Page 38 of Anathema

Aleysia had convinced me to run away with her once, after grandfather had gone missing and father had left for the war, leaving us alone with Agatha. The Vonkovyan soldiers had tracked us down, of course, and I’d been forced to watch my sister suffer twenty lashes for it.

Running wasn’t an option.

Instead, I closed my eyes and searched for solace in the black void.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MAEVYTH

“Help me! Please help me!”

The sound of screaming yanked me from sleep, and I jolted upright, searching the dark room. Across from me, Aleysia lay on her side, facing me, her arm hanging over the the edge of the bed. Quiet snores told me she was still sleeping peacefully.

Did she have a bad dream?

Or maybe I’d been the one dreaming. In the darkness of the room, a flash of the Banished Man slipped through my thoughts, and I screwed my eyes shut, pulling the blankets up to my chin.

When I opened them, he wasn’t there.

“No! No, please!”

The voice again. From the vent. Just like nights ago, when I’d caught Aleysia with Uncle Riftyn. Except, clearly it wasn’t Aleysia that time.

I ignored the tremble in my bones, the dark room devouring me, as I imagined that gaunt figure stumbling toward my bed.

“Someone, please! Make him stop! Please!”

I wanted to ignore those cries, as well, but what if someone was hurt? What if that were me, crying out for help, and I went ignored?

Frowning, I pushed out of bed and peered out the window, though I was certain the sound had come from within the house. I padded toward the staircase, avoiding the boards that I knew creaked, and descended the stairs to the second floor, where the corridor stood empty.

There, I waited, listening to see if it was coming from the bedrooms.

Nothing.

Ears perked, I descended the second staircase and swept through the parlor, the kitchen, the library, finding nothing in those rooms.

Resigned to going back to bed, I headed back toward the staircase, and heard the voice again, louder that time.

“Please! Oh, god, stop!”

Twisting around brought me standing before the door to the embalming rooms below. The place where Uncle Felix spent an exorbitant amount of time. What had once been a fun hiding spot, where Aleysia and I would play as children, was now a terrifying tomb, brimming with death. Before I could talk myself out of investigating, my feet carried me to the door, and as I took hold of the knob, I paused. I’d been down there once, or twice, but only whenever Agatha requested that I fetch something for Uncle Felix. The lowest level of the cottage, with its cold, stone walls, lack of windows, and bodies stored in that matrix of suffocating vaults, stirred the darkest corners of my imagination. Dread curled in my stomach like black snakes, at the thought of going down there now, particularly when my head so vividly toyed with me as of late. But after two nights of hearing those awful cries, I had to know.

“What are you doing there?” Agatha’s voice struck my nerves, and muscles taut with the fear of having been caught, I turned to her.

“I … thought I heard something.”

“The house is old. There are many noises.”

“Not a house sound. A cry for help.”

Eyes narrowed on me, she hobbled closer. “Only your Uncle Felix is down there now, and I very much doubt he cried out for help. Which leaves me to wonder if you’re hearing voices?”

In our world, hearing voices was a sign of demonic possession. An evil that the parish banished without question.

“How unfortunate that would be for you, if I were. With you having already sold me off.”

Her lips stretched into something that looked more evil than amused. “I understand Mr. Moros has close ties to a surgeon. One who specializes in matters of the brain.”

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