Page 1 of Hidden Raphael
Chapter 1
Kimberly Mira blinked into the dark and sniffed the air. Clean cotton sheets? A soft mattress cushioned her back. Her skin grew goose bumps as the wind howled outside. This wasn't heaven. Her skin felt grimy and her head pounded like she'd drunk too much last night. Flashes of an out-of-control fire replayed in her mind. She sucked in her breath like she needed to hold as much oxygen in as possible. She told herself to be normal and that the intense fire was in her mind's eye. Eventually she relaxed her body. Another memory surfaced as she closed her eyes and remembered falling into depths of a freezing forest.
She wiggled her feet, and her bare feet brushed against the soft sheets. This bed wasn’t hers and this black-as-night room made no sense. What had happened? Kimberly rubbed her eyes and stared into a dark gray room with walls etched out of stone. With the help of the moonlight her eyes adjusted, and she saw the wood floor shone as if from a recent polish.
Wind rattled the windowpane.
She breathed in and out, neither dead nor frozen. She sat up in bed, in the dimly lit room, and ran her hand over the silk nightgown she wore. She hadn’t had silk anything, ever. Her brow furrowed as she realized this wasn’t hers. Her own clothes were gone. She scratched her arm because it itched, and she remembered the hard, cold ocean. Who knew how deep she'd fallen into the watery depths, and she thought herself dead. Her skin itched with salt. Last night she’d been so cold. How was she wearing silky anything? She stretched to get out of the bed, and her feet pressed against a rug, though it wasn’t anything like the blankets, which offered warmth she hadn't thought to experience again.
Nothing made sense here. Where was she? She glanced around the room, and this time paid more attention to the long, thin windows that reminded her of Medieval Times. Was it a castle window? The dreary mist that was illuminated with the full moon outside offered no natural light.
A crisp wind blew past the window, and she shivered despite how the room was warm. Kimberly peered at the stone wall near the massive curved door with a round top and black metal trim, looking for a switch. She sucked on her bottom lip as she stared at a chandelier above her head. She had to be wrong about that. This was a crazy dream, but did castles have electricity? She shook her head and decided one step at a time. One issue at a time.
Step one. She wasn't dead. Was she kidnapped? Unlikely. A flashback in her mind went straight to the second where the tall, dark pilot left the front of the plane with a gun and she screamed. She shook her head. He’d tried to kill her. Her heart raced, but this didn’t help. She reasoned to herself that he wasn’t her kidnapper. How would the pilot know where to crash the plane to get here?
Calm down.However she’d ended up here in this room, she’d been placed in bed and changed into a nightgown. Everything had to be fine.
She stood up, and the cold from the wood floor rushed through her feet, up her legs. Kimberly jumped onto the plush Persian rug between the bed and the door, happy to lose the frigid bite of ice from her toes in the silky carpet. Then she traced the walls. They were rounded, polished, and real stones. This was a castle. How?
Castles were European and not American, and they had to be closer to the US, unless the pilot took them seriously off course. Airplanes follow routes, and they’d have been stopped if they went this far off course. Nothing made sense about where she was. She rubbed her forehead. She had left London hours ago. The plane had refueled in Greenland and they were on course to Boston. Eileen and Ali had offered her a ride. She had bought them a hot chocolate at the last airport. Then she remembered blood and how shards of the plane littered a beach. Now they were gone. The memories were facts, and now she was here.
Kimberly stared into the ornate mirror with delicate black metalwork surrounding the glass. Her face was pale, except for that nasty bruise on her cheek that made her dark eyes almost black. She leaned closer and reached behind her chestnut hair to her scalp. She had a nasty Easter egg, but someone had bandaged the spot where she had found blood. Her chestnut-brown hair was a knotted mess, and hardly hid that bump.
She wore a silk nightgown, long, that was like something Mom would wear in the house, but not her. She blinked. It certainly wasn't from Eileen's designer wardrobe. She jerked away from the mirror, like a memory of her friends cut into her skin.
There were more mysteries to unravel here. Someone had changed her out of her wet jeans. A memory of the pilot pointing a gun to her head as she huddled with sharp rocks replayed in her mind. Had that someone saved her from someone about to shoot her in the head and brought her here? She winced and remembered the gun in her face. Kimberly had to find out if she was still in danger. The windows rattled again, louder this time.
She needed to call home. Kimberly hobbled across the floor toward a gray dresser with doors that had two different knights. She threw it open and ransacked the square wooden drawers with metallic circles for handles. Socks would help. She crossed her fingers and veered to the right. She rifled through towels and shirts until she found wool socks. She leaned onto the wall and lifted her feet.
Someone had bandaged her feet too. How had she not noticed? She took a deep breath and checked the nasty Easter egg with her fingers again. It had to have been an angel last night that saved her.
The windows shook like someone or something wanted in. She swallowed and stared at the storm that brewed outside the window. Thunder boomed in her ears.
Bang.
She fell to the floor behind the dresser and covered her head. Fragments of memories flooded her brain, but she had to stay in the here and now. She squeaked, but then finally said, "Hello?"
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and her adrenaline spiked.
She stood up, coughed, picked up a dove figurine from the dresser top, then called out, "Hello. Can I help you?"
An older woman with gray hair and a Victorian-style black dress entered the room. Kimberly had chest pains as the woman opened her mouth and said, "The master sent me to ensure you're fine, miss. May I come in?"
The master? Who said that in today’s world? Her hand shook, and Kimberly carefully set the figurine back on the dresser. She chewed her lip and realized the older woman was not who had saved her last night. The coldness that rushed to her bones made no sense. The older woman was no match for the pilot. She rubbed her forehead and hoped her fingers warmed.
"Are you okay, miss?"
I'm an idiot.Her entire body wanted to run. Kimberly straightened her spine and nodded her head. "Yes, please come in."
The woman's gray hair was streaked with pure white, and the bun on the back of her head accentuated the wrinkles on her pale face. She walked over to the bed and stripped the sheets.
Kimberly swallowed and wondered if she should help, but the woman was done too fast. "You're up,” she said. "It's a good sign, miss. What is your name?"
"Kimberly… Kimberly Mira," she answered in a shrill voice. She dropped her hands to her side. "How did I get here? And who are you?"
The older woman walked over to the closet and retrieved a wicker basket. "I'm Meg, the maid in this house. Master Raphael, my employer, found you and brought you back unconscious. We spent half the night attending to your wounds. Were you in that plane crash near on the beach where he found you?"
"Yes." Memories of running around the island forest bombarded her brain, but the picture was so foggy. She couldn’t remember. She tried to keep her voice light as she walked toward her. "Are authorities on their way?"
