofie painted this?” Could it be? Yes, I supposed it could. I knew absolutely nothing about her.

  A gigantic yawn escaped me. Maybe I will sleep tonight, after all. “Okay, Max. You win. Now I’m ready to sleep.”

  I crawled into the giant bed and burrowed under the luxuriously soft duvet, suddenly exhausted. Max hovered beside my bed, watching keenly. “Night, Max,” I said through a yawn, reaching out to pat his nose. My other hand clasped Sofie’s pendant, imagining heat radiating from it.

  I must have blinked a dozen times before my pupils adjusted to the dark. It was either late dusk or early dawn, I couldn’t tell which. Trees towered over me, soaring skyward to form a canopy so expansive that I could barely glimpse the moonlit sky beyond. I was surrounded by forest. Where am I?

  3. Drowning

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a person standing motionless nearby. I turned my head to look. Not a person, a statue—the white woman from Viggo and Mortimer’s atrium. I frowned. Hadn’t Viggo called her one of a kind?

  Something burned hot against my chest, like an ember scorching my skin. Looking down, I realized it was my pendant. Only it wasn’t the cold, glassy black heart Sofie had given me. It had come alive, glowing with a swirling current of orange and crimson. I lifted the pendant off my chest by its chain; no burns marred the skin underneath. It must be like a mood ring, only it gets hot with color changes. Someone’s discovered a way to revive that dreadful fad.

  A faint breeze caressed my body. I shivered in response and wrapped my arms tightly around my bare arms. Bare? Glancing down, I groaned. I was in my pajamas, the revealing gray ones. I can’t believe I left the house in this! Peering farther down, I saw exposed toes. Perfect. No shoes either. Did I sleepwalk out of Mortimer and Viggo’s place?

  I sat up and checked the shadows, grumbling, “Where is that bloody mutt?” The big black dog hadn’t followed me. I pushed to my feet and took a step forward, the cold, damp moss of the forest floor tickling my bare skin. A twig snapped beneath my weight—so slight a sound that it should have gone unnoticed but instead echoed like a thunderclap in the eerie silence. Nothing moved. Nothing seemed alive.

  My stomach knotted up in panic. I inched back toward the statue to wait for rescue. My teeth began chattering, the chilly night air uncomfortable, even with my blazing pendant as a source of heat. I may freeze to death out here, I realized. Maybe this statue is the frozen result of another girl wandering into the woods, never to be heard from again.

  I finally accepted that I had to seek out help. I stepped hesitantly forward, my feet barely registering the cold from the ground anymore. I wandered into the mass of bushes and ferns surrounding the clearing where the statue stood, my face periodically caressed by a stray leaf as I pushed branches out of my path. I kept moving, stumbling over roots as the darkness deepened within the dense thicket, beginning to feel as if I were being swallowed whole.

  “I’m from Maine and I have zero basic survival skills,” I admitted sourly to myself. “That will change. As soon as I get back, I’m signing up for the first Wilderness for Dummies class I can find.” And a psychiatrist.

  My ears caught a faint and distant sound. I held my breath, listening intently. Laughter? It was so far away, and barely audible … It couldn’t be. My mind must be playing tricks on me. I took several more steps then froze, praying I wasn’t hallucinating. Seconds ticked by. There! This time, I heard a clear howl of mirth in the distance. People!

  I took off like an arrow, abandoning my usual caution, tearing recklessly through the thick undergrowth toward the sound. Branches and leaves whipped against my body but I barely noticed, too busy holding my breath. Do I shout out to them? L
et them know I’m coming? I opted for keeping silent, concentrating on not running headfirst into any of the mammoth tree trunks. I figured they’d see the glow from my necklace anyway, now blazing with brilliant light like a beacon in a thick fog.

  I finally broke free of the bushes to find a moonlit river, maybe twenty feet wide, stretching out in front of me. I had to grab the trunk of a small tree growing at its edge to stop myself from tumbling in. Momentary panic clenched my stomach. How am I going to cross this? It wasn’t a huge river but it was October. The water would be icy cold.

  Boisterous male laughter rang out. I turned toward it and saw, maybe a hundred feet away on the other side of the river, my soon–to–be rescuers standing with their backs to me. I exhaled and then breathed in slowly, sweet relief filling my lungs. I was going to be okay.

  There were three of them and they were keenly focused on a large object at their feet. Something was extremely funny because they were practically doubled over in laughter. They obviously hadn’t noticed me yet—astonishing, given the noise I had surely generated while streaking through the forest like a wild boar.

  I opened my mouth to holler but a sound other than laughter clamped my mouth shut, the short hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. It had come from a female, and it wasn’t laughter. All three men crouched down around whatever was by their feet. What are they doing? I squinted, concentrating hard on the object.

  It moved.

  A chill of realization slid down my spine. It wasn’t an object. It was a person.

  “I’ll visit, I promise,” I heard a male voice bellow as one of them hoisted the person’s body up and tossed it toward the center of the river. A large rectangular object followed closely after, entering the river with a big splash.

  The blood coursing through my veins turned icy as I stood there, my eyes wide with terror. I waited for the body to resurface, a kick or a splash—some sign of life, some clue that this was a prank.