The old lady gave me a frigid smile and showed me the way. I stalked behind her, sinking into the insanely big mansion, a creepy feeling hissing through my core. The sound of her heels echoed on the floor. The manor smelled of horror haunting tales that you narrate around a campfire—oakmoss, clove leaf and amber.
We headed upstairs, passing through the countless corridors, a cold shiver never leaving my back. In the northeast hallway, artwork that probably cost more than what I could possibly make in two years hung on the wall. One symbolized Dante’s Inferno, while the others represented the fall of man, the damned, and the descent of hell. With that infernal series hung a portrait of a child.
He was approximately twelve years old, with a rare sadness for a boy of that age. His face was white as death, cold as stone, with eyes that asked for salvation. His raven-black hair was pulled back, glossy lips twitching backward in disapproval, thick eyebrows pinched. His chin was tilted up in an elegant way. The child was the perfect mixture between beautiful and haunted. An old soul, a boy who’d seen it all.
I jumped abruptly, hearing the cracking noise of the door the housekeeper just opened. She stood in front, crossing her hands in front of her belly, and waited like a royal guard. I guess this was my bedroom.
“Thank you,” I said, concealing my despair with a warm smile.
She bowed before taking her leave.
I sucked in a deep breath and pushed the door wide. The only light in the bedroom came from a slit between the heavy velvet curtains at the windows. I rushed to them, the feeble brightness giving me the creeps. Once I opened the curtains, I could distinguish perhaps one of the most beautiful views of the manor from my dusty marble balcony. In an occult landscape, the hostile cliff, the tormented ocean, and the forest gave me an incredible show.
I reeled around, creeping closer to see the opulent and sensual king-size bed with crimson satin sheets. Small lamps sat on nightstands on each side of the bed. Fresh towels were placed on the wooden desk before I noticed the confidentiality agreement lying upon it. Despite the fact that the room looked creepy, surrounded with shadows, I was fine.
Because once again, I buried my feelings inside my brain.
“Hello?” My thin voice echoed through the walls.
No replies.
Coming down the creaky stairs, the only noise I heard was from the cold wind scouring the manor like a spirit wanting to escape.
I couldn’t be kept in the blur any longer and made the decision to confront Radcliff. I had washed away all visible traces of what had happened during the past twenty-four hours through the shower. My wet hair brushed against my bordeaux dress that clung to my form perfectly. I wore it with pride; it gave me strength since it had belonged to my mother.
The hallway was huge with a high ceiling, and yet a part of me felt crowded and small passing through it. I turned from side to side, feeling constantly stared at. It was too deserted. Too silent. I had the signed confidentiality agreement in my hand, which basically stated I wouldn’t share any pictures or information relating to Ravencliff Manor nor Radcliff. It was my main reason to come back downstairs.
I arrived in the living room, where tufted leather sofas and armchairs stood alongside tapestries, antiques, and an old library. The crystal chandeliers touched in a shrill noise. The flames in the fireplace crackled, seeming even louder as my gaze moved up to the mantel.
That was where I found him. The man belonging to the underworld. Facing him again made each fiber of my body twist in angst, even though his back was turned to me. His stygian suit clung tight to his massive muscles. Cerba sat at her owner’s feet; if she had noticed me, she remained motionless, like a guard dog awaiting orders from its master.
Radcliff’s black shadow stretched up the wall under the burning light of the flames. I was under the impression his shadow was blanketing the room, constantly moving. It was bigger than he was. Scarier as the Devil’s shadow. Inhuman somehow.
Neither of us spoke until I decided to break the silence. “I signed your agreement.”
I threw the pieces of paper on the wooden table next to us. The loud sound of pages whipping made Cerba strain an ear. She waved her tail in my direction, probably wanting to play.
“She likes you. Surprising since she usually doesn’t like anyone.” Radcliff looked down at Cerba, his hair hiding his profile as she gave him soft eyes.
“What happened to her?” I countered, since we weren’t speaking about the matter at hand.
“I found her like that. A hit-and-run car left her almost dead years ago, and her owner ignored her existence,” he said coldly, like a man used to cruelty. His hand clutched the top of the fireplace and he leaned closer to the flames. “I cursed her with me.”
In other words, he had saved her, and a man who rescued a dog couldn’t be evil. Another part of Radcliff had to lurk there—something darker that spoke of tragedy, hidden underneath his impenetrable mask. I was convinced villains had hearts. We all had a weakness, someone we loved. A possibility of redemption. Sometimes, all we need is someone to make us remember our humanity.
“That’s kind of you.”
“There is nothing such as kindness.” His cynical tone blew me away.
“You’re wrong.”
“You’re naive,” he quipped back.
“Anyway, can you at least explain to me what I am doing here.”
He remained silent, his back still facing me. I inched toward him carefully, my heart pounding in my throat. With every step I took, I felt like roots were holding me back. He cracked his knuckles, and I stopped there.
Nervously, I moistened my dry lips and asked, “Can I see you?”
