Troll Publishing

Copyright © 2010 T. Lynne Tolles

ISBN 978-0-9829876-4-3

All Rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews, is illegal and punishable by law

Publisher’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, locals or events is coincidental.

T. Lynne Tolles

Dedication

I’d like to dedicate this book to my sister-in-law Mary who always makes me laugh and loves me for who I am.

Chapter One

She watched as an insignificant raindrop hit the already splatter-filled window.  First the raindrop went slowly to the right and joined with another drop, then turned its direction to the left and travelled a little faster as it made its way to another waiting drop and headed right again.  The drop meandered this way down the pane, gaining speed and volume as it went.  The young woman watched the raindrop do its tiny dance all the way down to the windowsill where it puddled and joined more raindrops and drip, drip, dripped down into the waiting flowerbed below.

The hidden bulbs in the soil would germinate from these raindrops. No one but she knew they were hibernating below, waiting for the warm sun of spring to make them burst forward with life.

Phoebe felt as insignificant as the raindrops that zigzagged down the window.  She was the youngest of three sisters. Francine was the beauty and first daughter to Gilbert MacIntire, and his pride and joy.  She would marry someone of means and Mr. MacIntire would be set financially in his old age. His second daughter, Faith, was not as pretty as her older sister, but she knew her place and would make a fine wife to a hard working pillar of the community.  It was Phoebe that was the problem, the thorn in Mr. MacIntire's plans.  She was plain, she was odd, and she had been a sickly child.

Mrs. MacIntire had died giving birth to the premature girl. When Phoebe was six, she contracted polio and nearly died.  Mr. MacIntire paid expensive doctor bills for many months and constantly reminded Phoebe of the debt he had incurred.  Though she did not die from the disease, it did leave her with a bad limp. Mr. MacIntire knew Phoebe would never marry anyone with means and so he treated her as a slave in her own home.

The other girls were given lovely dresses and sent to the finest parties; after all, they were his future - an investment, so to speak. But Phoebe was shunned to the basement, where she had a tiny cot and befriended the mice.  She cooked and cleaned and did all the chores in the house as Francine and Faith were paraded around like shiny baubles.

Phoebe really didn't mind, though.  She found the whole thing to be a silly facade, where her sisters were just puppets on a string for their father's greedy agenda.  She actually felt sorry for her sisters. At least Phoebe was not the object of his attention, unless something was amiss with the household.  No. It was good not to be seen or noticed. She felt safe in her ordinary, inconspicuous haven.  It was when she had to venture out into the world to purchase items in the marketplace that she hated.

In the 1850’s, being an unmarried, plain woman with a disability was like being marked with a scarlet letter.  They might as well have put her in the stocks and thrown rotten food at her.  The children teased and taunted her. The young women snubbed her and whispered as she walked by, and the gentlemen, well, they just laughed and joked behind her back.

She hated being out of her element. She knew every inch of her garden and of her home.  She had cleaned it, primmed it, and had lovingly taken care of all its needs, and in return it gave her sanctuary from the cruelty of the outside world.

But that would all change with one small envelope. The flowery calligraphy addressing her father mocked her. The noble red wax seal scoffed at her. When she had set it on her father's desk that afternoon she had thought it quite beautiful and wondered what secrets it held inside.  She thought nothing of it until she had cleared away dinner, cleaned the dishes, and settled on her cot with a book in the dingy, dank basement with a tiny candle. Above her cot was a window where she watched the trickling raindrops as they wiggled their way down the pane of glass to her waiting bulbs.

She had just opened her book when she heard heavy footsteps in the kitchen above her and the stomp, stomp, stomp of her father's heavy feet on the stairs to the basement.  She set her book next to her as his face came into view.  He was holding an oil lamp and descending the stairs rapidly.  His stern face was fixated on Phoebe.  Though his brows were furrowed, he had a most peculiar smirk on his face as if quite pleased with himself when he addressed Phoebe.

"What is it, Father?"

"You need to pack your things. You will be traveling tomorrow morning for Newfoundland."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. In fact, all is perfect. I have arranged for you to be a servant to a wealthy gentry."

"You did what? Why?"

"How dare you question my generosity?  This is in your best interest. I can't marry you off, so I've made other arrangements.  You will get free room and board and I will receive your wages. It's positively ideal.

"A carriage will arrive in the morning. Make sure you take everything.  I don't want to see a trace of you come tomorrow evening."

"But Father..."

"I don't want to hear another word about it. Get busy."

Chapter Two

She packed a bag apprehensively.  Everything she owned fit into the small carpetbag. An ivory comb that had been her mother’s, two dresses, two sets of stockings, four books, three hair ribbons, and a brush.  She also grabbed her knitting needles and three rolls of wool she had set aside for something to make - she didn't know what, but she would have plenty of time to think about it on the ship. She laid her coat atop her bag and she sat on the bed.

How would she ever survive? Newfoundland was on the other side of the Atlantic from Scotland. She would never see her home or the bulbs outside the window bloom this coming spring. She was leaving the only safe haven she had ever known. Tears welled up in her eyes and she felt a tightening in her chest as she began to sob. Her entire world was crumbling around her and it had only taken a matter of minutes.

The horrid envelope that had brought the news of this catastrophe lay on a table where her father had deposited it when he had come down to tell her the news.  She opened the letter and read its contents. No new information was found in it except for a name - Nathaniel Jacobs.

Sleep did not come easily that night as nightmare after nightmare roused her from any slumber she could attain. She dreamt of the cruel men and women in the market place now donning sailor suits. Her father was the captain of the ship and yelled orders here and there as the others laughed at her and taunted her.

Before dawn there was a loud knock at the door and Phoebe went to open it. The gentleman on the doorstep leered at her as she put on her coat and grabbed her tiny bag. She was hurt and disappointed that no one in the house had come to see her off or say goodbye. She closed the door behind her and looked back only once at the upstairs windows to see if anyone had awakened to wave goodbye, but there were no lights on and no sad faces grieving her departure.

The gentleman opened the black carriage door for her as she stepped in and sat on the hard seat.  The driver climbed to his seat atop the carriage and made a clicking sound with his tongue to which the horses responded by moving forward.

It was still raining and the wheels of the carriage made a squishing sound as the horses had to pull even harder for the carriage to be released by the mud. It was a horribly bumpy ride for two hours or more until they made their way to the docks.  The carriage stopped and Phoebe heard a large thump as the driver jumped down from his perch and opened the door for her.  He didn't offer her his hand and he seemed incredibly inpatient.  Before she could turn around to ask him where she was supposed to go, the driver was back atop the carriage and leaving.

Phoebe could see a large ship called the 'Celeste' tied to the docks.  Planks led up to its deck and many people were coming and going, presumably loading items for the voyage.  An important looking man with a notepad in hand stood at the bottom of one of the planks and she headed for him.

Without looking up the fellow said, "Yes?"

"Uh. Is this the ship that is sailing to Newfoundland?"

"Yes."

"I'm supposed to be sailing there, but I don't know where to go or who to talk to."

"Do you have a ticket?"

"Um. No. I was just told to get on the boat."

"Well, you can't get onboard without a ticket, Miss."

"Oh. Um. Could someone be holding a ticket for me? Is there someone I should ask?"

Still not looking at her, he said most impatiently, "Your name?" At the same time, he was waving someone who was carrying a large trunk over to another plank to the ship.

"My name is Phoebe MacIntire."

He flipped through his notebook mumbling, "MacIntire, MacIntire...yes. Everything has been arranged for you. You will be in steerage - bunk 2."

"And where might that be?" she asked apologetically.

He sighed heavily and said, "Up the ramp, on to the deck. Turn right and head down the ladder. The bunks are numbered and your supplies are tied to the floor next to the bunk."

"Thank you," she said meekly and hesitated for a moment before she followed the fellow’s instructions and headed up the plank.  She made her way across the deck and down to steerage and found her bunk.  It seemed she was sharing her bed with another young, single woman who looked almost as frightened as Phoebe did.

They both sat on the straw-filled mattress watching the others file in like sardines. Families of three to six were sharing bunks. There were a few young men, a couple of other single women, but most were families. There were probably fifty of them in all.  The ship itself had four masts and looked like she had seen some serious weather. Phoebe had no idea how long a trip to Newfoundland would take or what she would find if she survived the trek.

A list of rules was nailed up for the steerage passengers by what looked like an officer of the ship. Less and less people moved into steerage and there was lots of running around on deck. Within an hour the ropes were untied from the dock and a whistle blew somewhere followed by a man's voice bellowing, "Weigh anchor!" Apparently, they had set sail.

She sat there like a statue, trying to take in all that was happening to her and around her.  So much had changed in just fourteen hours. Who would have guessed the odd, simple girl with a limp from a small town in Scotland would be traveling across the ocean, never to return. The whole thing seemed like a bad dream and it only kept getting worse.

The first few days on the ship were nauseating.  Phoebe seemed to get her sea legs quicker than some of the others, but it was the smell of others not having as much luck that was repulsive.  She wasn't sure how she survived the smell, but somehow she did.  In an attempt to purify the air from the stench of sickness and the smell of the toilets, a crew member would come down and cleanse the air with the steam from chlorine and vinegar.

The passengers in steerage were not allowed to converse with any of the officers. Job assignments were allocated to passengers who were healthy and able to work.  Each passenger had his or her own ration of food and was allotted a certain amount of water per day.

Rainwater was collected for all kinds of washing. Phoebe found that most was not used for hygiene.  The majority of those affected by illnesses were the elderly and the small children. The worst days were when the seas were rough or they were hit by a storm. On these days, the steerage would be closed off from the deck, allowing no light. Lighting was not allowed during this time because of the fire danger and so she would sit in pitch-blackness, with people getting sick around her and the air vents closed off so that the ship would not take on any water.  It was absolutely horrid.  Phoebe would lay on her bunk next to her bunkmate with her pillow over her nose and mouth to filter the stench a bit.

It took fifty-three days to get to their destination at St. John's and out of the fifty steerage passengers that got onboard in Scotland, only forty-one would be stepping off the ship. According to the sailors, it was their best mortality rate to date.  Often an outbreak of cholera, typhoid fever, chicken pox, or dysentery would take out a third or more of the passengers. The voyage was one that she hoped she would never have to take again and she was glad to see land once more.

Huge black dogs swam to the ships, toting four inch round ropes. The ropes and the dogs would be brought on board and the ropes tied to the boats.  Since the coastline was treacherous here, these ropes and dogs were used to pull the boats safely into dock.  Apparently, these huge dogs, as big as small bears, were good at fishing out seamen who had fallen overboard too.  Phoebe watched them, amazed.

Once docked, a young sailor deposited Phoebe’s rations trunk next to her.  She had no idea what was next on her journey and waited a long while. She was cold, dirty, hungry, and she was sure she smelled horrific. The gas lighter had come around lighting streetlights here and there. A black carriage steered towards the docks and stopped right in front of her.

A man dressed in black from head to toe descended from his perch atop of the carriage. There was not an inch him that was not covered in black, aside from his eyes of stormy blue. A raspy, rather scary voice asked, "Miss MacIntire?"

Phoebe wasn't sure if she should say yes or not.  She was scared to even move, but when her stomach growled at her she opted to swallow her fear and answer. "Yes," she said shyly.

He nodded and grabbed her trunk. Although Phoebe knew it was heavy, the man tossed it onto the back of the carriage as if it was a feather.

Tiny oil lamps were hung, one on each side of the carriage.  The dark man opened the carriage door for her and extended his hand to help her in. She climbed in and sat down as he closed the small door.  She wanted to ask how long of a ride they had, but again, she was scared. Like a monkey, he agilely climbed the carriage to his seat and tugged on the reins. The horses began to trot.

There was a tiny oil lamp in the carriage and she was thankful for its warm light. As she looked around, she found a small burlap sack on the seat next to her, seemingly intended for her. She opened the bag to find a bit of soft cheese and some bread.  She eagerly ate the small meal and tried to make herself comfortable on the hard bench seat.  With her carpetbag as a pillow she laid down and found that despite the bumpy ride, she fell fast asleep.

She wasn't sure how long she had slept before the carriage came to an abrupt stop, making her roll forward and nearly landing her on the floor of the carriage. As she righted herself, the carriage door opened and a black gloved hand reached in offering help to Phoebe. She gratefully accepted it and stood in the grass while the man grabbed her trunk from the back.

Phoebe looked around. She had no idea where she was or what time it was since the clouds were thick, gray, and threatening. Even with her coat on, the chill of the impending snow whipped through her. Though the dark-clothed man did not say much, he didn't seem as scary in the light and she thought that maybe he kept himself covered to hide some flaw others might find disturbing. At home she used her house as such - maybe they had more in common than she thought.  He seemed kind under his disguise.

How cold he must have been atop the carriage all this time. Phoebe grabbed the collar of her coat and pulled it tight around her neck.  She hadn't noticed what was on the other side of the carriage. The man had deposited her trunk in a small boat there and was making hand gestures to a young boy of maybe thirteen. After watching for a moment, she surmised that the young boy was deaf and the man was speaking to him in sign language. When he was done, the man reached into the back where the trunk had been and pulled out a thick wool blanket and wrapped it around Phoebe.

She was appreciative as he guided her to the small boat where the boy was preparing to sit. The dark-dressed man gently took the carpetbag from her and offered his hand for her to step into the boat.  She stepped in apprehensively since the last thing she wanted to do was be on the water again. As the man leaned over to deposit her bag in the boat, he pulled another small burlap bag out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. Phoebe smiled as she took it from him. She quickly took the knitted wool scarf she had made while on the ship from around her neck and wrapped it around the dark-dressed man's neck.

He was shocked and surprised and though she could not see his face, his eyes seemed to smile at her with appreciation. The red wool scarf made him look so much less scary and accessorized perfectly with the black clothing. She smiled and waved as the small boat began to pull away from the shore for what she hoped was a very short water journey.

She sat facing the young boy who only stared and smiled at her as he rowed. She pulled out the small burlap bag, took out the bread, and broke it in half, offering half to the boy. He shook his head no but smiled from ear to ear at her offer.  The boy rowed for quite some time before the tiny boat appeared to be heading for a particular island.

It was large and densely wooded and she thought she could see the top of what looked like a castle or large stone building just peeking out among the tops of the trees towards the middle of the island. It was starting to snow as the small boat bumped the dock of the island. The young boy began tying up the boat.  Phoebe started to grab one side of the trunk to help the boy, but he shook his head no and extended his hand to help her to the dock. Phoebe presumed someone bigger would come and take care of it later.

With the carpetbag in hand, the boy led her up a long, steep trail through the woods. The snow could not penetrate the canopy of trees here and it seemed slightly warmer with the blanket of trees around them.  They walked for at least a half an hour before the trees began to clear and she could see the manicured shrubbery of the most beautiful formal garden she had ever seen. A huge, stately, stone-covered manor stood beyond the gardens, and what looked like the remains of a very old small chapel stood beyond a large pond. The light dusting of snow gave everything such a pristine air - as if time had stopped and could not wreak its destructive havoc upon this special place far from civilization.

They walked along a path of crushed stone gravel that meandered in, out, and around the garden and to the house. The boy stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door of the manor. He waved his hand towards the door, but would not move any closer to the house.  She started up the stairs, looking back once or twice at the boy below, only to find him smiling and encouraging her onward.  She opened the door and stepped in and when she turned to wave good-bye to the boy, was gone. How odd, she thought.

She closed the door, set her bag down, and rubbed her arms for warmth.  The house was beautifully furnished but completely deserted. The dust was thick in places and cluttered with cobwebs. Is this a joke, she wondered. She called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?" but no one answered her.

Chapter Three

As she stepped further into the foyer, she turned around 360 degrees to take it all in. To her right was a gorgeous, sweeping staircase that had two landings and a huge balcony looking down into the foyer. Straight ahead from the double front door was a grand salon that must have been 40 by 20 feet in size. Its far wall was slightly curved with five French doors adorning it, and it looked out onto a large veranda with rounded, stone-covered steps that reached down to yet another beautiful garden. At her left, now 270 degrees from where she started her circle, was a set of closed, wooden double doors. She figured she would do a complete search of the house at another time, which would include looking behind these doors. Still turning, she looked upon the double front doors she had just entered. Wow, she thought to herself. She turned around and headed towards the salon where there was a round table with a white envelope upon it. As she headed for the table and its envelope, she noticed the opposite wall of the French doors in the salon. There were two more French doors here on either side of a stately fireplace.

Wood was next to the fireplace, but the ashes in the fireplace were above the grate.  To make a decent fire and warm up this house, she was going to have to get a little more dirty before she got clean. She sighed at that.  All she wanted to do was take a hot bath to get rid of the smells of her travels. If she could, she would have burned her clothes, but she wasn't sure what her situation was just yet and she still needed to find her room.

She picked up the white envelope that was stood up against a beautiful, empty delft vase. There on the front of the envelope was the same flowery writing that had been on the letter her father had received, but this time it was addressed to her.

Miss MacIntire,

Welcome to your new home. I hope you will find it meets your needs.  Enclosed you will find a list of duties to be performed and a few rules I hope you will abide by.  I do not think they are too much to ask.

You are welcome to your pick of bedrooms, however until you decide I have prepared the bedroom above the kitchen. It has a lovely view of the gardens and the veranda.

Best Regards

Nathaniel Jacobs

Rules

The rooms above the stables are forbidden.  These are my living quarters and I prefer my privacy.

Weather permitting, torches around the gardens shall be lit every evening.

Every Sunday evening the candles in the Chapel ruins shall be lighted.

A meal of raw meat and a glass of blood are to be set in the dining room every evening.  Fresh meat and its blood can be found in a cold storage room below the kitchen near the wine cellar.

Deliveries, including mail and groceries, will be delivered weekly to the front porch on Monday by Samuel (the young boy). A new basket with mail going out and a list of any special items needed should be left in an empty basket on the porch the Sunday night before the deliveries are due.

On occasion, Jonathan (the carriage driver) will tend to the formal gardens.

You can leave me a note if you require anything further for I expect we will rarely cross paths. I have an affliction that does not allow me to be in sunlight so I sleep during the day and am awake at night.

She folded up both the letter and the rules and put them back in the envelope. She could see the kitchen from where she stood and decided to retrieve her carpetbag and find the room mentioned in the letter. Up the massive, sweeping stairs she went. In front of her was the banister overlooking the foyer.  She followed the walkway around to the left. Windows on her left looked down over the entrance of the house and on the right over the banister was open to the grand salon below. There was a sitting area to the left here and a long hallway to the right. Again on the right was a look down onto the grand salon. At the end of the hallway were massive double doors atop of four steps.  She opened the right side door into a beautiful bedroom.

Much cheerier than the rest of the house, this room was done in blues and greens on a background of snow white. Yards and yards of sheer white fabric adorned the canopy of the bed and the windows and French doors. The French doors opened on to a balcony that overlooked the veranda and the gardens and the forest even further beyond.  The room was in fact a very large circle and windows adorned a great deal of its walls. A picturesque view could be spied of more than 180 degrees.  Unlike what she had seen in the rest of the manor, this room had been cleaned. Albeit, not spick and span, but it was apparent that someone took some effort to clean this room for her. Aside from the sheer white curtains, there were also deep blue velvet curtains atop them if one wanted to keep out the light of day. There was a dressing room off of the bedroom, along with a bathroom and it was plumbed.

Phoebe had read about such things, but she had never seen a plumbed bathroom.  A pull chain activated a tank high above, presumably filled with water, and the water would rinse away that which was deposited in the porcelain bowl below. Of course, she had to pull the chain to see what happened and whoosh came the water.  How wonderful, she thought.  There, too, was a large copper tub that drained into the floor. Amazing. Now all she needed was to heat some water.

She came down the four steps of her new found bedroom into the long hallway, but instead of turning left at its end heading for the grand staircase, she turned right in hopes of finding a back staircase to or near the kitchen, and like she had lived there for years, there it was as she’d expected. She trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. She was taken aback.  The butcher block was slathered in blood with the bloody blade of a twelve-inch meat cleaver imbedded into the thick maple wood. The sink was littered with dishes, wine glasses, blood, and bones.  If she didn't know the Lord's dietary tendencies she would have thought a horrible murder had happened here. It was a horrid sight. Smelly and messy and in need of a good cleaning but that would have to wait as the sun was inching its way down now and soon she'd have to get some heat going in the house or she'd freeze.

A huge cast iron wood burning stove was in the corner of the kitchen next to a large hearth.  This was similar to the one in her home in Scotland, so she easily started a fire and set several large pots of water on the burners.  She also started a fire in the hearth of the kitchen and hung a bucket of water there.  The water was plumbed into the kitchen with a hand pump. All the modern conveniences, she thought.  She found a big, empty coal bucket near the rear door to the kitchen and decided to empty the ashes in the downstairs hearth and her bedroom, and then maybe find the dining room and see if the same thing needed to be done there, while waiting for the water to get hot.

She made her way around the fireplaces and emptied them of most of their ash into the huge coal bucket, and then started a fire in each room as she finished up and went to the next room.  Now it was time to haul up all that water. Well at least I don't have to haul it down too, she thought. Up and down she went making five trips in all.  It wasn't a huge amount of water but it would get the job done.

She stripped down and stepped into the very hot water.  Normally she would have done this at the end of the day, but she just had to get the smell of her travels off of her. She hissed through her teeth as she put her foot in the hot water, but she needed to get on with it, as she still had to prepare the meal for her new master.  After slowly introducing each new part of her body to the water, she was finally leaning back into the tub and relaxing.  Gradually, it drew the aches and pains out of her like a good port sherry.  Although she wanted to, she really couldn't dawdle.  She wanted to prepare the Master's odd meal before it got dark.  She took the soap and washrag and scrubbed her skin until it was red and raw. She washed her hair twice since it just didn't feel clean the first time, then she pulled the plug and watched the water drain into nowhere. She dried off and tiptoed into her room holding the towel around her. It was still cold in there but it was warming up. She opened her bag and pulled out her clothes.  It seemed silly to put on something dirty when she had just gotten herself clean, but they were the only clothes she had.  She shook her clothes out and walked to the wardrobe to hang her extra dress only to find four clean and pressed gray dresses hanging there.  She wadded up her dress and put it back in the bag and pulled one of the dresses off of its hanger.  It was a bit big and a tad bit long, but she could alter them quickly, just not right now.  She quickly dressed and headed down to the kitchen to clean up the cutting board and find the meat room in the cellar.

She put on another couple of pots of water to heat up to wash the board and the dishes that were piled up in the sink. While they heated she looked around for the cellar door. Just off the kitchen were three doors: a pantry, a butler's pantry, and a laundry room.  Opposite the door to the backyard was another door she hoped was to the cellar.  The handle was covered in blood and she grabbed a dishcloth to open the door. It was pitch black down there, so she went back into the kitchen to get some matches.  The house had gas lighting throughout and there was one at the head of the stairs going down. She lit the gaslight and the others to follow as she descended into the cold bowels of the manor.  The smell led her to the meat room and as the Master had said, there were two carcasses hanging, with pans below them collecting blood.  Huge blocks of ice were down here too to keep the room cold and preserve the meat as long as possible.

Butchering meat had never been her forte, but she did her best to take a rather nice section of hind quarters from what she was pretty sure was a wild boar.  She carried this up to the kitchen and found a clean plate to set it on, then went back down with a clean crystal wine glass to get some blood per the Master's instructions.  She had cooked with blood before, but had never had anyone request it uncooked for drinking.  She would just have to get used to these new daunting tasks. She was his property now and after what her father had done, she never wanted to go back to that house.  So things here will be a bit unnerving or distasteful; there is obviously some reason for the strict diet - maybe a doctor had advised this like the affliction to daylight, she thought.

She finished filling the glass then turned off the gaslights as she ascended the staircase and closed the door.  The dining room was very near the kitchen, as they often were. She set the table with some lovely china she found in the butler's pantry after dusting and wiping the mantel and the table of their dust and grime.  This would have to do for today, but tomorrow she'd give it a good cleaning. She lit the dusty chandelier and set out the raw meat and wine glass of blood at the head of the table along with the silver and a pristine, white linen napkin.

With the water hot now, she went to work on the butcher block and the dishes. When done, she went outside to light the torches in the garden. The snow had stopped and though it was cold, it was quiet and beautiful with the lovely thin blanket of snow on the ground. She was too tired to bother eating, plus she’d had two meals of bread and cheese earlier, but tomorrow she would wake early and start some bread. She felt she should have set out some flowers or something for the Master, but she truly was exhausted from her travels and she just wanted to crawl into a warm bed.  As she made her way to her bedroom, she checked on the fires she had built in the grand salon, the dining room, and the kitchen to make sure they would last a while and then she went upstairs to her bedroom, casting another log on the fire there. She undressed and slipped into bed. When her head hit the pillow she slept like she had never slept before.

A grey fog formed around her, making everything invisible. It seemed as though it was sucking the very life out of her as it got closer until it started to morph and turn to black. The darkness felt heavy. No light, no matter how strong, could penetrate it. She heard a haunting voice. It didn't seem to come from any one place but from all around her. She turned and then turned again, but nothing changed - there was only pitch-blackness. The voice was garbled - far away then right in front of her. It sounded like a woman. Was she saying a name? Far away the voice repeated its indecipherable words, then again right behind her, frightening Phoebe and making her turn once more. Then out of the blackness, two green orbs came into focus - a beautiful ivy green. As they got closer and closer they became more focused until she could almost touch them. She reached out towards them and realized as she did so that they were focusing on her - eyes - that's what they were. At first they seemed haunting and beautiful, but as the hairs on Phoebe's neck started to stand up and an uncontrollable shiver went through her, she realized they were more malevolent than she had first thought and the voice that had been garbled now formed in perfect clarity and screamed..."Get OUT!”

Phoebe sat straight up in bed, out of breath, and startled. She listened to the house.  Was it a dream or did someone scream at her? But when no other sounds came, she decided her imagination had gotten the better of her and she got up and got dressed.

Chapter Four

Phoebe spent most of the day ferociously cleaning the meat room and the kitchen, then headed for the dining room and gave it a good dusting and cleaning too.  She cleared away the dishes from the evening before and set out to make some bread.

While the bread rose, she went out to the gardens and looked around.  She found a garden shed and grabbed a set of pruning shears and a basket.  Though the snow had started for the season and there were no flowers to grace the foyer vase, she did find some pretty branches of red berries, ivy, and evergreen boughs. She made two beautiful arrangements from these and put one in the delft vase on the table in the foyer where she had found her envelope of rules the day before and one on the dining room table.  The scent of the evergreen boughs smelled lovely. While in the shed she noticed the torch fluid was there and decided to fill the torches for this evening. She didn't know how often they needed to be filled, but after burning most of the night she figured they would be low and they were.

Back in the house, she noticed as she went from room to room that someone had restocked the wood for the fireplaces and she was very appreciative of this.  She went back in to check on the rising bread and found it to be perfect. She stoked the oven and put the two loaves in.

When she had been cleaning in the meat room she had also found several wheels of aging cheese. The door next to the meat room was a wine cellar and she was surprised to find such a huge collection of wines when there was no mention of wine in the dietary requirements. She thought maybe she would embellish the Master's meal with some variety.

She started a bear meat stew from the last of the bear meat in the meat room. She found potatoes, turnips, carrots, and other long lasting vegetables in the pantry along with dried spices. The smell of the garlic and onions wafted through the air of the warm kitchen, as did the scent of the fresh bread that was now cooling on the cutting board.

Just to be safe, she went to the meat room and cut another large section of meat from the boar that hung there and set it on a plate. She had found a small icebox in the kitchen where she kept the milk and butter and she set the plate in the icebox covered with a tea towel. Then she went down to get some blood from the pan below the pig.

When all the necessities were completed, including the torch lighting, she set the table in the elegant dining room that was sparkling clean from top to bottom.  She laid out the silver, the plate with raw meat, and the wine glass with blood, but next to it she put a covered tureen of stew, and some fresh bread and butter covered with a dish towel to keep from drying out. She opened a bottle of cabernet to breathe and set out another wine glass. When she was satisfied with how everything looked she stoked the fire in the dining room, lit the gas lights and some candles, and laid a cake plate and its cover with a fresh baked apple pie under it on the table. She then shut the door and went upstairs to change into one of her clean dresses from the wardrobe.  When she was done she came back downstairs and served herself some stew and ate in the kitchen.

She really wasn't quite ready to retire so she did a little wandering around the house.  In the room next to the dining room, she found a two-story library filled with so many books she gasped. Well, I guess I don't have to reread my silly books anymore, unless I want to, she giggled to herself.  A ladder with wheels was attached to a brass bar that ran the length of the room. There were two more for the other two inner walls and a wall of glass on the fourth wall for natural lighting.  A large desk was in front of the window wall and there was a lovely velvet settee and two large leather chairs to lounge and read your day away.  Dark walnut wood adorned all the walls and made the room very dark. If not for the wall of glass, this room might be a bit dark and scary, but Phoebe absolutely loved it.

She had decided this is where she would spend her Sundays. After running her fingers along the spines of the leather bound books and looking up in awe at all the books in this room, she smiled to herself and closed the door behind her.

Back through the grand salon, Phoebe found another set of double doors. Inside she found the conservatory.  A large black grand piano with its lid propped up stood in the middle like a statue of great beauty. She lit the candelabra on the piano after she walked around it, running her fingers over the cool, smooth, lacquered wood of the beautiful specimen.  She sat on the bench and opened the fall covering the beautiful ivory and ebony keys beneath.

She had never taken lessons because her father never felt it would benefit him, but she had watched both her sisters and when no one was around she would play what she had heard.  She had a talent for it, but there was no reason to pursue it and she never played in front of her sisters because they were jealous of how easy it came to her with no lessons when they spent hours practicing only to be mediocre.

Caressing the keys as if they were glass and might break under her touch, she grazed their tops finding her middle 'C' and remembering what she had learned so long ago. Then she began to play. The piano served her well with tone and tune so stunning she shivered from its beauty. First she played Beethoven's Fur Elise and then she started the haunting Bach/Gounod's Ave Maria. Nothing existed beyond the extent of the candelabra's illumination. This was her tiny world for a few special moments as the music she played kept her safely contained in its warmth and radiance.

At some point during the song, she glanced at the window nearby. Darkness had come and she could see a reflection of a man near the door in the illumination of the candles. She jumped and turned, startled by his presence, but when she turned to look, there was nothing there but shadows. Feeling she had been silly, she finished the piece she had been playing from memory and lovingly closed the fall over the keys. She blew out the candles and proceeded upstairs to bed.

As she lay in bed, she tried to remember what she could of the imaginary man she had seen in the conservatory. She couldn't remember much since it had only been a split second, but what she had felt when she’d seen his face was sadness - great strangling sadness.

Phoebe readied herself for bed. She had brought up some hot water earlier and had a bit of a sponge bath. She stirred up the fire and added a log or two, then snuggled into bed.

The blackness crept in again and swept all around her, taunting and teasing, twirling her round and round till all was a blur but the green orbs coming fast towards her. They focused much quicker this time, or maybe it was just that she knew what they were now. The shrilling voice made her shake with fear as a woman's face appeared behind the eyes. It was a beautiful face but these eyes were angry. The voice screamed again as if right in front of her, and she winced as the force came at her saying, "I told you to GET OUT."

But this time there was another sound behind her, a deep guttural growl, and if she hadn't already been scared by the proclamation of the woman, the growl certainly would have done the trick. The woman dissolved into the blackness as the growl came closer and more eyes came into focus. They were huge and sky blue in color, reflecting light back at her and almost blinding her as the woman screamed in the background again, "Get out!" Phoebe practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of another loud growl and she sat up in bed again. This time it was still evening, so she crept down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of water.

She heard the tinkling sound of what she thought might be a music box. As if in a trance, she followed the music to the library door. The door was closed, but the music drew her to investigate its source. She opened the door to find the silhouette of a man standing in front of the fireplace. The moon shone in from the wall of glass on the opposite wall. Sadness filled her heart as she watched this man tenderly hold the box in both hands. She thought she could see the glistening of a tear track down his face as he watched and listened to the delicate melody play.

Unable to contain herself, she was compelled to go to him and comfort his terrible sadness, but when the door squeaked revealing her presence, he jumped and dropped the music box, shattering it on the floor.

Like an angry lion he roared at her, voicing his rage. "Look what you've done! Get out!"

His voice echoed throughout the house and she swore that it repeated itself like off a canyon wall. Making her way up the stairs, she dropped her water and stepped on some broken glass. Already limping from her disability, the glass slowed her down to a crawl as she heard him slam the door of the library. She wasn't sure if the door had been slammed close, or hit the wall as they opened in his pursuit to follow her. She didn't stop or look back to find out as she limped up the four steps to her bedroom door and shut the doors behind her, hoping to find safety within. When she heard nothing more, she lit the gaslight in the bathroom and tended to her foot. It wasn't bad, but a tiny bit of glass was still in it which was what had made it hurt so badly when she ran.  Once it was out and she’d wrapped some clean cloth around it, the pain was nearly gone.

However, it would be a long time before she slept again or ventured out of her room at night, for that matter. She felt horrible that the tiny box had slipped from his hands when she startled him. It obviously meant a great deal to him. She hobbled over to the French doors of her balcony and opened them, letting in the cool air. It calmed her and helped her to think straight. Thinking back, she felt sure the reflection she saw when playing the piano was the same man in the library. It must be my Master and I've gravely upset him. She hoped he would not make arrangements for her to go back.  As scared as she was, she loved this place, the house and its gardens. She hadn't really thought about it until now, but the thought of going back to her father's house was inconceivable. She'd find a way to make it up to Lord Jacobs if she had to work her fingers to the bone.

When she turned to enter the room again, something caught her eye from the window across her room.  She went to the bathroom and turned off the gaslight and returned to the window that looked towards the rooms above the stables. A figure moved back and forth between the windows as if terribly agitated.  Her guess was right. It had been Lord Jacobs in the library. Of course, she thought to herself. Who else would it be? But as she watched his silhouette pace back and forth she thought only of the sad man that stood holding the tiny music box in front of the fire. Her eyes welled up with tears at the anguish she had brought him this evening when she had tried so hard to make a perfect meal for him.  If only she hadn't startled him. If only that terrible dream hadn’t woke her. Her heart was heavy as she touched the cool, smooth glass between them as if somehow it might comfort his sorrow.  A tear fell from her eye and she dropped her hand to her side and slipped back into bed.

Chapter Five

Phoebe didn't sleep much the rest of the night so she was up with the sun that morning to do what she could to fix things. First things first, she headed to the library. There on the floor was the shattered music box, as if the whole incident had just happened seconds ago.  She meticulously picked up all the pieces she could find, making sure to check carefully under the furniture and in the fringe of the oriental carpet for any missing pieces, no matter how tiny.

She set them all in a bowl and would try to piece the puzzle back together. When she made one last check under the large leather chair, she found a rather big piece that looked like it might be a tiny hidden box inside of the music box. When she picked it up, one of the sides fell away and in it was a beautiful, dainty gold locket, with a long gold chain. A rose was engraved on the front, and on the back, written in flowery scroll much like the envelopes she'd received from the Master, were the initials E.G. She carefully set the necklace and the secret box in the bowl.

She went on with her chores, clearing away the dishes from the dining room.  She couldn't tell if he had tried the stew, but the wine was consumed, along with the bread, and she was quite sure a bite of pie was gone. She smiled sadly as she felt she’d been slightly successful in introducing new items to his meal, but horribly unsuccessful in meeting him face to face. But like she had told herself last night with tears in her eyes, she would make it up to him. After all, he had taken her in disabled and plain as she felt she was, when he could have had anyone. Though his requests might seem odd to some, she was glad to be away from the parading of her lovely sisters and her father’s complaints about how she was such a cost to him.

She did some laundry. She washed the two dresses she owned and had worn that smelled something atrocious from the steerage of the boat. She scoured them and rinsed them in boiling water and scrubbed them again until she was sure that they no longer smelled of the horrible voyage across the Atlantic.  Then she cleaned her new dresses and started on a pile of clothes she could only assume were her Master’s that was in the corner.

It wasn't sunny out, but it wasn't terribly cold either. After she had hung all the washing on the lines, she refilled the torches, washed the dishes, and headed to her room to do a good cleaning in there. She dusted and mopped and then beat the thick blue velvet curtains with a broom to rid them of their dust.  She heard a squeak and stopped, but when she did not hear anything again, she hit the top of the curtain hard with her broom and heard the squeak again along with a thump at the floor. She moved the curtains around looking for what might have made the noise, only to find a tiny black bat.

"Oh, you poor thing! I'm sorry I didn't know you were sleeping in there." She spread its wings, making sure there were no broken bones. She was grateful she hadn't hurt it much. She took him down to the kitchen and gave him a tiny piece of the bear stew that was left over. He took a bite but pulled away from it then turned and bit her finger holding the meat.

"Ow! Well. That wasn't very nice," she said, but the tiny bat licked at the droplet of blood on her finger as if it were starving. She carried it into the meat room.  With one hand she cut a small piece of meat. She took the meat and the bat out to the potting shed. She stepped into the wheelbarrow outside of the shed and deposited the little bat into the open eaves, setting the little piece of raw meat next to it, then headed back to the house to finish her chores.  She finished up in her room and then dusted from ceiling to baseboard in the huge library.

When everything was done, she mixed some milk, flour, sugar and water together. She boiled it over a low flame until it became thick, making a strong glue. She grabbed the bowl of music box pieces, and started in on piecing it together on the table in the morning eating area.  The metal music box mechanism was fine and, aside from the corner that hit the ground, most of the pieces were large. She worked diligently to piece the box back together.  She pulled the necklace out of the bowl and looked at it once more.  She pried open the locket, revealing two portraits facing each other - both men.  One she was sure was her Master, Lord Jacobs, but she had no clue who the other gentleman might be. The portrait of Lord Jacobs, though, was from a happier time. He didn't seem as sad as he did now, but aside from that he looked just the same - handsome, with dark hair, strong features, and a smile that lit up his eyes. Where now was sadness, in the image there was only gentleness.

The other gentleman was handsome as well, but bore light hair, light colored eyes and a boyish smirk. As she closed the locket and set the necklace on the table next to the box, she wondered who E.G. might be and what these men meant to her.  Phoebe worked for several hours and made good progress on the music box, but it was starting to get dark and she needed to get on with her chores. Leaving the necklace on the table, she tucked the music box into box and set it on a shelf where she was sure she wouldn't knock it over. She heated the stew and several pots of water for the bath she planned to take this evening.

When the fires and torches were lit and the Master's meal was laid out in the dining room, Phoebe headed up the stairs with the final buckets of hot water for her bath and retreated to her room with a book she had borrowed from the library. She tossed the book on the bed and then headed for the bathroom.  She turned the lights low and got undressed.  She inched her way into the scalding hot bath and when her body acclimated to the heat, she let all the worries of the day ooze out of her along with any aches and pains. She sank down into the tub with her knees up and all but her face under water. She closed her eyes as she let the heat of the water relax her. She heard a large boom, and though it was muffled from being under water, she sat up in the tub just as Lord Jacobs came barreling into the bathroom. She grabbed the closest thing she could, which happened to be her gray dress, and covered herself, soaking the dress. With one hand she wiped her face of water, scared she had done something wrong as she stared up at him.

He looked away as soon as he realized she was naked but didn't move.  He held the necklace in his hands towards her and yelled, "Where did you get this?"

"Um. I found it in a hidden compartment in the music box. I was just trying to fix..."

"A hidden compartment?" he said, puzzled. Then, realizing again that she was naked, he turned his head away.

"Yes, Master. I was trying to repair the music box that was broken because I had startled you. One of the pieces I found under the chair was a small box that was hidden just under the bottom of the music box. One of the sides fell away when I picked it up and the necklace was inside. I'm so sorry, Master. I didn't mean to upset you."

His demeanor instantly changed and Phoebe sensed he was far away in thought. When she moved slightly, the slosh of water reminded him where he was, and he quietly said, "I'm sorry I barged in on you."

And as fast as he’d entered the room, he departed.

Chapter Six

The dreams were the same as they had been before, a woman telling her to leave, sky blue eyes, growls, and terrifying blackness. The only new addition to this dream was the haunting tune from the broken music box and an image of the two handsome men in the locket. None of it made sense to her, but she was getting used to it and it didn't scare her as much as it had in the beginning.

She started her chores then headed for the conservatory, dusting it and mopping it until all was spotless and then she did the same to the grand salon. Lastly, she headed for the double doors she had not gone through yet near the front foyer.  The doors opened up into what looked like a bridal suite prepared for a princess. She could imagine a groom carrying his new bride through the grand foyer and through these double doors to consummate their union.  When she turned away from the bed, she gasped as she looked upon the portrait above the fireplace. She saw the same green eyes that had been haunting her at night, screaming for her to leave. The haunting beauty of the woman in the portrait was unsurpassed, staring down at Phoebe with such arrogance, and seeming to smirk at her. It gave her the most uncomfortable feeling of being watched.  The portrait was riddled with cobwebs and dust. If Phoebe hadn't been trying to make things up to her Master, she would have left this portrait as it was, for she didn't like being near it and she certainly didn't like it staring at her, following her every move. She wondered who the woman was. Was she the Master's wife? A sister? Was she the owner of the locket? And if so, Phoebe wondered why this woman carried a locket with pictures of two men?

She finished up in the room as fast as she could and started some bread, and a potpie, then worked on the music box. Drying overnight had given the box back its rigidity. It was easier to work with now and she quickly had it looking quite good. She thought to herself, one more night of drying and it could pass as fixed. She ate at the table with the music box, laid out a meal for her Master, cleaned the kitchen, lit the torches, and headed to bed. The next day was Sunday and she was looking forward to reading her day away in the library like a lady of leisure. She snuggled into bed and fell fast asleep.

Again the blackness filled in all around her, but instead of the green eyes coming to her in the darkness it was the woman in the portrait coming at her fast. As she came closer, screaming incoherently, Phoebe noticed the woman was wearing what looked to be the locket she'd found.  The image of the woman passed right through her, screaming, "Get out! You don't belong here...Mine...." The voice wavered in and out and Phoebe couldn't decipher everything the woman was screaming. Just like in the other dreams, the blue eyes appeared out of the blackness and the low guttural growls started, making it even harder to understand all that the woman in the portrait was trying to say. She couldn't tell if the blue eyes were that of a man or an animal, although they looked to be more animal. As the woman passed by again yelling her demands, the thing with the blue eyes seemed to jump over Phoebe in the blackness as if following the woman.  Phoebe saw what looked to be the outline of a huge black dog or wolf, as it passed over her. Suddenly it turned looking straight at Phoebe as if seeing her for the first time. The blue eyes reflected light from somewhere as they had before, blinding her and waking her out of her fitful sleep.

She sat up in bed and wiped a bit of sweat from her hairline. She had brought up a glass of water to bed so as not to perhaps startle the Master again.  She walked in the dark over to the dresser where she had put the glass, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the lights coming from the rooms above the stables. She couldn't help but take a peek through the gossamer drapes. She saw the Master pacing again as he had been doing the night she had startled him. She stood and watched him moving from window to window as she drank her water.

Was he still so angry with her about the music box, or had the necklace somehow made things worse for Phoebe?  She was worried the Master would fire her at this rate, and she just couldn't go back home. It was so peaceful here. There were no outsiders taunting her or making fun of her. Her father wasn't there to remind her what a disappointment she was to him. She hoped that tomorrow she could give the Master the repaired music box. She hoped that he would at least forgive her for the shambles she had made of something he obviously treasured. She wondered if maybe she should work tomorrow instead of read. If only she knew what the Master liked or what he enjoyed she could do something or make something that would make him happy. Up until now though, the only time they'd spoken was when he had been angry with her.

With her head resting against the wall next to the window, she felt somehow comforted as she watched him.  Knowing he was there made her feel safe. She didn't know why; after all, she'd really only seen his flash of temper. Maybe it was the picture in the locket that revealed another side of him, which somehow comforted her.  It seemed silly to her as she tried to rationalize the feeling, but she stood there for the longest time watching him pace. She hoped she might see that happier man in the picture someday in real life. Maybe someone wonderful would come into his life and make him happy again. But for now, her feet were getting cold and she wanted to get back into bed to warm up.

Chapter Seven

When she woke in the morning, it was rather gloomy outside. She figured that was the norm for this area this time of the year. The snows were coming and soon there would be very few nights when the Master would be able to stroll in the gardens. She opened the heavy velvet curtains a little further back in hopes of getting more light into the room when she heard a familiar squeak. She wiggled the curtains a bit and thump, down came the little bat. She wasn't positive it was the same bat; after all, what would be the chances of that? But nonetheless, she picked him up and headed down the stairs.

"You are very persistent. How are you getting in my room, little guy?" She gently pet the bat’s furry little head. "I'll bet you are cold. Maybe that's why you keep making your way in the house." She grabbed a spoon from a drawer in the kitchen and headed down to the meat room. She bent down and filled the spoon with a little blood and the little bat lapped it up like he was starving.

"Easy there. Not so fast. You're going to choke, little guy."  When he was done she cut a little piece of meat like before and headed to the stables.  She hoped the Master wasn't looking as she was only in her under dress. She quietly opened the stable door and entered.

"I think you will like it in here. It's warm at night and probably easier to get into then my bedroom."  She climbed a ladder to the loft and set the bat there in the hay with the little piece of raw meat next to him.

"Sleep well, little guy," she said then headed back down the ladder and back to her room.

She got dressed and went through her carpetbag to find one of her silk hair ribbons. When she found the red one, she headed downstairs to the kitchen and pulled down the box from the shelf. She took out the little music box and inspected it. When she was fairly happy, she carefully wound the mechanism to make sure that everything still worked now that it was mounted back in the box. She opened the lid and the haunting melody she had heard that night in the library played. She listened for a moment or two and then started humming along with the tune.  Just when it ended and the song was about to start again, she closed the lid. She proceeded to tie the hair ribbon carefully around the box as she continued to hum the tune.  When she was done, she went to the library and found a pen and a small note card and wrote:

Dearest Master Jacobs

I did my best to repair your beautiful music box.  I know it isn't perfect, but I hope you will accept my deepest apologies for my part in breaking it. I could tell how much it meant to you when I saw you holding it and I am truly sorry for having startled you that tragic evening. I assumed you knew the locket was in the box all along, and am sorry that it alarmed you so when I found it.  E.G. must have meant something very special to you and the other gentleman in the locket. You looked so happy in the portrait. I hope you can find that happiness again in your life.

I do so like working here and hope you will find it in your heart to let me stay on as your humble servant. I'll try to be more considerate of your privacy and follow your rules to a 'T'.

It must have cost you quite a bit of money to have me brought over here and I hope you won't ever regret having done so.

Thank you for your kindness.

Regards

Phoebe MacIntire

She folded the card, walked back to the kitchen, tucked the little card under the ribbon, she picked up the music box, and walked out to the grand salon.  Lovingly grazing her fingertips along its top, she gently set the music box on the round table where she had found the welcome letter with the rules, and hoped the Master would be pleased.

She thought, since it was Sunday, she should head out to the chapel and clean it a bit for the Master. This was the evening she was to light the candles for him in there and she had never even looked inside.

It really was just a hull of a building. There were only four, charred beams where the roof once had been.  The building itself was stone and very small - maybe 20 feet by 20 feet. Only one window was left intact above the entrance and below what she figured was the bell tower. A small turret on one of the corners made it look rather regal.  Grass and weeds grew in and around the building. Inside in one of the window sills, were the remnants of candles from many Sundays passed by.

Well, I think I can improve on this, Phoebe thought to herself.  She went to the potting shed where she remembered seeing a stool and a small, rectangular table. After pulling some of the tall weeds away, she placed the table below the window where previously the candles had been, and put the stool in the middle of the chapel. Back to the potting shed she went, where she made a bouquet of orange tree branches, evergreens, and holly with bright red berries for the table in the chapel and a new one for the dining room.  Back in the house, she went to the pantry to find some candles and brought ten or more out with her, several for the table and one for each of the windows that she could reach.  Then she went back to the potting shed to fill up the torches for the garden.  She found two torches in the potting shed that weren't being used and placed them one on either side of the entrance to the chapel.

Now he would have a lovely place to think and ponder and pray. She smiled and hoped he would like it. She headed back to the house and started some bread rising, cut up some apples for a cobbler, and then she went down to the meat room and cut a large section of meat and made a roast that had the house smelling scrumptious all day long. Then she made a cup of tea and headed for the library.

When she had been in there dusting, she had seen a few books that interested her such as Edgar Allan Poe's poem "The Raven," a bunch of Charles Dickens books she hadn't read, The Scarlet Letter, which her father wouldn't let her read, The House of Seven Gables, and Longfellow's Evangeline. But the one she was headed for was Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

She stoked the fire, had a sip of tea, curled up in the big leather chair, and started to read about Catherine and her Heathcliff.

Several hours passed when she heard something outside. She used a scrap of paper lying on the desk as a bookmark and she looked out the wall of glass but couldn't see anything causing the noise. She headed to the kitchen and out the backdoor as the noise became louder. She turned the corner of the house and was startled by a man dressed all in black trimming some of the hedges.

He heard her walk up behind him and bowed slightly at her presence. It was the dark-dressed man who had driven the carriage.

She smiled and walked towards him saying, "You must be Jonathan." She reached forward to shake his gloved hand as he bowed again in agreement of her claim. She noticed he was wearing the red scarf she had put around his neck almost a week before. It touched her that he was wearing it. When she was just a foot or two away from him, he took her hand gently, brought it to where his lips would be under the black cloth he had tied across his face, and kissed it.

"The Master wrote me saying you would occasionally come to tend to the gardens. It's good to see you again."

He bowed in confirmation.

"Would you like to come in and have some tea? I baked some apple cobbler if you are hungry," she offered, but he shook his head and pointed to the bushes.

"Very well then. If you change your mind, I'll be in the library. I'm reading the most romantic book."

He nodded then turned to tend to his duties. She was a bit disappointed. It was funny, most of her life she had been perfectly happy being alone, but for some reason, now she longed for conversation. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt that way.  On top of that, she thought how odd it was that she was so comforted by the Master's presence from so far away. Maybe they all had something in common. Jonathan was always covering his skin perhaps in an attempt to hide something. Her Master had his odd dietary requests.  Samuel couldn't speak or hear and then there she was with her gimpy leg. As she thought on these commonalities, she also thought about Samuel, the deaf boy, and she remembered that he would be coming in the morning with supplies. She needed to remember to put out a new basket for him. She didn't have any requests for him, but the Master might and he'd expect the basket out before she headed to bed.

She headed back to the house, but turned once to look back at Jonathan before she closed the door behind her. While she was in the kitchen, she checked on the roast and the rising bread before returning to the library. She hoped with time that Jonathan would let his guard down and visit with her, but she remembered how she had felt when going to town, and he probably was just as hesitant to befriend someone as she used to be. She had changed a lot since her voyage across the Atlantic and living in her new home. As she expected, Jonathan did not seek her out, but after about an hour, she came out offering him some water, which he happily accepted.

Maybe next time he was here, she'd bring him something to eat or something to take home and in time she would see how things would fare.  He had done a lovely job trimming the hedges and she thought this would probably be the last time he would do so until spring.  The air was getting mighty chilly and she expected a storm was coming; she just hoped that her Master would get this evening to visit the little chapel and see the lovely manicured hedges.

When the sun started to set, she prepared the dining room for the Master. With the new arrangement of orange tree branches and evergreens, it smelled lovely. She laid out his usual meal, but also set the lovely sliced roast, some tiny potatoes, and the apple cobbler to the left of his place setting. She also got a bottle of wine from the cellar and set it out, but did not open it, in case he didn't care to indulge.

This evening being Sunday, she had a glass of wine with her meal in the kitchen and watched as the sky turned from gray to black. When she was done she headed to the chapel and lit the candles there and the torches in the garden on the way back. She also left a big wicker basket on the front steps for Samuel. She wondered what time he would arrive. Maybe they could have breakfast together. She smiled as she thought of this. She brought the book she had been reading and a glass of water up to her room and got ready for bed.

The wine this evening had done her a world of good and she hoped that tonight there would be no nightmares. After an hour of reading, her eyes had become heavy. She turned the gaslight off and put another log on the fire. She slept very heavily. She had dreams of foggy moors and heart-rending romance. Would Catherine and Heathcliff ever find happiness? She hoped so, but things didn't look good so far. She wondered why she pictured Heathcliff as her Master. Maybe his anger and sadness reminded her of Heathcliff's, but she was glad to have a reprieve from the nightmares.

Sometime very early in the morning, a storm did approach and with it a lot of thunder and lightning. The cracks of thunder were loud and her entire room lit up when the lightning hit.  It was near impossible to sleep. She thought of Samuel on that little boat in the storm and wished she could somehow tell him to hold off until the storm passed, but she didn't know if that would be possible. Poor little man all alone on that rough water. Then she remembered the horror of the storms she had experienced on the Atlantic in steerage and quickly tried to clear that out of her mind.  Finally the thunder booms were farther away and fewer between than before and she started to fall back to sleep. One last lazy glance at the French doors and she would...but wait...she looked again and there was something on the balcony.

Somewhere far away, a lightning bolt struck and lit up the room, silhouetting the figure on the balcony. It seemed to be standing on two legs but it did not appear to be a man. It looked to be covered in black fur. When it turned its head towards her she saw it had pointed ears on top of its head. Then it settled its focus on her and she saw glowing blue eyes reflecting light back at her as it dropped down to all fours and growled. That's when she screamed.

She sat up as she did so, but she wasn't sure if she was asleep or not. Had she been dreaming? She must have been. How could anything have gotten up three stories and then just disappeared. Had she screamed out loud or was that too a dream? It all seemed so real and she wasn't sure of anything at the moment. She was shaking uncontrollably when the door flew open and the Master appeared holding an oil lamp.

"What is it? Are you okay?" he asked in a panic.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Master. I think I must have been dreaming as I couldn't have seen what I thought I saw."

"What do you mean?" he said as he continued into the room.

"It's nothing, I'm sure. I've just been having awful nightmares since I've been here."

"Really? About what?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"It's silly, really. The woman in the portrait in the bedroom downstairs, she haunts me in my sleep. Nightly she tells me to 'get out', and then she is followed by the growling of a blue eyed beast with human eyes. I thought I saw the beast on the balcony, standing on its hind legs staring at me."

He quickly turned his head to look out onto the balcony as another blinding bolt of lightning lit up the room.

"I'm so sorry I disturbed your privacy, Master. I don't want you to think I'm going to be a constant burden to you. I'm sure what I saw was just a dream."

"You're not a burden, Miss MacIntire. Not in the least. I heard you scream and I was worried, that's all. Would some tea help to calm your nerves?"

"No, Master. That's not necessary. I've intruded on your privacy far too much this evening."

"Fine then. Get some sleep. But Miss MacIntire?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't call me Master.  I'm no one's master and I don't want to be."

"What would you prefer I call you, Sir?"

"Nathaniel will be just fine."

"But that is much too informal for what you've done for me."

"What makes you think you haven't done anything for me, Miss MacIntire?"

He left on that note, just as Phoebe tried to ask him what he meant only to have her words fall upon the closed door. What could he have possibly meant by that? she wondered.

Chapter Eight

Phoebe woke late in the morning, but was not surprised after the fitful night she had. She quickly got dressed and headed downstairs. The weather outside was something awful and she was quite worried about Samuel making the trek out to the island. She went to the front door and there was the basket that she had set out the night before untouched.

She grabbed her coat and headed through the forest towards the dock. When she reached the dock she saw how turbulent the water was and it made her worry even more.  She put her hands over her eyes to keep the rain from obstructing her vision as she looked out over the water in the direction she thought they had come when they made the trip the other day.

The wind whooshed around her, her dress and coat making a whipping sound as the cloth beat upon her. The rain was icy and it stung when it hit her from the force of the wind.  She was quite certain she could see a small boat headed her way and hoped it was Samuel.

She was soaked to the skin now through her coat, dress, and under dress, but she waited patiently as the boat came closer and she could tell now that it was definitely Samuel.  She held the collar of the coat tight around her neck to try to keep any warmth she had within it. The wind howled past her ears as if deeply irritated by her presence.  The white caps were getting higher and the poor little boat tossed and tossed, barely making any progress whatsoever, but eventually the tiny boat bumped into the dock and Phoebe quickly helped Samuel tie it up and get out of the boat with his load.

She wrapped her arm around the shivering, gangly boy and helped him up the trail to the forest.  Here the rain and wind lessened with the shelter of the canopy of trees above them, but the tops of the trees moaned and creaked in the vicious wind above. Phoebe was happy for the reprieve of the pelting rain as they raced to the house for some warmth.

Once at the steps of the house, the boy stopped dead in his tracks and would not budge. She pulled his arm towards the house but he refused to enter. He seemed absolutely panic-stricken at the thought. She wondered why he was being so stubborn about coming in. For lack of a better idea, she spun him around and headed for the stables. At least it was shelter.  She had to get the boy warmed up or he'd no doubt get sick.

He agreed to the stables and she grabbed a heavy horse blanket and wrapped it around him and sat him down in the soft hay. She motioned for him to stay there and she headed for the house. She put the tea kettle on and ran to the laundry room where she knew there were some blankets she had washed earlier in the week.

She also ran into the library and grabbed a couple of pieces of paper and a pen and headed back to the stables with the everything.  She set the blankets next to him and began to scribble on a piece of paper:

You need to take your wet things off and bundle up in these blankets.  I will set your clothes in front of the fire in the house to dry them.  I'll go and get you a cup of tea while you get undressed.

He looked at the note and nodded reluctantly. She smiled and headed in the house to make tea. Taking her time inside, she also got the boy a bit of cobbler. She took this opportunity to run upstairs and get out of her wet clothes. When she felt he’d had enough time to get undressed and covered up in some blankets, she headed back to the stables. She handed him the tea, which he eagerly took, and set the cobbler down next to him.

She wrote a note: Are you feeling better?

He nodded as he started gobbling down the cobbler with enthusiasm.

She scribbled on the paper: Why did you come out here in this terrible weather?

He wrote: Deliveries.

She wrote: In the future, young man, please do not put your life at risk for deliveries.

He wrote: My parents insist. They depend on the money.

She wrote: What good are you if you drown? Are you sure you won't come into the house? It's much warmer.

He wrote: NO.

She wrote: Why?

He wrote: Somber Island is cursed, Miss. Nobody comes here - Ever.

She wrote: Cursed? How long have you been making deliveries?

He wrote: Nine months.

She wrote: Has anything ever happened to you while you were here?

He wrote: No.

She wrote: Then how can it be cursed? I live here and nothing has happened to me.

He wrote: Not yet.

She gave him a disapproving smirk.

She wrote: What are the stories you've been told?

He wrote: Lots of mysterious disappearances. People from town found dead with all their blood gone.

She laughed.

He wrote: Really! A woman burned to death in the little chapel. The beast ripped her heart out while she was still alive.

She wrote: You are just making this up.

He wrote: No. That’s what I heard. No one from town will come out here.

She wrote: You do. So does Jonathan.

He wrote: Jonathan? His relatives have worked on the island forever. They have some kind of deal with the beast.

She wrote: And you?

He wrote: Mum says that nothing happens to me because I can't hear anything or talk, so I'm no threat to the beast.

She wrote: So who is the beast?

He wrote: No one knows, but most think it is Lord Jacobs.

She wrote: That is preposterous. Lord Jacobs is no beast. I spoke to him last night.

He looked at her in horror and she met his look with puzzlement.

He wrote: He’s alive? No one’s seen him, in person – especially at night – and has lived to tell about it, in fifty years.

She wrote, laughing: Well the lies are just not true.

He wrote: They are not lies.

She wrote: Haven't you ever had someone make up lies about you because you’re deaf? I know I have. One girl told everyone a demon bit my leg in half. When the doctors sewed me back up they couldn't find all the pieces. That's why I walk with a limp. The truth is, I had polio and it made my bones in one leg stop growing.  People make up stories about things they don't understand. It's mean, really. Lord Jacobs is a private man and he lives on this island all by himself, so people made up stories about him. He has a bit of a temper but he just seems sad, and lonely. I will not have you calling him a beast.

They sat there on the hay for a while. She listened to the wind howling outside, but at least it sounded as if the rain was letting up a bit.

She wrote: Are you sure you won’t come inside? I have left over Sunday roast. I could heat you up a plate.

He looked very tempted but he shook his head no.  She took his teacup and motioned she'd bring him some more. When she started back, she found Samuel standing at the door wrapped in the blankets. She pulled his arm, coaxing him the rest of the way into the kitchen, and sat him down at the table where she ate her meals near the hearth. As he warmed himself with the tea and the fire, he looked around the room in awe. She fixed him a plate of food, which he gobbled down in an instant and then he asked for more cobbler.

She wrote: See...No beast...No curse...Just a beautiful house.

He smiled tentatively as he finished his cobbler.

She wrote: When was the last time you ate?

He wrote: 3 days ago.

She was appalled.

She wrote: Whenever you are hungry, come see me and I will fix you something.  We can't have a growing boy stunted by malnutrition. Doesn't your family have any money?

He wrote: Sure. Dad spends it at the pub and mum says someone my size doesn't need to eat everyday, unlike grownups.

What horrible people, she thought. Who could starve their own child just so they had plenty to eat? She didn't show her growing distaste for his parents; instead she got up and checked on the boy's clothes. They had dried up nicely during their talk.

She wrote: Your clothes are dry. You can get dressed in the laundry room. She pointed towards a door across the hallway.

He hesitated for a moment with his clothes in hand then nodded his head in thanks and shuffled barefoot off to the laundry room.  She watched him as he peeked in the room before entering, making sure there were no beast about to jump him as he entered. She laughed at his caution. When he was safely behind the door, she went to the bridal suite bedroom and rifled through the closet for a man's jacket she had seen when cleaning.  She thought at the very least Samuel could borrow it and bring it back next Monday. She caught the gaze of the portrait out of the corner of her eye as she walked quickly out the door.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she passed it.  She hated that portrait. Thank God it wasn't in the grand salon where she'd have to look upon it every day.

Samuel was emerging from the laundry room as Phoebe re-entered the kitchen. She held the handsome coat towards him and urged him to put it on. He shook his head no.

She wrote: It's just a loan. You can bring it back next Monday.

He reluctantly agreed. The jacket was huge on him. The length was good as Samuel was long and lean like a string bean, but hadn’t started to fill out. She figured the boy must be about thirteen or fourteen. She pulled out a small flour sack and started putting a chunk of bread in it with some cheese and some jerked beef. She smiled as she handed it to him.

Either there was a lull in the storm or the storm was passing because the wind was dying and the rain had all but stopped. She hoped that Samuel would make it home warm, safe, and sound, despite his terrible parents. She walked him down to the dock and cast off the rope as he started to row back to land.  She waved and he nodded with a smile.

While there was a reprieve in the weather, she thought she would go out and fill all the torches and bring in the little stool and table she had left in the chapel. As she collected them, she thought of the story that Samuel had told her about the beast burning a woman in the chapel after taking her heart.

As she tore the story apart in her head, she came up with these few facts that would make the story unfeasible. First off, why would Jonathan’s family still work so loyally for Lord Jacobs if he were a beast, deal or no deal? Though Samuel didn't say when this supposedly took place, he made it sound as if it had been a very long time ago (fifty years at least), which would make Lord Jacobs well into his 60s or 70s. That was just out of the question. Lord Jacobs looked no older than 35 or 40.

How sad it was that such silly superstitions had been made up around a sad, lonely man on an island all by himself. She finished up outside as a tiny bit of snow started to fall. No torches tonight, she thought. So many things had happened this morning she hadn't even gotten to her chores or checking on the supplies that had been brought. She went into the dining room to clear away the dishes, and propped up on the wine bottle she found a note addressed to her in that lovely calligraphy she so admired. She hoped she hadn't done anything to displease him as she eagerly opened it.

Dear Miss MacIntire,

I've been here alone for such a long time that I think I am a bit rusty on my manners. I hope you haven't found me to be too rude. I've barged in on you finding you in the bath and in your nightclothes. Both are most unbecoming of someone in my position and quite hypocritical when I told you my living quarters were not to be entered.

I hope you will accept my apologies and maybe we could start anew, properly, as I should have done when you first came.  I would like very much if you would join me for dinner this evening at 7:00, that is if you can stand watching someone eat a meal such as I do.

Regards,

Nathaniel

She smiled and held the note to her chest as she thought about the evening to come. She quickly finished up her chores and put away the supplies before grinding up some of the roast to make a shepherd's pie for dinner. She also drew a bath for herself and laid out one of the gray dresses on the bed to wear.

She spent a little extra time putting her hair up and then went downstairs to lay out the meal in the dining room. As 7:00 approached, she stood in the dining room by the fire, her hands clasped behind her, and waited for Lord Jacobs.  She stood up straight as she could when she heard his heavy footfall coming down the stairs from the quarters above the stables.

When he entered the room she curtsied then scurried to his chair to pull it out for him.

He looked at her confused and said, "My dear, Miss MacIntire. I think you've misunderstood my intentions. I did not ask you to dinner to serve me, but to join me as my guest. Please, now, go and get another place setting."

He followed her into the kitchen and veered off into the cellar. He came back with a bottle of wine and stopped in the butler's pantry to grab another wine glass then rejoined her in the dining room. He set the items down and when she seemed to be done setting her place clear at the other side of the table, he smiled at her and slid the entire placemat to the place at his right of the table.

He looked up at her when he was done and said, "Well, I'd like to have a conversation with you, not yell clear across the room at you on the other end of the table." Then he held her chair for her as she sat down.

When they were both seated he started to open the bottle of wine as she fiddled with her napkin nervously. To her astonishment, he poured her a glass and filled his glass too.  He held his glass up and said, "A toast?"

She picked up her glass and waited.

He continued, "As the Irish proverb says so well - May the saints protect you, and sorrow neglect you, and bad luck to the one who disrespects you." They clinked glasses and took a sip, then he handed her, one by one, the items to his left that she had laid out. Out of respect, she presumed, he took a spoonful of each of the items, placing them neatly on his plate around the large chunk of raw meat. She could see he was nervous about eating his meal in front of her and she smiled and said, "Please Mas...I mean Nathaniel, eat your meal. It doesn't bother me."

"It should. It's rather barbaric, I'm afraid."

"Please. Bloodletting someone in the name of medicine - that's barbaric."

He chuckled.

"I was going to leave you a note this evening, but since we are here face to face I guess I can tell you now.  Today Samuel brought the delivery in this horrible weather.  His parents made him come despite how bad the water was.  The poor thing was a drowned rat when I helped him off the boat. I told him he should have waited for the storm to pass before coming. He's no good to us if he dies, right?"

"I suppose not."

"I dried his clothes and gave him a meal. He said he hadn't eaten in three days. What kind of parent doesn't feed their boy?"

"Poor parents?"

"But he said they had money. His father drinks it away in the evenings and the mother says he doesn't need to eat daily until he's an adult."

He raised his eyebrows to that.

"I told him I would give him a meal if he was ever hungry. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"I also gave him a coat from the downstairs bedroom.  He wouldn't take it so I told him it was a loan and he could bring it back next Monday. I assumed it was yours. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds."

"No. It's fine. I obviously don't wear it if it isn't in my room."

"Good. I'm glad. He was absolutely terrified when I asked him to come into the house to dry off. In fact, at first I had to take him to the stables and get him out of those wet clothes, but he refused to come in.  I think if he hadn't been starving he would have never come in, but I enticed him with the roast."

"Really? He was afraid?"

"Oh, terribly. He told me all kinds of dreadful stories about the island and the superstitions that surround it."

"Did he? Hmmm. I wanted to say thank you for fixing the music box.  You didn't have to go to such an effort. Really."

"Really? Because it seemed to mean an awful lot to you when I saw you listening to it that night. You seemed so sad. And then when I found the necklace, well, you seemed absolutely distraught."

"Did I?"

"You did." She wasn't sure if she should go on since he really wasn't revealing much about himself, but her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "Was she your wife?"

"Who?"

"E.G."

"No."

"Your sister?"

"No."

"Is she the woman in the portrait?"

"What portrait?"

"The one in the downstairs bedroom. The one that haunts my dreams. The one that makes me feel uncomfortable every time I step into that room."

"Oh. Yes. The necklace was hers."

"You must have meant something very special to her for her to have your picture in it."

He smiled ingenuinely, "Maybe."

"I know wearing something that close to my heart would mean something to me," she said.

He smiled more genuinely this time. Obviously changing the subject, he said, "I heard you playing the piano."

"Oh. Yes. I hope that didn't disturb you. It was just an impulse."

"Well, you play beautifully. I can't remember the last time someone played it."

"Do you play?"

"I used to a very long time ago."

"Why don't you play now?"

"Hmmm. I guess I have no muse."

"I've enjoyed your library. You have a bunch of amazing books.  I'm reading Wuthering Heights right now. It's such a tragic love story."

"The good ones often are."

"I noticed you have a lot of Charles Dickens but you don't have A Christmas Carol. If you would like to read it, I have a copy. It's one of my favorites."

"Thank you. I'd like that."

"Do you have any other hobbies, aside from reading?" she asked.

"Since I'm up all night, I do tend to study the stars. I have a telescope in my room."

"Astronomy. That's interesting. Is there anything in particular you would like me to accomplish this week? If you wanted to take a different room for a day, I'd be more than happy to clean your quarters for you. Just let me know beforehand."

"Hmm. I might take you up on that. It could probably do with a proper cleaning," Nathaniel said.

"It would be my pleasure."

"Thank you for the offer. I'll let you know." He finished his meal and sat back in the chair with his glass of wine and said, "Thank you for the food and conversation, Miss MacIntire. I enjoyed it very much."

She took this as her cue to clear the dishes away and leave him to his privacy. As she gathered the dishes and headed out the door, she said, "Thank you. It was a pleasure."

She set off to the kitchen to wash the dishes and clean up then headed up to bed with a cup of tea.

She sat on the bed drinking her tea and pondered the day’s events.  She'd visited with Samuel and heard terrible stories about the island and Lord Jacobs. She'd even had dinner with Lord Jacobs himself. She had talked more today than she probably had in months.

Poor Samuel. She worried about him. Such an impressionable age to have parents that were so awful. If she had her druthers, she'd take Samuel under her wing and take care of him, but she knew that wasn't possible. She'd probably be burned at the stake in the name of witchcraft for stealing the boy away.

And then there was Lord Jacobs - so handsome yet so sad and distant. She reflected back on their conversation knowing that he never gave any added information than absolutely necessary to continue the conversation, but then he's probably weary of revealing too much. She wondered if he dressed so nicely every evening or if he had dressed up for her. She was embarrassed that she had misunderstood him and assumed he wanted her to serve, not actually have dinner with him. She would have worn something more feminine or pretty.

She had noted that she had felt quite tiny in his presence, she being only about five foot four to his six-foot plus stature. She floated along that path and then she snapped herself out of such thoughts. He's Lord Jacobs - he has no interest in a servant girl from Scotland with a bad limp. Father would have been rolling on the floor laughing if I had told him what I was just thinking. 'Face it, young lady', he'd have said, 'you'll never marry. What man would marry someone with such a disability?'

She figured he was right. People like Lord Jacobs would be more interested in beautiful women with the grace of a swan, not the Hunchback of Notre Dame. She finished up her tea and snuggled into bed.

Her dreams on that evening were vivid. The woman in the portrait seemed livid and every time she flew by Phoebe in the darkness she would reach out and slash her with her nails. After a while, the man-wolf with the blue eyes would show up and start growling, but she could never tell if it was growling at her or the woman in the portrait. Maybe he was trying to run her off? Maybe it was trying to protect her? But then maybe it was working with the woman who threatened her, following her orders.

There was a flash to the chapel. Flames shooting up through the roof and screams from within - familiar screams. She could see something moving within the structure – no, two figures. The door burst open as the screams dissipated and two men emerged, coughing and gasping for air. One was on fire and he started to roll on the ground. The other man didn't seem to notice; his focus was on the building and the fire that had consumed it. Then the roof collapsed in upon itself and he put his hands to his burning and stinging eyes and roared, “NOOOOOOOO!”

She sat up in bed, out of breath and coughing. A burning sensation was in her throat and her face stung across her cheek.  She got up and went to the bathroom, lighting the gas light, and found four distinct scratch marks across her face, just barely missing her eye. She poured some water on a washcloth and gently dabbed her face with the cool rag. How very odd, she thought.

Chapter Nine

The next day, Phoebe thought that she would get started cleaning the other two bedrooms upstairs on the opposite side of the grand salon from her bedroom. The first was a room that looked just like hers except it was done in red and gold and the bed was not a canopy but a sleigh bed. It was lovely but dusty. Like her room, it was somewhat round and gave about a 270-degree view. While she was wiping down one of the windowsills she noticed the sill was not attached and she lifted it to find a secret hiding place where someone had stashed several journals. She wasn't sure if she should look in them. She wondered if they were E.G.'s or if they were Lord Jacobs’s.

She flipped through the pages to look at the handwriting and quickly determined it was not Lord Jacobs and it certainly didn't look much like a woman's handwriting, which peaked her curiosity. Whose journals could they be?

She thought better of it; after all, she had already made Lord Jacobs mad at her twice, she certainly didn't want a third. She tucked them back within the wall and set the sill back in place and continued cleaning.

The last bedroom had its own little sitting room. It was hard to say what the color scheme was in this room when the others had been so specific.  This room seemed to be much more eclectic than the others. It was done in pastels, pinks, blues, greens, and yellows, but it was not a nursery, just a pleasant, calming patchwork of colors.

She had still not explored downstairs where the meat room was, or the attic. The only other room she knew of was the ballroom near the conservatory on the main floor.  That would be her next challenge unless Lord Jacobs took her up on her offer to give his rooms a good cleaning.

On her way down to the kitchen she quickly stopped by her room to grab her copy of A Christmas Carol that she had offered to Lord Jacobs. She set it on the round table in the grand salon that had become their message center. Then she went on with preparing dinner.  There would be no walks in the gardens this evening as another storm was upon them.

She ate her meal in the kitchen, laid out Lord Jacobs’s meal in the dining room, and then headed upstairs for the evening. She sat in a chair and read. She was down to the last chapter in Wuthering Heights and wanted to finish it that night. There was a knock at her door.  As she put down the book and headed to the door, she wondered if there was something she had forgotten to lay out for him, but couldn't think of anything. She opened the door and curtsied. He smiled. She'd never been so near to him and she realized just how big he was and how tiny she felt near him.

"Yes, Lord Jacobs. Did I forget something?"

"No. Everything is perfect. I just thought that our," he cleared his throat and then continued, "eating arrangement would be an ongoing thing."

"Oh. You mean you would like me to dine with you every evening?"

"Well...Umm. Yes. Unless you don't care to."

"Oh. Lord Jacobs, I'm so sorry. I hadn't realized. I'd like that very much, but I'm afraid I've already eaten this evening."

"Well, then, would you mind humoring me? Maybe by having a cordial in the library after I've eaten? I'd hate to have you have to watch me eat when you've already done so."

"That sounds lovely. I'll meet you in the library when I've finished this last chapter. That should give you time to eat."

"Good. I will see you then."

She smiled as he turned to leave and then she caught him glancing back once more before he turned the corner.

Hmmm, she thought to herself. She finished the book, finding no happy ending, and headed down to the library where Lord Jacobs was just pouring two snifters of some golden liquor.  He smiled as she entered and waved his hand to a nearby chair, inviting her to sit. He handed her the snifter and she thanked him. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent of the liquor. It smelled lovely, like almonds, and it warmed her nose and throat as she savored the sweet aroma.

"Thank you for leaving your book in the salon," he said.

"My pleasure. I hope you love it as much as I do."

"I'm sure I will. How was your day?"

When she turned to speak, the light from the fire revealed the scratches on her face from the night before. "Good."

"Dear Lord, Phoebe. What happened to your cheek?"

Her hand went up to her face and she flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh. It's nothing. I had this dream...I must have scratched myself in my sleep."

"Tell me. What was the dream about?"

"The woman in the portrait, as before, but this time she seemed more angry then ever and she scratched me, I mean, I must have scratched myself. After all, a dream can't hurt you, right?"

He looked very concerned as he kneeled in front of her, running his rough fingers gently across the welts. Her face tingled as he did so and she flushed something terrible and looked down away from his gaze.

"I'm sorry. It looks like it hurts. I could get you some ice if that will help."

"No. Really, I'm fine."

He didn't seem to believe her but he stood up and seated himself on the settee across from her.

"I was going to leave you a note this evening but forgot...I found some journals in the wall of the bedroom across the grand salon from mine. The one in red and gold?"

"Oh?"

"Yes. I was dusting one of the windowsills and the sill itself was not attached. When I lifted it, there in the wall were four journals. I didn't read them but did flip through the pages to look at the handwriting and concluded it wasn't yours - at least compared to the letters you've written me...I mean, the notes you've left me for instruction."

He smiled at her embarrassment. "No. They are not mine."

"Are they E.G.'s?"

"E.G.'s? Oh. Emma? No."

"So whose are they?"

"Well, considering the room, I would guess they are Liam's," he said as he stared into the fire.

"Who is Liam?"

He was quiet.

"Was he your brother?"

"I guess you could say that. I found him in the woods - just a tiny baby - when I was just three or four. My parents raised him."

"You found a baby in the woods? Where was his mother?"

"She'd been shot. A hunting accident, I suppose. I don't remember a lot about it."

"Did you see the mother?"

"Yes. She lay next to Liam."

"That must have been a terrible thing for such a little boy to see. You poor thing. You must have had nightmares from that."

"Truly, I don't remember. I just remember being thrilled to have a little brother to pick on," he smiled, and then chuckled a bit to himself before taking a little sip from his glass. It gave her a tiny glimpse of that happier man she had seen in the portrait in the locket. It warmed her heart to see him smile like that.

"Where's Liam now? Do you hear from him?"

"No. We had a bit of a falling out. I haven't heard from him in years. My doing, really." He seemed to be in a world far, far away as he relayed this to her. He suddenly turned towards her and asked, "What about you? What was your life like growing up in Scotland? Any siblings?"

"Yes. Two sisters. Both older."

"And?"

"And, well, they are both prettier and better suited for marriage than I."

"How's that?" he said, laughing at how silly that sounded.

"My father felt that if my sisters could marry into wealth then he would be set in his old age.  So he spent most of his life educating them in arts and music, dressing them up, and parading them around to the best parties and celebrations."

"And you?"

"I have a limp, I'm not pretty, and my childhood polio practically put us in the poor house. He could never seem to forgive me for that. So I suppose he did the only thing he could do to make a bad thing good - he sold me to you."

He seemed angry. "I most certainly don't own you."

"I didn't mean that in a bad way. I'm very grateful to be here. I feel more at home here than I've felt anywhere. It's just that I fear you'll tire of me or find me a burden as my father did and then I don't know what I will do."

He leaned towards her with his elbows on his knees and said, "You, my dear, will never have to worry about that. First off, I think your father is an idiot. You are in no way a burden and I think you are quite striking."

"You're being kind and I appreciate...."

He interrupted, "I am not being kind, Phoebe. You, unlike most people, are beautiful both inside and out and any man would be lucky to have someone like you find him the least bit interesting."

He seemed to be quite sincere, but he was just probably being polite, being a lord, et al, Phoebe thought.

"So then you didn't have piano instruction?" he asked.

"No. I used to attend the classes while waiting on my sisters and the teacher, but when I took to the piano my sisters were angry that I could play without practicing. After that I was not allowed to attend the lessons."

"That's amazing.  So you don't read music?"

"No."

"If you'd like, I could teach you. You're a natural - not many are blessed with such a talent. If you could learn to read music, you'd be able to play anything."

"Really? That's awful kind of you to offer, but well, I just couldn't impose on you."

"What else am I going to do? If you are willing to stay up late one or two nights a week and practice during the day, I'd be honored to teach you."

"I think you are being too kind. You are a lord, Nathaniel, you shouldn't be teaching your help to play the piano."

"Say that again," he said with a smile.

"I think you are being...."

“Not that...Call me by my name again."

"Nathaniel?"

"Yes. Do you know I can't remember the last time someone called me by name?"

She was awestruck. He was smiling at her like he was looking into her soul. It kind of scared her at first but the ever so slight smile on his face somehow made it almost intimate. Like something amazing had just happened and neither one of them had realized it yet. In the firelight, with one side of his face shadowed and the other side glowing from the golden embers cracking and licking the log in the hearth, he looked incredibly handsome. For a moment he didn't look sad; he looked content, and despite his status, almost approachable and her heart leapt. She must have blushed since her face felt extremely hot and she reeled her heartstrings back in, telling herself all the while that she was being incredibly silly if she thought he had feelings for her.

"I should be heading off to bed.  I'm planning on cleaning that ballroom of yours tomorrow, unless you've decided that you would like me to clean your quarters."

He, too, seemed to be thrown back into reality, but Phoebe wasn't sure if it was just her imagination.

"Uh, right. I'll move my stuff over to Liam's old room tomorrow night and you can tend to the rooms over the stables the following day. Will you be joining me for dinner tomorrow?"

"Of course, Lord Jacobs."

"Please, won't you call me Nathaniel?"

"Only if you will call me Phoebe."

"Thank you."

"Goodnight then...Nathaniel. Sleep well."

"Sweet dreams to you too, Phoebe."

As she got ready for bed she reflected on their conversation and how for a moment (no matter how slight) she was sure that she saw a happier side of Lord....Nathaniel. His kind words touched her deeply, but she needed to keep that part of her hidden. She didn't want to look like a fool falling for him when it was only one-sided.

The snow was coming down hard outside and the wind howled at the windows and doors, making them rattle and whistle. She put another couple of logs on the fire, added an extra blanket to the bed, and snuggled in hoping that it would be a peaceful sleep that evening.

How wrong she had been, for the screaming started as soon as she fell asleep; but instead of the usual blackness, it was a swirling, agitated gray. The wind was so intense she could barely catch her breath and the taunting of the woman in the portrait was more brutal than ever. This time, however, instead of slashing with her nails, she had Phoebe by the throat. The woman’s nails cut into the delicate skin of Phoebe's neck and she could barely breathe, let alone scream. She struggled against the woman with all her strength, but the woman in the portrait was as strong as five men. She smiled as Phoebe tried to inhale but couldn't. Phoebe spied something on the balcony out of the corner of her eye. It was the blue-eyed man-wolf on his hind legs, gnashing his teeth and growling. The French doors burst open, along with every window in the room, and the chilling air of the snowstorm came flooding in. With the blast of icy wind, the woman from the portrait was thrown from Phoebe and disappeared, but not before Phoebe passed out.

The next thing she knew, someone was holding her. She was wrapped in several blankets in front of the fireplace in the library. Hands rubbed hard against her arms and back and occasionally her feet and hands trying to get the blood to circulate and warm her. It was Nathaniel and he looked so distraught.

When he saw her opening her eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, sweet Phoebe. You certainly gave me a scare. Are you okay?"

She hoarsely said, "Yes," nodding her head in case he couldn't hear her.

"What happened?"

"I...I'm not sure...I was having a dream about the woman in the portrait, only she was choking me instead of scratching me this time. The last thing I recall was something on the balcony - an animal or man - I'm not sure which. The doors burst open and then I was here with you."

"Well, I heard a loud noise and then felt a blast of cold. The closer I got to your bedroom the colder it became, so I went in and found every window in your room open, the fire out, and all the bedding strewn on the floor. You felt like ice so I wrapped you up in some of the blankets on the floor and brought you down here to warm you up. I also tended to some wounds on your neck. I can't explain what they are, but they look like nail marks."

"Thank you," she tried to say.

"Not at all. I'm worried about you. These nightmares are becoming more and more real."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be absurd.  You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm just glad I was here to get you out of that room and warm you before...well, before it was too late. Can I get you anything? Some tea? Water? Anything?"

"No. Thank you, but if I could just rest here with you close by - I'm so very...tired...Nathaniel...."

"Of course, Phoebe. I'll be right here. Nothing will hurt you, I promise. Rest."

He didn't move from that spot.  Several times Phoebe opened her eyes to find him smiling at her over the top of a book and urging her to rest. She slept more peacefully than she had in months the rest of the night there on the couch of the library, under Nathaniel’s protection.

Chapter Ten

In a dark little shambles of a house not far from town, a woman and man were having a heated argument about money. All the while, a boy slept on his bed, which was no more than a cot, oblivious to what the couple was saying. That boy was Samuel.

"I'm telling you, Quinn, you’re drinking us out of house and home."

"Aw, rubbish, you old bat," he retorted, slurring his words.

There was silence for a moment as Samuel's mother swapped out an iron warming on the hearth for the one she had been using, then continued with the garment she was ironing.

"You could go check out the mansion up on Somber Island."

He turned with a jerk, shocked into lucidity from his drunkenness. "Somber Island? That's the Devil's playground. Why would I go out there?"

"Poppycock.  That's just a bunch of superstitious hogwash. Samuel goes out there once a week and nothing happens to him."

"That's because he's deaf.  He ain't no threat to the devil when he can't hear what he's up to."

"Pffft."

"Well I don't see you going out there, woman."

"If I don't stay home and do other's laundry we don't eat, since you can't keep a job due to your liquoring up."

He mumbled something under his breath that she was sure she didn't want to hear.

"Think of all the beautiful baubles that must adorn that mansion...Sammy came home with that lovely coat," she pointed to a stylish, black wool men's coat hanging over the back of one of the chairs. "He says there's a young woman working there in the house."

"Really? I've never heard of anyone working on that God forsaken island. Ever."

"Well, she does."

"Must not be from around here, that's for sure."

"No. Sammy said she traveled over the ocean to come to work on the island."

"She's probably one of them thar witches from another country."

"Sammy says she's just a nice young woman. Bet you could sneak right in, stash a bit of silver in your pockets, and none would be the wiser."

"Are you insane, woman? I ain't stealing from the Devil."

"You will if I tell you to."

"The hell you say."

"I say, and you will go or you will find the door barred when you come home next."

He mumbled something under his breath as he ripped his coat off the chair and went to the door. As he left he said, "It'll be a cold day in...." slurring the rest of it as he zigzagged out into the rain.

When Phoebe woke, she found she was alone in the library. A note card stood open like an upside down 'V' on the table that said:

Phoebe - I hope you've rested up. Tonight we will begin your piano lessons.

Nathaniel

How sweet he had been to sit with her all night. What a comfort it was to have him near. She was growing much too fond of him. How would she ever control her feelings towards him if he planned to spend more and more time with her with dinners and the piano lessons? He's probably just happy to have someone to talk to now, but that certainly doesn't mean he's interested in his servant, she thought.

As she went upstairs to tend to her bedroom and get dressed, she wondered to herself why someone so handsome and sweet kept himself so separated from the world.

She tidied up the bed and went on to tackle her task for the day...the ballroom and the attic.

While she cleaned in the ballroom, she hummed and imagined herself dressed in a fine silk gown dancing to the music of an orchestra playing something slow and sweet. She also imagined Nathaniel entering the room. All the women would turn to swoon over him, but he only saw one in the room and it was Phoebe.  The crowds would part as he neared them, making his way to her, a coy smile on his lips. He'd bow to her and offer his hand in invitation. She'd demurely smile and accept. He'd pull her close, his hand on her waist, his other in her hand, and they would start to waltz around the room.  Since this was a daydream, her limp would be nonexistent and they would twirl around the room looking only into each other's eyes until all the others would magically disappear, leaving them alone in the low lights of the ballroom all by themselves. As the music dies down to a hush, he slows to a halt and brushes her jaw line with the backs of his fingers until they linger under her hairline. His hands feel terribly warm and huge to her petiteness, but his tenderness is abounding. He leans slowly down to meet her lips pausing for a smile and assurance, then....

Oh dear lord, girl...get a hold of yourself.  That's never going to happen. No sense in getting all over heated for nothing. First, I can't dance. Secondly, with my limp, I'd probably look like a hippopotamus trying to waltz, she thought.

She finished up her cleaning and slowly closed the door until she heard the click. Next, it was up to the attic.

Still humming, she headed up the stairs and then through a narrow hallway and up another set of stairs. It was dark, dusty, and spacious. As she opened a few of the shutters, the light poured in through narrow shafts throughout the large room.  Granted, it was overcast outside so the light was minimal, but after lighting a few of the gas sconces she was able to get to her work.  She had made good progress through most of the attic when she spied a dark corner, the last area to clean.  She set her sights on the corner, dusting trunks and boxes as she set them aside making her way to the attic’s farthest reaches.  She pulled a rather large wardrobe trunk out of the way and jumped when she saw what looked like a standing body, fully clothed with no head.  It dawned on her that it was a sewing mannequin.  She reached towards it to pull the dust cloth from it when the gas sconce sputtered, startling her. It was getting stormy out again and she was now relying solely on the sconces for light. Realizing she was being silly at being scared by the sputtering, she again reached for the cloth, pulling it away to reveal the most beautiful wedding gown Phoebe had ever seen.

It was meant for someone a bit taller than she, but otherwise around the same size.  The white silk shone a luster in the glow of the gaslight like a halo around the moon.  The wide neckline was not off the shoulder, but oh so daintily supposed to rest on the outskirts of one’s shoulders. It was trimmed in real pearls and glass beads, not a gaudy display but beautifully and modestly accentuated the neckline and fitted bodice.  The gown was full and swept back into a most lovely train. Not cathedral length, but elegant just the same.  It, too, was hand-beaded with pearls and glass beads.

Phoebe couldn't help herself; she reached to touch the dress in admiration, but as she did so a gust of what felt like ice passed by her and something cut her finger deeply. Luckily, she did not bleed on the dress, and she pulled it to her apron, quickly wrapping it in the cloth.  She was making quite a mess and headed downstairs towards the kitchen where she could get a better look at the cut and bandage it properly. Completely engrossed by her finger as she reached the grand salon, she didn't notice that the front door was ajar. As she made her way through the large, dark room she was grabbed from behind.

Since Phoebe had been upstairs cleaning the attic for quite some time, it had become dark and there were no lights on downstairs yet, so she could not see her attacker. The only light downstairs was the faint twilight outside and a fire that was dying fast in the grand salon.

The hand over her mouth felt rough and calloused. Thick, strong fingers kept her from screaming. A strong arm had her arms and waist encased in their grip as the man dragged her along with him. "Where is the silver?" he said gruffly.

"The butler's pantry is through those doors," she motioned with her head since her arms were immobile.

As they made their way near the door, they were near the light from the fire when the attacker spun her in his arm to face her.

"Aren't you a looker, my poppet," he slurred. His breath reeked of whiskey. She was scared, to say the least, but there was something in his eyes that made her even more scared. That's when she started to struggle before he threw her towards one of the columns near the fireplace.  Caught off balance with her limp and the strength of his push, she hit the side of her head on the column, giving her a hot, sharp pain that made her finger feel like a pin prick. The grayness enveloped her and she lost consciousness for a moment.  When her eyes fluttered open, she found herself on the floor, her dress torn open revealing her half naked body, and the smelly, calloused man was making his way on top of her. Barely coherent or aware of what was happening, reality slowly poured into her brain as the horrid little man began to rape her.

She felt pain everywhere - her hand, her head, and now that he'd ripped into her groin, she had pain there too. She screamed, trying to find some strength and control of her body when the dirty little man was pulled from her and thrown across the room into the far wall. A huge, snarling man-like creature with fangs the size of a panther stood over her. His eyes were crimson red and seemed to glow from within. He seemed to be human, but her brain wasn't able to make sense of or understand anything that was happening. The creature's red eyes stared at her. She wasn't sure if it was lust, hunger, or compassion she saw in its eyes.  After a moment, it leaped in the direction where the horrible little man lay. With all her strength, she yelled, "Don't kill him! I think he is Samuel's father, he's just drunk."

The creature turned towards her. He seemed bewildered by her compassion for her attacker. He walked towards her to stand above her again. She lay there on the floor unable to move, her dress in a tattered array around her like petals around the pistil of a flower. Her head was bleeding, her hand was bleeding, and now she was bleeding between her legs.

Saliva accumulated at the sides of the creature's mouth. His eyes grew brighter and he took all of her body in with several long glances from head to toe as if getting every detail absorbed into his mind. He breathed in deeply and the muscles flexed in his chest and arms. He kneeled down, straddling one of her legs. On his hands and knees, he looked at her as if she was something delicious to eat and it seemed to her that his fangs became more protruded. She was completely immobilized in fear. Or was it intrigue?  She watched every move he made, as she laid sprawled on the floor like a broken, discarded doll.

His piercing red eyes still watching her, he stealthily moved to where his face was above hers. She could feel his deep, warm breath on her face and before she knew what he was doing, he had her cut finger in his hot, velvety soft mouth. Never once did he take his crimson eyes off of hers as he did so.  A tingling hot sensation permeated from the cut at the tip of her finger and it spread like lightning through her body, sending shivers up and down her skin and raising the hairs on her body to attention.  She took a deep breath in and her body was alive like she had never felt it before.

He then bent down lower, his lips just inches away from hers. He seemed almost to be panting. The heat poured off his body like a roaring fire. His fangs were so close she could almost feel their points indenting the skin of her cheek, and then he licked the leaking blood from the wound on the side of her head at the temple. Again, the tingling sensations running rampant through her body were like none she'd ever felt. Sweet rapture took over her and she arched her back and gasped in delight, brushing her naked body against him ever so lightly. He moaned from deep within at her sweet touch.

Hot, tingling sensations were felt everywhere throughout her being, and she could barely breathe. She felt her skin would ignite from being so close to him. She was scared to move an inch, afraid this ecstasy would end and she would wake up from this incredible dream. A sweat broke out over her body and the sweet smell of her seemed to put him in a frenzy. His eyes were wild as they took her in again. His mouth was red from her blood and his tongue worked wildly to take in every drop smeared on his lips. Then he moved once more for the only other place she now bled. As he bent his head to her, she shuddered with delight. With one word on her lips as she fell into the gray fog she'd been before, but now from joy, not pain, she whispered, "Nathaniel."

Chapter Eleven

Phoebe woke to find herself in her bed wondering if all that had happened had been a dream. She pulled the bedding back to find she was wearing her nightgown, like any other normal morning. She felt her head, which felt perfectly fine - no cut or even a bruise.  Then she looked at her finger; it, too, was completely healed.

It had to have been a dream. I couldn't have healed that quickly. She felt wonderful, invigorated even, and she jumped out of bed, dressed quickly, and ran down the stairs. She half expected to find a bloodied body slumped against the far wall of the salon, but there was no indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened last night.

But I don't remember anything but the dream...Did I make Nathaniel's dinner? Did I have my first lesson on the piano with him? What happened last night? The only thing she found was a note from Nathaniel on the round table in the salon. It read:

I will be on travel for the next two days. Sorry for lack of notice, but it couldn't be helped. You offered to clean my living quarters a while ago; in my absence this might be a good time for that if you have the chance.

Nathaniel

No 'Dearest Phoebe'. No mention of last night. Nothing. I must be losing my mind.  Full of energy and doubting everything she had felt or saw in the last twelve hours, she ran up the stairs to the attic.  The gas fixtures were off and the dark corner where the dress had been was neatly stacked up the way it had been yesterday when she first entered the attic. Fearing for her sanity, she pulled at the boxes, pushing them aside one by one in search of the dress that had started this whole mishap of foggy events, but the dress wasn't there, nor was the form it had been on. There was no dust cloth, not even a disheveled bead or pearl. Nothing was there that left any trace that the events that she thought had happened had ever taken place.

She neatly stacked the trunks, boxes, and wardrobe back into place and closed the door behind her. Confused and bewildered, she went back downstairs and had some tea as she thought on what she thought she had seen. Had the creature with the red eyes healed her somehow? Or had seeing him brought on some kind of delusional walking daydream? The feelings she had were so real. The creature didn't really seem to be a creature at all, but a man who seemed so familiar, but her mind just couldn't make the connection. It was so fuzzy. Without Nathaniel around to ask, she felt out of sorts. Maybe she should just push it out of her mind and forget about it.  Everything about it seemed to tell her that she should, but she wanted to fight to hold on to the rhapsody she had felt in the dream. Silly, she knew, but somehow it seemed worth fighting for.

She headed up to the living quarters above the stables and was in awe of what she found there.  The width and depth of the stables were quite large hence the quarters were too. It had two big bedrooms with a bathroom between and a huge, loft-like living area. The roof was glass in part of this area where one could look at the stars from the couch. The area housed a large fireplace of beautiful stone Phoebe had never seen before.  Near the balcony doors stood a large telescope, and from this same balcony she could spy her own bedroom windows at the main house maybe 100 yards away. Books and smaller telescopes littered the room.

She could see why Nathaniel liked it here. It had a hominess that the larger house lacked. She spent a lot of time here, cleaning and perusing the living quarter’s contents while tidying, trying to get a better sense of the man who spent so much time here alone.

The one bedroom was obviously meant for guests since it looked untouched and uncluttered, but the other bedroom was dark and ominous, very unlike the large living area.  It seemed sad and cold, so unlike the man she had come to know. She could see Nathaniel’s smiling face in her head and it made her smile as she began to clean, dust, and tidy the room.

After she ate her dinner she came back to the rooms above the stables. She lit the fire in the fireplace, making it perfect and comfortable. She lay back on the leather couch and watched the stars appear one by one above the glass roof. How pleasant it must be to hear and see the rain on this glass roof while safely tucked away in the warmth of this comfy room. She laid there for a long while, smelling Nathaniel’s scent in the leather of the couch. She felt safe here.

In this comfortable couch she could almost imagine Nathaniel's embrace - the smell of his skin, the sound of his laugh. She closed her eyes and imagined what it might be like to be in his arms here on the couch watching the stars peek out and twinkle about. The warm fire crackled and hissed. Its heat relaxed her along with Nathaniel's scent all around her and before long she was fast asleep.

Phoebe woke to a large pop from the fire. A scorched log caved in on itself, allowing the logs above it to move into its empty space. Feeling a bit cold, she went into Nathaniel's bedroom to grab a blanket from the foot of his bed, when she noticed a shaft of light coming from under the wall.  How strange, she thought.

It was obvious that there was a room behind the paneling. She had stepped on something in the dark and when she leaned up against the wall to check her foot, the wall shifted inward a tiny bit and she heard a click. When she took her hand off the wall, it sprung forward as if some kind of spring mechanism had been released.

Inside she found the gas sconce glowing in a small room maybe the size of a large closet.  Two of the walls were lined with books and one wall had dozens of portraits and sketches of Emma and hand drawn pictures of gargoyle-like beasts. The books ranged from witchcraft to folklore of different kinds of nighttime beasts. Many were bookmarked or dog-eared to pages on vampires, incubi, succubi, and werewolves.

There on the desk next to a journal, was the music box that had been broken and fixed by Phoebe.  The locket that had been hidden inside the jewelry box hung from a nail next to a portrait of Emma. In the journal were notes in Nathaniel's beautiful handwriting. There were celestial signs and moon charts, recipes for odd concoctions, and fact after fact about beasts yearning blood for sustenance.

She was a bit frightened at first but after looking at some of the dog-eared pages she found it engrossing. The more she read, the more she wanted to know, and she wondered about Nathaniel and his dietary preferences. Was it Nathaniel I saw last night? Was it he with the crimson eyes and the fangs licking my blood away? Did he leave because he was embarrassed by what I had seen him become? What happened to the man who had attacked me? Had it all been a dream? She didn't think so anymore. This would explain why people were scared to come to the island. It would also explain why Nathaniel kept to himself.

She wondered if it was true, and how it had happened. If he was a terrible beast, why hadn't he drained her last night? But the Nathaniel she knew couldn't be a beast; he was sweet and gentle. Maybe someone did this evil to him and he is just trying to survive the best he knows how. This hidden room is his research area. He's trying to understand what he has become and trying to find a way to undo it.  But who would do such an awful thing to such a wonderful man? And why?

She knew poor Nathaniel would be horrified if he knew she had found out his secret along with this secret room. If she was going to do research herself, she only had today and tomorrow before Nathaniel returned. Maybe she could find something to help him.

To make sure she didn't mess things up too badly in the room with her own research, she sketched a drawing of the desk, where the piles of books were, and what books, and what order they were in. Then she made herself some tea and got to reading, making a journal of her own of notes and facts coinciding with his journal notes.

She spent the next twenty-four hours going over everything in the tiny room: books, notes, dog-eared pages, and sketches. She had only one small book to go through; the rest had been put back in their proper places. She still had four or five hours before dark (which is when she figured Nathaniel would come back). She laid a blanket across her legs and read the tiny book. When she finished she was so tired and so comfortable that she thought she might just close her eyes for a moment and take in this lovely room. Having not slept for more than twenty-four hours, she slipped quickly into a deep slumber. For some reason, the nightmares of Emma and the wolf creature with blue eyes couldn't reach her in this place; her sleep was uninterrupted and restful like it was the night Nathaniel had watched over her in the library.

Chapter Twelve

Dreams of Nathaniel dazzled her. She slept so soundly that she woke up in the morning in the very position she had fallen asleep the night before. She sat up in a panic when she realized it was morning. She looked around but nothing seemed out of place or different, so she figured Nathaniel must have had to stay an extra day.

Today was Sunday and though it was frosty out, it didn't look like rain, so she thought she would clean the tiny chapel for Nathaniel.

She went to the potting shed to get the stool and the little table she had used last time.  She carried these items out to the tiny grey stone chapel. She thought as she made her way closer that it was a very pretty little chapel.  Maybe in the spring she and Jonathan could put a roof on it for Nathaniel and then he could go Sunday whether it rained, snowed, or hailed. She liked this idea and resolved to talk to Jonathan about it next time she saw him.

As she walked, she also thought about a shopping list she would have to put in the basket tonight for Samuel to pick up tomorrow. She wondered if Samuel's father had made it home all right that night he had attacked her. She wondered if he even remembered doing what he did.

When she entered the chapel the first thing she noticed was a scorched spot in the weeds.  What is this? She wondered as she set her hands on the blackened weeds. She noticed a tiny, perfectly round stone and then another and another.  She picked one up and wiped it with her apron to find that they were not tiny round pebbles; they were charred pearls covered in soot and ash. Along with the pearls were tiny, clear glass beads. He had burned the beautiful silk wedding dress that was up in the attic. Why? She thought. Why would anyone burn something so perfect and beautiful?

She thought about collecting the pearls and beads, but then thought better of it.  He would expect to see their remains and if she took them, he'd know she knew about the dress. She hid the one pearl she had cleaned in the taller brown weeds and wiped her hands of the soot.  She stood to tidy up the chapel for Nathaniel, but when she turned around she saw the pearls and glass beads rising up out of the ashes and hovering in the air. What is happening?

Then one by one, like shots from a slingshot, they started to pelt her. Though the pearls stung when they hit, it was the glass beads that started to cut into her with such force she screamed in agony as she started to run for the house. She was not able to outrun them all and she almost tripped once or twice from the stabbing pain of tiny glass beads ripping through her clothes into her skin. She slammed the door behind her to hear hundreds of tiny items hit the door behind her.

Tears ran down her face and she shook with fear as the last of the pearls and beads hit the door and fell to the ground. She headed for the stairway to her bathroom, thinking she could sit in the bath with some tweezers and pull out the beads imbedded in her skin, but then she saw large muddy paw prints through the grand salon heading up the stairs.

She bolted for the only safe place she knew, Nathaniel's rooms. She slammed the door behind her and bolted it. Now hysterically crying and in a panic, she stood numb to the pain of her injuries, staring at the door, wishing and praying Nathaniel was on his way home. It was late morning and she would have to wait for some time before nightfall; in any case, she wasn't coming out of this safe haven until she heard Nathaniel's voice. She went into the bathroom and found a couple of buckets, which she filled with water and set by the fire.

How was she going to explain this to Nathaniel?  If she told him the pearls and glass beads from the dress had pelted her, he'd know that she knew about him burning the dress. And maybe he’d also know that she had deduced that she wasn't delusional about what she had seen him turn into the other night. She found some tweezers in a drawer and was in front of the mirror pulling out a glass bead from her cheek, when she heard what she thought was the padding of paws just outside the bolted door.

Then she thought she heard something sniff under the door. The rattle of the door handle had Phoebe backing up into Nathaniel's dark bedroom. Once in the bedroom, she locked the door in front of her as she inched backwards into the pitch-black darkness of the room. She could see the shaft of light from the secret room behind the panel, but she could also see light under the door from the beautiful room with the glass roof. She listened hard and she was sure she heard the click of the lock turning on the door she'd bolted.

What was she going to do?  She was already injured and bleeding. There was no way that she could take on a wolf man creature. As she remembered, he was huge and muscular and she was shaking as she stood there in the darkness. That's when her senses told her she was not alone and she felt the hot breath of something behind her. She turned with a jerk to meet someone or something with two crimson eyes wild with excitement inhaling her scent and her fresh, bloody wounds. Phoebe knew right away it was Nathaniel.

He must have come home the night before and let her sleep on the couch. There was no way he was going to be able to explain this away or her reaction to him, she thought.

Phoebe knew Nathaniel smelled her fear, but she was sure he assumed it was her fear of him. When Phoebe heard another noise in the outer room, he too acknowledged the noise with a blink of his red eyes. He spun her around and took the position in front of her, closest to the door.

From behind Nathaniel, she watched the shaft of light under the door.  Several shadows passed by and she could have sworn she heard a dog sniffing at the door. After a few seconds, they both heard the padding of what sounded like paws and then the door in the outer room closed.

A minute passed before Nathaniel felt it safe and he turned again in the pitch-blackness towards Phoebe, his red eyes ablaze. His voice sounded gutturally raspy as if it pained him when he asked, "Why are you covered in blood?"

"You're not going to like the explanation I have for you, Nathaniel."

The oil lamp next to the bed sputtered into life when a flame touched it and dull, yellow light filled most of the dark shadows of the room.

"Then you know my dirty secret?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you aren't scared?"

"I was at first, but you are a good and gentle man, Nathaniel."

"I'm not, Phoebe. I am most certainly not. I'm a murderer. I've killed people. I'm a monster."

"You are not a monster. Not in the least. You are a kind, sweet man, who's been afflicted with an ailment and we will find a cure for you. I swear it on my life." She hadn't meant to reveal so much, especially when it suggested that she had found his research.

He had been standing, but when she finished, he sank to the bed and sat down. Phoebe looked at him, amazed. He wore nothing but a pair of loose pajama pants made of lawn cotton, cool and breathable for certain, but also rather transparent.

"I am a monster and I should have never listened to Jonathan and brought you here."

"You brought me here on Jonathan's suggestion?"

"Yes. He felt you would be better off here than with your father and sisters."

"Then you've known all along all about me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I should have been upfront with you, but considering my secrets, I didn't feel yours were all that bad."

She chuckled a little looking down, then realizing she could see too much of him, she quickly looked up again, blushing.

This time he chuckled. "So what is it I'm not going to like about your explanation for being polka dotted with blood?"

She hesitated for a moment then said, "Well...It's Sunday and not raining so I thought I would set up the chapel for you to visit this evening.  Of course, I noticed the charred weeds and figured out what had burned there."

"The dress."

"Yes. I found the pearls and glass beads left over from the fire. When I left the chapel, I heard a strange sound, like the grass moving and when I turned to see what it was, I saw the pearls and glass beads floating in the air. One by one they started pelting me, the glass ones cutting into me and I ran for the house."

"You mean there are glass beads in your skin under all that blood?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. We should get those out of you right now."

"Well I...was going to do what I could on my own when I saw what looked like muddy wolf prints in the house leading up the stairs to my bedroom, and that's when I bolted up here.  I hate to admit it but I slept here while you were gone. It was...comforting...to be around...well...I didn't have any bad dreams up here. I felt safe...so...."

"So you came here and whatever it was followed you up here."

"Yes."

"Well, whatever it was didn't want to deal with me, so it sounds like it has left."

"Maybe I should go," she said and again she blushed.

"Well, unless you have an extra set of arms that will allow you to get the glass beads out of your back and backside?" He blushed this time, but continued, "It's not like I have not seen you naked.  I've been blessed several times with that honor."

She smiled, remembering several nights ago and then the night he found her in the bath. "I guess you have." She still had the tweezers in her hand from when she was in the bathroom earlier. She stood slowly and turned away from him as she began to undress. Her blouse was first and then her skirt. She slipped her petticoat down and stepped out of it. Then she unlatched the hooks from the front of her bustier dropped it on the floor with her petticoat.  She stood there in a gown as sheer as his pajama bottoms with her back to him wondering what he was thinking. She slowly lifted the garment up and over her head. Holding the discarded garment in front of her she turned towards him and he swallowed nervously. She stared at him for instruction until he finally realized he should stop staring and said, "Umm, why don't you just lie on your stomach across the bed."

She did as he instructed. She could feel his hands tremble as he started to extract the glass beads from her skin. There was little talk as both were feeling quite vulnerable and exposed. He diligently worked, avoiding her upper thighs and lower buttocks. In an attempt to make him feel more comfortable, Phoebe asked, "So why did you burn the dress?"

"Oh...Right....well, I guess at the time seeing that you had found it, I hoped I wouldn't have to explain it."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No. I mean, to some extent it's nice not to have to hide this stuff from you any more.  Emma and I were engaged to be married, if you haven't already figured that out. I thought I was in love - madly in love, but it turned out I hardly knew her. It's kind of a complicated story."

"I think you have my undivided attention at the moment."

He laughed heartily. "Indeed. I suppose I do. I'm not quite sure where to begin."

"Just start where you are comfortable."

"Hmmm. Well, I'm not sure how Emma heard of my family, but she must have learned through some society channels that our family was quite wealthy. Given her beauty, she easily worked her way into the family’s inner circle of friends and decided my brother and I were excellent pickings. I think she preferred Liam from the beginning but since he was adopted, she felt he wasn't a sure bet to the family fortune so she worked her wiles on me. I was inexperienced and flattered by someone so beautiful being interested in me and I fell hard for her.

"It all seemed to happen so fast and some of it seems a bit foggy, but very soon after I proposed and all was going as she planned except that she was finding herself more and more enthralled with Liam, for reasons I'll mention later. Of course, all I saw was that Liam was receiving her attention and I was enraged with jealousy. Things had become quite bad between Liam and myself and I lashed out at him any chance I could.  When Emma felt she might lose us both to jealousy, she confided her secret to me that she was a vampire. I remember feeling disgusted by her declaration. I had heard talk of the disappearances of townspeople, but it had never occurred to me that there was something supernatural behind it or that she might be responsible. I felt so foolish for not seeing her for what she was. I was confused and felt betrayed so I locked myself in my quarters to figure things out. Now that I think back on it, I’m not sure what happened after that. I guess I fell asleep because the rest just feels like a bad dream. I remember going to her room, but I don’t remember why. I’m not sure I even wanted to go, but I felt compelled as if I had no will of my own. When I got there, she let me in and she turned me into the monster you now know."

"I told you before, I don't think you are a monster. She may have been, but you are not," she said so confidently that he was stunned by her words.

"Well, either way, I was transformed into what I am now. But I wonder sometimes, how long she had been controlling me and my thoughts. Maybe she had been making the trouble between Liam and me just to feed her ego. Anyway, I was still under her influences and now changed when she called to me with her mind. A fire had broken out in the chapel.  She was trapped somehow. When I arrived, Liam was in the fire with her. I'm guessing he was trying to rescue her and somehow was caught up in the flames himself.  When I went in after Emma, it was Liam that got me out to safety, but we left Emma to the flames that raged in the chapel."

"Did you ever talk to Liam to find out what happened?"

"No. I was still too angry to deal with him and I sent him away."

"What about your parents? Where were they during all of this?"

"They had died earlier that year in an accident."

"How awful for you and Liam."

"Yes. It was awful and now when I look back on it I think how I barely mourned them at all due to my distraction with Emma."

"I'm so sorry, Nathaniel."

"Thank you. Okay, I'm done with this side," he said rather timidly.

She slowly started to roll over then stopped and said, "But maybe we should put something down to keep my blood from staining your bedding. As it is, I've probably already ruined it."

"Are you joking? I'm a vampire. The smell of your sweet blood on my sheets would mean sweet dreams for me," he smiled shyly.

She smiled back and continued to roll over. He took care of her legs first then her abdomen, but the wounds were minimal here as she had a corset on and she had been running away from most of the shrapnel. However, there were several lodged in the upper part of her breasts and a couple in her face and neck.        She watched his eyes as he diligently performed his duty depositing each bead in a glass near the bed.  As he worked his way down to her injured breasts he became more aware of what he was doing. With only her nightgown splayed across her pelvis and upper thighs, she was there for the taking on his very bed. His hand quivered as the tweezers made contact with her breast. She winced when the tweezers met with the sensitive skin and he jumped at this, grazing her nipple with the side of his hand. Embarrassed by his slip, he avoided her gaze and tried to concentrate on the project at hand.

"Not to open any unnecessary old wounds, but why would Emma's spirit be torturing me so if she cared for Liam more than you? Maybe you've misinterpreted her feelings for him. Maybe you should contact him or read through his journals I found in the loose sill in his bedroom."

"Maybe. But it seems such an invasion of his privacy."

"Did it ever dawn on you that he intended for YOU to find them?"

"No. That never crossed my mind."

"Well, why else would he leave them here when you sent him away?"

"I don't know. There, I think I got them all."

"What? You aren't going to heal them with your lick?"

"Oh...Then you do remember quite a bit about the other night."

"I do. I thought it couldn't be real, that it must have been a dream."

"You mean a nightmare, don't you?"

She stood up, and with her back to him she slipped her nightdress on over her head and sat back down on the bed, turning towards him. "No. A dream. I've never felt anything so amazing...I didn't want...well, it was ecstasy, or at least what I imagine the word to mean."

"Then you weren't afraid of me?"

"I was scared, but I don't think I was afraid of you. Something in your eyes spoke to me."

"You mean my red devil eyes?" he said practically pouting, looking down at his hands.

She reached for his face, knowing she shouldn't but ignoring her inner voice telling her it was not proper for her be touching man to whom she was not betrothed in such a manner. But after all, she was practically naked, he was practically naked, and they were both sitting on his bed. Nothing about this situation was proper so why not throw caution to the wind. She may never have an opportunity like this again.

His face was rough with stubble but soft and strong underneath. His eyes met hers as her fingers lingered near his jaw line. He seemed so sad and she wished she could take that sadness away from him. She smiled and spoke softly, "No matter what color your eyes or how big your teeth get when you smell blood, in here," she placed her hand on his bare chest above his heart, "you are Nathaniel - the kindest, most gentle man I've ever been blessed to meet."

She thought she saw his eyes well up. He seemed truly touched by her words and for a moment she thought he might kiss her, but instead he put his hand over hers on his chest and brought it up to his sweet, soft lips. He kissed her palm and then raised it to the side of his face again, closing his eyes as if this was a feeling he wanted to cherish.

She raised her other hand to his other cheek and held his face in her palms. Warm vibrations ran up and down her arms. His other hand came up to meet hers, covering her hands on his face. Their faces just inches away from each other, they were both feeling one another's breath on their cheeks when she whispered to him, "You are a good man, Nathaniel, no matter what she's turned you into, you will always be this." She held his face tighter in her hands. "To me - a handsome, strong, kindhearted man."

With all her heart she wanted to kiss him but she couldn't.  She knew how she felt about him - she was more in love with him than she ever thought possible and her heart ached for his touch as if it had been cut from her chest and only his touch could resuscitate it. When he didn't kiss her in that lingering moment of gazing into one another's soul, it was as if her heart lay there dying and there was nothing she could do.  She broke their gaze and instantly felt naked and embarrassed as she dropped her hands to her lap and picked at her cuticles for something to do in this awkward moment.

She felt sure now that he didn't feel the same about her and started gathering her clothes as she rose from the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting dressed. I should get to my duties."

"No. Have you forgotten there is something out there?"

"I haven't forgotten, but you need your rest and I need to get a list for Samuel and then set the basket out for him. And now there are muddy paw prints all through the house that I should attend to, plus I didn't get the torches filled or the chapel ready with candles for your evening visit."

When she began to open the door, he intercepted her and pinned her against the door with his body. One strong hand kept the door  closed. He looked down on her. His bare chest was so close she could smell his skin. Her aching heart skipped a beat as she tried not to stare at his chest. She could barely breathe with him being so close. It took all her willpower to not drop her garments between them and wrap her arms tightly around him and pull him close to her.

"I can't protect you in the daylight, Phoebe." He brushed her hair away from her face, but still she would not meet his gaze. He ran his index finger from the lobe of her ear under her jaw line and under her chin then raised her face to meet his smile. She was frozen in delight and leaned into his touch. He started to say something but stopped.

"I'm sure it was just a stray dog that got in - I'm sure it's nothing." She tried to turn out of his grasp only to meet his body wedging her tighter against the door. She flushed and gasped at his strength.

"A dog...that can open locked doors?" He motioned with a nod of his head at the door. His hands slid down the door and to her shoulders. His touch sent electric shocks through her skin. His breathing became labored with anticipation. He gently reached for her face, caressing her cheek bones with his thumbs, then came in close to her. She was sure he would kiss her.

"This is so improper, Phoebe, and I can't help but feel I'm doing you a huge injustice by my actions, but...you're just so beautiful and I'm falling so hard..." He looked up at the ceiling and said, "Dear God, please give me strength." With that as his resolve, he slid his hands gently down her cheeks to her shoulders and down her arms until both hands held hers. Lifting them to his precious lips, he kissed each hand then slowly pulled away trying to hold on as long as possible with his fingertips. He looked absolutely defeated and lost. Stepping backwards away from her, he turned away in what looked like an effort. His broad shoulders faced her and his head was bowed in such sorrow.

"It doesn't matter how I feel, Phoebe, I can't offer you the life you deserve. If I had it in my power, I would, but I can't. I ask for God's wisdom and strength, but the truth is he has forsaken me to be a beast. I've endangered your life by involving you in mine. I can't even protect you in the daylight from whatever it is in the house. I feel weak and small and very, very angry."

"Nathaniel, don't say such things...I won't..."

"Please, Phoebe, don't say anything else. You can't help me and I can't have you. God has chosen my path and doomed me to an eternity of dark loneliness."

"Stop it! I don't believe that." She started weeping as she spoke. "If you are cursed, Nathaniel, then I am cursed with you."

He turned, astonished to find her crying. "Don't waste your tears on me, Phoebe. You're an angel and you will find someone to have a lovely life and family with."

"No, Nathaniel. I'm not beautiful, in fact, the townspeople at home used to call me a monster because of my limp. I've lived my entire life in a basement serving my own siblings and father like a slave.  It wasn't until I met you that I even felt alive. I look forward to getting up in the morning in hopes of seeing your smile or just a tiny note on the table from you," she sobbed. "I daydream all day long about being in your arms and taking away all this horrible sadness you've surrounded yourself in. Do you think a normal person would stay having a ghost of a vampire creeping into her dreams every night trying to kill her any chance she can?

"No, Nathaniel. I stay because I have nothing and no one that cares for me and because I...well, that doesn't really matter, but whether you care for me or not, I have nothing else and nowhere else to go."

"I don't believe that."

"Then don't believe it, but I'm not leaving."

"Then I will leave. The family has other houses worldwide. It's the only way, Phoebe. Don't you see? I can't give you a life..."

"You know what? I don't believe THAT. I think you've been hurt and you're scared to even try. Your loneliness has become your sanctuary. I won't give up. I'll keep fighting Emma's attempts on my life and wolf men on my balcony. I'll do research until my eyes can't see anymore, but I'm not giving up.  Leave if you must, but I'm not leaving you...you just remember that."

Chapter Thirteen

Nathaniel was stunned by her words, so stunned that she opened the door and left before he could stop her. She quickly dressed and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. She checked the doors to make sure that if the knob-opening wolf had left, he wouldn't come back in.  This didn't make much sense, but she was far too angry, and still sobbing, for anything to make any real sense.

It was a bit after 1:00 pm and she filled a bucket of water and grabbed the mop to clean up the muddy prints tracked all over the house.  She went to the laundry room and put on a new, clean dress without holes and blood all over it. She took a deep, cleansing breath, brushed the tears away from her cheeks, and went out the back door towards the chapel again. She set up the candles and refilled the torches around the garden.

As she came out of the potting shed, she ran right into Jonathan.

"Oh dear, Jonathan. I'm so sorry. You know you are rather sneaky. This is the second time you've appeared on the island without me knowing it until I ran into you."

"I'm sorry, Ms. MacIntire."

"Please, Jonathan. Call me Phoebe."

"I know it's none of my business, but if you don't mind me asking, what happened to your face, neck, and hands? And you look like you've been crying."

"I have and you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I might."

"Trust me. I'm not sure I believe it and it's been happening to me."

"Try me."

Though Jonathan's body was covered in black clothing and a good portion of his face was covered with the red scarf she had given him, his caring blue eyes shone brightly with concern.

"Okay...but don't say I didn't warn you." She plopped down on a bench along the path not far from the potting shed. "I'm being haunted by a ghost. Told you it was crazy."

He sat on the bench looking out over the gardens as if she had just told him what she had made for supper. He said, "I've heard worse."

She turned her whole body towards him and said, "Really?"

Without looking at her, he answered, "Really."

She turned back towards the garden and said, "Huh?!"

"But you haven't told me what happened to your face, neck, and hands, or why you were crying."

"No. I guess I didn't." She seemed puzzled by his nonchalantness to their conversation. "Well, I was pelted by glass beads and pearls."

"Now, that is something you don't hear everyday."

"Finally. I get a reaction out of you."

He chuckled to himself and his eyes squinted with the smile under the scarf that she could not see. "When you've seen what I've seen in a lifetime, not much surprises you."

"You think you might tell me your story some day?"

"Maybe. You never can tell what the next day will bring you. So..were the tears from the pain of being pelted by beads and pearls?" he asked.

"No," she said solemnly, taking his posture and looking out over the gardens.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Do you have a decade to sit and listen?"

"Well, I was hoping you might summarize a bit," he said chuckling again.

"How well do you know Nathan....I mean the Master?"

"Well, if you mean does he privy me with his secrets? Yes, he's told me a few."

"And the biggest secret?"

"His affliction? Yes. He's told me about being turned into a vampire. Not by choice, mind you, but out of necessity."

"I see," she said thoughtfully.

"I wondered how long it would take before you learned of it. Living with a person in the same house, it's not easy to keep a secret such as his."

"Mmmm," she agreed.

For the first time since their conversation started, he turned his whole body to look at her only to find the tears again pouring down her face.

"You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

She nodded her head without saying a word and she tried to stifle her tears. He turned back looking over the garden and said, "Hmmm."

He gave her a moment to collect herself then said, "I suppose he's rather confusing to you, teetering on the cusp of pulling you near and pushing you away."

She was astonished by his omniscient appraisal of the situation and she turned towards him as he had just done to her, but she was unable to say a word.

He continued, glancing at her for a moment, "I knew you two would be perfect for one another."

That's when she remembered Nathaniel telling her that it was Jonathan that convinced Nathaniel into bringing her to the island. "That's right.  Nathaniel said you brought me here, but how..."

"Oh well...I've been known to travel far and wide.  Someone such as myself melts into the shadows and the crowds quite easily. I had the displeasure of overhearing your father speak of you to some drunken sailors in a bar one night. When I researched the situation and found you in your tiny garden, an angel with a beautiful soul in a rotten situation, I knew you could bring happiness and hope back into Nathaniel's life."

"Not to sound cynical, but why would you do such a thing for him?  I didn't get the impression you were that close."

"We're not," he said solemnly, "but he's a good person underneath the anger and he didn't deserve this 'affliction'."

"I agree, but he's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want me here or in his life. He said as much not an hour ago."

"You spoke with him in the daylight?"

"I had just been pelted by pearls and beads when I ran in the house and noticed muddy paw prints in the salon and noises upstairs. I ran for the rooms above the stables."

"But those are his living quarters. He doesn't let anyone up there."

"He had been away from the island for a few days and I thought he was still gone. I had offered to clean for him if he wanted to change rooms for a night, but with him gone, he said to go ahead and do the cleaning while he was away."

"Really? That's a big step."

"Why do you say that?"

"Uhh...just never heard of him letting anyone up there. Did you find what was in the house?"

"No."

"So you ran to his room? Why there?"

"I don't know. I feel safe there. The ghost that haunts me doesn't invade my sleep there, and Nathaniel was kind enough to watch over me as I slept in the library when I was nearly choked to death in my dream by the ghost woman."

"Oh yes. The ghost that pelts you with pearls and glass beads."

"Don't say it like that. She's mean and horrible."

"So you know who it is haunting you?" he asked.

"Yes, Of course, I didn't know her name, but she was in a portrait of one of the bedrooms I cleaned. I call it the bridal suite. Her name is..."

"Emma Gainesby."

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"Who else would want to torture Nathaniel other than the one that turned him into what he is?"

"Then you know the whole story."

"Yes."

"Did you know her?"

"Only from stories I’ve heard."

"Then do you know what the relationship was between Emma and Liam?"

"Only what Nathaniel has told me."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know? I just think there's a lot more to the story than what Nathaniel knows."

"Why would you say that?"

"I'm not sure.  Maybe the dreams I've had, maybe just the meanness I've seen in her. He says he feels like he didn't know her at all, and somehow I think he was right in more ways than he realizes."

"How's that?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm going to find out, if she doesn't kill me first. I found some journals of Liam's in a space in the wall under a loose window sill."

"Have you read them?"

"No. But I told Nathaniel about them."

"Did he read them?"

"No. He seems to think it's too much of an invasion of Liam's privacy."

"What do you think?"

"I think if Liam didn't want him to find them, he would have taken them with him when he left."

"Smart girl."

"Then you agree?"

"I do."

"How can I convince him?"

"I'm sure you will find a way. You seem pretty persuasive."

"Not after today. He said if I don't leave, he will."

"He won't leave."

"What makes you so sure?"

"He's head over heels in love with you, that's why."

"That's not what he said...."

Just then a gust of wind hit them both with such force that it took Phoebe's breath away and she heard the same strange rustling in the weeds that she had heard earlier.

"We don't always say what we feel when we should, my dear, hence the very definition of regret."

"Look out, Jonathan; run...the pearls and beads are coming again!" She tugged on Jonathan's sleeve to get him to move as the whistling of shrapnel headed for them from the back door of the house where the beads and pearls had pelted the door and fallen to the ground.

"Run, Jonathan!" she screamed but when he wouldn't move, she spun in front of him to take the shrapnel and protect him from injury. In the last second before impact, he spun her behind him and the beads came within an inch of him, stopped dead, and then fell to the ground as if they had hit a brick wall.

Her mouth gaped open. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know, maybe she likes me." She could see he was smiling under the scarf as his eyes twinkled and squinted. "Just kidding, she probably just doesn't have a gripe with me so she dropped the beads. By the way, why are these beads after you?"

"They are the embellishments from the wedding dress Nathaniel burned the other night - her wedding dress."

"What's the tie to you?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm in love with her would-be husband? I found the dress a couple of nights ago in the attic, before Nathaniel left on his trip."

"But why would Nathaniel burn it?"

"A lot happened that night."

He stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I reached out to touch the dress, not realizing it was hers, and somehow I cut my finger on one of the glass beads, quite badly.  I headed downstairs to clean it up and was attacked by a burglar I think might have been Samuel's father. He was very, very drunk and stunk of whiskey. He threw me towards the fireplace and I hit my head on the column. Next thing I knew, my dress was ripped down the front and he was on top of me and..."

"Oh, Phoebe, he didn't..."

"He did. And that's when I saw Nathaniel for the first time as a...well with his red eyes and fangs, but I was so dazed by the knock on the head that I didn't realize it was him at first, but he healed me, Jonathan. I think he must have erased some of the emotional trauma of the act too, because I’m really okay," she said and blushed deeply.

"I see," is all Jonathan said.

"I think Nathaniel thought I was so dazed by the bump on my head that I would think the whole thing was a dream, so he burned the dress, getting rid of all the evidence of the evening’s happenings."

"What about the burglar?"

"Last I saw, Nathaniel had thrown him off of me and into the wall across the salon."

"And then he went on his trip?"

"Yes. Leaving me a very cryptic note about being sorry he wasn't able to give me more notice and that if I wanted to, I could clean his quarters while he was gone."

"So, he burned the dress. Please don't tell me he burned it in the chapel."

"How did you know? On Sundays he likes to go to the chapel so I was going to set it up as I had last Sunday, with a little table and candles all around with a little stool he could sit on.”

"That's not good."

"What's not good?"

"He shouldn't have burned it in the chapel."

"Why?"

"That's where she died...in a fire, no less.  That is where she is the most powerful.  I hadn't realized he was frequenting the chapel. You should get him to stop that."

"How can I do that?  He thinks God has forsaken him and he goes there to ask for strength and forgiveness every Sunday evening, if weather permits."

"Well you tell him he doesn't have to pray in the chapel. God can hear him wherever he prays. She died in the chapel and that is where her spirit is the strongest. Considering what she has been doing to you, I'd say she's pretty powerful outside of the chapel, but in the chapel, she may still be able to control him."

"You mean like he said he felt she had done before? Like when she turned him?"

"Yes. Exactly. I don't think she was just a vampire, but a practicing witch, but I'm no expert."

"Well, that would certainly explain some things. Thank you Jonathan, for talking with me and helping me sort out this craziness. And thank you for getting me out of Scotland and out from under my father and sisters. I wish I could do something for you."

"Didn't you just dive in front of the evil beads to save me from injury?"

"Yes, but..."

"Well, the fact they didn't hit me doesn't erase the sacrifice you made for me. You are a sweet angel and I was right to bring you here."

"I wish Nathaniel felt the same. I'm so scared to go to sleep tonight. Every night is the same...the gray fog, the screaming for me to get out, then some horrible attack, then the blue-eyed man-wolf..."

"The what?"

"The blue-eyed man-wolf. He seems to follow her. One night he was on my balcony, but he always seems to follow her in my dream."

"Has the wolf man ever hurt you in your dreams?"

"No."

"What makes you think he's with her?"

"I didn't say he was with her, I said he always follows her. I just assumed he was a pet or something."

"Hmm." He pulled out a tiny cloth bag tied to a cord. “Wear this for me, will you?”

"What is it?"

"It's just a little something my mother used to make up to ward off bad dreams and evil spirits."

"Was your mother a witch?"

"No. Just superstitious. I would just sleep better knowing you had it on. Would you do that for me?"

"Sure, I will."

"And try to keep Nathaniel from the chapel?"

"I'll try, but...."

"It's in both your best interests."

"I'll do my best."

"And lastly, if you can't get Nathaniel to read the journals, then you should, and relay them to him."

"But he would be so angry to find I invaded his brother's privacy."

"If you find nothing of importance than don't say anything, but if there is something he should know and you can't get him to read them himself, then you are doing him a favor."

"Will you put that in writing when I have to explain why I did what I did to him?"

"No...but I will back you if need be."

"That's good to know, Jonathan. You are a good friend."

"And you are a ray of sunshine, Phoebe. Would you like me to check the house for whatever made the paw prints?"

"No. Whatever it was is gone.  I just don't know how something with paws can open doors?"

"That is a puzzle," he laughed.

"Will you stay for dinner?"

"Not tonight, but soon.  I would like that very much."

"Good. I look forward to the company." She leaned over and hugged him tightly, which seemed to surprise him, but his eyes sparkled in appreciation and she could see he was smiling under the red scarf mask.

He waved just before he entered the forest path down to the water and she smiled and waved back.

Phoebe went into the house, and as she did, she put the pouch on a cord over her head and tucked it into her cleavage. She set the table for Nathaniel's dinner and stoked the fire, waiting for him to come down the stairs. She greeted him with a bow at the door of the dining room. As he entered he noted only one place setting at the table.

"Won't you be dining with me?"

"Not tonight," she said and left him standing in the doorway of the dining room.

While he dined in quiet solitude, she went to the library where she proceeded to read a book. Twenty minutes later, he appeared at the door of the library.

"Phoebe. We should talk."

"Yes. We should." She set her book down and shifted to the edge of her seat, legs crossed at the ankles, back straight as a board. Nathaniel plopped into the leather chair across the table from her and set his glass of wine down.

"I said some things earlier that I shouldn't have said..."

"Which might those be? Would it be that you are a monster? Or that you can't give me a life I deserve? Or maybe that you are sending me away for my own good?"

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have."

"I don't want you to leave...and I don't want to leave, for that matter. But I am a monster and I can't offer you a life you deserve."

"Can you offer me your love?"

"I...want..."

"I thought as much." She stood and walked over to the fireplace. She picked up the poker, and prodded the wood without enthusiasm.

"It's not that I..."

"Don't. I get it. You're still in love with her despite what she's done to you."

"That's absurd."

"Is it? Tell me, do you visit the bedroom downstairs daily to gaze at her portrait? Why else would you keep it up when you say she hurt you so? And how many pictures of Emma are pinned up in your hidden research room? How many trinkets of hers do you still carry around or frequent? The locket? The music box? The wedding dress?

"You know, there is a very fine line between love and hate. You say 'hate' but everything else points to love."

His mouth was agape and it was apparent he wanted to retort, but no words came to him. He looked confused as if just realizing how many of Emma’s things were still around.

"How long has she been dead, Nathaniel?"

"Uh...one hundred twenty-one years, three and a half months,” he replied.

"The fact that your answer is down to almost the days, I think that pretty much says it all. You're still mourning someone who ripped out your heart and did a little dance on it. So you are either still in love with her or you are still being controlled by her."

"That's not possible."

"Isn't it? She's powerful enough to have almost killed me several times in my dreams and she attempted to kill me twice today."

"Twice?"

"Yes. After I left your room I ran in to Jonathan when I went back to the chapel to set it up for your Sunday ritual to visit Emma."

"That's not why I go to the chapel. I go to..."

"I know what you've told me you go for, but Jonathan made a good point today."

"You spoke to Jonathan about this?"

"Yes. He knows your secret. There's no harm in talking to him. He too only wants to help. Jonathan said that God can hear your prayers from anywhere, Nathaniel. You don't need to be in a chapel for your prayers to be heard, especially in a chapel where your lost love died. I think she draws you there, compels you to remember and mourn her for her own sick ego. Her spirit is strongest there with her ashes and the fact that you burned the dress there, of all places."

"What do you mean?"

"You might as well have gift wrapped it and offered it up to her. The ashes of the dress can now linger forever with her own ashes. She's probably wearing it right now and bellowing for you to come to her."

Phoebe's face was hot from the fire, but soaked from the tears that fell from her eyes. She knew Nathaniel was befuddled by her claims, but he needed to hear that it was possible she was controlling him still after all this time.

"The items and tokens you keep of hers allow her to stay close to you and your regular visits to her gravesite keep you under her control."

"This is insane. What you say is not true.  Jonathan has filled your head with nonsense."

"It's not, really. But what is sad is that I can kind of understand why she turned you even if it was against your will. If she had been a better person, she could have had you at her side for all of eternity."

"How can you say that? I'm cursed. I'm a murderer."

"What you call a curse another man may call a gift. The gift of immortality, but with every great gift comes retribution. Many would happily give up seeing the sun and change their diet, for immortality. And that's not the only gift you received. You have immense strength, the power to heal others, and most likely yourself, and I'm sure there are other powers that I don't know about.

"If Emma had been kind and loving and offered you this life you have now to share with her for eternity, I think you would have taken it willingly. That kind of love I can understand, but this...this THING you have with Emma, is not love. It's a delusion she's been manipulating you with from the very beginning."

She put the poker down, wiped her cheeks and eyes of tears with both hands, and turned towards him.

"But she does have the one thing I can never have..." She reached out and touched his cheek with the full of her palm, cupping it lovingly. "She has your heart."

She dropped her gaze and her hand and went to her bedroom.

She hadn't been to her room in several days since she had been sleeping peacefully in Nathaniel's quarters. When she had changed into a new dress earlier, she had found it in the laundry room off the kitchen. When she opened the door to find her room ripped apart, she closed the door behind her, and slid her back down the door until she was sitting on the floor.

She sobbed for a long time there with her head resting on the door behind her. She was scared to be in this room, but she certainly couldn't go running to Nathaniel's arms. She looked around at the shambles that lay around her. It looked as if someone had taken a dagger to everything in the room.  Stuffing spilled out onto the floor near the chair, feathers lay everywhere from disemboweled pillows. The mattress was shredded in long cuts lengthwise on the bed, and the curtains and rug were only strips of frayed cloth.

Apparently, Emma was not happy about Phoebe sleeping in Nathaniel's quarters, and given today's attempts on her life, Phoebe was terrified she'd not survive another dream with Emma as the star. What was she going to do?  Even if she could sleep, it wouldn't be on this bed anymore. She sat there shaking and scared, wishing she could stop crying, but there was no end to the tears, only transitions between each new weeping session.

An hour or more passed before she stood up and wiped her face again and decided to go to the kitchen and make some tea. Nathaniel, thankfully, had taken to his room and she was free to move around downstairs.

She went upstairs to Liam's room and removed the first of four green journals there in the wall and brought it down to the library to read while drinking her tea. If she was going to have to stay awake, then she might as well make good use of her time.

The first page was dated April 17, 1735.

It's good to finally be done with school and be home with the family. Nate finished up his masters degree in physics while I finished my bachelor's in business. I can't imagine what life would be like without my big brother to keep me in line, but then Nate's been rescuing me since he found me in the forest. Can you imagine the looks on Mother and Father's faces when a three year old emerges from the forest carrying a baby? And then for them to take me in and raise me as their own. I've truly been blessed.

Mother and Father are having a huge party for Nate and me - the proud graduates. Father has spared no expense and it should be the biggest event this town has ever seen. Boats will be ferrying people to the island and Father has had multiple temporary docks built to accommodate the people. Nate's fixed my tie six times so far and the guests haven't even started arriving. He says, "How do you plan to catch the eye of some beauty, if your tie is on cockeyed and your hair is sticking up like a crazed mule."

April 18, 1735

Last night's party was amazing. Nate and I danced with every young woman in the county, I think. A last minute arrival, though, seems to have Nate quite smitten.  I've never seen him so taken by anyone. No one seems to know much about her but she is beyond beautiful, that much I'll say.  I too was privileged to dance with her but I must say I felt like a caged rat in her presence.  Sherilyn Wilcox, however, was a vision in the pale green floral gown. She certainly has changed since Nate and I went to college. Hard to believe Nate and I used to call her bug-eyed Sherry.

Of course, I was no great looking kid, myself.

...

April 29, 1735

Seems to be that time of year. Nate and I are attending the yearly party in town at the Harrison's.  I'm hoping Sherilyn will be attending and Nate is pacing the floor in hopes of spying Ms. Gainesby again.

April 30, 1735

As I had hoped, Sherilyn was at the Harrison party, but her dance card was full by the time we got there so I had to watch her float about the room from afar. She wore her hair up, but there was this one ringlet that kept creeping down into her face brushing against her cheek. I could see she found it quite annoying, but I found it adorable.

Nate got his wish and the lovely Ms. Gainesby attended the party too. For quite a while there they disappeared and I haven't had a chance to converse with him without Mother and Father hearing us, to find out if he was able to steal a kiss from her. He's been walking around with a huge grin on his face since the party. He claims 'it's love', I say it's more likely gas or a brain tumor.

...

June 12, 1735

It's been almost two months since Nate first laid eyes on Ms. Gainesby and it seems that is all he can talk about. Emma this, Emma that.  I find it annoying. Father says 'It's love.' Nate has asked permission of Ms. Gainesby's guardian to court her. The answer was yes, so I see no end to Nate's blathering about Ms. Gainesby. I suppose she will be frequenting our home and meals. Mother doesn't seem to be very happy about Nate's request. I'm not sure why.  Maybe she too is tired of hearing about Ms. Gainesby.

Chapter Fourteen

It was about 2 A.M. when Phoebe went up to Liam's room again and swapped out journal number one for number two. So far, there was nothing unusual to report to Jonathan, but something told her that was about to change.

August 29, 1735

As I predicted, Ms. Gainesby has been at the house a lot.  Nate is a changed man. If I were of a superstitious nature I would say he was under some kind of spell. He speaks to no one but her and when she isn't here he spends all his time in his rooms above the stable. It has made for a rather dull summer.  Mother is sweet and accommodating, but I feel she does not like Ms. Gainesby much.  I have to say I agree with her.  There's an air about her that makes my hair stand on end. But as I said before it's the change in Nate that is most disturbing. Mother's asked me several times to go and talk to him - get him out of the house, but I've told her I've tried to no avail. I can't force him to do what he clearly does not wish to do.

Father is clearly under Ms. Gainesby’s spell too and he waves Mother away with her concerns.

....

September 9, 1735

Today is a sad day indeed. A terrible accident on the water has taken the lives of Mother and Father. How will I ever survive this horrible sadness? I can't cry and I can't move; I can only sit and stare out the window and wonder why two such loving people were taken.

Nate is no comfort and he seems dismissive about the whole catastrophe. In fact if I were to describe his reaction I would say he was miffed at them for complicating things. Mother and Ms. Gainesby had a bit of a tiff yesterday and Nate was furious about it.  She was to apologize to Ms. Gainesby later this evening, but with the accident, that won't ever happen now.

I still don't understand how Father could have lost control of the boat.  There were no gales or white caps and for a seasoned boatsman it seems highly improbable that a boat could capsize as it did.

I will forever miss them.

September 11, 1735

Well if I thought the day of my parents' death was horrible then today was absolutely horrific. We buried Mother and Father today. Hundreds made their way to the island to say their good-byes to Dorothy and James Jacobs.

Ms. Gainesby seemed to be absolutely giddy as hostess of the mourning guests and bossing the servers around all the while Nate staring after her like a drugged pup.

But it was later that evening when the guests had left and the servers were cleaning up when Ms. Gainesby appalled me the most.  While Nate was upstairs tending to recording in the ledger the expenses for the services, she sidled up closely to me. I thought she was going to hug me out of sympathy or something but her lips grazed my neck and I could have sworn she smelled me. It was most unnerving and I pulled away quickly. All the while she smiled wickedly at me as if sizing me up for her breakfast as I made my way up the stairs to my room. There is something not right about all of this.

....

September 23, 1735

To my horror, Nate has proposed to Ms. Gainesby. She's taken over the house and practically lives here now. She's decided the old decrepit decor is just not to her liking and has ordered new fabrics for the curtains for the salon and she has completely gutted Mother and Father's room making it her own personal boudoir. Not even three weeks have passed since their deaths and already she's taken over every aspect of our home. Nate follows her around like a pet monkey in some kind of drunken daze.

He won't hear me when I speak ill of her and her advances towards me are steadily growing bolder.  I fear to tell him of these advances since his moods are so volatile and I think she knows this and it is why she continues to test me.

Oddly too, townspeople have been disappearing and dying unexpectedly. Poor Sherilyn Wilcox's father, who was the picture of health, disappeared three weeks ago and was found in a ditch outside of town just a few days ago.  They could only identify him by his clothing and wallet, but it's assumed he was out for a walk and either got hit by a carriage or had a heart attack.  Sherilyn and her mother are grief stricken. I'm not sure which is worse, not knowing where he was or not knowing what killed him.

And there have been some kind of animal attacks, but of an unknown source.  Their necks seemed to be the point of impact, some ripped, some just two punctures, but all were completely drained of their blood. It's like a dark cloud of death has shrouded this once happy place and now only doom and despair reside in its place.

....

October 19, 1735

My nights have become torture. Ms. Gainesby haunts my dreams. I'm not sure if I am going insane or what. I have no feeling of lust or love for her, but in my dreams she is constantly seducing me. I push her away but she only laughs at my retreat. And in my dreams Nate is there, but his back is always turned away and no matter how I implore he will not turn to see his seductress in action.

I've hardly slept in weeks and I am so exhausted.

To make things worse, Nate seems hostile towards me. He's even accused me of making advances towards Ms. Gainesby.

.....

November 1, 1735

I can't believe what I have seen. Maybe it was a dream, but I shudder to think that it was indeed real. I've not slept for fear of her slipping into my dreams. I think Ms. Gainesby is some kind of witch. I was coming back from town after checking on Mrs. Wilcox and Sherilyn and was walking through the woods when I saw movement in the dark near the creek. I stopped and tried to focus on what I had seen. There on the other side of the creek among the lower branches of the trees appeared to be a woman. Her hair was long and wild and she seemed to be stalking a man standing on the bank lighting a pipe. She must have been twenty feet above and about fifteen feet away, when she lunged at him from the branches, landing on him and knocking him to the ground without any injury to herself. When I gasped at what I had seen, the woman turned towards me and I hid, camouflaged by the dark shadows and underbrush, but I could see her and her eyes were red and bright like light illuminated from within them. The lower half of her face was black with what I could only assume in the bad lighting to be blood.

When the woman could not see me, she went back to her victim then ran off into the woods with speed and stealth like I've never seen.

I ran home as fast as I could. There was no saving the man who was downed by the woman and there was no sense standing alone in the dark making myself her next victim. Safe behind the doors of my home in the kitchen Mother used to make cookies for Nate and me, I poured myself a much needed glass of water, when from behind me a small hand ran from one shoulder to the other making me spin quickly around and dropping my glass. It was Ms. Gainesby and she had that wicked smile upon her lips that she often had in my dreams.

I quickly bent down, picking up the pieces of glass, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed the bottom edge of her dress was black with dirt and mud. I tried not to look like I noticed and headed for a pail to deposit the broken glass into. I had missed a piece and she bent down to pick it up when I noticed something tangled in her hair. Without thinking I brought her attention to it. She pulled at it, revealing a small twig. She said, "It's just a twig. I was out for a walk in the woods just now. It must have gotten tangled in my hair then."

I smiled and agreed as I hurried out of the kitchen and up to my room. What I had not drawn her attention to was the blood drops on the bodice of her dress from when she drained the man on the side of the creek.

November 2, 1735

This morning she slipped into my dreams again. She was naked in my bed; her eyes blood red like the night before and fangs protruding from her upper lip. As usual she had that wicked smile she seemed to wear most often, but when I woke, I found it was not a dream; she was there in my bed hands all over me staring at me with those bright red eyes. I jumped out of bed finding myself completely naked. I grabbed my trousers and ran for the empty bedroom across the salon, locking the door behind me.

I don't know what to do. And I'm so incredibly tired.

When Phoebe put the journal back in its spot in Liam's room to grab the next two, it was about 6 A.M. and the sun was coming up. All had been quiet from Nathaniel, which in a way, made Phoebe very sad. She wished he had fought back, defending the accusations she had thrown at him, but the fact that he didn't made her think she might have just hit the nail on the head.

She didn't understand why Emma would put Liam and Nathaniel at odds with one another. Did she want Liam out of the picture so only she and Nathaniel were heirs after the wedding? No. That couldn't be. If she wanted Liam out of the picture, why not just kill him like she had the man by the creek? She had enough control over Nathaniel to keep him from bolting at the sight of his slain brother.  No. There had to be some other reason. Was it Liam she wanted, but couldn't control? If so, why not get rid of Nathaniel? The parents were out of the picture so there were just the two men that lay between her and their fortune. Or did she want both of them? Did she like them fighting over her?

The whole thing puzzled Phoebe. She checked the front door to see if Samuel had come, but the basket was still there with the shopping list she had made out the night before. She hoped if Samuel did come that he would think to knock; she had so enjoyed their last visit and looked forward to getting to know the boy better.

She did some of her chores and got some bread started and rising. She felt if she could read the rest of the journals during the day, she wouldn't be caught by Nathaniel for invading Liam's privacy. One would think someone so angry with his brother would not care whether his brother's privacy was intact or not, but maybe somewhere deep inside, Nathaniel knew the anger he felt for his brother had no merit - that it was yet another manipulation of Emma's.

Of course, when it was revealed what the journals said about Emma, there would be no hiding the infringement. Phoebe would just have to deal with that later. She made some more tea and sat down with the third journal.

November 22, 1735

The wedding date has been set, the invitations engraved, and the dress is being made. Things are moving along quickly for the bride to be.  Tensions are high between Nate and me - his out of some jealous rage and my own out of exhaustion. I don't think I've slept more than an accumulated 4 or 5 hours in stints of a half hour each this week.  I've found if I don't sleep long, she doesn't know I'm sleeping and she doesn't enter my mind, but I'm not sure I am doing the right thing, as now I am so weak during the rest of the time I can barely thwart off her advances.

If she can control Nate, why doesn't she just control me the same way unless it has something to do with....No. It couldn't be.

Meanwhile people around town continue to disappear only to be found dead later. If this is all her doing, she certainly doesn't tidy up after herself. If only I knew what she was. Is she some kind of blood drinking witch? A demon?

....

November 25, 1735

I spend most of my hours now at the library. Of course the books I'm looking at have Ms. Thomas, the librarian, in a tizzy. I'm not certain yet, but my research is leading me to believe she is some kind of succubus or vampire. It seems nonsensical, but after seeing her pounce on that man from the trees above, anything is possible. What to do about it? I'm not sure. The biggest problem I have with my theory is according to my research, a vampire can't be in direct sunlight and though it is overcast most often here so close to the Arctic Circle, she does come out in the daylight, albeit not often.

But there was the funeral and the picnics during courting so either somehow she has a temporary cure for this or I am on the wrong track.

I had a drink at the pub (coffee mostly) last evening and it seems rumors are roaring with all the deaths about a female devil that flies out of the sky in the dark of night and descends on her victim in dead silence. Many have been turning to an old woman on the outskirts of town that some call a witch, some call a crone, for talismans of protection and whatnot.

I have a meeting with her this afternoon and hope she can shed some light on our Ms. Gainesby.

November 26, 1735

I spent a very enlightening couple of hours with Ms. Crowley yesterday. I tried to relay all I knew of Ms. Gainesby and what I had seen to date of her actions, abilities, and control over Nate. She confirms my suspicions about her being a vampire and she offered an explanation for her being out in the sunlight.

It seems that a lotion can be made and applied to the skin for short bouts in the sun, and in a climate where clouds are more frequent, those bouts in the sun can be even longer. A vampire with knowledge of the 'old ways' would know this and use it to their advantage. And if per chance this vampire was of witch descent, her knowledge and powers would be significantly enhanced, which is what Ms. Crowley thinks is our case.

Ms. Crowley noticed the birthmark below my ear in the shape of a teardrop and asked me about my own affliction. She feels it is my own malady that Ms. Gainesby is attracted to and why she can't control me like Nate. The blessed woman has given me some drops to put in my tea at night to keep Ms. Gainesby out of my dreams, which will allow me some much needed sleep. She's also given me a tiny bag of herbs she's tied to a cord and has told me to wear it around my neck to keep the vampire at bay. She gave me a book to borrow that lists strengths and weaknesses in a vampire so I can come up with some sort of a plan to free Nate from her control, and I was so thankful I danced her around her little shack until I thought she might have a heart attack.

November 27, 1735

I slept like a log. I think I could have slept for another week, but I have to come up with a plan to expose Ms. Gainesby for what she is, and then I can sleep easy. Ms. Gainesby noticed my corded necklace, making some snide remark about "superstitious rot" and "old hags minding their own business."

I thought I found something I could use in the book Ms. Crowley loaned me and went to her house this afternoon.  She agreed it might work if Nate hadn't been turned yet, but it wouldn't last long. As far as I can tell he hasn't been bitten or transformed. She put a few extracts together into a vial and told me to slip one drop into Nate's tea. This would give me a small window where his mind would be uncontrolled by Ms. Gainesby.  I don't know if it will be enough time to get through to him but I have to try.

November 29, 1735

I finally found my opportunity to slip a drop of Ms. Crowley's potion into Nate's tea where he and I would be alone, at least I thought so. Mid-drop, Ms. Gainesby entered the room and accused me of trying to poison Nate.

I told him it wasn't true, that the drops would just clear his head so I could talk to him without her controlling him.  Nate went into a violent rage and took a swing at me, and all the while Ms. Gainesby smiled that wicked smile from across the room as if she were genuinely enjoying this turn of events.

I’ve never seen Nate so angry in all my life. In fact, now that I am thinking about it, I’ve never seen Nate angry before Ms. Gainesby came into our lives. Ever. Even when we were kids he never really got angry with me even when I ripped the binding from his favorite book. Could he really think I would try to poison him?

November 30, 1735

Poor Ms. Crowley died in her little shack of a home last night. Somehow it caught fire and she was unable to get out or was asleep. This is a devastating blow. I have no doubt who the culprit is that started the fire. What a terrible way to go. I've no idea what to do. Nate has locked me up in my room after accusing me of trying to kill him.

It was 1 P.M. and Phoebe checked the front porch for Samuel's delivery, but there were still no groceries from the boy.  The weather was not bad so it wasn't because of that, but something about his delay worried her.  She hoped it had nothing to do with Samuel's father, as she did not know what had happened to him after Nathaniel threw him across the room.

Back into the library she went to finish up the final journal before she needed to set up Nathaniel's dinner.

December 4, 1735

It was December 3rd before I found my door unlocked, thankfully I didn't miss Ms. Crowley's funeral and I could check on Sherilyn and Mrs. Wilcox to see that they were unharmed by our unfriendly vampire.  December 31, the date for the wedding, is fast approaching. This will be the longest night of the year and of great significance to a vampire witch. The good thing is Ms. Gainesby is distracted by her responsibilities in planning the wedding, and this gives me the opportunity I need to see if any of Ms. Crowley's books survived the fire and if they made it to the library. Ms. Thomas will grimace at me, I’m sure, but she'll get over it if I can rid the town of a vampire.

December 5, 1735

No luck at Ms. Crowley's but I was able to scrounge up a few books that had survived the fire and had been donated to the library. I wish I could have her experienced advice instead, but no sense in crying over spilt milk.

The drops Ms. Crowley gave me for my tea are dwindling and I do not look forward to my thoughts and dreams being invaded. She has been keeping her distance, but I'm not sure if it is the little pouch Ms. Crowley gave me or her busyness with the wedding, whatever the reason I'm thankful.

Nate has completely shut himself off from me.  He and she take their dinner in his quarters and I dine alone in the kitchen.

A plan has to be made and fast.

December 7, 1735

I've been laboring over the books for days and have started my second pass on them, along with the book Ms. Crowley loaned me, but still I have found nothing that will help.

December 10, 1735

I opted to take the books back to the library and maybe make a trip to St. John's under the premise of buying a wedding gift. But as I was leaving the library a young woman timidly stopped me and asked if I was Liam Jacobs. When confirmed her inquiry, she quickly stuffed an envelope in my hand. She said she was the niece of Ms. Crowley and the night she died she had given her the letter to deliver to me when she thought no one would notice.

I nodded a thank you when Ms. Thomas stepped out from the back room eyeing the two of us. Though I wasn't able to say thank you, I truly was thankful.  Ms. Crowley must have suspected that Ms. Gainesby would come calling after seeing my corded pouch and the drops I was going to put in Nate's coffee and she made sure to nip that in the bud. But Ms. Crowley was a smart one – Ms. Gainesby would never suspect someone else to be involved, especially if Ms. Crowley was careful.

I read the letter on my walk home along the creek. She had found something useful but it would be very dangerous and somehow Nate would have to be subdued or rendered useless, as Ms. Gainesby would no doubt call for him in her desperation. As far as I know, he hasn't been turned yet but if she suspects foul play she will most undoubtedly speed up the plan, which I think, is to turn him on their wedding night.

December 14, 1735

I've not yet found a way to subdue Nate, especially when I never have access to him, so I don't know if he's been turned or she suspects anything.  I have purposely not revealed my plan in these journals in the event that Ms. Gainesby snoops around in my absence and finds the loose sill. She'll know something is afoot but she can't foil it if she doesn't know what it is.

December 18, 1735

Finally, I have my solution. In the book that Ms. Crowley loaned me, there was corner curled back on the inside back cover where a piece of decorative paper is glued to pretty up the binding. I hadn't really noticed it before and thought nothing of it until last night when I dropped the book from my bed and the corner curled back farther, revealing a recipe for a concoction that would not render Nate useless, but would certainly slow him down. And if he has the added power of being a turned vampire it would work doubly well. My plan will be implemented very soon and this may be my final entry.

Wish me well.

Chapter Fifteen

It was 4:45 P.M. when she read the last line in the journal.  The sun was sinking slowly in the sky and it was time to get dinner on the table for Nathaniel. Initially, she was going to put the journals back and talk to Nathaniel about what she had learned, but what would be the purpose of putting them back if she was admitting to reading them? This way she could just hand them to him when he refused to believe what they said.  On the way back to the kitchen, she checked once more to see if Samuel had been by but too scared to knock, but alas, there was the basket she'd left for him and nothing else.  This weighed heavily on her mind and though she wasn't sure she wanted to know, she felt she would have to ask Nathaniel what became of the burglar she was quite sure was Samuel's father.

She picked up the basket, brought it with her into the kitchen, and started setting out Nathaniel's meal. She was starting to feel her lack of sleep as she ran over and over in her mind how she was going to bring up all that she had learned from Liam's journals. A half an hour later, Nathaniel came down to dinner. He noticed again that she had not set a place setting for herself and he looked disappointed but didn't say anything.

She poured his wine and left the room only to emerge again with the journals in hand. He smiled at seeing her again, hoping she had changed her mind and had decided to join him. She sat the journals in front of her and sat in the chair to his left. He continued to eat, but noticing that she was sitting he wiped his mouth and said, "You're not eating?"

"No. But I do need to speak to you about something."

"You look exhausted. Did you have nightmares again last night?"

"No. After what happened with the beads, I'm afraid to fall asleep so instead I stayed up and did some research."

"Then you've found something interesting?" he said sounding quite intrigued.

"I have, but you're not going to like HOW I found it."

"Oh? Why's that?" he said nonchalantly as he cut and took a bite of the raw meat in front of him.

"I read these," she said as she pushed the four journals towards him.

Wiping his mouth, he set his utensils down and said as he reached for them, "Okay. So what are they?"

She winced as if it were physically painful to say as Nathaniel picked up one of books and started to open the cover. He wasn't really looking at the book, but instead looking at her for an answer. "They are your brother's journals."

He dropped the book on his plate as if it had actually burned him and stood up making a horrible screech on the floor with the chair as he did so.  Every muscle in his body seemed to flinch at the same time and his eyes went blazing red as he threw the table to the right wall away from her. He did this without any effort as if he were merely swatting a fly out of his way. Splintered wood and shattered china and crystal hit the floor, making a terrible noise and mess. Blood mixed with wine dripped down the wall as gravity took hold of it.

At first she wasn't scared, as she had seen his temper flare before, but when he took a step towards her with his hand extended, she stood quickly, knocking the chair backwards, and she stumbled over it and fell to the floor. He grabbed her by the neck with one hand and rammed her against the wall where they were eye to eye. Her feet were nowhere near the floor. Anger oozed from every pore of his body and he looked nothing like the man she had grown to love.

He said very slowly as she held on to his wrist at her throat, "I thought I had made it clear, we weren't going to invade Liam's privacy."

She couldn't speak, or breathe for that matter, and her face turned a purplish red as she tried to answer. He cocked his head as if he had heard something, and Phoebe heard it too. As things started to gray and Phoebe started to lose consciousness, a whisper came to her ear, but it was not intended for her, it was intended for Nathaniel. It started as a whisper but grew in strength as Nathaniel's anger built. "Kill her...Kill her...Kill her." Like a chant, it started slow and quiet and grew faster and louder when all went dark. In that darkness, her assailant was no longer Nathaniel but the dark haired beauty with beautiful green eyes full of hate.

Emma swiped at Phoebe’s face with her long red nails, and Phoebe brought up her hands just in time to protect her left eye, but not her cheek. Like a little girl having a temper tantrum, Emma made fists and hit Phoebe over and over again in the chest and the face, wherever she could land a punch. Phoebe was defenseless, as she still couldn't catch her breath while lying on the ground in the darkness. All she could do was put her hands over her face to protect it and hope she would wake up.

After being pummeled for what seemed like an hour, the darkness turned to gray and she could no longer hear the chant. She only heard the pleas of Nathaniel for her to wake up. His eyes were no longer red and his look of concern baffled her at first and she backed away from him but was stopped by the wall just inches behind her. At this, he plopped the rest of the way down to the floor looking completely distraught as if a little piece of him had died at her being afraid of him. With his forearms on his knees and head hung low, he said, "Oh Phoebe...I'm so sorry."

Bruises were appearing everywhere on her body and the warm blood trickled down her cheek just a half inch from her eye and then across her fingers. Two other matching scratches on her hand were below the first "It wasn't your doing, Nathaniel."

"How can you say that? I nearly killed you."

"But you didn't, she did all of this and she provoked you with her chanting and mind games."

"What do you mean her chanting?"

"I mean Emma is controlling you, Nathaniel. I heard her whispering, 'Kill her...Kill her...'"

"No. You're wrong, that was me. I lost control and that's what my head was telling me."

"No. Nathaniel...you're wrong.  It was her voice and I heard it too. I think because I was starting to pass out from lack of oxygen, I could hear it because fainting is probably about as close to being asleep as one can get without sleeping. You need to read the journals, Nathaniel. He left them there hoping you would find them. He all but admits this.  There are things you need to know about Emma."

"No. Liam tried to seduce her away from me."

"Really? Is that what she told you? Then why did she have both of your pictures in the necklace YOU gave her? Can you explain why that is? Or how your brother, tried not to sleep because she would come in to his dreams and try and seduce him?"

"Lies. They're all lies. If she wanted him so bad, why would she keep me around?"

"She wanted you both, but she couldn't control your brother like she could control you."

"And why would that be?"

"Something about Liam's affliction? It doesn't say in the journal what that was, but somehow it is associated. Being his brother, I'm sure you know what his ailment was."

He seemed to ponder this information as if something about the statement made sense.

"Nathaniel, I didn't read the journals to hurt you, but to help you. The journals clearly dictate the changes in you once she came into your life, and how in Liam’s research he found she may have been responsible for the deaths of your parents and many townspeople."

"That's insane. She had nothing to do with my parents’ deaths."

"Don't you find it odd that the day before your parents died, your mother and Emma had an argument? Then, magically, your parents are out of the picture and no longer a threat to her plan."

"I just...No.  That can't be."

"If you want to live your life forever in the dark being manipulated by the ghost of a very twisted woman, than so be it. I'm going to tend to my face.” She winced as she tried to get up and he jumped up to help her.

"By the way, Samuel didn't make his delivery today and I was wondering...what happened to...the burglar? Was he in fact Samuel's father?"

"Yes, he was and as for his whereabouts, you can be sure he won't hurt you ever again."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Will you let HER hurt me again through you?"

He shook his head and said, "I told you, that was me. I lost control of my temper and I lashed out at you, and for that I will be forever sorry."

"How odd. Liam mentions that you never got angry or had much of a temper at all before Emma came into your life. How do you explain that?"

"I don't know. Maybe all the responsibilities of being in charge of the finances, or of being a husband - stresses of being an adult."

"Hmm. It's sad that you didn't believe your brother, whom you knew, loved, and trusted all your life, as much as you still believe in Emma."

She made another plate of food for Nathaniel and a wine glass of blood and took them up to his quarters, where he sat on the couch and seemed to be deep in thought.

She had cleaned up her wounds and started cleaning the mess in the dining room.  The blood had started to dry on the wall and was an awful mess to clean up.  She took the splintered and broken pieces of the table out to the burn pile and watched as it burned. It crackled and popped as the varnish boiled. The heat felt nice and the icy air refreshing.

She wished she could have some of those drops that Liam had for his tea to sleep and keep Emma out of his head, but that potion died with Ms. Crowley and she'd just have to figure a way to stay awake on her own.

The cool air felt good on her wounded face, taking down some of the swelling.  She thought about Samuel's father and how his death was on her conscience. Poor Samuel, fatherless at such an age when a boy needs his father - not that he was much of a father to him. Still, she remembered how hard it was not having her mother and knew that would be what Samuel would have to go through.

She also thought about Liam. Where had he gone after the fire? Did he die from his injuries or had he just died from old age, alone and disowned by the only family he had? Maybe he found happiness with Sherilyn Wilcox.  That thought brought a little smile to her face.  Someone should have had some happiness out of this horrible mess.

The fire died down and she was cold when she decided to go back in the house. The dining room looked odd with all the chairs lined against the walls, and empty without the big dining table in it. One by one she cleaned most of the food and blood off the journals and stacked them up on the table in the kitchen. When she was done she grabbed them, and headed up to Nathaniel’s quarters. She didn't say anything but set the journals down on the table, picked up the remnants of his meal, and closed the door behind her.

Instead of tea, she opted for some coffee. She didn't much like the taste, but with enough milk and sugar it was palatable.  She headed for the library and tried to find a book that might be full of action to keep her attention and keep her from sleeping. It worked for a while, but she was just too comfortable on the couch.  She had another cup of coffee, went into the conservatory, sat at the piano, and began to play.

Halfway into the second song, Nathaniel appeared at the door. Leaning against the doorjamb, he listened and waited until she was done before sitting on the bench with her.

He obviously wanted to say something to her, but either he was looking for the words or just trying to find the courage, she wasn't sure which. She let him take his time as he stared at the piano keys, seeming content in just sitting there with her shoulder to shoulder.

"It's hard for me to think that I've been wrong about Liam for all these years. It's even harder to believe that I've been somehow controlled and manipulated by a spirit. Though I have not behaved as if I do, I really do trust you. So if you say that Liam meant for me to find and read the journals then I will read them." He met her gaze and she knew it was a heartfelt statement.

"I'm glad."

"Shouldn't you try and get some sleep?"

"I'd love to get some sleep, but I don't think I can take any more injuries today."

"What if you took the spare bedroom in my quarters? I could be close to you, but you would have your privacy. You said that you've been able to sleep peacefully there."

"That would be lovely, if you really don't mind?"

"Come on. Let's go get you settled."

They made their way up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. He pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillow and said, "Sleep well."

"I hope so," she chuckled. He smiled as he closed the door. She kicked off her shoes and didn't even take her dress off; she jumped in to the comfy bed. The cool pillows felt nice on her swollen cheek and she pulled the covers way up high and snuggled in. Almost instantly she slipped into a deep sleep.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning before the sun had risen, she found herself walking through the rooms in the house. A white wispy ground fog made the floor impossible to see and she was dressed in an almost sheer, white, sleeveless sheath. She went out the back door and into the greenhouse. It was warm and humid and bright. There were millions of flowers of every color everywhere. She could see the white fog on the ground outside was now forming a thick covering over the entire green house and nothing could be seen outside of the glass.

Someone spoke her name and she quickly spun around to see a beautiful woman standing several feet in front of her.  She wore a similar sheath, but in black. Her hair fell freely around her petite face. Her alabaster skin was almost as white as the fog on the ground. Everything seemed serene until the woman's mouth morphed into a familiar wicked smile and Phoebe's mind registered who was standing in front of her - Emma.

Panic started in her stomach and radiated outward until her skin was prickling with electricity. She didn't know what to do and tried to take a step back, but her feet seemed glued to the floor she could not see.

As if in slow motion, in one smooth move, Emma raised her arms from her sides and her hands met above her head with a deafening clap. All the glass in the greenhouse shattered at the sound and came at Phoebe from all directions, like she was the vacuum of an unseen vortex. Before Phoebe could think or react to the glass shards headed her way, a huge, hairy beast leaped through the air, landing on Phoebe and covering her entire body with its own. She heard a yelp that sounded much like a wounded dog. When the sound of glass dropping to the ground started to dissipate, the furry beast rolled off of her, meeting her gaze with his bright blue eyes. She sat up in bed to see Nathaniel bursting through the door and racing towards her. He grabbed her and cradled her in his arms. She looked around the room to see all the windows broken inward and shards of glass everywhere.

"Are you all right? Are you cut?"

"I'm okay. The man-wolf with the blue eyes saved me."

"The who?"

"The man-wolf with the blue eyes. He's been in almost all of my dreams but he always followed behind Emma so I assumed he was with her, but he jumped on me when she broke the glass and saved me. I think he's hurt."

Nathaniel grabbed her up, blankets and all. Glass spilled off the bedding as he carried her into the main room.

"I'm fine. I can walk," she said.

He set her down, letting the bedding fall to the floor, and he grabbed her hand, led her into his room, and shut the door.

Chapter Sixteen

"I'm sorry. I know it is improper for me to bring you in here, but the sun is rising and I need to talk to you."

She sat down on the bed and asked, "What is it?"

"I think this man-wolf you described is Liam. Somehow he is trying to protect you."

"Liam? No. This is definitely a man-wolf. He's furry and has all the features of a wolf, except the eyes, but he stands on two legs like a man."

"Yes. I know. Liam is a werewolf."

"A what?"

"A werewolf. He can change into what you call a man-wolf."

"But..."

"Remember when I told you I found him in the woods next to his dead mother?"

"Yes."

"Well, what I didn't tell you is that his mother was in wolf form when I found her.  I think she was moving Liam from their den or home to safety and she was faster as a wolf.  She was shot by a hunter and Liam was left motherless. I carried him to the house and while Mother took care of him, Father and I went to the woods where I showed him Liam's mother.

"He could change back and forth from wolf to boy from a very young age, keeping my parents on their toes."

"So Liam’s ghost is protecting me from Emma’s ghost?"

"Maybe, but why do you think Liam is a ghost?"

"Well, I see him in my dreams like I see Emma. Besides he’d be – what 150+ years old?"

"My research revealed werewolves to be immortal like vampires. It never even entered my mind that he could be dead. He was burned quite severely in the fire; I suppose it could be quite likely he's gone." A sad look came over his face as this point seemed to make its way to his heart and mind.

"I'm sorry, Nathaniel. Maybe he's not and has a way of entering dreams," she said hoping to make him feel better.

"Hmmm."

"A werewolf, huh?! You two are quite a pair of brothers." Her face changed and a realization hit her. "Wait a minute." She jumped off the bed and headed for the panel hiding the small room.

She looked back at Nathaniel for his approval, "May I?"

He nodded his consent. She pushed on the panel and the door popped open.  She ran her finger along the spines of the books looking for something specific while Nathaniel leaned against the doorjamb watching her.

"Ah...here it is."

"Did you read all of them?"

"Most of them."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I see if I want to keep a secret from you I'm going to have to get a lock."

"I wouldn't bother. I'm an excellent lock pick."

He chuckled and raked his fingers through his hair and she plopped on the bed flipping fervently through the pages. "Here it is. Vampires and werewolves folklore has them as being mortal enemies. The bite of a werewolf on a vampire is deadly.  However, the blood of a werewolf can make a vampire stronger. In order for a vampire to kill a werewolf, the werewolf has to be drained. However, taking regular feedings from a werewolf could make a vampire almost invincible. It's noted in witch lore that many werewolves were slaves to vampires.

"Well, that makes sense. A vampire's guard dog whose blood makes them stronger. This explains why Emma was so interested in Liam,” Phoebe realized.

"It also says that a werewolf can be identified by a birthmark in the shape of a teardrop," she added.

"Yes. Liam had one below his right ear."

"Right. He mentioned something about Ms. Crowley noticing the birthmark."

"The old witch?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yes. She helped your brother figure out what Emma was before you were turned."

"He knew she was a vampire?"

"Not just a vampire, but a vampire of witch descent, which gave her knowledge of witchcraft with the strength and abilities of a vampire. He figured that was how she could get into his head. A vampire can't control the mind of a werewolf, like it can a human, but with a spell she could make him crazy and weak from lack of sleep.

"Ms. Crowley gave your brother some drops to put in your tea to temporarily block Emma from controlling your mind, so that he could warn you about her being a vampire."

"Then he wasn't trying to poison me?"

"No. That's what Emma told you, but if you think back, he tried to explain what it was he put in your tea. He mentions this in the journal. Besides, if he really wanted to kill you, he certainly could have done so by turning into a werewolf at anytime, couldn't he?"

"Yes. I guess so."

"I'll just bet this information about werewolves and vampires is what was in the letter that Ms. Crowley wrote to Liam the night she was killed. But with all the help Ms. Crowley was giving to the townspeople to ward Emma off, and the drops to clear your mind so Liam could warn you, and the drops to let Liam sleep without having Emma enter his dreams, Ms. Crowley had become a liability and had to be taken care of."

"You're saying Emma killed that nice old lady?"

"Yes, and many others."

"How can you possibly know for sure she was the one killing the townspeople?"

"Your brother witnessed her stalking a man from the trees, leaping onto him and killing him."

"How could he possibly know it was her?"

"He wasn't positive it was Emma until he ran into her in the kitchen not long after it had happened. She hadn't realized she had blood smears on the bodice of her dress, and twigs in her hair. He also noticed when he bent down to pick up a glass he had dropped that the hemline of her dress was muddied. You really ought to read the journals."

"I had started. The first one doesn't say anything like you've described."

"You're right, but the second one does, as does the third and fourth."

"If this is all true, why would she still want to control me after a hundred and twenty years?"

"A hundred and twenty-two years and three and a half months."

"Right. But why? What does she have to gain?"

"I don't think ghosts/spirits have a sense of time, besides what else does she have to do? As for what she has to gain? I doubt anything, but she's angry her plan failed and she certainly doesn't want to stand by and watch you have a happy life without her. The fact that she can still control you from the grave probably strokes her ego. Plus, in her wicked way, I think she loves you. You look tired. Rest. We'll talk later this evening if you want to." She patted his arm tenderly.

"Right. You won't be in danger will you?"

"Well, I couldn't say for sure. You never know when killer beads are going to strike."

"Ha. Right. I wish that I could protect you, Phoebe - day and night."

She smiled at his comment as she closed the door behind her.

As Phoebe made her way down the stairs from Nathaniel's quarters, she noticed a set of muddy paw prints that tracked back and forth at the foot of the stairs, through the kitchen, ending at the back door. How odd, she thought, especially after having a man-wolf save her in her dream.

She thought of the heroic Liam in wolf form, jumping in harms way to save her from the glass shards, and foiling Emma’s plans once again. Maybe because of her dream, the muddy paw prints didn’t scare her as they had before.  Maybe Liam was alive somewhere close by and protecting them both from Emma and this was proof he’d been here recently.  It was a comforting thought and it put her mind at ease.

She checked the front porch for any sign that Samuel had come, just in case, only to be disappointed and worried about the boy and what he might be going through with the loss of his father. Back to the laundry room she went to get the bucket and mop to clean up the muddy prints. When she was done she went out the back door to dump the bucket of dirty water only to see Jonathan coming up the path from the forest through the garden.  She waved enthusiastically at him and headed to meet him halfway.

"Oh, Jonathan, it's so good to see you," she said.

"What happened to you this time? You look like you've been beaten to a pulp," he asked concerned and inspecting her bruises and the scratches so near her eye.

"Well, that's pretty much what happened."

"You fell asleep?"

"Not exactly."

"Your neck looks horrible. Did she choke you in your sleep?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Let's just say Nathaniel didn't like it that I read Liam's journals."

"HE did this to you?"

"Yes, but she was driving him to do it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, as I started to pass out, I could hear her taunting him to kill me, over and over and faster and faster like some kind of chant."

"Oh, Phoebe. I'm so sorry. If I thought he would hurt you, I never..."

"It's not him. It's her. She seems desperate to get rid of me at any cost."

"Well, you are a threat."

"Yes. She must think so because she went to extremes this morning with an elaborate dream where she showed me her whole self. I've only seen her face or eyes in the past, but not her whole body, but she was foiled by the man-wolf I told you about."

"Really?"

"Yes. She had me in the greenhouse. She shattered all the glass and it all came towards me when the man-wolf jumped on top of me protecting me from the pelting shards. I think, though, he might have been hurt. I thought I heard him yelp. Then he rolled off of me and I saw his familiar blue eyes from my dreams before. When I sat up in bed, all the windows in the bedroom had been shattered and blown in to the room."

"But you weren't hurt?"

"No. You were right. The man-wolf wasn't there WITH Emma, he was following her. And now that I think of it, when Emma was attacking me one night in my bedroom, I saw him on the balcony.  The windows blew open and she disappeared. I think he's saved me then too."

"Well, it's good to have an ally."

"Indeed."

"You said that you told Nathaniel about Liam's journals. Does that mean that you read them?"

"Well, I had to do something to stay awake, so yes, I read them all."

"And what did you find out?"

"That Liam was a good and kind brother and tried everything he could to warn Nathaniel about what Emma was. And poor Liam was afflicted with Emma stalking him in his dreams as she does mine, but instead of beating him, she constantly tried to seduce him."

"Has Nathaniel read them?"

"He's read the first one after I gave him a rundown of what was in them, but I told him he really needed to read them for himself. I think that was Liam's intent, at least that's what I got from them."

"Well, that is a huge step indeed."

"Liam had Ms. Crowley as an ally and she answered the questions Liam couldn't find on his own. She also gave him some drops that would allow him to sleep without Emma bothering him. I sure wish I had some of those drops. She really was a Godsend for Liam until Emma found out who was helping him and then killed the poor woman."

"That's awful."

"It is. At least Emma got a little taste of her own medicine in dying in a fire the way she killed Ms. Crowley."

"Good point. You've done a lot of good in the couple days since I've seen you."

"I don't know. I feel like every time I learn something and tell Nathaniel what I've learned, I'm somehow killing him just a tiny bit. The realization that all that has gone on around him was not at all what he thought is hurting him something awful.  I think he feels that Emma's voice in his head is his conscience."

"If you heard someone's voice in your head all the time for as long as he has, wouldn't you be inclined to think that? Or go insane."

"I suppose I would. But I hate hurting him. He seems devastated in finding he could be all wrong about Liam all this time. It really seems to be tearing him up inside."

"Yes. I imagine that would be hard, but look how far you've brought him.  He's accepting the fact that he may be wrong or that she had a lot to do with his perception of things. That's a lot more than anyone else has done for him."

"I guess. It doesn't change his feelings for me, but I suppose you're right."

"I think the feelings are there and are very intense, but the ghost is suppressing his feelings."

"He does seem to teeter from extreme anger to being thoughtful and caring quite a bit."

"I think the anger is the ghost and the other is the real Nathaniel emerging from his fog."

"Maybe."

“I was hoping maybe you’d do me a favor, Jonathan.”

“What’s that?”

“Could you check on Samuel for me? I feel rather responsible for Samuel’s father’s disappearance and I’m worried about how the boy is fairing.”

“Sure, Phoebe, I’ll do that, but you shouldn’t feel responsible – that’s between Nathaniel and Samuel’s father.”

“Either way – you’ll do it?”

“I will.”

They sat there in the garden for a quiet moment pondering all that had been said.

Phoebe turned towards Jonathan and said, "I have to tell you that your friendship has meant a lot to me. Having someone to hash out some of these facts and thoughts has kept me sane."

He turned towards her, and his blues squinted at the edge relaying the smile underneath the scarf that covered most of his face. He patted her hand and said, "Thank you, Phoebe. It's meant a lot to me too."

A strong breeze blew past them, shifting the scarf on his neck slightly, revealing to Phoebe a birthmark just below his ear. She gasped at the revelation and a thousand thoughts whirled around her brain as she recalled a passage in Liam's journal about a birthmark revealing his affliction and Nathaniel mentioning a teardrop birthmark Liam had below his right ear.

She smiled mischievously at Jonathan.

"What?" he asked.

"You are very clever."

"Thank you, you are too, Phoebe."

"You never left."

"What are you talking about?"

"You. You stayed to watch over Nathaniel all these years."

"Yes. I told you I've been here for a while."

She shook her head and smiled. "I should have guessed. Someone who cared so much for his brother would have never left his side, even when he sent you away."

"What are you talking about?"

"You. You posed as Jonathan to befriend Nathaniel and to be close to him. You were worried about him and this was a way you could make sure he was okay."

"Okay, now you have lost me."

"You know exactly what I am referring to, you sly dog. You have the birthmark of a werewolf. The same mark Liam Jacobs has and in the same location too. How do you suppose that happened?"

He turned his gaze away from her to stare out over the garden again.

"You are Liam Jacobs, Nathaniel's brother," she proclaimed.

He slowly removed his hat and scarf revealing his dark blonde hair and the smile that she had imagined under his scarf.

"I should have known you would guess my identity.  Yes. I'm Liam. And no, I never left, at least not for very long. I travelled around for a long while, checking in from time to time. Ms. Crowley’s relatives kept me apprised of all that went on when I wasn’t here. Years went by and he still wouldn’t leave the house or the island. I realized that Nate wasn't getting any better. By this time Ms. Gainesby had been gone for a long while. I had to find a way to reach out to him - befriend him, to find a way to help him. So I finally approached him as Jonathan, the grandson of an old gardener our family had years ago. I told him I had been in a fire and did not like to reveal my scars – it was enough to get my foot in the door, so to speak."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to know it is really you. When Nathaniel revealed your malady last night after I told him my dream about the man-wolf with blue eyes that saved me in the green house, we thought maybe you were dead. Nathaniel was deeply wounded by the thought that you could be dead."

"Why would you think I was dead?"

"Well, Emma enters my dreams and she is dead, so since you were in my dreams and following her, we assumed maybe you were too."

"No. I've just learned a few tricks over the years. It gave me a way to keep an eye on her and what she was doing to Nate."

"How did you learn this trick?"

"Ms. Crowley's niece. Remember in the journal, she was the one that gave me the note from Ms. Crowley? Having the talent passed down to her from her lineage, she rebuilt her aunt’s house on the edge of town and I've done errands for her over the years in return for her tutelage and expertise. She died a few years back but she taught me a lot. Her daughter lives there now and when I need to do some research she allows me to peruse the volumes of tomes the Crowley family has accumulated over the years."

"I have so many questions I don't know where to begin."

"Well, we have plenty of time."

"You did intend for your brother to find your journals, didn't you? Because he has been so uncomfortable with violating your privacy."

"I hoped one day he would find them, yes, but then I didn't think she would be controlling him from the grave."

"That is puzzling. How did that happen, or how is she doing it?"

"I'm still not quite sure. I've gone over it and over it. My plan should have worked."

"How did you trap her anyway?"

"Actually, that was much easier than coming up with a plan to slow down Nate. It is said in some vampire folklore that Lazarus was the first real vampire.  So I drew the sigil of Lazarus on the floor of the chapel with my blood. Ms. Crowley had suggested this in the note since she knew my werewolf blood would strengthen the sigil and Ms. Gainesby would not be able to resist it. I wasn't sure if this alone would be enough, so I strengthened it with a circle of salt around the outside of the chapel and yet another circle of Holy oil laced with wolfsbane. When she entered the two circles and the sigil, she was trapped. I lit the oil and everything began to burn."

"So how did you slow down Nathaniel from coming to her rescue?"

"Valerian root oil and skullcap.  I rubbed some on a pair of leather gloves and went to his quarters, wishing to apologize. We shook hands. I had the gloves on along with an overcoat with the ruse that I was going out for the evening. The oils transferred to his palms and temporarily sedated him, while I lured Ms. Gainesby to the chapel."

"Nathaniel said you were burned quite badly. How did that happen?"

"The oil transferred to Nate from my gloves didn't slow him down enough.  He went into the fire looking like a drunkard to try and save Ms. Gainesby. I had to go in after him to save him from the fire. My overcoat caught fire and I got burned pretty badly. Good thing werewolves heal fast."

"Indeed."

"So the glass in the greenhouse - you were injured?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes."

"And now?"

"Healed. Sometimes it's good to be a werewolf."

"You will stay, won't you? It is your home too."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Seems silly not to. I'm going to tell him of my discovery either way."

"Do you really think that is a good idea?"

"He needs to know that you are not dead. He looked absolutely devastated when he thought it was a possibility. Besides, I think he expects me to overwhelm him with something climactic most every night. I wouldn't want to disappoint him."

Liam chuckled, but considering his last meeting with his brother, when he wasn't posing as Jonathan, things were less than jovial and he worried this might push Nathaniel over the edge. On the other hand, this is what Liam had been waiting for all these years - a chance to reunite with his brother.

"I suppose. I would like to set things right, in person."

"Then it's settled."

The rest of the day was spent mostly in the kitchen talking with Liam and comparing notes. Phoebe cooked up a storm, making a roast, potatoes, and a pecan pie.

Without a proper dining table, they were forced to eat in the kitchen less formally than Nathaniel was used to, by far.

As Nathaniel descended the stairs from his quarters, the first thing he noticed were the smells of roast, fresh bread, and pie. But what took him by surprise was the sound of laughter he heard coming from the kitchen. Could Samuel have come finally and found his courage to come into the house? Or maybe it was Jonathan. Phoebe had been talking to him quite a bit these days and it did sound like him.

When Nathaniel entered the room, Phoebe was telling a funny story about one of her sisters to a man Nathaniel knew immediately was not Samuel, nor the usually over clad Jonathan. This man had longish, dark blond hair that Nathaniel had decided was in dire need of a trim.

Nathaniel was unable to do anything but smile back at Phoebe in response to her overjoyed expression. She looked like she was about to burst with excitement. Her hands were clasped together in front of her smiling lips as if she was keeping herself from blurting out a surprise.

That's when the man across the table from her turned around and greeted Nathaniel.

"Hello, Nate. It's been a long time."

Nathaniel was flabbergasted by the sight of Liam in front of him, but it was definitely him.  He looked no different than Nathaniel remembered him.  He didn't know what to do. So many emotions flashed through him that he could barely stand.

"Liam. Is it really you?"

"Yes, brother, it's me."

Nathaniel just stared at him. He couldn't believe his eyes. He glanced at Phoebe who now had joyful tears rolling down her face. "You did this?"

"I may have had a tiny bit to do with it."

"I don't know what to say," Nathaniel said shaking his head.  "I'm overwhelmed."

"Told you," she sniggered to Liam.

Liam smiled at Phoebe's comment, but still wasn't sure his brother was actually happy to see him. He couldn't read his stunned reaction.

"I..." Nathaniel was still shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm...You look good."

Practically bouncing up and down from excitement, Phoebe said, "Sit, Nathaniel. Dinner's ready, we've just been waiting for you."

Nathaniel walked to where his prepared food waited for him and Phoebe began to pour them all some wine. Phoebe held her glass up and announced, "I think a toast is in order."

Liam felt nervous about her excitement. There had been no indication whether this was a happy reunion or if Nate was just being his polite self. In fact, if Liam didn't know any better, he would have sworn Nate looked ill.

"To friends and family," Phoebe cheered.

The brothers raised their glasses and repeated her sentiment, but with a little less enthusiasm. The conversation was slow at first, but Phoebe kept feeding the fire. After a while, the wine seemed to loosen the two up and though there weren’t the hugs and laughs she had hoped for, it was a place for them to begin to move forward and heal old wounds.

After dinner they adjourned to the library for a brandy and more conversation. They didn't dive right into the hard stuff, but Nathaniel asked him a few questions and Liam was happy to answer them. Liam explained that he had never really left and took on the persona of Jonathan in an attempt to befriend Nathaniel and make sure he was all right. Somewhere during the conversation, Phoebe fell contentedly asleep listening to the two handsome men rehash childhood memories and explanations of misconstrued interpretations in order to start their healing process.

Chapter Seventeen

Phoebe woke in the morning to find she was alone in the library. She got up and started doing chores, when Liam came down to the kitchen.

"Oh, good. You did stay. I wasn't sure if you had. How did things go with you and Nathaniel?"

"Good, I think. He didn't kick me out, so that is a start."

"Oh, I'm sure it was better than that. From what I heard it sounded quite pleasant."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to have gotten this far, I just think something's not right."

"Don't be so pessimistic. He was in shock.  A hundred and twenty something years of thinking one thing, and now all that has been turned upside down. I think he handled it quite well. At least the kitchen table is still intact," she joked.

"I guess."

"Let me make you breakfast and then maybe you can help me with a few things."

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Well, I need to take the chair and mattress from my room out to the burn pile."

"Why?"

"Emma shredded them.  I don't think she liked my sleeping in Nathaniel's quarters and my bedroom took the brunt of her temper tantrum. I was going to try and drag the mattress down myself, but I thought how ridiculous I would feel if I somehow fell and got trapped under the mattress and had to wait for Nathaniel to rescue me."

"That would be a sight to see."

Phoebe proceeded to make breakfast for the both of them and then they went up to her bedroom.  Liam was stunned by what he saw. The room was covered in feathers and stuffing and there wasn't one item that had not been somehow mutilated by what looked to be claws: the walls, the drapes, the rug, and most definitely, the mattress. They dragged the mattress off the bed and down the stairs and onto the burn pile.

Liam could see remnants of wood scattered about.  He said, "The dining room table?"

"Uh huh."

Liam shook his head. “Mother would have skinned him alive if she were still around. She loved that table. She had it shipped all the way from London.”

They headed back up to the bedroom to strip the rest of the destroyed items.  Liam took the chair down to the burn pile while Phoebe gathered the bed linens. They passed each other on the stairs as Liam was coming back from the burn pile.

When Phoebe came up to the room again, she found Liam heading towards the French doors of the balcony to take down the curtains, when Phoebe said, "Oh, be careful when you take those down.  I've found a cute little bat in those a couple of times. I don't know how he keeps getting into the room, but I almost killed him once when I was beating the curtains for dust."

Liam started chuckling to himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," he said as his chuckling became louder.

"What? I just don't want him to get hurt if he's in there."

"I'm not laughing at that. You know, I really shouldn't say anything, but...I'll just bet it wasn't your normal run of the mill bat."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Nate."

"What about him?"

"Some vampires can change into animals."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You mean that cute little bat I rescued was your brother?"

"I think it is very possible."

"Oh!" she said rather shocked. "How did you know he could change?

"I read about it, but I also saw him turn once when he didn't know I was around. I also saw Ms. Gainesby turn once.

"She could turn into a bat too?"

"No. Her animal was a raven."

"They choose their animal?"

"I guess. Like I said, not all vampires have this ability, but when they do, somehow they pick the animal they most relate to. How they do it? I have no idea, but the animal is of their choosing."

"That must me something."

"What?"

"Being able to turn into something other than yourself at your will."

"It has its benefits," Liam smiled.

"That's right. I forgot."

"I must admit, though, it must be pretty spectacular to fly."

"Mmmmm," she agreed.

They headed down to the burn pile with the last of the debris.

"So, any more thoughts on what we can do to get Nathaniel out from under Emma's control," Phoebe asked.

"Nothing yet.  Like I said, I still don't know why the original plan didn't work.  All my research tells me it should have."

"Do you think it could be related to an item? I mean, in my research, hauntings tend to be more related to an item or a place, not a person."

"Why? What are you thinking?" Liam asked.

"I just know he has a lot of things around that remind him of her or were her possessions. Maybe somehow the object is fueling her power by still being around."

"That's a good thought. Any personal items?"

"Tons. All her clothes are still where she left them, the music box, the locket, tons of drawings, and the huge portrait in the room downstairs. I have no idea what's hers up in the attic, but I'd be willing to wager a few trunks."

"I had no idea. He's not gotten rid of anything then?"

"I don't know for sure, since I wasn't around when she was here, but probably not."

"Yeah. I would say that's a good possibility, but until we get Nate completely on our side, he'd never agree to let us destroy her stuff. I just hope we don't push him over the edge. All of this is a lot to take in when everything you thought was true was a lie. I'm not sure I would have been as strong as he's been, if it were me. We need to be careful not to push too hard."

"Right."

"So with your bedroom destroyed, where will you sleep?" Liam asked.

"Sleep? No sleeping here. I find if I am not around someone to make sure I'm not attacked, then there will be no sleeping. Unless you have some of those drops Ms. Crowley fixed for you."

"Sorry. All out."

"How was your sleep last night?"

"Fine. Why?"

"I just wondered, with you back in the picture, if she would be entering your dreams again."

"I don't think she thinks of me as a threat. Or at least not as big of a threat as you pose."

"Lucky me."

The rest of the day was filled with cooking up another storm.  Phoebe really was enjoying being able to cook for someone other than herself.  Liam tended to the greenhouse and garden.

When the sun went down, around 5:00, there was still no Nathaniel.  When he still didn't show at 7:00, they went ahead and ate, thinking maybe he just needed a little more sleep. When 9:00 P.M. came around, Phoebe started to get worried.

"Maybe you should go up and check on him," she said to Liam.

"Not me. I'm not sure we're on that good of terms yet."

"Well, it's not very proper for me to go up there."

"Somehow I don't think that ever stopped you from doing anything," Liam said.

"Very funny," she retorted. "Fine."

She went up the stairs to Nathaniel's quarters. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer.  She turned the knob and entered, finding the main room empty.  She slowly made her way to the bedroom door and knocked again quietly. There was no answer. So she opened the door and said, "Nathaniel?"

She heard a stirring, but still no answer. She went back out to the main room and found and lit a kerosene lamp. She turned and headed back to the bedroom.  Tentatively, she entered the room, heading for the bed.

"Nathaniel? Are you okay?"

Still nothing. She sat on the side of the bed, setting the lamp down on the table. Gently, she stroked the side of his face and he turned towards her, his eyes straining to open.

"Nathaniel. Are you okay?"

"Phoebe?"

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm just not feeling myself."

"Can I bring you something to eat? You need to keep your strength up. What doesn't feel right? What can I do?"

"I'm fine, Phoebe. Don't worry."

"I am worried. Vampires don't get sick, as far as I know."

"It's odd, I'll admit, but I don't want you worrying about me. I've caused enough misery for you and Liam, I don't want your worry on my conscience too."

"That's out of my hands. You know my feelings. It comes with the territory. Do you need some blood?"

"No. Really I'm fine."

"Liar. But I will check on you a little later."

"That's not necessary."

"It is, in my book. Get some rest. I'll be back in while."

She slipped out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

"Liam...something is definitely not right.  He's sick.  He looks like death warmed over. He won't eat or let me bring him anything to drink. All he will tell me is that he doesn't feel right."

"Hmmm."

"That's all you have to say? Hmmm? My research doesn't talk about vampires getting sick. I didn't know it was possible."

"Neither did I, that's what's so puzzling.  Last night I felt he didn't look well, but I just figured that I don’t see him often enough to know. It’s not like we used to frequent a pub or got together for regular visits."

"I guess. What do you think could be ailing him?"

"I'm not sure. I've never heard of such a thing."

"What if I offered my blood?"

"What? No. He'd never allow that."

"Not if he didn't know. What if it were in a glass like I serve him for dinner?"

"I suppose, but I still think he'd know the difference between human blood and animal blood. I think, though, if we have to go that route, he would benefit from my blood more than yours - no offense."

"None taken. You're right. I had forgotten about the benefits of werewolf blood for vampires."

"I don't think we should jump the gun though. Maybe it's nothing."

"Right. But if I go up there again and he looks any worse we need to consider the option. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"And, I'd like you to join me when we check on him."

"I don't know."

"I need your opinion, too. You're his brother."

"I guess. If you insist."

"I do.

A couple of hours later, they both went up to Nathaniel's quarters to check on him. Phoebe carried a tray of raw meat and blood in case he felt like eating. Liam knocked on the door of the bedroom and held a kerosene lamp since Phoebe's hands were full.

"Nate," Liam called to him. "Phoebe and I are here to check on you," he said as he opened the door. Nathaniel was so white that he seemed to glow from the reflection of the lamp.

"Oh my God, Nate.  You look awful," Liam continued.

Phoebe sat by his side, while Liam stood at the foot of the bed. She stroked his forehead and cheeks and they felt ice cold to her touch. He never answered them or even opened his eyes as they entered the room and when Phoebe caressed his face once more, he rolled to his side away from her. It was then that she gasped and nearly fell off the bed.

On his back written in blood was the word 'Sting'. Liam was taken aback when he spied the word too. Phoebe gently brought her fingers to the wound and found that it was not on the skin but rather under the skin as if someone wrote the word from inside him. On top of that, the word was scalding to the touch whereas the rest of him was as cold as ice.

Her gaze met Liam's and she whispered, "It's on the inside. I can't even dress the wound. What is this? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. For that matter, I've never seen a sick vampire, so I am at a complete loss."

"What should we do?"

"I'm not sure. Let's let him rest and we will check on him in the morning after we've had time to think and sleep ourselves."

They both slid out of the room and went down to the kitchen before they began talking again.

"I can't sleep. I'm not letting her into my dreams again. Besides, I'll never be able to sleep knowing he's in such obvious pain."

"You can't stay awake forever either, Phoebe. You're no help to him if you're tired and weak."

"But I have to do something.  I can't just stand around doing nothing."

"You may have to, until we get a handle on what's going on.  First thing in the morning I will go visit Ms. Crowley. Maybe she's heard of something like this. I'll also peruse through some of the books while I'm there and see if I can't come up with something to help Nate and maybe some kind of sleeping potion to keep her out of your head so you can sleep.  You're no help to me either if you can't sleep."

"Okay. What should I do?" Phoebe asked.

"Well, I guess you can do your own research. I'm going to head up to bed."

"Right. Okay. I think I'll sit with Nathaniel and read."

"Let me know if he gets any worse."

"I will."

Back up to Nathaniel's room Phoebe went with some tea, a bowl of water, and a washrag. She set all of the items including the kerosene lamp on a bedside table on the opposite side of Nathaniel. Then she went to the paneled wall and pushed it open to grab a book to read. She settled back down, sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard.

Nathaniel stirred and turned over away from the light with the word 'Sting' on his broad back staring Phoebe in the face. Poor Nathaniel. It wasn't enough this vampire witch stalked and controlled him from the grave, but now he was so uncomfortable and sick when that didn't even seem possible.

She didn't know what she hoped to find going through the books, but truthfully, she didn't know what else there was for her to do.  She submerged the rag in the bowl of water and rung it out. She wiped his forehead with the cool, damp cloth and then blotted the word on his back. He moaned softly as in relief. She reapplied the cool rag on his back again, hoping somehow she was easing his pain. Then she settled in for some reading.

The first time she went through the books she was doing it secretly so she was rushed and was mostly skimming the books for facts, but this time she was able to ingest what she read and understand the concepts and information the books provided.

In this dark room there was no sense of time passing, but every couple of chapters she would dampen the cloth and blot his back and his forehead. She didn't know if this really relieved any of his discomfort, but at least she felt like she was trying to do something for him. The writing on his back was slowly turning from bloody red to a dark purple that looked more like a bruise. She hoped this meant it was healing, but she had no idea.

She was halfway into the second book. When she turned to blot his back once more, she noticed a new crimson red word atop the healing purple word. Now spelled across his back was the word 'Break'. Again as before, it looked like it had been written from within his body to display to the outside world.

Was this a message from the sick Nathaniel? And if so, what did it mean?

She dampened the cloth and blotted the new word tenderly. The new word brought sharper pain to Nathaniel and he flinched at first to the touch of the cold rag, but as the coolness registered with his brain, he relaxed into its relief.

Chapter Eighteen

Some hours later, she heard a stirring outside the door and a few seconds later, Liam entered. He motioned for her to come out and talk to him, so she got up and stepped out with the bowl of water she wanted to replenish. They talked as they headed down the stairs to the kitchen so as not to disturb Nathaniel's rest.

"How is he?" Liam asked.

"No better. The word on his back seemed to be healing when another word appeared a couple of hours ago, 'Break'. Any new information on your end?"

"No. Not really. I've been to Crowley's but she'd never heard of vampires being sick. She had, however, heard of words appearing on the skin that looked like they were written from within being related to dark witchcraft. She couldn't remember from where or in what context, so she said she would do her own research and if she came up with something of importance, she would send one of her grandchildren with the information. In the meantime, I've brought home some books to go through. What about you?"

"Well, considering I haven't a clue what I'm looking for, no, not really. I've learned a lot about vampires, but nothing about illnesses within the species or words appearing under the skin. I have been blotting his back with a cool, damp cloth. The skin where the words are seems to be red hot to the touch, but the rest of him is ice cold.  I'm not sure that what I'm doing is helping or worsening the problem, but it makes me feel like I'm at least trying to help."

"I know you're frustrated,” Liam said. “I feel the same. We're so willing to help, but don't know what we are dealing with or even where to start. I do feel, however, that something has changed.  You haven't been attacked in a while and you actually slept once without being invaded when Nate and I were getting reacquainted in the library.  It may have been because we were both there, but I'm just wondering if Ms. Gainesby hasn't changed her goal."

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked.

"Think about it.  She really was losing Nate to you, no matter how she haunted you and tried to control him; she was losing her grip on him. Maybe she has changed her tactics. She was spending an awful lot of energy trying to hurt you. Maybe she's decided to spend her energy on the one thing she's always been able to control in the past - Nate."

"So you think she is doing this to him?"

"Yes. I think it's possible."

Phoebe yawned and asked what time it was. Liam told her it was 7:00 PM.

"Funny. In that room, in the dark, I can't tell what time it is at all."

"I can imagine."

"Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

"No, I had a little something at the Crowleys’."

"Okay. Then I guess I'll go back up. Could you help me? I want to make another plate for him in case he wakes, and I'll bring up some cheese and bread for myself and a fresh bowl of cool water. You can take his meal from last night down with you. Plus, maybe you can get him to wake up or talk to you."

"Sure. I'll try," Liam said.

"Thanks."

Liam went downstairs to get the meat and blood for Phoebe, while she cut some bread and cheese and refilled the bowl of water. She carried the tray of food for both of them and Liam carried the bowl of water. When they got upstairs to Nathaniel's room they deposited all the items on the nightstand and Liam picked up the untouched food from the previous night and set it on the dresser next to the door.  Phoebe swapped out a full kerosene lamp for the almost empty one that sat on the table.

Liam walked over to his brother and pulled a nearby chair to the side of the bed. Putting his hand on his brother's shoulder, he tried to rouse him.

"Nate? It's me, Liam. Can you talk to me?"

Nathaniel's eyes fluttered a bit as if they were trying to open but were unable to do so, and then he mumbled something incoherently.

"Nate. Can you tell me what ails you? Is there pain? If so, where? Is Emma hurting you?"

Again Nathaniel tried to say something, but neither Liam nor Phoebe could understand him.  When she could see they were getting nowhere with talking to him, she went to the other side of the bed and settled there. She glanced at Nathaniel's back and gasped. Yet another word had been written in blood on his back where the previous two words were purplish bruises.

"What?" Liam asked.

"Another word."

Liam jumped out of his chair. He could now see what she had described to him earlier.  Still quite readable in deep purple that looked like bruises were the previous two words, 'Sting' and 'Break'. On top of both was a new word, 'Split'.

He wished he knew what it all meant.  Were the words related to something? He had no idea what to do or say as he saw Nathaniel wince when Phoebe dabbed his wounds with the cold, damp cloth. Tears rolled down Phoebe's face as she turned to Liam for some explanation.  But he had none to give - nothing at all. He put his hand on her shoulder to offer his sympathy and whispered to her, "Don't give up. We will figure this out. If I hear anything tonight or in the morning I will come straight away. You do the same."

"I will. Sleep well, Liam."

"I wish I could say the same."

She smiled at his joke then Liam slipped out and closed the door behind him.

Phoebe settled in with a book on witchcraft and ate her bread and cheese. She opted for the witchcraft, as she couldn't get Liam's statement out of her mind referring to Emma’s possible involvement.  It seemed so like her to torture Nathaniel in a new and devastating way.  But in doing so, Emma really was killing two birds with one stone, for what is worse than watching someone you love in pain.

Phoebe thought to herself, If I had supernatural abilities, somehow, someway, I'd make Emma pay for what she's done to Nathaniel and Liam, for that matter. But for now all she could do was read and hope she ran across something that could help in their fight to help Nathaniel.

Sting...break...split...what did they have in common? How were they related to each other? And how are they related to Nathaniel?

Sting - the only thing she could come up with for sting was a bee - a stinger, a bee sting, but nothing else.

Break - this was not much better. Break a window, break the ice, break a heart, were all she could think of for 'break'.

And lastly, Split - this was worse than the others. Split wood, split apart - wait - break a heart and split apart.  These could be related in love and matters of the heart, but sting didn't really fit in well. All she could think of was 'the sting of a spurned love', but she wasn't sure if she thought they were truly related or not.

For several hours she read from a dark magic book Nathaniel had in the hidden room, but nothing jumped out at her or mentioned writing on the body from within.

There were tons of spells, potions, and tinctures for anything from healing to killing. She wondered if they could use something in this book to help Nathaniel, but all required knowledge of what they were dealing with and still Phoebe and Liam were unaware of what that might be.

Sometime in the middle of the night, another word was revealed in bloody red letters. This one scared her more than the others for it seemed more ominous. This word was 'Maim'. She knew this word well, for many doctors concluded this was what the Polio had done to her. But with this word, a light went on in Phoebe's head. Adding maim to the rest of the words changed her train of thought.  These were words of torture, not random, every day words relating to bees and love.  No, this had Emma's name written all over it.  What did she like to do most? Torture.

Sting - This was the result of an injury or burn.

Break - A broken bone can be quite painful.

Split - Chopping or cutting something in two.

Maim - disfigurement brought on from brutality or disease.

These were related and this was key.

She slipped out of the room and ran to Liam's room.

She knocked frantically. "Liam. Wake up. I've found a relation between the words. Please. Wake up!"

He opened the door, sleepy-eyed and yawning. "What is it, Phoebe?"

"I've found the relationship between the words."

"Oh. Come in.  Let me get the lights." He fumbled for some matches and the gaslights sputtered and came to life. "So what is the relation?"

"Another word appeared just a few moments ago and it made the others make more sense. I couldn't find any relation between them before, but the word that appeared I am very familiar with."

"What word?"

"Maim. Sting, Break, Split, and Maim. They are all words of torture and pain. Sting would be the result of an injury or burn. Break could be of a bone breaking, which would be very painful. Split might be by chopping or cutting something into pieces. Maim would be the results of severe injuries."

"You're right. It was right of you to come to me instantly.  I'm going to wake the Crowleys. This should give them something more concrete to work with and hunt down.  I'll get dressed and be off right away.  I won't be long. This is good news, Phoebe. We may be on the track to solving what's going on."

"I hope so, but will it be in time?  He's not doing well.  His breathing seems shallow and weaker than before. I'm not sure he's going to last much longer at this rate."

"Have faith, my Dear. Hold on strong to that love you have for him and have faith."

"I'll try. I'm going to get back to him. You'll let me know when you get back?"

"Yes."

Chapter Nineteen

Again in the dark room with Nathaniel, Phoebe tended to his back and tried to comfort him with words she could barely find comfort in herself. She didn't know why, but she felt that time was running out and they still had very little to go on.

Emma was torturing Nathaniel as she had for years, but now instead of mentally and emotionally, it was physical and horribly brutal. How she wished now that Emma would focus on her again and allow Nathaniel to heal himself. Emma had most definitely changed her tactics and was successfully torturing both of them. Phoebe wanted so badly to lay next to him and hold him in her arms, giving him her strength and somehow letting him know she was there and trying everything she could to help. But she worried that if she held him, she would just aggravate his painful injuries, so she kept to her blotting with a cool rag and cried quietly to herself.

She continued to read the book of dark magic when she came across a section of horrible dark spells for use by only the darkest of witches. The hand drawn pictures were grotesque and lurid and pent on revenge. Several pages in, she found a spell that stopped her in her tracks, and as she read the instructions and saw the chant, she realized she had stumbled on the spell Emma was using on Nathaniel.

Burn, bruise, stab, and sting

This pain you feel, I do bring

Puncture, gash, cut, and break

Your defiance you will forsake

Snap, beat, sever, and split

I'll bring you to me bit by bit

Slice, tear, choke, and maim

Your love is mine, not hers to claim

Hang, slaughter, strangle, and kill

Your gruesome death is what I will

Bleed, boil, gush, and burst

Enslaved forever your soul is cursed.

The last word of every other line matched the words appearing on Nathaniel's back. Since vampires can't get sick, how else do you torture them? A spell that does not allow them to heal. Constantly injuring them and keeping them weak. This spell could easily be reworded to accommodate her goals from the grave, maybe by changing the line 'Your gruesome death is what I will' to 'Eternity in death with me is what I will'.

She planned to kill him. If she couldn't get rid of me, then she is going to bring him to her. She had to do something.  She knew what her plan was. Like a poppet doll, she was implementing her spell by writing the words on her poppet from the inside out. What a sick and demented soul Emma was, if she had any soul at all.

She wasn't going to let Emma have him. She couldn't. She ran over to the secret room and tore all the pictures of Emma off the wall. She grabbed the locket and the music box too, along with Nathaniel’s journal of drawings he’d done of Emma. Phoebe grabbed all these items and the book, still opened to the page of the spell and instructions.

She softly kissed Nathaniel's forehead and whispered to him. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize what she was doing to you, but I am not going to let her kill you, Nathaniel. I'm going to do everything in my power to save you."

She quietly closed the door as she ran down the stairs to the kitchen and practically ran into Liam as he came in the back door.

"She put a spell on him - I've found the very one.  I think if it is reworded very slightly it could be used to accomplish what she wants. She plans to kill him, Liam. She's bringing him to her."

"I know. Ms. Crowley found the same spell in her book and she agrees, it is her plan.  Like a voodoo doll, she's written the words on him and they appear on his skin."

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know. Ms. Crowley says this is VERY powerful magic, much more powerful than she can counter. The spell will be hard, if not impossible, to break."

"Impossible?"

He nodded solemnly.

"Well, you may have given up, but I refuse to. I'm going to burn every item in the house that may give her energy or power. Here are the sketches your brother has made of her over the years. You start the fire and I'm going to get her clothes and that awful portrait."

"I doubt that will help at this point, Phoebe."

"Well, we won't know unless we try, right? Come on.  I need you to go to the attic and find all of her belongings."

"Okay."

Phoebe grabbed the wheelbarrow from the gardening shed and wheeled it into the house and into the 'bridal suite'. She piled dresses and shoes and hats on the wheelbarrow. She went through the dresser and the bathroom and grabbed brushes and combs, hairpins and mirrors. She emptied the room of everything feminine. The wheelbarrow teetered like a cloth tower as she made her way through the salon and out the back door to the burn pile. Two large trunks were set there and she dumped the wheelbarrow next to them.  Back into the house she went to get the portrait she hated so. She had to carry it so that the picture faced away from her, because she so loathed the face touching her in any way.  When she made her way out to the burn pile, Liam was standing there, tossing the journals he had written and the journal of drawings that Nathaniel had done.

"Why are you getting rid of your journals?" Phoebe asked.

"Just in case there's any connection, besides, there is no purpose in having them at this point, just horrid reminders of what we've been through."

"I suppose you're right." She pulled out some matches and lit the painting and a few frilly dresses below it. The oil from the painting acted as an accelerant and the pile went up like a bonfire. From her pocket she pulled out the music box and tossed it on top.

Smoke and fire permeated the large circle. Popping and snapping and hissing came from the fire as it engulfed everything in the pile. Lastly, she pulled out the locket, set it on a flag stone nearby, and smashed it with the heel of her shoe before picking it up and tossing it into the inferno. After watching for a few moments, they went back into the house.

Phoebe checked on Nathaniel, whom she hoped would have miraculously gotten better, but he looked no different. And when she checked his back, the word 'Kill' was there in crimson red. Only one more word left before the spell was complete. She stroked his face softly and headed back downstairs.

"Any change?" Liam asked hopefully.

She shook her head sadly.

"Well, let's scour the house, the chapel, the cellar and see if we missed anything."

She smiled a bit at his suggestion, but knew it was highly unlikely there would be anything more significant than they had already thrown into the huge bonfire.

As they headed for the cellar, she asked if Ms. Crowley had any other suggestions or thoughts, to which he shook his head.

They checked the cellar, Nathaniel's quarters, the other bedrooms, and the attic again. They even collected the beads and pearls that had pelted Phoebe and had been pulled out of her by Nathaniel. They collected hairpins, and anything else that may or may not have been remotely related to Emma and headed back to the kitchen.

"If you want, I'll meet you out there, but I want to go and check on Nathaniel."

"Okay. I'll wait for you here," Liam said.

She ran up the stairs and into the bedroom. The room was dark, which she thought was odd, but maybe the kerosene had run out.  She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge and said, "Nathaniel?" as she reached for him, but found nothing. In a panic, she felt around the bed with both hands but he appeared to be nowhere. She ran to the door and lit the gas sconce that sputtered to life and found the room completely empty. She checked the hidden room, the guest room, and the bathroom, finding nothing but empty space.

She flew down the staircase, yelling as she came, "He's not there, Liam! He's not upstairs anywhere!"

Panic struck Liam too and they ran towards the chapel. On their way they passed the bonfire, and Phoebe stopped dead and began to scream. Liam turned to her, and then turned to see what she was looking at.  Within the pyre of fire was a human form, with arms outstretched.

Liam yelled, "Noooooooo!" He ran for the figure and leaped through the bonfire, tackling his brother and depositing him on the other side.  Both of them were smoking as Liam rolled them both on the ground, extinguishing any flames that still existed. Before Phoebe could reach them and request it herself, Liam was biting his wrist and trying to get Nathaniel to drink his blood. She dropped to her knees on the other side of Nathaniel and took assessment of the damages. It was worse than she could have ever imagined. She looked up at Liam, her face covered in soot and streaked with tears, and she hoped he would say something encouraging, but he just stared at her and then at Nate.

She wept like she had never wept in her life. She lay down next to Nathaniel, putting her head on his bloody, melted chest. She lay there crying, hearing no heartbeat or breathing within his poor tortured and burned body. Emma had won the battle. Nathaniel was gone. Liam stared at her and Nathaniel in disbelief.

Phoebe wailed in agony and Liam sat by Nathaniel's side, stunned when the clouds above let loose in the dark sky and snow fell to the earth all around the three of them.

There were voices coming from the direction of the house and Liam got up to investigate while Phoebe stayed glued to Nathaniel's body.

Liam found Ms. Crowley and her grandson making their way around the side of the house.

"Oh, Liam. We got here as fast as we could, my Dear.  These old bones don't move like they used to. I've found the key to this mess."

"It's too late, Ms. Crowley. Nate is dead."

"Oh, dear. Can you take me to him?"

Liam turned, taking Ms. Crowley's other arm and led her towards the fire and Nathaniel's burned body. When they arrived, Ms. Crowley exclaimed, "What happened here?"

Liam answered, "We aren't exactly sure, but we found him standing in the fire and I jumped through to grab him and pull him out with me. We were burning all of Ms. Gainesby's belongings in hopes that she would lose some of her power or energy in hurting Nate, but either she lured him to the fire or he wanted to end his torture on his own, I can't be sure."

"I can," Ms. Crowley said. "It was Ms. Gainesby. Since she died in a fire, she was bringing him to her in the same manner." She then pulled a raven from her bag whose wings, legs, and beak were bound.

"This is why your spell didn't work, Liam.  You killed her physical body, but you didn't take care of her spiritual body.  She could turn into a raven and in order for her to completely die, her raven spirit too must die in the fire."

She pulled out a small-sheathed ceremonial knife and asked for Liam's hand.

"What for?" he asked.

"To end this misery on all of you."

"But Nathaniel's gone, what does it matter now?"

"Not everything is what it seems, my dear."

Liam gave her his hand and she put a small cut on his finger and smeared the blood on the raven. She did the same to the sobbing Phoebe, whom Liam was not sure was even coherent of what was happening, and then she cut Nathaniel's finger and smeared his blood on the wings of the bird. Her grandson helped her up and she mumbled a few words with her eyes closed in front of the fire and tossed the bound raven into the fire. Blue-green flames burst from the bird's iridescent black wings as their bindings burned and a loud shriek came from inside the fire. Ms. Crowely again kneeled next to Nathaniel's body and she mumbled something to herself and waved her hands over the length of his body. She motioned for her grandson to help her up and she walked over to Liam.

"I've done all I can do here, but Ms. Gainesby has no more hold over this place or your family. You should get her inside,” Ms. Crowley nodded towards Phoebe. “She's weak from lack of sleep and lack of food and I can see a sickness beginning to take hold of her.  I'll send Jeremiah back when it is daylight with a potion that will help her."

"Thank you for all the help you provided."

"My pleasure, my Dear."

And with that Ms. Crowley and her grandson disappeared around the house and headed home. Now it was time to deal with Phoebe.  He didn't look forward to this, but there was at least two inches of snow on the ground and piling upon her and Nathaniel's body.

"Come, Phoebe.  You need to get inside. You're going to freeze out here."

"I can't. I won't leave him."

"You can't do any more for him, Phoebe. It's over. You have to think of your own life."

"No. I won't leave him."

"What if I promise to bring him in after I get you inside and you can stay near him? Would you go inside then?"

"I...I...guess...." She shivered.

"Good." He scooped her up into his arms and brought her into the library, set her into one of the big leather chairs, and covered her with a couple of blankets. With another blanket he covered the leather couch and then went back out to the snow to gather the remains of his brother. As he carried his burned, bloody body, a small bat swooped down from the sky and practically took his ear off, but Liam barely noticed anything other than the gruesome remains of the brother he couldn't save.

He knew he couldn't keep Nathaniel's body in the house for long, but he thought if he could get Phoebe to fall asleep then he could deal with the rest. He carefully set his brother down on the couch. He went to the laundry room for a sheet to cover him with. After Liam put the sheet over him, Phoebe told Liam Nathaniel needed a blanket. He knew he didn't, but thought it couldn't hurt to appease her request and so he went in search of another blanket. When she was happy with Nathaniel's comfort, she cuddled into the blankets around her and shivered again.  Liam made her some tea to take the chill out of her, but when he touched her hand on handing her the cup, he realized she had a high temperature.

He sat in the library, staring at the body on the couch and the shivering bundle in the chair and couldn't believe how this day had changed everything. For more then a century, Liam had been trying to save his brother from the vampire witch who had ruined his life only to have lost his brother in the end. Pure exhaustion overcame him as if all the sleepless nights over the last one hundred and twenty-two years had sped forward and suddenly caught up with him. He wept quietly before falling asleep in the chair.

Chapter Twenty

A knock at the front door tore Liam out of a dead sleep and he leapt to his feet and out of the library without thinking. He found Ms. Crowley's grandson at the door with a basket of items for Phoebe.

"Thank you. And please thank your grandmother for all she's done."

The boy nodded in affirmation and headed back home. Still wiping the sleep from his eyes, Liam closed the door and headed for the kitchen to unpack the items from the basket.  It reminded him sadly of the day of his parents’ funeral, when friends from town came in droves offering food along with their condolences. He was not looking forward to another funeral. This brought to mind that he should get Nathaniel's body to a cooler place or bury it himself. Not something he relished doing, but there wasn't much choice in the matter.

He headed back to the library to assess the challenge.  His first priority was to check on Phoebe's fever, then move his brother.

Phoebe was sound asleep and her fever was high when he checked her forehead with the back of his hand. Not good, he thought.

He turned towards the body on the sofa and headed for it, but when he looked down, he was surprised to find that his melted, charred skin seemed to be healing. He couldn't possibly be alive after that fire, could he? He put his ear to Nathaniel's chest to listen for any sign of breathing or a heartbeat. "Oh, thank God."

Though his breaths were shallow, Nathaniel was in fact breathing and had a very faint heartbeat. Liam ran to the kitchen for a knife and when he returned he cut his forearm and put it to his brother's mouth. Happily, Liam was sure he heard a swallow. When the wound healed itself, Liam carried his brother to his quarters and into his bed where sunlight would not interfere with his healing.

Then he rushed downstairs to make the potion that Ms. Crowley had advised him to give to Phoebe. While it was heating up, he thought about where he should put her. Her bed was gone, the guest room in Nathaniel's quarters had no windows, and he knew that Phoebe hated the large bedroom downstairs that she called the bridal suite. There were two other bedrooms, but he wanted to make sure that she woke up somewhere she knew and was comfortable in. Considering he would be running up to Nathaniel's rooms to check on him, maybe the best place for her would be on the couch in the main room there.  He had remembered her saying she felt safe there, and it would keep his running around, nursing them both back to health, to a minimum. He also knew that if she knew Nathaniel was still alive she would want to be near him. So it was decided. He deposited her on the couch in Nathaniel's quarters and stoked the fire, keeping it warm and cozy for her, then went downstairs to get the tea potion Ms. Crowley wanted her to have.

When Liam woke her, he had to hold her head up for her to have some of the tea because she had no energy of her own.

He spent the next three days sleeping in the leather chair across from Phoebe, keeping cool compresses on her head, feeding his brother his werewolf blood, and running up and down the stairs to accommodate the both of them. Though he was exhausted, he was happy to have them both slowly gaining their strength. It was on the fourth night that Nathaniel emerged from his room almost completely healed.

It was then that Liam truly realized the nightmare was finally over. Nathaniel was his old self and there was no trace of Ms. Gainesby's influence to be found.  They talked long into the night and the fog that had clouded Nathaniel's judgment was no longer there. Liam filled him in on what had happened. Some of it Nathaniel knew, some of it he didn't. He told Liam that much of the time it was like being in his own body but unable to do anything of his own free will except watch it all like he was flipping through a picture book.  It was maddening not to be able to control his thoughts, feelings, and body. It had been that way from the time he had met Emma at the dance that very first night and, like a snowball gaining speed and volume as it rolled down a hill, so was the momentum of her control. Nothing changed for so long that he had forgotten what his life was like before he had met her, until Phoebe had come into the picture.  Somehow, Emma's grip on his thoughts and memories lost their hold and strength when he was around Phoebe. The more time he spent with her, the more he felt like himself.

Liam told Nathaniel how Phoebe had never given up on him and that it was she that spent every waking moment by his side. She also was the one who had figured out that it was a spell that Emma had put on him, and she’d set to burning everything in the house that may have been even remotely connected to Emma. She, not he, was the savior of Nathaniel's soul.

Now that Nathaniel was almost 100 percent healed and fully himself, for the next day and a half, he and Liam took turns tending to Phoebe.

The fever finally broke and with it so did Phoebe's unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open and the room was a dark blur. As her eyes cleared and her mind became coherent, she looked around the familiar room to see a figure sitting across from her in a big leather chair reading a book.

"Nathaniel? Is that you? Am I dead?"

"No, my dear Phoebe. You are not dead and yes, it is me."

"But you were burning up in the fire I built and I put my head on your chest but could not hear you breathe or hear your heart beat."

"I know. But I'm not exactly a normal man, either. I think Liam's small dose of blood was part of what saved me, but the other part was burning all Emma's belongings along with the raven that Ms. Crowley brought.  Seems Liam's spell only partially worked when he killed Emma. He forgot about her spirit animal - the raven. That's what has kept her torturing us all," Nathaniel said as he kneeled on the floor next to the couch where Phoebe was. He stroked her face and smiled.

"But it was you that really saved me, Phoebe. From the time you entered this house you've fought tooth and nail to loosen Emma's grip on my soul. It was you that ultimately saved me. Emma thought she loved me but she didn't know anything about love, and when she saw that despite all the obstacles she threw your way, you still were winning my heart, well, she changed the game and tried to bring me to her. But still you wouldn't let that happen.

"You are my guardian angel, Phoebe, and though I couldn't tell you before, I fell in love with you from our very first meeting. I have you to thank for Liam being back in my life. I have you to thank for my life in general. I love you, Phoebe MacIntire, and I will forever love you until the end of time."

He leaned in and kissed her gently and she reciprocated and sighed in contentment as she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "And I will forever love you, Nathaniel Jacobs, until the end of time."

Phoebe sat in the library writing a note to herself when a spring shower broke free from the clouds and bathed all the bulbs and budding trees and bushes that had been brought forth by the warmth of the sun in the last couple of weeks. Raindrops hit the wall of glass, and every once in a while, the sun would peek out and make them sparkle like diamonds as they meandered down the pane. She thought back on the last couple of months and how so much had changed. She and Nathaniel were married in January and she had never been happier in her life.  Liam was spending a great deal of time with Ms. Crowley's granddaughter, Marla; and though he hadn't admitted it to anyone, Phoebe was sure he was quite smitten with her.

A couple months earlier, Samuel's mother announced to him that now that he was a man of fourteen, and her husband was dead, she was heading to the colonies to start a new life - one without Samuel. When word made its way back to Phoebe that the horrible woman up and left Samuel for greener pastures, she scooped him up and brought him back to the island to live with her and Nathaniel. He would never want for anything again and Samuel enjoyed having two doting parents who enjoyed his company and really loved him.

Phoebe was content in this new life she'd found so far away from her old one. She had found the love of a good man. She had a friend and brother in Liam, not to mention a friend in Marla Crowley. Phoebe had also found another love in being a mother to Samuel.

Some might say she was out of her mind being married to a vampire, having a brother-in-law who is a werewolf, and a best girlfriend who's a witch, but Phoebe knew better. Friends, family and loved ones are an incredible gift to be treasured no matter who or what they are.

Yes, Phoebe thought, life is VERY good.

The end.

Special Thanks

A special thanks goes to the my new editor/friend Erin Potter for her expertise and great suggestions – Here’s to a long and lasting relationship

I’d also like to thank the artist who did the front cover Ekatarina Bedova – You’re an amazing artist and I hope we can work together again soon.

About the Author

Born and raised in Silicon Valley, T. Lynne Tolles is a stay-at-home mom, part-time bookkeeper and writer. In the summer of 2009 she claims she got a 'wild hair' and sat down in front of her computer and wrote "Blood of a Werewolf'" in three weeks. She started "Blood Moon" and "Blood Lust" back to back, the following week. "It was never my intention to become a writer, but the more I wrote, the more addicted I became." The Blood Series books presently include three titles. The fourth was released in August 2010 "Bloodstone Heart" and a fifth has been started.

Website:

http://tlynnetolles.netfirms.com

Other books by T. Lynne Tolles

Blood Series

Blood of a Werewolf

Blood Moon

Blood Lust

Bloodstone Heart

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Special Thanks

About the Author

Website

Other books