I take another swig from the bottle and pass it back to him.
An hour later, I realize why Kol tried to warn me as he holds my hair back while I throw up into the grass.
Chapter
Eighteen
RAPSODY
Acouple days later, my hangover still lingers behind my eyes. I don’t know why people subject themselves to that. It was fun, but heaving my guts up and waking the next morning feeling like a mining crew was digging in my brain wasn’t worth it.
Still, I’m thankful I can check off getting drunk. Now I know for myself why I won’t be doing it again.
I didn’t leave my bedroom the entire day, but Kol came to check on me once, bringing me ibuprofen to help put me out of my misery. Today, I only saw him in the dining room at breakfast.
Everyone was quiet, seeming content to sit in silence and eat. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of Nero calling off his wedding or because the anniversary of their father’s death was still hanging over the brothers.
Usually, Anabelle would try to make conversation with me, but even she was quiet. I wonder if that’s because of how I acted when I asked her about the people in the masks. I’ll have to apologize to her. It’s not like I can expect her to forego her loyalty to her husband to fill me in on something that is obviously supposed to be a secret.
Basically, breakfast was uncomfortable, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I ate as quickly as I could and excused myself from the table.
I’m not sure if Kol’s avoiding me after what happened at the pond. I hope not, because ever since my headache subsided enough for me to think clearly, I’d been reliving our time together in my mind. And I want to do it again. That and more. But I’ll have to follow his lead for fear that if I push him too far too fast, he’ll strip me away entirely.
I spent the day outside because I overheard Marcel talking to Mrs. Potter about how a storm is due to sweep in tonight.
My paintbrush flicks over a canvas in an arch as I hear the first raindrops hit the glass roof of the conservatory. What starts as a light sprinkling quickly turns to the pounding of big raindrops on the glass, the wind picking up. Lightning streaks across the sky, lighting up the room for moments and casting shadows where there weren’t any before. Rolling thunder follows, shaking the glass in its iron casings.
My work area is bathed in light courtesy of the ring light Kol provided, but it’s hard not to feel as though something is lurking in the surrounding darkness, watching, waiting. A shiver runs down my spine as I look away from my lit-up canvas at the room beyond. I shrug off my unease and start to paint again, but the feeling of being watched causes the hairs on my neck to rise.
“Hello?” I call, but there’s no answer.
I stay still for a moment, keeping my breathing shallow and listening, but only the sound of the pelting rain on glass rings out.
“Don’t be such a scaredy cat,” I mumble to myself and bring the paintbrush to the canvas again.
A loud crack of thunder echoes through the room, and I yelp, dropping my paintbrush. My hand flies to my chest as my heartbeat races in the rapid-fire staccato of a machine gun, my breath strangled.
“Darn it.”
I bend to retrieve the brush when another crack lets loose from the sky, so loud that it sounds as if God is playing the cymbals right above the glass roof. When I startle, I jerk up and hit the edge of the easel.
“Ouch.” I bring my hand to the edge of my hairline and grimace.
A flash of lightning bathes the room in its ethereal glow before the room plunges into darkness. I still, waiting, waiting, waiting for the lights to come back on, remaining in darkness.
“Shoot.” Reaching out blindly, I find the small table with the rest of my brushes and paints on it and set down the brush.
How am I going to find my way back to my room in the dark? This manor is creepy enough in the middle of the day, but at night with zero light and being as big as it is, navigating it feels like an impossible task. I decide to sit tight for a few minutes and see if the lights come back on. If they don’t…
Lightning strikes again, and this time, I’m looking outside when it does. Everything out there feels threatening in the middle of the storm. The trunks of the trees look like soldiers at attention. The natural rise and fall of the lawn make me think of the undead pushing up from their graves, and a big, black creature streaks across the lawn.
There’s no way I’m spending the night here. I’ll have to somehow find my way back to my room, even if it means I have to wait for every lightning strike to see where I’m going and make only a little bit of progress at a time.
On the next lightning strike, I turn toward the door and mentally map out the way to get there. Then I walk slowly in the dark with my hands out in front of me. I miss the mark a few times and stumble into something, but when the lightning flashes again, I’m closer to the door.
As I walk, I think I must be close now, though there’s no real way to tell. Lightning flashes again, and I am indeed only mere feet from the door. A massive silhouette enters the doorway, and I scream, stumbling back.
A light shines in my eyes, blinding me, and a hand grips my arm. I scream louder, trying to free myself, until the sound of his voice cuts through my panic.