Page 7

Story: Red Lace Manor

Lux

I had no idea how fast I could run until I needed to run for my life.

Each step jostled the bag, causing the weight of it to crash into my sore back.

The fall from the tree hadn’t disabled me, but every movement caused a new type of agony.

It was as if I’d been bruised from head to toe, and every step felt like someone pushing their fingers into freshly purpled flesh.

I didn’t scream, even though I really wanted to.

Instead, my teeth dug into my lower lip.

“You can run but you can’t hide, Little Light!” Ronan’s voice echoed through the forest, and I moved a little faster.

There was a definite reverence in the way he’d touched me, but I had no doubt that he’d meant every word when he said he’d kill me if he caught me again.

I didn’t have a watch, and my survival skills were limited to say the least. That meant I had no idea how much longer this night would last, but I had to keep going.

This was a small price to pay for the life of comfort soon to come.

The trees passed by in a blur, my slip caught on some of them. The snagged material tore, but it didn’t slow me down. I could have my decency once the sun rose.

A building of cracked stone came into view. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to be connected to the main manor. Seeing as Ronan was outside, I assumed the other three were patrolling the house, waiting for the skull headed man to chase me into the safety that came with the familiar.

I bound up the crumbling steps two at a time and used what remained of my strength to push open the massive oak doors.

Their deafening groan of the hinges felt like a personal attack, as if the environment was alerting every living creature within a ten-mile radius of my location.

Still, I pressed inside the building, allowing the doors to slam beside me.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the near perfect darkness, the only light came from the moon streaming in through bits of broken stained glass, forming sporadic spotlights, highlighting abandoned pews and a large cross covered in cobwebs.

Instantly, I froze, goosebumps forming on the back of my neck. A deep-rooted feeling of dread filled my stomach. I quickly dismissed it as the creepy location getting to me, but it almost felt as if I was being watched, again .

I shook the idea off and tiptoed down the aisle.

As I approached the pulpit, I noticed a small wooden booth tucked away in the back of the church, hidden behind a large wooden pillar.

I didn’t hesitate to go that way. It looked as though it’d been forgotten, and that made for a perfect hiding place, at least in theory.

Once I reached the booth, I yanked back the curtain. A plume of dust erupted at the motion, and I suppressed a cough.

Definitely forgotten.

Without another thought, I slipped in, closing the curtain behind me.

The small box around me was a mess of dust, and the grime stuck to me as I slipped into the seat. This might not be a place to stay for long, but at least I could catch my breath.

As quietly as possible, I shifted the bag to my lap and unzipped it, and blindly fumbled around for the water bottle. I still didn’t trust it, but right now, I was desperate.

Dust tickled the inside of my nose as I cracked the cap off the plastic bottle.

Pressing the top to my lips, I took a tentative sip.

For a beat, I waited to see if it was poisoned, even though I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to tell either way…

And, I guess if they wanted me dead, they would have already done it.

Realistically, if I were to meet an untimely demise that wasn’t caused by them, it’d probably ruin the game. That lingered in my head for a moment, but it vanished the second the chapel doors creaked open.

My blood turned to ice, causing me to freeze in place. The plastic bottle crinkled in my grip, and I quickly capped it and tossed it in my bag, not wanting to risk making any unnecessary sound.

Slow footsteps echoed through the chamber, and I pressed myself further into the booth, trying to will myself invisible. Against my better judgement, I slid the curtain open just enough to peer outside.

The steps paused, as did my heart.

Then, after a moment, they continued, now softer than before. My position made it hard to see anything, but eventually, a willowy figure cloaked in black climbed onto the pulpit. The golden tears on his mask glinted in the moonlight, and my eyes widened.

The crying man .

At least it wasn’t the Jester. Still, something in the unyielding silence nearly killed me. Slowly, he stretched his arms out, facing his palms toward the sky as he looked toward the heavens.

My mind told me to flee, to sneak out as quietly as possible and run as fast as I could to God knows where. But, terror paralyzed me.

The crying man’s shoulders lifted, shrugging off the black robe obscuring his body.

The heavy material pooled around his feet, leaving him clothed in a clerical collar and slacks.

The exposed skin of his chest was so pale it bordered translucent, and his well-defined muscles made him look more like a marble statue than a person.

He reached up, and with a reverent touch, removed his mask. Long silver strands of hair fell down his back as he stretched toward the sky.

I couldn’t see his face from where I was, but I had a stunning view of his side profile. Strong, sharp features and high cheekbones. A glitter of silver stubble dusted his chin, and he reached up to scratch the area.

He was beautiful in an other worldly sense, like I had no business even looking at him. He resumed moving, gliding around the church as if he were a ghost. He placed the mask upward on a pew as he circled the area, softly humming as he did.

My heart rattled against my chest as I waited for him to leave, to glide out of the sanctuary just as he’d entered. He passed by the booth, and I held my breath, hoping this would be his last lap.

His back turned away, and he slowly started toward the entrance, leaving his mask and robe near the front. My chest started to ache from lack of air, and just as I thought he’d forget about me, the unthinkable happened.

The dust poisoning the air around me once again tickled my nose. I drew in a hiccup like breath, trying to suppress the inevitable. The crying man turned around, his nearly black gaze pinning on the booth.

Shit. shit. Shit.

Think quiet thoughts.

Think quiet thoughts, maybe he won't–

My sneeze broke the silence. It wasn’t very loud, but in the graveyard that was the church, I might as well have screamed .

The crying man’s lips pulled into an all too wide smile as he continued to glide toward me, silver hair swaying in the wind behind him. His hands were outstretched as if preparing a hug, but I knew better. And, though I’d never heard his voice, he began to sing.

“ There’s a Little Light at my front door.

Does she even know what she’s here for?

If she wants to see tomorrow,

it’s time she’ll have to borrow.

The morning comes too soon

And by dawn she will have expired.”

The rhythm rested somewhere between a nursery rhyme and a hymn.

Every muscle in my body turned to stone, and I was sure he could hear the thundering of my heart.

He continued to sing as he got closer, and just as I prepared for him to stop and yank me from the safety of the booth, he turned to the other side and vanished.

It was impossible to tell where he’d gone thanks to the silence of his steps, but I’d convinced myself if I just waited here for long enough, I’d be safe.

I could count to one hundred and make a break for the door. Sure, I’d have to run like hell the second I got outside but–

A wooden slat I’d missed slid open, right beside my head. Impossibly dark eyes flecked with silver locked onto mine, and I nearly died from a heart attack on the spot.

There was an all too quiet moment, and part of me wanted to beg him to walk away. He didn’t seem as interested in the game as the others, but just as I started to string together the right words, the crying man spoke.

“Forgive me father, for I’m about to sin.”