Fairydale: Part 1 – Chapter 9

I jump out of bed. Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I look down at my hands, suddenly seeing the blood on them—his blood.

‘No,’ I shake my head in denial. This can’t be right. He can’t be dead.

It doesn’t matter that this was all a dream, or that I’ve likely imagined the entire scenario.

It certainly doesn’t matter that Amon might not even be a real person.

All I can focus on is this raw feeling of being split in two—of having my heart cut out of my chest, leaving a gaping wound behind.

My tears won’t stop.

I sob and sob, a howled sound of pain erupting from my throat as I bury my hands in my hands.

‘Amon,’ I cry out. ‘Amon!’

You can’t be dead. You can’t…

The more I think of the past and of the time we spent together—the teasing, the little touches and his unique way of calling me his—the more I become inconsolable.

It might have been a dream, but I’d felt awakened to life in his presence like never before.

And it hadn’t been merely lust, for I can barely conjure his features.

He’d awoken in me a deep, deep longing that even now threatens to undo me.

One moment with him, my name on his lips, his gaze on mine, and I’d been irrevocably lost.

He’d told me he was a lonely man, but I doubt anything compares to this chasm he’d opened in my heart—this abyss that’s perpetually empty.

Since the first time I’d dreamed of him, I tried to rationalize everything, looking at it through a psychoanalytical perspective rather than what it truly was—a calling of the heart.

Yet now…After this… How am I supposed to move on when I physically feel as though my heart is breaking?

Stumbling out of bed, I can barely breathe for the sobs that rack my body, the pain so intense I’m about to double over in pain.

I barely get to the bathroom before I empty the contents of my stomach in the toilet. Hunched over, I heave and heave, and still, I don’t think I can get myself under control. Not when my soul feels as if it’s been frayed in multiple pieces, all scattered around.

I’m not…whole.

On trembling legs, I grab onto the sink as I turn on the water, cleaning my mouth and washing my face.

Yet when I look into the mirror, all I see is the redness of my cheeks, the bloodshot eyes and the tears that still trail down my cheeks—tears that don’t seem to stop.

As if sensing my distress, Mr. Meow is suddenly by my side, his furry head brushing against my bare legs.

Startled, I look down to find him watching me with a curious expression.

‘I woke you up, didn’t I?’ I murmur, leaning to grab him in my arms.

His warmth immediately seeps into my skin, and for the first time, a semblance of calm comes over me.

A few breathing exercises later and I manage to get a grip on myself. I’m not sure if it’s enough to go back to sleep, though.

Carrying Mr. Meow back to the bed, I get under the sheets, placing him on the pillow and turning to face him.

‘You were in the dream too,’ I tell him, my lips tugging up slightly. ‘You were named Mr. Meow then, too,’ I chuckle, though I barely stop myself from crying again.

He reaches out towards me with his little paw. At first, I think he wants to play. But I’m entirely shocked when he brings his paw to my cheek, swiping it lightly, almost as if catching an errant tear. Then, he just rests it against my cheek in an unmistakable gesture of comfort.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper, patting him on the head. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me and why I am like this. It’s just a dream, right?’ I ask, feeling silly knowing he’ll never answer me back. ‘But if it’s just a dream,’ I take a deep breath, ‘why does it hurt so much?’

My voice breaks, and a high-pitched meow resounds as he comes closer, bringing his furry face to my cheek and softly rubbing it.

With Mr. Meow in my arms, I close my eyes, slowly drifting to sleep.

But it doesn’t last long. Not when Mr. Meow starts hissing at me and lightly stinging me with his claws.

‘Auch,’ I suddenly react, my lids heavy with sleep. I’m ready to reprimand him when discomfort pricks at my nose.

I start coughing, and looking at the door, I notice smoke coming from the hallway—too much smoke, which can only mean one thing.

Fire.

There’s a damn fire raging in my house.

‘What…’

Despite the initial shock, I’m quick to react.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I put on my shoes and quickly get my purse, fitting Mr. Meow inside. Stripping off the pillow case, I use it as a cloth and place it to my mouth to avoid smoke inhalation.

Ready to face the fire, I open the door of the bedroom, readying myself to rush downstairs. Yet as soon as I step into the hallway, my eyes widen as I realize just how far the fire had spread.

The entire lower region of the stairs is engulfed in flames, the wood crackling and feeding the fire further.

I freeze, panic overtaking me, as does the realization that there is no way out.

Damn it all, but I’m going to die here, aren’t I?

Tears stab at the corners of my mouth, frustration mounting inside of me.

‘Meow!’

The little sound from my purse takes me out of my dark thoughts, reminding me it’s not just me who is in danger—Mr. Meow is, too.

‘Don’t worry. I won’t let you die,’ I murmur, though my words belie my own increasing terror.

Going back to my bedroom, I close the door, locking it and placing the bedsheets at the bottom to avoid getting smoke contamination.

Then, my only step is to go to the window and see how I can scale the house down. And if it happens that I won’t be able to…then at least Mr. Meow will.

Unlocking the window, I push it open, my mouth dropping open in shock as I note the wild flames surrounding the entire first level of the house. So much so that the entire outer wall has been compromised.

The flames are licking at the wooden structure, climbing higher and higher with seemingly every second.

Immediately, I know I can’t possibly make it down. Not when it’s a matter of minutes before the fire reaches the second floor—both inside and from the outside.

Lifting Mr. Meow out of my purse, I place him on the ledge.

‘You need to go,’ I whisper, pointing to him the only secure ridge—one far too small and frail for me to even attempt to climb. ‘You need to live, Mr. Meow,’ I tell him, pursing my lips and doing my best to not devolve into hysterics.

He protests, pushing his head at me as if saying I need to go, too.

I shake my head.

‘It won’t hold,’ I utter the truth out loud for the first time.

The foundation is so swallowed up by flames that I’m afraid not even Mr. Meow might make it. But he has the best chance…

‘Go. For me. Please,’ I whisper, laying a kiss against the white patch of hair atop his head before urging him out the window.

This time, he obeys me, Jumping around and managing to avoid the burning wood on his way down.

My shoulders slump in defeat. My cough is more pronounced than before, my throat is dry and sensitive the more I inhale the polluted air.

A loud crack erupts in the air, followed by a loud bang. I jump back, my eyes wide with terror as a piece of wood crashes through my bedroom door, the flames transferring from one surface to another.

Once, I’d read in the newspaper that most fire victims usually die from smoke inhalation before their bodies are charred by the flames.

Yet seeing the situation all around me, the fact that the wall connecting to the hallway is ablaze, I know I won’t be one of those. Despite it becoming increasingly harder to breathe, the flames will get to me before asphyxiation does.

I pale at the thought of the agony that awaits me, and dropping my hand from my mouth, I take a big gulp of air. And another one. Anything to make this easier to bear.

Slumping to the floor in the middle of the room, I inhale and exhale, filling my lungs with the noxious smoke.

And in spite of the fact that I’m facing my end—that I’m staring death in the face—an eerie calm washes over me. My thoughts simply take me back to my dream, to the perfect moment before Amon had been killed in front of me.

In my last moments on this earth, I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t think of anyone but him. Not my friends, the nuns, or even Caleb—real people I’m leaving behind.

No, it’s just him—the product of my imagination, but the epitome of contentment.

Him, the mysterious man who’d felt like home when I’ve never known the true meaning of the word. Though there is no face I can conjure up, no features I can wish to see for one last time, there is pure feeling. The warmth of being someone’s only reason for being. The intensity of being someone’s sole focus.

Closing my eyes as my breathing becomes more ragged, I think back to the dance floor, the way he’s spun me around and the blithe smile on his face. My chest constricts, and with every second, it’s becoming harder and harder to breathe—to the point that I get lightheaded, my vision swimming. Still, I imagine it’s from a succession of twirls and the exertion of the dance.

As the room becomes increasingly warmer, my skin prickling with the awareness that the flames are slowly making their way towards me, I imagine it’s his body—his heat transferring to me.

‘Lizzie mine.’

My lips tip up in a smile as I hear his voice calling me—even knowing it to be nothing more than a mirage.

‘I’m here,’ he whispers. ‘And I’m never leaving. Never.’

‘Amon,’ a whisper makes it past my lips, my lids heavy as I open them and see him in front of me—with his white hair, blue, blue eyes and lush lips. ‘My Amon…’

I barely have any strength left. Certainly not enough to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not. But at this point I welcome the latter, for only with it I’ll be able to die with a smile on my face.

‘We’ll be together,’ I cough,’ soon…’

‘No,’ he rasps, bringing me to his body just as the flames disperse around us, his presence acting as an active repellent for the fire. ‘You’re not dying. Not again. You hear me,’ he speaks harshly against my hair.

His big hands cup my cheeks as he slowly draws back, his gaze searching my languid, barely present one.

‘You’re never leaving me again, Lizzie mine,’ he growls before his lips are on mine.

His body is a pillar of strength, his touch as comforting as it is invigorating.

My awareness is slowly slipping from me, and with no energy left, I slump against him.

His lips are fitted to mine—his air traveling into my battered lungs and giving me a new chance of life.

But is it among the living? Or among the stars?

My eyes flutter open, uncertainty filling me to the brim as I struggle to take in my surroundings.

The ceiling is gilded, marble bas-relief adorning its entire surface. The beauty of the room makes me wonder if this isn’t perchance heaven. Especially as I move, the softness of the sheets making me purr in satisfaction.

A sense of comfort washes over me as I snuggle deeper into the clean sheets. And as I stretch, the size of the bed takes me by surprise, as does the fact that it takes me a few rolls to fully cover its width.

My lips tug in a smile as I yawn happily.

Nothing hurts. My lungs are clear, and I can breathe normally.

If this is heaven, then I am not complaining.

Sunlight streams through silk curtains, bathing the room in light and revealing more of its contents—and occupiers.

‘You,’ I gasp, startled as I scurry to the edge of the bed.

Well, there goes my theory about heaven.

‘You’re awake,’ he sighs. ‘Good. I was worried about you for a moment,’ Caleb says as he comes closer, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

‘What do you mean?’ I blink, confused.

‘There was a fire,’ he purses his lips.

Immediately, the memories from before flood my mind. There had been a fire. And I’d been trapped, with absolutely no way out.

In fact, I remember clearly that I’d decided to embrace my death. And then…my last memory is of Amon.

Was he…there?

I frown.

But it can’t be.

Not when I feel as good as new but I know the smoke had raked my throat, filling my lungs and making it hard to breathe. Something like that doesn’t just go away.

So how come I’m here, uninjured—feeling absolutely fine?

‘What happened? Did you…’

He shakes his head ruefully.

‘I saw the fire from the hill. By the time I got to the house, you were outside, on the lawn.’

‘On the lawn?’ My eyes widen in shock. ‘I don’t remember that.’

‘You were completely out of it. Dr. Bailey was here to see you but he said you’re completely fine. Not even a scratch, and your lungs are completely clear,’ he pauses, his eyes fixed to my forehead, and I unconsciously bring my fingers to where a wound used to be—one that is not there. ‘Not a scratch, Darcy,’ he emphasizes, something akin to hope flickering in his gaze.

‘Not a scratch?’ I repeat, taken aback by the revelation—though I have to admit I feel better than I ever have. My body is relaxed, energy hums in my veins and my limbs are full of strength. Most of all, my breathing is perfectly fine, which in itself is astounding.

The last thing I remember is sitting in the middle of my bedroom, hanging onto Amon’s—most likely imaginary—body and letting him kiss me.

Of course, now thinking back, it does seem a little ludicrous that someone would be kissing me in the middle of a raging fire, which suggests I must have hallucinated the entire exchange.

But how did I get to the lawn? How the hell could I have gotten out of the house, without a scratch and without any smoke inhalation?

‘You were so lucky, Darcy,’ he releases a harsh breath. ‘When I noticed the blazing fire from my window I thought I was looking death right in the eyes. I raced as fast as I could. That you were outside, unharmed… I can only thank your guardian angel for being there for you,’ he murmurs softly, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

‘I’m at the Hale house?’ I blink in surprise. ‘Wait, this is your room?’ I squeak, a blush staining my cheeks.

He shakes his head, a smirk playing at his lips.

‘This is your room now. Mine is across the hall.’

‘Does your family know I’m here?’

He nods.

‘They were thrilled. Both that you’ll be staying with us and that you’re fine after that unfortunate incident.’

‘But how can I stay here?’ I mumble, panicking. ‘I can’t stay here…’

‘And where are you going to stay now? The house is gone. The fire destroyed everything inside.’

My face falls as it dawns on me that I have nowhere else to go.

‘You don’t realize how welcome you are here, darlin’,’ he comes closer, holding my hand between his and squeezing in comfort. ‘This is your home for as long as you like.’

‘But… I wouldn’t feel comfortable, Caleb,’ I whisper. ‘I barely know your family. I barely know you.’

‘Do you not?’ his voice shifts, a serious tinge to it. ‘Do you not know me, Darcy?’ he raises a brow, intensity radiating from him as he traps my hand to his side. He looks me in the eye for a moment before he suddenly tugs me forward until his face is a breath away from mine.

My pulse spikes, and a bout of fear settles low in my belly—yet it’s accompanied by the ever confusing feeling of anticipation.

‘I don’t,’ I tell him honestly, meeting his gaze head on. ‘I’ve only known you for a few days, Caleb. Can you not see things from my side? That I’m uncomfortable staying in the home of the man I’m seeing,’ I speak softly, hoping to remove the harsh edges from his features.

‘Tell me you don’t feel this, darlin’,’ he rasps as he places my palm over his heart. ‘Tell me you don’t feel this connection between us that’s as intoxicating as it is maddening. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel any of this, Darcy.’

I bite my lip as I regard him—with his beautiful face ravaged by these seemingly foreign emotions I have awakened in him. And he’s not the only one.

‘I do,’ I whisper. ‘I do feel something when I’m with you, Caleb. And the truth is that you terrify just as you excite me,’ I confess.

What I don’t say is how confused I feel, finding myself drawn to Caleb—a flesh and blood man—while equally yearning for a figment of my imagination.

‘But I’ve also repeatedly told you that I’m not used to this. I’ve never dated before, how could I possibly be comfortable living in the same house as you?’

‘What are you worried about?’ he suddenly asks. ‘That I’ll pounce on you? Is that it, Darcy darlin’? You think I’m going to sneak into your room late at night,’ he pauses as he sees me swallow uncomfortably, ‘and do what?’ he raises a brow.

‘I…’

‘Spy on you? Take advantage of you? Make you my woman against your will? Is that what you think of me?’ he demands as he cups my jaw between his fingers, keeping me in place. ‘Haven’t I told you already that I didn’t do anything to you at the cabin? That I never touched you? What more do you want from me so that you feel comfortable?’ he rasps, the accusation clear.

No matter how much I’d like to avert my gaze, I can’t. Staring at him, I find myself lost in his black eyes—so dark I can see my own reflection looking back at me.

Slowly, I shake my head.

‘I trust you,’ I say softly. ‘But what will your family say? What will everyone else say? They already think I’m a witch and now probably a murderer,’ I let a dry laugh. ‘Next I’ll be branded a scarlet woman, too.’

‘Never that,’ his answer is immediate. ‘Never that, darlin’. I’ll make sure no one ever speaks ill of you again. Alright?’ he asks, gentling his hold over my jaw as he strokes my skin. ‘I don’t know how many times I have to drill this into your head, Darcy, but this isn’t temporary, nor is it just dating. You’re mine. You were mine from the first time I saw you, and I’ll be damned happy for anyone else to know it too.’

My lashes flutter in surprise at his declaration.

‘If I need to give you my name to make it official, we’ll do that tomorrow. The very next moment if you wish so,’ he continues, stunning me further.

‘Caleb…’ I stammer. ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself. We’ve just started seeing each other and now you’re mentioning…marriage?’

‘Darlin’, do you think I’d date you with anything less but marriage in mind?’ he asks, his lips curling up.

My cheeks heat up, a warmth unfurling in my belly at his words, butterflies flapping their wings all around my lower region.

Why does he have to be so attractive? And why does he have to have such a glib tongue? He says everything a woman wants to hear. I may not be experienced with men, but every word he utters assures me of his investment in the relationship and his commitment.

What sane woman would say no to that?

In fact, I’m almost beating myself up for doubting him—even for one second—and for allowing my thoughts to wander to Amon, the man who only exists in my dreams.

‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

A huge grin splays on his face, and before I can protest, he leans in, laying a kiss on my cheek.

‘Look at this as an opportunity to get to know each other better. And at the end of your two month stay, you can make an important decision.’

I nod, giving him a shy smile.

Getting up, he’s out the door for a few moments before he’s back with a tray filled with goodies.

My eyes widen just as my stomach rumbles with hunger.

Slowly, the events of last night are coming back again.

I’d been ill. After the tragedy I’d witnessed in my dream, I’d thrown up everything I had eaten the day before.

The moment I’m reminded of that dream, however, tears prick again at my lids, as does the fact that I feel more confused than ever—how could a dream feel so real?

Yet that, too, is just one of the many odd things that have been happening around me. And with this newest incident—that I somehow escaped unscathed—I can’t ignore it anymore.

Somehow, I have to get to the bottom of it all.

But where can I start?

‘I brought you a little of everything,’ Caleb announces. He has a sweet smile on his face that transforms his entire visage, making him more youthful—more approachable.

He’s so striking that I can’t help my own lips from emulating his smile.

‘Here you have a soup, some sandwiches, a selection of cakes, and some hot tea,’ he points at every little item. ‘So, what would you like first?’

‘The soup. I’m very hungry,’ I blush.

‘The soup it is then,’ he winks at me just as he props the breakfast table on top of my legs. Before I can help myself to the food, he’s ahead of me, grabbing the spoon and trying the temperature of the soup.

When he’s satisfied, he nods, but he doesn’t give me back the spoon.

Instead, he proceeds to feed me with it, carefully wiping at my mouth when I get a little messy.

‘I’m not an invalid, you know…’ I mutter.

‘Do you have to be for me to care for you?’ he arches a brow. ‘Can’t I enjoy pampering you?’

‘You’re sweet,’ I praise softly.

‘I knew it,’ he chuckles.

My brows go up in question.

‘There’s something about you, Darcy,’ he gives me a wistful smile. ‘Something so achingly innocent that just gets me riled up every single time.’

When he sees my confused expression, he continues.

‘It’s not bad, darlin’. You awaken this primal side of me. The one that wants to surround you in a protective cocoon and keep you safe at all cost; away from the world and any outside influences. Just for my eyes only,’ he drawls.

How he can be both cute and seductive at the same time, I do not know—yet he nails both.

‘Are you the jealous type, Caleb?’ I tease.

‘Jealous?’ he huffs. ‘That is the understatement of the century,’ he grumbles, eliciting a soft laugh from me.

He continues to feed me the soup, making small talk every now and then. When I’m finished with the bowl, I eye the sandwiches next—which he doesn’t let me eat by myself either!

Caleb slices the sandwiches in small bits, feeding me one at a time.

Shaking my head at him, I accept the offering, my stomach finally calming down now that it’s full.

‘I’m happy to see you eat,’ he strokes my face lightly. ‘Now you need to rest.’

Just as he rises to take away the tray, I grab his arm.

‘You have a telephone here, don’t you? Can I use it to call my friend and announce to the school I’m taking a longer leave?’

He doesn’t reply for a moment before he nods.

‘I prepared some clothes for you. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll take you to the telephone.’

He exits the room, letting me dress.

Browsing through the clothes he’d selected for me, I’m pleased to see how similar they are to my own style. Caleb has certainly paid attention to the way I dress, and somehow that tidbit makes him earn some bonus points for me.

When I’m done, I open the door to find him outside, waiting for me.

‘You look stunning, darlin’,’ he rasps, his eyes hungrily roaming all over my body.

I redden from head to toe, as seems to be my default reaction when he regards me like that.

‘Shall we?’ he asks, offering me his arm.

As he takes me down a long corridor, I realize the house is much, much larger than I’d expected. The walls are beautifully decorated as had been my bedroom, and I can’t help but admire all the work and dedication that had gone into the décor, as well as the materials.

I don’t have to touch anything to see that everything must be top quality.

‘We’ll need to swing by the sheriff’s tomorrow,’ Caleb suddenly says. ‘He wanted to question you about the fire and the murders but I told him it would happen only when you’re feeling better and with me by your side,’ he declares, assuring me he will protect me at every step.

I nod, giving him a tight smile. I should have known that would need to happen at some point, especially with how we’d run away from the square the day before.

‘Do you think…’ I bite my lip, not wanting to accuse anyone. ‘Do you think any of the people in town who dislike me might have done this? Set the house on fire?’

His lips are flattened in a thin line.

‘It could be,’ he agrees. ‘If someone tried to harm you, I promise you they will know hell, Darcy darlin’. But this is exactly why I didn’t want to leave you alone—should not have left you alone. Fuck!’

‘I know. I should have listened to you,’ I sigh. ‘But I’m not used to imposing on people. I don’t know if I told you, but I grew up in an orphanage. There, the first thing you learn is to keep to yourself and not cause trouble, because then no one would want you. Not that it worked for me since no one wanted me anyway,’ I shrug, trying to keep the pain from my voice. ‘But I was ten when I arrived there. Most parents want to adopt babies.’

‘Darcy…’ he stops, turning towards me with an inscrutable expression on his face. ‘Did you have anyone to love you?’ he asks in a low voice.

I avert my face, since the truth and my ungratefulness would then show. While I did have more than a lot of my peers, I’ve always felt like I was missing something—craving something.

Home.

The word echoes in my head and immediately the image I’ve suddenly associated with that word pops up in my mind.

Him…

Amon. A figment of my imagination.

But the only person whose embrace has ever felt like…home. Like true belonging.

‘I did,’ I reply. ‘I was fortunate enough to meet two nuns who took care of me. And I’ve had friends over the years. I wouldn’t say it’s the same type of love you’re implying but it was good enough for me.’

A pained sound escapes him.

‘You’re telling me no one ever told you I love you?’

‘Of course,’ I wave my hand as if I’d been told many, many times. Yet the only one that comes to mind is when one of my pupils had said the words to me.

How sad is that…

‘I don’t believe you,’ he suddenly stops. ‘Tell me when and who,’ he taps his foot relentlessly as he raises a brow at me.

‘Well, my students say it all the time. And I think my mother… But I don’t remember her that well,’ I admit with a strained smile.

Without warning, he pulls me into his arms.

‘That should have never happened, darlin’. You should have had someone tell you those words every day—a thousand times per day,’ he whispers poignantly as he strokes my hair. ‘You should have had a big, loving family…’ he trails off, and I swear I hear the ghost of an it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

‘I’ll make my own in the future,’ I reply with a nervous laugh, not liking having my vulnerability out in the open—my utmost desire, and perhaps deepest disappointment. ‘And I’ll have many, many children to tell me that every day.’

Caleb freezes. His body stills just as his breath hitches.

‘You want many children?’ he asks softly, the tone entirely different as the one before.

I nod.

Drawing back, he regards me for a moment, a melancholy settling over his features.

‘Of course you do,’ he whispers, and somehow I doubt the words are meant for my ears as he amends a second later. ‘Of course you’ll have them.’

We resume walking, and he slowly urges me to tell him more about my upbringing, asking me questions that show he’s genuinely invested.

He seems to be particularly interested in my reason for becoming a teacher.

‘Let me guess. Because you love children?’ he offers, and I chuckle.

‘Part of it. But when I was younger I found my happy corner in literature and I wanted to help others find it too. Most often than not children hate reading because it’s imposed on them. I wanted to make it fun for them—foster a passion in them,’ I explain.

All the while, his gaze on me is unwavering and arresting, making me stumble every now and then.

‘You’ll make a great mom, Darcy. I’m sure of it,’ he gives me a sad smile as he points towards a large living room.

My mouth drops open when I come face to face with the opulence of the chamber. It’s almost…as if it had been taken from my dreams.

‘The phone is over there. I’ll leave you to it while I go sort out some business for the day,’ he whispers in my ear, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead before he’s gone.

His sudden departure is a surprise, but as I step inside the room, I immediately forget all about it as I lose myself in the beauty of the décor and the authentic Georgian feel. Everything is decadent and absolutely breathtaking, from the garish furniture, to the combination of gilded walls with marble decorations, everything is perfect.

‘And our new guest is awake,’ a voice comments, interrupting my thoughts.

Turning, I come face to face with Rhiannon Hale.

‘Hello,’ I hurry to greet her.

‘My niece told me you were staying with us now,’ she mentions, assessing me from head to toe. ‘Good.’

Curious that she mentions Katrina instead of Caleb, but I don’t have time to dwell on that since she invites me to sit with her for tea.

‘I was just going to use the telephone and…’

‘Nonsense. It’s tea time. We shall have tea,’ she says right as she rings a servant.

Not a few minutes later and a tray with tea and cakes is brought to us.

Blinking, it truly does seem like I’m in a period piece for a moment—or my dreams.

‘You have a wonderful home, Mrs. Hale. And I’ve only seen a portion of it.’

‘Why, thank you, Miss O’Sullivan. It’s one of the few homes in the country to maintain the original Georgian décor and architecture. We’ve tried to limit our interference over the years, so what you see would have been part of the original design. ‘

When she sees me look around, she adds.

‘Yes, even most of the furniture. And please, call me Rhiannon.’

‘Then you must call me Darcy,’ I offer.

My eyes widen with awe as I take in the silk draped armchair and the gilded armrest, touching them reverently and briefly imagining what it would have been like to live back then.

With him.

Amon.

A smile pulls at my lips, and Rhiannon is quick to note it.

‘You’re not by any chance thinking of a beau?’

A blush stains my cheeks as I slowly nod.

‘You must tell me all about it,’ she declares, clasping her hands together.

‘It’s not like that. He’s just… My idea of the perfect man,’ I tell her, slightly embarrassed.

‘Pray do tell, what is the perfect man for you?’

I pause for a moment, not knowing whether I should reveal this, but the words are out of my mouth before I can help it.

‘The one who calls me his.’

Rhiannon’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she bursts out laughing.

‘Smart man,’ she chuckles and I join in.

We spend some time engaging in small talk, and she tells me a little more about the architecture of the house and the period pieces.

‘We Hales are a very tight knit bunch, and we always stick up for one another,’ she shares with a wink. ‘I know you’re still reeling from the fire and I’ve heard about those awful allegations in town. All I can say is don’t lose faith. Eventually, good will prevail,’ she adds in a wise tone.

‘Is it possible then? For someone to have set fire to the house on purpose?’

She purses her lips.

‘Fairydale is the place where everything is possible, Darcy. There is evil here. The type that will make grown men quake in their boots. But there is also good fighting that evil,’ she says cryptically.

‘Why is that? Why is everyone excusing what’s happening in Fairydale? I’ve already witnessed four unusual murders, and no one seems too concerned about them.’

‘I’m glad you find them odd. As you should,’ she nods. ‘But I don’t have an answer for you now.’

I frown.

Now?

She wobbles to her feet, reaching for her cane and turning to leave.

‘You can use the telephone. I’m happy we had this chat, Darcy. I’m sure we’ll have many more in the future,’ she shares a smile. ‘And when you’re ready… I’ll tell you everything about Fairydale.’

Watching her depart the room, I repeat her words in my mind.

When you’re ready.

That sounds ominous…

Shaking myself, I head to the end of the room where the creamy white telephone is laid on a table.

Trying to remember the number of the school to ask, I wheel the correct combination, waiting for the signal.

The static on the line is louder than usual, but I attribute it to the location and the fact that we’re so close to the ocean.

Tapping my foot as I twirl a strand of hair while waiting, I absentmindedly let my gaze roam around.

Suddenly, there is a loud sound.

‘Hello, Saint Russell Boarding School?’ I ask, hoping I hadn’t dialed the wrong number.

More static, but an echo resounds in my ear. Low at first before picking up in volume, a harsh, demonic-like voice erupts from the receiver.

‘Don’t trust them.’