Fitcher
Mary peeked through the slit below the door. Still nothing. She couldn’t seem to make anything out. Mary put the egg down, looking desperately into the room. There was a faint glimmer, and it looked for all the world as though there was gold in that room.
She stood, picking up the egg and looking down at the key, then to the door. Key to door. Key to door. Shaking her head, she turned away, headed to the stairs, then stopped. “It’s only a glance, and he won’t be back for another hour.” She ran to the door and shoved the key in the lock. There was scraping of metal, tiny pins pushed aside, and finally the door creaked open.
“Hello?” she called, half expecting there to be an answer. Byron had vehemently ordered against her entering the door. Only two jobs, he had said, hold this egg for as long as I am away, and never open this door. But there were no muffled whimpers, no attempted screams, only an odd smell.
Mary walked further in, squinting in the darkness to see if there was some sort of light switch. Rubbing the walls only made her skin crawl and her palms clammy. Reaching into her bra, she pulled out her phone, shakily pressing the home button. The phone lit and blinded her temporarily. Hunch backed and holding her phone out at arm’s length, she squinted into the darkness. There was a basin, golden.
Unfamiliar characters surrounded its rim in decorative filigree. There was something inside. She took a step closer.
Eyes wide, she dropped her phone and the egg into the basin. They made a sickening splash. She screamed, turned to run—
A dark, hunching figure grabbed her shoulders, and though she could barely see, Mary could swear that his eyes were glinting. “I told you to never open this door.”
Mary screamed again and, with metallic whoosh, blood splattered the walls.
“Dad, I’m headed to work early. Call me if you need anything.” Katherine Fitcher threw her hair up into a bun and headed out the door.
Margaret followed. “I’m going too. Study sesh.”
Finn wheeled himself to the front door, waving to his daughters as they walked away. He had been in that chair for going on ten years now, and it was almost impossible to bear. Katherine had always been the leader, taking their mother’s place after the accident. Margaret got the chance to follow her dreams, go to school and become a musician. Virginia, on the other hand, had no idea what to do with her life, and preferred to keep it that way. As the youngest, she was entitled to stay home, create artistic masterpieces and keep him company. That suited him just fine.
“Are they gone yet?”
“What a horrible thing to say.”
“I know,” Virginia sighed, falling onto the cracking leather couch and puffing a piece of hair out of her eyes. “It’s just that their lives can get stuffy. I like it when it’s just you and me.”
Finn smiled, swinging his chair around to sit near the couch. “You know, you’re going to be out on your own soon enough. Katherine says that she’ll have a promotion in the next month or so, and you could go to school. Live on your own.”
“I can’t leave you here alone with these other two, you old fogey. Someone needs to win you at checkers.” She smiled, pulling the old, warped board closer and setting the pieces.
A knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Virginia grunted, springing up from the couch and jogging to the door. “You expecting anyone?”
“Nope. I’ll figure out a strategy while you’re busy.”
Virginia grinned again, then swung open the old door.
He looked as though he was reaching ninety. The old man hunched over a fairly large trunk with a cloak partly covering him and half the trunk. He smelled rank, and his hands looked as though they hadn’t been washed for weeks. When he looked up, his eyes were glazed with a light swampy green color, but they were bloodshot.
“Can I help you?” Virginia asked through a grimace.
He smiled but said nothing. From beneath his cloak he pulled a rather dilapidated tin can and shook it a few times. Coins clanged against the sides and one slipped from the can and landed on the ground.
“Who is it? Is it Katherine or Margaret? Did they forget something?”
“No, it’s just an old beggar.” Virginia turned back and gave an apologetic shrug.
The old man shook his cup again, this time grinning wider.
“I think I have some change in my pocket,” she said, digging into her jeans pocket, tongue sticking out in concentration. Aside from the lint, she found only a quarter. “Sorry, old man. This is all I got.” She reached her hand out to place the coin in his can.
With uncommon quickness, the old man dropped his can and yanked on Virginia’s arm. Before she could even scream, she found herself inside the trunk, arms and legs bent at odd angles, and her breathing slowed. She felt the thumping of wheels against rocks as she was dragged inside the trunk. She heard a noise, a scraping, more thuds, the sound of a van door slamming shut. The van started and she closed her eyes.
When she awoke, she was lying in a bed, staring at the ceiling. She sat bolt upright, staring all over the room for some sort of weapon. The room was large, looking more like a palace chamber than a location for kidnap victims. Nothing kept her from leaving—no handcuffs, tied arms or legs, not even a closed door.
Virginia stood slowly, inching her way to the door, looking from side to side, praying that no one was watching.
She had almost reached the door when a dark figure stood up from a chair in the corner. She froze. He was large, well over six feet tall, and dressed formally, his dress shirt unbuttoned to his chest. His eyes seemed to glint as he walked toward her. And there was something familiar about his smile. . . .
Grabbing a vase and brandishing it at him, she cried, “Stay back! I don’t know what you’ve done to me or how, but I want out of this place right now.”
The man raised a large hand calmly, stopping short of her. “My name is Byron. I am the owner of this estate.” He waved his hand around the room and finally gestured toward the window. “Feel free to look about the grounds. I am in no way keeping you a prisoner here.”
“Fat chance of that!” Virginia yelled, starting to shake from the vase’s weight.
“Please, be calm. I’ve rescued you, and all I ask in return is that you stay with me. I am so lonely. I have been without a friend in the world for years. I will give you anything you ask. Anything you desire will be at your fingertips.”
Virginia lowered the vase slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the man’s. “What kind of game is this? Why have you brought me here anyway?”
“Just stay. You will be taken care of.”
“And my father?”
“He will be taken care of as well. Your sisters will want for nothing. They shall get anything that they wish. Just stay here and be with me.”
“Where are we?” Virginia asked, staring out the window at what seemed like miles of green hedge and trees.
“Scottsmith.”
“I’ve never heard of that. Could it be outside of the United States?”
“I’ve doubt you’d know the place.”
Virginia turned back to the window, carefully finding an angle where she could see Byron. She was taking no chance of his hands on her.
“Feel free to search the grounds. Do what you wish. I only have two requests: always carry this egg with you, and never open the door on the third floor. Everything else you wish shall be yours.” He produced an egg from behind his back. It was a fabulous fabric egg, encrusted with jewels and lavishly embroidered with gold thread and emerald flowers. It was hardly the size of a real egg, and it looked small in his hand.
“Why in the world would I carry an egg?”
“Protection,” he said simply. With that, he gave her a ring of keys, many hundred at least, and turned away. “Dinner will be ready at six. Come as you are, or wear one of the gowns I have provided for you.”
“Wait. What happened to the old man? He was the last thing I saw.”
Byron only smiled and left, closing the door behind him.
Several weeks passed, and, every day, Byron would hand her the egg and the keys to the estate. Each day he gave her the same promise: Always carry this egg with you, and never open the door on the third floor. Everything else you wish shall be yours. Always she would respond, “I will do as you say.” Many times she attempted to contact her family—he had even left her a phone charger—but it never got a signal, no matter where she moved around the mansion. She had walked around the gardens so many times that she knew them by heart Byron never forbade her from leaving the grounds, and she had tried, but it seemed as though the hedges and forests went on forever.
Though he continued to treat her with respect and dignity, she found herself growing more wary of him as the days progressed. He was never gone. For someone in such a large mansion, it was fantastic that someone could stay cooped up for so long.
“Who are you protecting me from?”
They sat across from each other at the large dinner table. Virginia looked up from her soup and down at least fifteen feet to where Byron was sitting. He stopped eating as well, holding his spoon poised above the bowl. She continued to stare him down, not giving him the pleasure of breaking her gaze.
Byron smiled his large, toothy smile. “Don’t you enjoy this place? My dear, I am protecting you from the world. Why would you want to leave?”
“I’m not sure that I like it here, and I’m also not so sure that I like you much either.”
He laughed, his lips flapping open. “Do you trust me?”
“No.”
“Can I trust you?”
“What on earth am I supposed to say to that? I was kidnapped and found in one of your rooms the next morning. You won’t tell me who the old man is. You won’t tell me how to get home. You say that you’re taking care of my family, but at what cost? You won’t tell me where I am right now. How am I supposed to trust a man who kidnapped me and won’t tell me how to get home?”
Byron frowned at that and shifted slightly threateningly in his chair. “The old man you speak of, I have never seen. I found you locked in a chest and decided to offer my help. As for where you are right now, I feel like that has been answered on multiple occasions. Do not tell me that you have forgotten about all that I have shown you. I have no reason to lie.”
“But you do! As a sign of good faith, don’t you think that I ought to know what is behind that door?”
This time he slammed his large hand against the table. “I have told you not to speak of it!”
“No,” she said, slamming her own fist down on the table and standing. “You told me to never open the door, but you never told me to never talk about it. After all this, you owe me some sort of explanation!”
He rose from his seat, glaring at her so intensely that Virginia felt herself waver, but she never sat. “You are not ready yet, and you may never be. You will stay on these grounds until I can trust you. You will stay because I have requested it of you. And you will never question me again.” His eyes burned, though she was so far away that the best she could see was the blackness of his pupils.
“If I trust you,” Virginia said, finally sitting, “will you take me away from here?”
Byron sat as well, the fierceness in his eyes slowly fading. “I will take you as far as you wish once I trust you as well. I will take you to your family. You will want for nothing. I am not here to change you, only to care for you.”
Virginia swallowed, looked down at her soup, then continued to eat. She said nothing for the rest of the evening.
Byron was true to his word. He was kind, caring, helpful, and expressly enjoyed her company. Virginia feigned compliance, smiling at him, offering her company, and never forgetting to take the egg. It had almost become a part of her. He was never forward nor crude. As the weeks went by, she could feel his trust for her gaining. Almost falling into her lap. However, every night when the lights went out she devised a plan to leave. To get in the door. The door had to hide something that would help her escape, something Byron definitely didn’t want her to see.
“I am going out,” He said a few weeks later. “All I ask is that you always carry this egg with you, and never open the door on the third floor. Everything else you wish shall be yours. I will be back in a few hours.”
“Really? I’ll be all by myself?” Virginia tried to hide her excitement. For once, this opportunity may have been the one she was looking for. Maybe behind the door was some sort of way to escape.
He only nodded. “I will return. I trust you now.” With that, he left.
Virginia watched him out the window of her room, eagerly waiting to see if he had gone. He wound through the hedges, then disappeared. Odd, she thought, but then quickly turned to the third floor, climbing the steps three at a time.
The door was at the end of the hallway in a corner with no light. PROHIBITED was printed in bold letters across its front. Virginia quickly looked around her, then fished for the keys in her pocket. Finding it difficult to rummage around for anything with one hand, she quickly placed the egg on the floor and found the key she was looking for. She dug it into the lock, all the while glancing over her shoulder, desperate to hurry before Byron arrived.
The lock clicked twice, then swung open with a creak. Virginia looked around the room, seeing nothing. She carefully picked up the egg and inched inside. The room was black, and not even the light from the window behind her seemed to come in to the room. She stepped forward blindly, carefully. It was only when she stubbed her toe that she stopped and cried out. “Stupid . . . thing!” She dug at her pocket, trying to find her phone. When she had found it, she pressed the home button. Still unable to see anything, she lit the flashlight and pointed it right where she had stubbed her toe.
There was a large basin, made of gold and sporting unfamiliar characters in gold filigree. She leaned closer, and screamed.
The basin was filled with blood, nearly to the rim. Arms and legs floated in the mixture. A woman’s head floated to the surface, but her eyes had been taken. Just as Virginia was about to turn away, when she saw an eyeball pop up just under her chin.
In fright, Virginia dropped the egg into the basin and turned her phone light to the walls. There were bodies of women strung up on hooks throughout the room, some limbs were gone, and others had their bodies ripped to shreds.
Hyperventilating, Virginia reached for the egg in the basin, fighting back the urge to vomit. She rummaged around for several minutes before she found it and ran from the room, locking the door behind her.
When she got back to her room, she rubbed at the egg, trying desperately to get rid of the blood stained to its fabric. She glanced out the window then took a double-take. He was back. He was coming up the drive with a sword in his hand. Virginia scrubbed harder, not even caring if some of the gold thread became frayed. She was desperate to hide where she had been.
“Virginia!” he called. “Let me see your egg!”
Virginia’s face went white. She looked down at the egg in desperation. It still had spatterings of blood in its fibers. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“I brought you something,” he said, grinning, when he entered the room.
She tried to smile, and put the egg behind her back.
“First, though, let me see the egg. It is a family heirloom.”
Virginia put it in front of her and smiled. “See, good as new.”
Byron looked skeptical for a moment, then looked up at her. “Come follow me. I think there is something that I need to show you now.” He grinned, and Virginia smiled back, hoping that this was what he had brought her. She followed him to the stairs. Up the stairs. Back to the end of the hall. “Give me your keys,” he said, and she obliged, becoming more fearful by the minute.
“Do you know what is behind this door?”
“No,” she answered, shaking.
“Huh,” he simply replied, and opened the door.
Again came the awful stench of rotting and contaminated bodies. Again the light seemed to disappear at the doorstep.
“You broke your word, and it is time for this to end. I have loved you most of all.” Shaking his head, he turned to her.
She ran.
Before she could make it to the stairs, he dragged her back, pulled the sword she believed was ceremonial from its sheath, and shoved it through her chest.
Katherine and Margaret had been home for weeks, looking all over the town, desperate to find any scrap of information that might lead them to Virginia. Wanted posters had been plastered all over town, and they had received a random phone call from time to time, but they all eventually came to nothing. There had been nothing else, only the strange baskets of money and food that seemed to just appear at their doorstep. Katherine had been promoted, and Margaret had received only high praises for her work. And their father had been recovering. It was just bit by bit, but he had begun to move his legs for the first time in ten years.
There was a knock at the door. Margaret jumped to her feet, yelling, “I’ve got it!”
Katherine wearily lifted her head from her hands, and turned toward the door. After all this time, it didn’t seem likely anyone would have any information. “I’ll be there in just a second.” She gathered herself and stood from the couch.
“Not this time,” Finn said, raising an arm to stop her. “You haven’t rested in the past week. Margaret has it this time.”
Katherine sat back down and leaned her head against the arm rest.
Margaret had made it to the door, sliding to a halt as she tore the door open. “Hello,” she called, grinning broadly before her gaze dropped a few feet to see an old man at the door, light, swampy-green eyes bored into her. She frowned.
The old man appeared shrunken with age. It seemed from his clothing that he had come from some sort of hermitage, locked away from the world. His smile was crooked and the teeth bent at odd angles. He held in his hand an old cup made of copper, greening from disuse. The other held a trunk large enough to give her pause. It didn’t appear that an old, moldy man could pull such a large container.
“Can I help you?”
The old man said nothing, only shaking his cup. A few coins clinked and one came dangerously close to falling out.
“Do you want some change? I don’t think I have any on me right now.”
The old man continued to smile and shake his cup, this time more violently. A few of the coins jumped.
“Here you go,” Margaret said with a grunt.
She leaned over to pick them up when the old man, with surprising agility, leaped at her, grabbed her hand, and thrust her into the trunk. She tried to scream, but felt as if her lungs had contracted in her chest, and instead she gasped for breath.
Right before the old man through his cloak over the trunk, Katherine caught a glimpse of his face. He appeared to be growing in size. His features tightened. And then he was gone. She ran to the door, but he had disappeared.
Margaret awoke to the sound of birds outside the window. The room was larger than her own home and had remarkable golden pillars at its sides and holding the balcony above her bed. Margaret coughed, sitting up and looking around her to gain some bearings of her surroundings. There was a rather large window with sunlight streaming through. Out on the grounds were fields of hedges and trees, as far as the eye could see. The gravel path leading to the mansion twisted in and out of the hedges, but didn’t seem to start anywhere. She reached down into her pocket for her cell phone, hoping it would give her coordinates for her location or maybe a different time zone. Nothing. No signal, no Wi-Fi, and her clock seemed to be frozen on one hour: three.
Mesmerized by the sight, she barely heard the door open.
“You are awake. I am so glad to see it.”
Margaret turned, falling against the window sill, hands shaking and knuckles turning white. “Who . . . who are you?”
“Do not be afraid,” he said, taking long, slow strides forward. “I am here for you, and you are here for me. I know of your proficiency with, well, many instruments. I was hoping you would play for me.”
“Why am I here,” Margaret managed to mumble, her voice shaking from the tears that were now running down her cheeks.
“Do not be afraid,” he said again. “My name is Byron, and I am the owner of this estate. I have no intention of hurting you nor keeping you prisoner. I only hope that you will keep me company here as I am all alone.” He smiled.
“If I’m not a prisoner here, then where am I? How do I get out of here?”
“You are in Scottsmith, and you are welcome to search the grounds, come in and out, and go about as you please. I am not keeping you here against your will. I’ve rescued you.”
“Rescued me from what?”
Byron smiled and took another step closer. “Feel free to search the grounds. Do what you wish. I only have two requests: always carry this egg with you, and never open the door on the third floor. Everything else you wish shall be yours.” He produced an egg behind his back made entirely of fabric with gold thread and ruby flowers placed in symmetric order around its circumference. Byron handed her the egg, a large set of keys, grinned, then turned on his heel. “Dinner will be at six in the dining hall.” With that, he closed the door behind him.
It had been weeks since Margaret had seen the outside world, and she had searched the grounds thoroughly. Nothing. The hedges were a maze she could not solve. At night she would play any instrument she desired and Byron would listen. They would play games, and Margaret found herself rather enjoying the place, but still desperate to find an escape. All the while she kept the egg firmly in her grasp. It was Byron’s only request.
“How long am I staying?”
“Forever,” he said, smiling. “If you’ll have me.”
Margaret smiled. Unexplainable as it was, she couldn’t keep her eyes from him. It was as if he had a part of her inside him. It seemed almost as if he were her soul mate. She knew that was silly. She had only known him a few weeks. Still, she blushed.
“I’ve had the most wonderful time. You truly are exceptional.” He reached his hand out to hers and she took it. His hand was so soft, so inviting.
“May we go horse riding after dinner? I want to see more of the maze.”
“Let us go now.” He clapped his hands and the dishes flashed for a moment and then were gone. It was a magic Margaret had become used to. “Follow me.” He pulled her hand as he led her from the house and down to the stables.
Hers was a large roan while his was black, large. She couldn’t help but grin, and she couldn’t stop.
“I have to be on my way for supplies,” Byron said one day, straightening his suit through his reflection in the mirror. “You are welcome to do anything that you want, but remember, all I ask is that you always carry this egg with you, and never open the door on the third floor. Everything else you wish shall be yours. I will be back in a few hours.”
Margaret did her best at a convincing smile, and he turned to leave.
She heard the door swing shut, pausing, her body radiating energy. Then she ran. Up the stairs, through the landing, and found herself in front of the door marked PROHIBITED. Setting the egg down, she rummaged through her pockets for the keys, constantly looking over her shoulder and side to side, convinced he was somehow near.
The door opened with a sharp hiss of air and a long creak. Grabbing her egg, she stood and was greeted by a rank smell.
Covering her nose, she squinted to find some sort of light switch, a candle, or chandelier. Though impractical, it didn’t seem as though there was a suspicious lack of light that made it into the room. Even the light from the windows wouldn’t penetrate the room. Always prepared with a lighter, she took her hand from her nose, found the lighter, then lit it and walked gingerly into the room.
There was blood splattered on the floor. The walls dripped blood. Women hung up on hooks about the room. She gasped, but couldn’t turn away.
Margaret saw the basin. It was golden and etched faintly in unfamiliar symbols. She walked closer and saw the head of her sister floating in the thick blood, eyes rolled back into her head.
Screaming, she dropped the egg into the basin. With a horrified gasp, she delved into the basin, desperately trying to avoid her sister’s head. She found the egg after a few minutes and turned to leave, gently closed the door and found a dark figure at the end of the hall: Byron.
“Please, please,” Margaret said, falling to her knees. “I got the egg back. I won’t tell a soul. Please, just don’t hurt me.”
“You went against my wishes. Stand please.”
He ran to the door with uncanny speed, dragged her to the room, removed his sword, and sliced her open.
Katherine stood by the door and waited. It had been roughly three weeks since Margaret had disappeared, and it had been six for Virginia. It was about time for the old man to come by again.
“What are you waiting for?” Finn asked, peering around the corner to give her a decidedly weary look.
“The old man is going to come back. He’s probably had something done to both Margaret and Virginia. It’s only a matter of time before he comes here again.”
Finn frowned. “There is no old man. They will come back. I have a feeling about this.”
“Not me. I’m not going through this again. This time it will be me.”
“Get away from the door.”
Katherine crossed her arms. “This stops now, old man.” With that, she turned back to the door and leaned against the stair banister.
No more than an hour had passed when there was a light tap at the door. Katherine stood, composed herself, then pulled the door open. The first thing she saw were the milky swamp eyes.
The old man stood there with an odd grin on his face. He was hunched over, and a withered arm stuck out of his shabby cloak. He was holding an old bean can, the edges rusted. She made a note of his teeth, which were particularly ragged and yellow—a few of which were missing. He had an old steamer trunk dragging behind him, so large that it almost seemed as though he could have lived in it. His large, bushy, gray eyebrows lifted as he shook the old can.
“Money, there,” Katherine said, dropping the coins into the old can very slowly, never taking her eyes off of him.
Quickly, he pulled her toward him, and far from struggling, she carefully shut the front door behind her and climbed inside the trunk. She noticed as he pulled the lid shut that his withered arms seemed to turn muscular and toned, much like a young man. She felt the bumps of the trunk pulled to a car, and she felt the rumbling of the van as it started. She kept her wits about her. No fear would be great enough to make her close her eyes.
She felt the dragging of the trunk against a gravel road a short time later. Listening intently, she could hear no birds, no animals of any kind. Somehow, on this gravel road, there was no other life around. The bumps of gravel turned to the smooth rolling of hardwood floor, and finally to carpet. Taking deep breaths, she closed her eyes and listened hard.
The trunk slid open, and she felt strong arms pick her up and place her into a bed. Footsteps receded. Finally she was alone. Opening her eyes, she found herself in a large room. The bed was soft and elegant. Carvings of angels covered the canopy bed, and a gossamer curtain draped around the sides. She quickly pulled the curtain away to see the tile floor covered in a detailed rug. She bent down to the floor and pulled up the rug to see scrapings on the tile. It looked as though it had come from a shoe. Either someone had played a rather swift game, or someone had run in there to escape something. She frowned but eventually dropped the rug.
Katherine found herself drawn to the nightstand. It looked old, weathered. Strange. Though the rest of the room looked as though it had come out of a magazine on the fashions of the medieval, this looked like an actual antique. On its side were carvings of women’s faces. Too many to count.
She heard the door open and she turned quickly, trying to appear as though she had just stood from the bed.
“I see you are awake.” He was decidedly riveting. He had a beautiful face and a long, arching nose. His smile was riveting, and Katherine smiled back, only too eager to begin to earn his trust. “My name is Byron, and I own this estate. Anything you wish will be yours. I am here to service you.”
“That is very kind,” Katherine said, curtsying. She never dropped his gaze.
“I have no wish to harm you, nor do I wish to keep you captive. I only wish for some company, as I have been alone for far too long.”
“Of course. How did I get here?”
“I saw an old trunk by the side of the road when I came here. It looked like it had been abandoned. I opened it and found you. I brought you home right away. You are safe now.”
“May I ask where we are?”
“Scottsmith.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’m not surprised. It is quite a distance from anywhere, really. Would you join me for dinner?”
Katherine smiled again. “Anything. Of course.”
“You will find anything you need in the dresser. I have gowns and modest apparel, anything you might wish to wear. Your own personal rooms should offer anything you can think of. Dinner will be at six o’clock. We dine in the room just left of the banister. Come when you are ready.” With that, he smiled again and turned to leave.
His steps were precise, Katherine noticed. It almost appeared that he had rehearsed these lines a thousand times before. She watched him move to the door and disappear before she went to the closet, found the most elegant dress, then put it on. She had found some scissors in her dresser, and she carefully placed them underneath her skirts.
“Early, I see,” Byron said, standing from the table and giving a small bow. “I appreciate a punctual woman.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting. You did save my life, after all.”
Byron grinned and gestured toward the table. “You look beautiful.”
“I do my best.”
They ate dinner, Katherine doing her best to appear to be gentle and kind, all the while stroking the pair of scissors.
“I do have two request,” Byron said, pulling out a bejeweled fabric egg and a ring full of old keys. “Always carry this egg with you, and never open the door on the third floor. Everything else you wish shall be yours.”
“Why?”
“It is a form of protection. Both of the requests. I only wish for your safety and well-being. These are the rules of my manor.”
“Very well.” Katherine stood, picked up the egg and the keys, and gingerly took them back to her seat. “I will do as you ask.”
Byron seemed impressed. He took another bite of his dinner and smiled across the table. Katherine put the egg next to her dish, continued to eat and kept her hand off of the pair of scissors. Such an odd request must have some repercussions.
The following weeks had been peaceful and remarkably easy. Kidnapping, stuffing a person into a trunk, driving away in a van. This was the kind of life of a sex slave, yet she had been treated with the utmost respect. Odd. Still, she never took her eyes off him when she was in his presence.
“I have to go out tomorrow night for business. Would you mind staying here for it? I shan’t be gone long, only a few hours, most likely. I trust you with this house and its grounds. You are welcome to do anything that you want, but remember, all I ask is that you always carry this egg with you, and never open the door on the third floor. Everything else you wish shall be yours.”
“I hope I have earned enough of your trust by now,” Katherine said, bowing her head appropriately conveying an air of repentance.
“You have. I will leave early in the morning. You may not even notice that I am gone.”
The next morning Katherine woke early and stared out of the window, watching for Byron to leave on his black horse. She had been awake for over two hours when she saw him ride away. Quickly, she glanced over at the egg, took only the keys, and sprinted to the third floor.
The door marked PROHIBITED loomed black in the hallway. She ran to the door, hoping for some sign of her sisters, jammed the key into the lock, and pushed the door open. Rank smells erupted from the doorway as she opened it. Holding her nose, she turned, grabbed a lit candle from the hallway and entered.
The room was covered in blood, and women hung from hooks on the walls. Her sisters, both Virginia and Margaret were on hooks as well, both covered in blood, some of which did not appear to be their own.
Katherine ran for them, bypassing the blood-filled basin, and gently removed them from their mountings. Remarkably, both were still alive, though barely. “Margaret, Virginia, can you hear me?”
They both muttered a bit and groaned, eyes fluttering open.
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
Katherine quickly ran down the stairs, grabbed a fist-full of bread and rushed back, shoving it into the arms of her sisters. “Eat. Stay here. I’m going to try to get some help.”
Katherine turned, ran through the door, and locked it behind her. By the time she had returned to her room, she heard the front door swinging open. “Katherine! Come show me your egg!”
Calming her breathing, she picked up her egg and glided down the stairs sporting a large grin. “I’m so glad you’re back! Those hours seemed like days.”
Bryon didn’t seem to hear her. He rushed forward to what she believed to be the beginning of an embrace, but he reached for her egg instead. Slightly confused but avoiding expression, she stared into his eyes. He inspected the egg for quite some time, turning it over in his hands as he ran his fingers along the threads.
“You did not do it.”
“What?”
“The room on the third floor. You did not enter when I asked for your allegiance.” He let out a sigh and embraced her. “You shall surely be rewarded.”
Katherine did her best to smile when he released her. She stepped back and looked him over as he beamed. “What do you mean?”
“I have been looking for a woman to keep my company for so many years. And you will stay with me forever. I will bring your family here. I will take care of you and the others for as long as we both will live. Katherine, will you marry me?”
Stunned, she nodded. “I will do anything you ask.”
“Then be still,” he said after he bounded from her side. “I will fetch them, your father and kin and my kin. We’ll have a feast tonight!” He ran from the house, mounted his horse and took off, still clutching the egg in his large fist.
Katherine ran back to the third floor, tearing off his fancy dress and ripping open the door. Virginia and Margaret, though dripping blood, were on their feet.
“Come, hurry. He thinks that I’m going to marry him, but we have to get out of here first.” Katherine pulled the two of them through the door, supporting them as they slowly descended the stairs. “He says that he’s going to bring dad. I’ll hide you two in these hedges until he comes back. I have an idea.”
Katherine ran back to the house, bounded up the stairs to the third floor, and found a dead woman on a hook. She hoisted her body onto her shoulders with a grunt and walked carefully back to her room. She felt the stench of the woman in her bones. It looked like the woman had just begun to decompose. The chair next to the window might be close enough for Byron to see. Katherine held her breath as she dressed the woman in white. Propping her up with the chair against the window, she threw open the dresser to find a rather skimpy outfit that looked as though it was a costume for an opening show in Vegas. She put it on and rushed out the door just to see guests arrive.
“At last, wouldn’t you say?”
“He’s been going at it for years.”
“Finally found a girl.”
Katherine stepped to the side and gestured an arm clad as a wing to the side.
“And who might you be?” A particularly ugly old woman asked, a lollipop in one hand.
“The entertainment, of course,” Katherine said. “My troupe just came to celebrate the festivities. Lord Byron does only want the best.”
“An act you say,” a man with a hook for a hand grunted. “And who might you be?”
“Fitcher’s Bird.”
“Oh, I believe I have heard of you,” another woman said. Her decisive scowl was reciprocated by the two ugly younger woman who followed.
“Go inside. Lord Byron will be back soon.”
They all nodded and proceeded inside. It took a few hours for the large procession to all make it inside the mansion. Byron followed in the rear, grinning from ear to ear.
“Where is she? Where is my bride?”
“Inside,” Katherine said, gesturing her wing again and bowing. “It will all begin in a moment. You should be able to see her in her room.”
“I do!” Byron exclaimed, and rushed up the stairs and through the front door.
In the distance, she could see another man walking in from the hedge maze. It was Finn. Her heart nearly stopping, she blocked his way. “No, dad. We’re going to wait out here. I’ve got Virginia and Margaret with me. This will all end soon.”
Finn squinted for a moment, then gasped. Flinging his arms around her, he held Katherine tight for several minutes before he would let her go. “I’ve waited so long . . . .”
“Just wait. Grab Margaret and Virginia and get out. I’ll be soon to follow.”
Finn hoisted an arm of each of his daughters around his shoulders and started to walk away. “Just come quickly.”
“I will.”
Katherine watched them disappear, then turned back to the mansion. Two torches lit the entrance. Grabbing one, she threw it into the mansion, pulling and locking the door behind her. It was amazing, really, how their screams all seemed to blend into one.
The mansion lit up so quickly it was engulfed in flames only minutes later. She smiled, the dancing flames reflecting in her eyes.