CHAPTER ONE
It started with the little things. Smoke would curl from a candle suddenly diffused when all the windows were shut tight. My perfume would drag across the surface of my vanity; the glass scraping like tinkling bells. My hair would shift so subtly I would wonder if it had even happened, then a cool breeze would snake around the nape of my neck, sending a violent shiver that coiled around my spine, and then I’d be certain.
The hauntings started over a year ago, and they were getting worse. After one too many nights of fleeing my bedroom with a blood-curdling scream, my parents called for the first exorcism. And when that didn’t work, and they called for the second one, I ensured there would never be a third. I made them believe it worked.
But the soft fall of footsteps that approached my bed plunged me into the horrific truth, that it certainly did not work. My nails dug into the silk bedding as I clutched it up to my face, nearly covering my eyes. The thick duvet filled with plush feathers was all that separated me from what approached. Each step that followed the last came painfully slow. It sauntered, playing with its prey. My shallow breaths escaped my lungs far too quickly, leaving a vacant space I couldn’t fill. My heart rattled against my chest, attempting to break through the splintering bones of my rib cage.
The energy that seeped from this invisible being was insidious. The weight of it enough to keep me paralyzed. It radiated in waves that thickened the air around me. The pressure wrapped around my throat. All I could do was wait, completely at its mercy.
The footsteps stopped.
And I nearly shrieked when a depression formed at the end of my bed, right next to my feet. But I couldn’t scream. I couldn't run. They couldn’t know.The exorcisms are worse. I kept repeating it in my head, over and over, like a prayer to deliver me from the weight of terror.
And I bit down hard when something wrapped around my ankle. I whimpered as it traveled up my leg. A hand. A hand gripped my leg over the blanket. What I once could only refer to as an it, an incorporeal demon, was not an it but a someone. A someone with a body and a hand. A hand that was touching me. And the revelation came crashing through my chest with such force the urge to thrash overtook me, to kick away whoever this was.
My carefully constructed walls confining all that I kept hidden began to crumble. Vein-like webbing split through the structure. Just as the scream was about to tear through me, they were gone. The hand, the depression, the terrible energy. I gasped, gulping in a deep breath of air at the absence. I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night from the phantom eyes that opened up all around me. They bore into me. The watchful gaze curious. Whoever this was, they had been watching me this entire time. Had I ever been truly alone? Their awful presence was gone, but I was left with an unrelenting dread that needled through my core.
* * *
We live amongst demons, Charlotte. My father’s voice came through with the morning light.
His words always came to me when I almost broke. And his other words followed, of how important it was that I found someone who could protect me. But I had made it difficult to be desired.
I almost broke last night. I almost threw the last heap of dirt on my own grave. Had whoever that was gone any further, I would have run screaming from my bedroom yet again, and there certainly would have been a third exorcism. And my social standing would be six feet under. My parents’ fears would come to fruition—no one would want me then. One exorcism was understandable, a second for good measure, a third meant you’re hopeless. No respectablesuitor would want to deal with that, especially coupled with myuniqueappearance.
According to my mother, I must have been touched by a witch to have features so devoid of life. My eyes were as colorless as the shade of my hair, gray. And my skin was as pale as a winter’s snow.
“Alright, I’ve waited long enough.” Elsie came bursting through the door carrying fresh towels. She tossed them at the end of my bed and headed towards the curtains where she flung them open.
I winced at the sharp sting of light.
She stomped over to the edge of my bed with her hands on her hips. Her wild brown curls hung around her face as she looked down to me. It was a beautiful chaos. Her sage green eyes narrowed as she studied my face.
“It happened again,” she murmured.
When I didn’t respond, her aggravation softened to worry. She was the only one who knew that the hauntings still plagued me. There was no lying to Elsie. She could scent it on me like a bloodhound. But anyone knowing my secret kept the dread firmly rooted within me. I didn’t want anyone to know I was not normal, not even Elsie who would never judge me. With her knowing, it kept this nightmare well and breathing; it made it real, what I so desperately wanted to disappear.
Noting my expression, she sat beside me and squeezed my arm. “I don’t know what’s in you, girl, but it’s no demon. You know I don’t believe in any of that stuff. I’m happy to keep your secret, but I want you to be well.” A subtle wince crossed her face as if she could read my thoughts.
“I don’t know how to be well,” I whispered.
“We’ll figure it out, girl”—she gave my arm another squeeze—“but not now. It’s noon, and everyone is asking for you.”
I groaned, grabbing the pillow beside me and shoving it in my face. She yanked it away and threw it across the bed.
“I can only hold off your mother for so long. Let’s go.”
She dressed me in a powder blue gown. It hugged me close around the bust and pooled delicately around my feet with a slight train. It was made of silk with a sheer lace overlay. I sat at my vanity as she styled my hair exactly to my mother’s specifications. My hair hung just past my breasts in large, bouncy curls. It was glamorous, yet seductive, though all together elegant. I did not know how it could be all those things, but my mother knew, and she was intent on making up for my features. I refused to look at the gold candelabra that was somehow on the opposite side of my vanity, where I certainly did not leave it. Once Elsie applied a light pink blusher and lip stain, my colorless appearance donned a rosy glow. I stood as she wrapped my belt around my waist, a silver chain that held my black tourmaline dagger at my hip.
The same dagger all Society members had, though I was no member. Father always ensured I had it on me. And since Mother ensured I always wore proper gowns, the belt was the best option so that the dagger was always at the ready. It only made me stand out more. Women did not carry daggers. But I was haunted. Father believed the demons to be especially close to me.
Elsie walked me down to the open garden through the aisle of trees touched by autumn, their fiery leaves glowing under the sun. There was a warmth within the slight chill of the air. I breathed in the crisp, smoky scent. The hall of trees led to a large expanse of grass nestled between the gardens and the looming maze. Tables were set up, filled with vast arrangements of food on porcelain dishes. My mother and sister sipped their tea with Lady Elwood and her daughters. I sucked in a sharp breath and released it as I saw Pari, who was already throwing daggers at a target. I supposed I was not a total outlier. I was the only woman that donned a dagger, along with Pari.
I folded my hands together at my back, clenching them tightly as I approached the table.
“Oh, Charlotte, how nice of you to finally join us.” My mother’s petal pink lips smiled slightly as she took me in. “Were you asleep all this time?” She appeared to be frowning, though it did not meet her face. All her emotions remained within her ocean blue eyes. She was the epitome of poise, every bit of her demure.
I attempted to answer, though she continued.
