The Collector, Page 3

A blaring scream woke me from my sleep. It took me a few seconds for my brain to register the source of the scream was my own throat. Struggling for breath, I held my hand to my chest as if forcing my lungs to accept the oxygen that filled the room. Looking around at my surroundings for any immediate dangers, my heart stilled when I realized I was alone. Recognizing the decor of my room, I was able to control my fear and come to grips with the fact that I had only been dreaming.

  Just a dream, I thought, raking my hands through my hair.

  I felt relieved, knowing that it wasn’t real. I admonished myself for allowing my nerves from the day before to invade my sleep. I hated being spooked by foolish nonsense. My nerves seemed to be on edge without a source for such feelings. I was sure that keeping my mind to other things would put an end to any feelings of anxiety.

  With the soft light of dawn pouring in from the windows, I threw off the sheets and decided to start the day. I washed up and dressed quickly, choosing to wear a pair of faded skinny jeans and blue t-shirt that matched my eyes perfectly. Sweeping my black hair up in a tight bun, I exited the bedchamber, walking down the hall and pausing at the circular staircase.

  Looking up, I had flashbacks of the dream. The staircase was the same. The torches were gone, but there were still traces of the iron holders indented in the stone wall. Tracing the indentations with my fingertips, I wondered if my mixed feelings about the castle were really leaking into my subconscious, causing me to have the nightmare. If so, how could I have known the staircase had been lined with torches?

  Maybe the waitress’ story was still lingering in my mind and took the forefront while I dreamed. Yet, she never mentioned the castle’s decor. My mind raced with the possibilities, stirring up the same feelings of dread I had when I arrived.

  Before I frightened myself, I shook those thoughts from my head, making my way downstairs without further delay. I made my way to the dining hall where I found Isobel. She had already begun to eat her breakfast of eggs, toast, black pudding, and coffee.

  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Isobel greeted me with a warm smile while chewing on a piece of toast.

  “Good morning,” I responded, taking a seat close to her at the rectangular table.

  Within seconds, a servant entered the room. She was holding a plate of potato scones and a pot of fresh coffee. Standing at a petite five foot one, the woman was between her mid-fifties or sixties with a full-figured frame. She had warm eyes that were the color of honey, and a dimpled smile. Overall, she had a kind face which was framed by thick gray hair which was pulled back away from her face.

  Turning my attention from the maid to Isobel, I asked, “What time did you get up?”

  “Oh, I am usually awake before the sun comes up,” my friend responded, glancing at the maid. “Kyleigh, this is Moira. She helps with the cooking around here.”

  “Hello, Moira,” I greeted brightly, a large smile spreading across my face.

  She nodded her head in greeting, placing the pot of coffee on the table near an empty cup and saucer. “What would you like?” she asked, motioning towards the plate of scones she placed near Isobel.

  “Oh, just some eggs and toast,” I responded, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

  She excused herself, dashing to the kitchen.

  “I didn’t know you had a cook,” I commented astonished at the idea of someone catering to her every culinary need.

  Taking a scone, Isobel offered me the plate, but I declined. “You can’t expect my uncle to do the cooking. Somehow I can envision him burning down the castle just boiling water,” she quipped. “Moira comes in the mornings to cook for the day. By the time we finish breakfast, she will have lunch and dinner started. All we need to do is reheat.”

  “Why does she cook so early?” I asked Isobel, trying to make small talk as Moira entered with my breakfast.

  “Because I don’t like to be in the castle after dark,” Moira replied, glancing from me to Isobel.

  Taking a sip of my coffee, I leaned forward in my seat. “Why not?” I questioned, suddenly curious.

  Moira looked at me in the eyes and said, “It is said the castle is haunted by the Green Lady—”

  “Oh, please, Moira,” Isobel interrupted, obviously annoyed. “Not that again.”

  Averting her eyes in apparent shame, Moira concentrated on my face once more, and I encouraged her to speak. “I have never believed in spirits. I, myself, have never seen the Green Lady, but I have heard strange sounds in the area at night. Blood curdling screams with no apparent source. I can’t stay here at night. I won’t.”

  “These screams were probably just the crows squawking,” Isobel offered, trying to be a voice of reason. “Sometimes they sound like that.”

  With her eyes as wide as saucers, Moira shifted her weight from one foot to another, appearing uncomfortable with the subject. “No,” she replied, shaking her head forcefully. “They say these lands are cursed. Women disappear.”

  “Well, I am still here,” my friend responded brashly. “I have lived here most of my life, and I haven’t disappeared into the walls yet.”

  Looking down at the floor, I realized the cook felt embarrassed by her beliefs. After all, most people would not readily volunteer their beliefs in the supernatural. Such subjects were still discussed with skepticism. “Well, the ‘blood curdling scream’ you may have heard this morning was mine. I had a nightmare last night.”

  Isobel turned her attention towards me but said nothing.

  “That is how it starts, Miss,” Moira said cryptically, lifting her gaze from the floor and meeting my eyes. “The Green Lady is reaching out to you.”

  Before I could give Moira’s words much thought, Isobel scoffed. “Oh, stop it. It is obviously the excitement of traveling somewhere new. It was your first night in a new environment. It probably won’t happen again. You probably won’t even remember your dreams tonight, because you will have gotten used to your bed and have fallen soundly asleep.”

  I nodded, hoping that would be the case.

  After breakfast, Isobel and I decided to start our day at the top of the tower on the fifth floor. As we made our way up the circular staircase, I couldn’t help but feel a chill. Hearing the click of my shoes on the stone floor was eerie, but my mind seemed to drift on other things.

  Something about that dream had been gnawing away at me, but I didn’t dare mention it in front of Isobel. I didn’t want to frustrate her with further talk of the paranormal. I truly wanted this vacation to be a fun one, but the nagging in the pit of my stomach prevented me from relaxing.

  Passing the fourth level, I realized it was almost exactly the way I had envisioned which puzzled me. Glancing down the hall momentarily, I saw the wooden door from my dream. It was closed and appeared to be locked. However, this part of the house was neglected, and I fully expected to enter it under the guise of a helpful friend. Yet, I wanted to enter that chamber as soon as possible to see the thing that possibly scared me in my nightmare. I had no idea what I had seen, but if it was there to be seen, then I wanted to know what it was that frightened me.

  Still, a part of me wished that a dream could just be a dream. The odds were slim that it had any foundation in truth. After all, I had been feeling anxious, and anxiety could lead to nightmares. I just didn’t know what to think. Perhaps entering that chamber could give me some peace, especially if there is nothing but covered furniture and dust mites. Besides, my rational mind kept reminding me that such things never turn out to be real, and yet, logic didn’t ease my distress.

  We entered the first chamber, and I set my cleaning supplies down on the wooden floor.

  “You take this room,” Isobel ordered, walking across the room and opening the dusty curtains.

  When the sunlight penetrated the dust-covered windows, I was able to see that this room was in fact a bedroom. It was a small room, and yet, it was large enough to house a four-poster bed. The f
urniture was protected under tarps so it was impossible to see everything that filled the small space, but I was excited to explore the hidden treasures that were hidden underneath.

  “I will start on the room next door,” Isobel continued, brushing her red hair away from her face with her fingertips. “The curtains will need washing so just throw those in a garbage bag. Sort through everything. If you think something is useless, it probably is. Don’t hesitate to get rid of it. My uncle hangs onto things that have no use so I imagine you will find a lot of junk in here.”

  I nodded as Isobel moved into the next room. I removed the heavy curtains and placed them into an oversized bag for washing. I placed my bucket next to me and started scrubbing the windows clean. However, I noticed that no amount of cleaning on the inside could allow rays of sunlight to penetrate through the grime on the outside of the glass. Finding that the windows opened inwardly, I clicked open the lock and swung them open, letting the sea breeze into the room. Taking a deep breath, I began cleaning the panes, one by one. By the time I was done, the windows looked like crystal, separating the rays of sunlight through their panes like a kaleidoscope.

  The walls in this part of the house were thick stone and needed a serious scrub down. Running my finger along the stone, I inspected my grime covered fingertip and decided the walls needed the same treatment as the windows. I found a scrub brush in my pile of cleaning tools and cleaning soaps. Adding soap into the bucket, I dunked the brush into the water, ensuring there was nothing hanging on the walls that could get damaged. When I was certain the walls were clear, I started scrubbing them clean. The room was small, but the task was time consuming with all the nooks and crannies of the stone.

  By the time I was done, it was lunch time. Isobel and I abandoned our work, and we headed downstairs. We entered the kitchen, finding that Moira had already left for home. We put together sandwiches and ate quickly before returning to our work.

  Looking around the bedchamber, I realized I still had so much work to do. I estimated that it would take me two whole days to finish this room to my liking. Isobel and I wouldn’t even get near the fourth floor before sundown. With no electricity on the upper levels, cleaning by candlelight would be a problem. I had to complete what I could before the sun went down and start up again in the morning.

  I started to mop the floors but realized I could not really clean all of the floors until the furniture was uncovered. Leaning the mop against the wall, I started to remove dusty tarps and placing them in trash bags. By the time I was done, I uncovered the rest of the four-poster bed, a wooden trunk, and an oak wardrobe on the far side of the room. Other than that the room was relatively plain with no paintings or accessories.

  Appearing as if they hadn’t been changed in a hundred years, I stripped the filthy sheets from the bed, throwing them off to the side. On a quest for new sheets, I walked across the room and opened the wardrobe, finding it empty.

  Glancing about the room, my eyes stopped at the trunk at the foot of the bed. Walking towards the trunk, my thoughts drifted to what could have been hidden within. I knelt before the trunk and clicked it open. Curious, I lifted the lid and let my eyes take in its contents.

  With a gasp, I reached into the trunk and pulled out a ruby-colored gown with long sleeves. The dress was made from silk which may seem rare for those living in the Highlands of Scotland, but whoever lived in this castle was most certainly rich and could afford to import such fabrics.

  I overlapped the dress onto my torso and looked down into the trunk for more treasures. I saw another satin gown; however, this one was emerald green in color with delicate lace trim around the collar. There were also two pairs of black leather shoes and a gold locket within the chest. I reached into the trunk and grabbed the locket. The locket was plain and did not have the ornate scrollwork of jewelry today. However, the initials H.G.K. were inscribed on the back of the locket. I understood this to mean that the owner of the locket was a Keith just like Isobel. Opening the locket, I found it empty which was curious. Usually, a woman would keep a lock of hair or a small painting since the locket would have been worn before the time of photographs.

  Placing the locket back where I found it, I rose to my feet. Holding the gown in place, I whirled around the room pretending I lived in another time. Smiling to myself, I held the top of the dress with one hand and held the skirt in the other as I danced, pretending to be in a ballroom surrounded by people. I could almost hear the murmuring of the crowd in my imagination as I moved about.

  “What are you doing?” I heard a deep and angry voice question, jarring me from my fantasy.

  Dropping the dress on the floor in my surprise, I gawked at the figure standing in the doorway, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Embarrassed, my heart began to beat heavily in my chest. The pounding caused me to clutch my sternum in an attempt to sooth my nerves. Gasping for breath, I felt as if I were caught doing something I shouldn’t have.

  I took in the man at the doorway and noted that he was tall, standing at over six foot. He stood with his hands on his narrow hips. As if appraising him, I noticed his body was lean with broad shoulders. This man was attractive to the senses, but he was brooding, judging from his pout. His eyes were green and intense as they met my own. He had an angular jaw which was bulging in his anger. He had a masculine but youthful appearance, making him look no older than his mid-twenties.

  He wore a pair of blue jeans and a green cashmere sweater which matched his eyes perfectly. On his feet, he wore a pair of brown loafers, a clue to his maturity. He could have been in his thirties, but I struggled with him being any older than that.

  Brushing his chestnut hair back with his hand, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the dress which was lying in a pool of satin on the floor. “What are you doing?” he asked again in a heavily accented voice.

  Picking up the dress hastily and placing it back into the trunk, I extended my hand in greeting, trying to still my beating heart. “My name is Kyleigh Blaire. I am Isobel’s friend.”

  His face softened as he took in my frightened form. “Yes, I know who you are,” he said softening as he scratched his head. “What did you think you were doing with that dress?”

  Not knowing what to answer, I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “I was admiring it.”

  Just then Isobel came bouncing into the room, giving the man a huge hug. “Leigh, this is my uncle, Lucas Keith. I told him all about you.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

  He brushed off my greeting as his handsome face appeared troubled. “I am sorry I overreacted. It is just that the dress holds some... sentimental value. It was the wedding gown of my great, great, great grandfather’s wife.”

  Standing innocently with my hands behind my back, I nodded in understanding. “I understand,” I replied, still fidgeting.

  Mr. Keith turned his attention back to Isobel. “I did not know you were going to be cleaning out these rooms on your vacation.”

  “It was supposed to be a surprise for you,” she said, smiling. “Do you like it?”

  Lucas nodded. “I see that you have made excellent progress on this level, my dear,” he told his niece as she beamed up at him. “I would hate for your vacation to be all work. Perhaps... it is time for a break. You can resume in the morning.”

  “I think that is a wonderful idea,” Isobel replied brightly with a broad smile. “I am worn out and could use a nap.”

  Although Isobel didn’t appear tired, I knew she could probably use some lounge time. I contemplated a nice bubble bath to wash away all the grime from beneath my fingernails. I nodded in agreement as I slithered past Lucas and into the hall, joining Isobel as we retreated to our bedchambers for some relaxation time.

  As I entered my bedchamber, I glanced out the window momentarily, realizing the sun was going down earlier than I expected. Shutting the door, I stood before it with my eyes catching on the latch. I f
elt overwhelmed by a sudden need to protect myself... to bar the door. The sensation was unexplainable, but I listened to my instincts and flipped the lock closed. Testing the latch to make sure it was locked, I exhaled, feeling secure once more.

  Since my luggage was brought up by Moira earlier in the day, I was able to sort through my clothes. Finding some comfortable lounge clothes in my luggage, I threw them on the mattress, readying myself for a long soak in the tub. When I was done with my bubble bath some time later, I dressed and climbed into bed, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  My eyelids grew heavy, fluttering closed, and I drifted into unconsciousness.