Without A Heartbeat

Scarlett began to doubt her sanity.

The hand had belonged to Claudia, who had awoken to see Scarlett standing in what she later described as some type of trance. Barely able to articulate her words, Scarlett gestured towards the window. While the other girls woke up - shaking and unnerved by her screams - Claudia tore back the curtains.

No one was there.

The moon-soaked grounds of the manor were completely empty. There was not a single trace that anyone – or anything – had been in the gardens.

No…they were there. I know I saw them!

Scarlett babbled about what she had seen, but in the eyes of those surrounding her, she saw nothing but pity and tolerance. They did not believe a single word she said.

After being soothed and put back to bed, Scarlett was unable to sleep. It wasn’t the first time that she had seen things she couldn’t explain. Only a few days before she had been convinced that someone had been following her home. A figure who had spoken to her as softly as the breeze and moved through the trees like a phantom. Was it more likely that supernatural creatures were stalking her, or that her mind was creating false visions under the strain of her situation?

Is it possible that I am going insane?

The thought of insanity was almost as terrifying to Scarlett as the creatures being real. As she had lay in her cot, tears stinging the corner of her eyes a new thought had come to her, one that made her gasp and sit up.

The drawings.

She remembered the picture that Rupert had been drawing, copied from the creepy book full of bizarre creatures. His words came back to her, as clear as when he had first said them.

‘I’ve seen them in the grounds. We both have.’

Ice poured through Scarlett’s veins as it dawned on her that perhaps she was not going insane after all. She was still awake when the searching fingers of morning light pushed through the curtains.

That evening, everything changed.

Master Clarke returned in the afternoon, his arrival like a dark shadow that spilled over the manor. Scarlett was bringing Sarah a fresh bucket of hot water in the drawing room, when a clatter of hooves signaled his return. It was as if an invisible hand seized her chest when his driver opened the carriage door and she saw him step down onto the cobblestone, his narrow eyes scowling against the winter sun.

A door creaked open from the depths of the manor, followed by the light footsteps of Mrs. Ellison. Her timing was so perfect; it was as if she could sense Master Clarke’s arrival. She was there to greet him the moment he reached the threshold.

“We are hosting a dinner this evening,” he said without preamble.

“Will it be our special guests?”

“No, it’s the bank manager and his hideous family,” Master Clarke replied, stepping into view through the doorway. He cast a glance towards Scarlett and a sick feeling rose in her stomach. She paused mid-motion, the hand that held the bucket trembling. However, he gave her as much attention as one would give a stray dog. “I would rather gouge out my own eyes than spend one minute with that pathetic excuse of a man,” he said turning to face Mrs. Ellison, “but business requires sacrifice.” He unwound his scarf and threw it over the banister, then waited with his arms out, whilst Mrs. Ellison removed his coat.

“I can only imagine sir. I will inform the staff straight away and begin preparations for this evening’s meal.”

“Good. Are my wife and children here?”

“Yes sir. Would you like me to fetch them for you?”

He gave a snort. “Of course not. Just have them be ready for six this evening. And for god’s sake ensure that my wife is in a colourful mood. If I am to be forced to suffer through William Hawthorne’s dreadful stories for three hours, I would rather not do so with a ghost by my side who barely speaks more than two words.”

“Absolutely sir, I will put something in her drink to lift her spirits.”

Master Clarke nodded. “Good. I will be in my office and do not wish to be disturbed.” Without another word he walked away. Scarlett was sure that she saw Mrs. Ellison’s face flash with an expression of scorn, but it vanished so quickly, she couldn’t be sure she had seen it at all.

It began with a simple accident.

The kitchen was a storm of activity, with all available hands working their fingers to the bone whilst Bridget tended to steaming pans and barked orders. Mrs. Ellison stood in the doorway looking on, sinewy arms folded across her chest. Her head twitched from side to side like a bird’s, but it was impossible to tell what she was looking at, because as usual, her dark glasses completely covered her eyes. The heat in the room was oppressive despite the back door being open. Combined with her tiredness due to lack of sleep, Scarlett was feeling quite faint.

“I need to you to check on the bread,” Bridget said over her shoulder. “If it’s ready take it out the stove.”

“Yes Cook,” Scarlett replied, wiping a layer of sweat from her forehead with the back of an arm. She set the knife she was using to peel potatoes down on the table and picked up a thick tea towel. Kneeling down next to Bridget, she unlatched the heavy iron door. The heat hit her like a fist and she almost fainted on the spot. Doing her best to focus, she wrapped the towel over both hands and picked up the bread dish. Sickening, searing pain swept up her fingers and she screamed, reeling backwards. The bread dish came with her, smashing on the floor in a shower of ceramic. The loaf bounced off the tiles and broke apart, coming to a rest just outside the back door.

“You stupid girl!” spat Mrs. Ellison, storming over.

Scarlett looked down at her right hand. Two of the fingers were scorched red and blistered. In her dizzied state she hadn’t realised the towel was not covering them. Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes and before she knew it, she was sobbing hysterically.

“It’s okay child,” soothed Mrs. Ellison with uncharacteristic sweetness. She gave Scarlett’s back an awkward rub and then helped her to her feet. “Bridget, run the tap.” The cook did as she was asked and the housekeeper held Scarlett’s throbbing fingers under the stream. The cold water had the effect of not just allaying the pain in her fingers, but also calming her nerves. Scarlett splashed some water on her face, while the housekeeper held up her damaged hand.

“Claudia, get me some honey and then fetch me a bandage from the medical supplies.”

The girl did as she was asked and soon afterwards, Scarlett’s blistered fingers were wrapped in a bandage that had been coated with honey on the inside.

“Are you feeling better?” asked Mrs. Ellison after letting her sit for a while on one of the benches and gather herself together.

Scarlett nodded.

“Good, then I need you to go to Mister Welchman’s house in the village. He’s the local baker, but his shop will surely be closed by now. His house is the one right next to the bakery with the red door. Tell him what happened and ask him to provide you with a selection of bread.” She pulled a few shillings out of a bag in her apron and handed them to Scarlett. “This should cover the cost. Are you clear on my instructions?”

“Yes, Mrs.”

“Excellent. Now make haste girl, there isn’t much light left.”

The wind picked up after Scarlett left Mr. Welchman’s house and she was grateful for the warm cloak that Mrs. Ellison had loaned her. Her fingers still throbbed, but the honey was doing a remarkable job of relieving the worst of the sting. Overhead, the leaves of the trees rustled as the breeze toyed with them. The sun was setting fast on the horizon and shadows loomed large on the trail that led back to Oakley Manor. I’ll barely make it back before full dark. Cursing her clumsiness, she moved as faster, the basket of bread swinging at her side.

As she walked, a feeling of unease settled in her stomach and twisted at her insides. It was the same sensation she had experienced when she had made the journey home.

The sensation of being watched.

She doubled her pace, pulling the basket of warmed bread into her chest and placing her other arm over the blanket to secure the contents. Something brushed against her neck and Scarlett gasped, whirling around and spilling several bread rolls.

Nothing.

She rubbed at the spot where she had been touched, feeling the pimpled flesh underneath her fingertips. It was cold to the touch, as if it had been dabbed with ice. Ignoring the growing feeling of dread inside, Scarlett crouched and scrambled to gather the bread, all the while darting her eyes from side to side. Scarlett stood up and her blood ran cold.

A man was standing on the path ahead.

The growing darkness seemed to envelop him, transforming him into a living silhouette. He was too far away to identify, but near enough to pose a threat.

Scarlett couldn’t tell if she knew him or not. She waved, hoping to get a sign of reassurance, something that would settle her thumping heart.

He didn’t wave back.

He didn’t move at all. He just kept standing in the same position.

Watching.

A terrifying thought occurred to Scarlett. What if it’s Master Clarke? Perhaps he had seen her leave the manor and had followed her all the way to the village. Does he plan to take me right here in the dirt? Or perhaps drag me into the woods?

The thought made her feel sick. Scarlett turned to look behind her. She had covered some distance; the village was nothing more than a cluster of angled shadows on the horizon. If she doubled back, she would no doubt get lost in the darkness.

Scarlett took a deep breath and drawing on a courage that she didn’t know she had, shouted as loud as she could.

“Who are you?”

The figure made no movement or sound of recognition. He remained completely unmoving on the path. It was then that a thought even worse than before entered her mind.

Could it be the same person who followed me home?

No sooner had the thought entered her mind, did the breeze pick up, ruffling the cloak across her face. It was all Scarlett could do not to scream. Yanking the material from her eyes she tried to compose herself.

The man had vanished.

Where he had stood, there was nothing but the sinking orb of the sun and its orange trails, darkening in the approaching night.

Where has he gone? He hadn’t turned back; Scarlett would still be able to see him on the road. And he clearly hadn’t passed her by – no one could move that fast. There was only one place he could have gone.

Into the woods.

“Lord protect me,” breathed Scarlett and clasped hold of her cross in an automatic reaction. She knew she had no choice but to keep going. Trying to keep the hysteria at bay, she moved forward, her legs feeling as unsteady as if they were made from wet straw.

“Sccccaaaarrrrllleeettttt.”

The word came from everywhere and nowhere, wrapped in the wind and spoken as faintly as a child’s whisper. There was no doubt in Scarlett’s mind. It was the same voice that she had heard before.

It’s him.

Her heart hammered against her ribcage and she could feel a scream rising in her throat.

A sharp cracking of twigs came from the woods. Scarlett whirled around. The silhouetted man was there, less than fifteen feet away, shadows playing on his face.

“Do not be afraid.”

The scream escaped Scarlett’s lips and she ran, casting the basket to the ground. The harsh whip of the wind battered her face as fled down the road. Her boots made it hard to run, and she stumbled several times, before tripping over and tearing a large section of her frock. She scrambled to her feet, not daring to turn around. The fear mounted, growing until it was palpable. It pressed down on her like a colossal weight, crushing the life from her.

The looming shadow of the manor appeared in the distance and Scarlett felt a glimmer of hope. It had never felt so welcoming – its thick walls offering sturdy protection against whoever was pursuing her.

Something grabbed her neck.

She was yanked backwards and dumped onto her back. A hand pressed against her chest, the strength of it like an anvil pinning her to the dirt. A handsome face appeared over her and she gasped. It was the delivery driver. His silver hair was unmistakable. However - as impossible as it was - his eyes no longer matched, the bright silver replaced by the dull grey of a tarnished coin. He smiled. It was not welcoming as it had been before. It was the wide grin of someone familiar with madness.

“I am sorry sweet girl, but I had to stop you.”

“Sir, let me go,” she wheezed, trying to fight against him. It was no use; he was as strong as stone.

“Hush now, I am here to help you.”

“You’re not helpin’ me, you’re hurtin’ me!”

“My apologies.” The man released his grip and held out his hand to help her up. Scarlett ignored him and climbed to her feet, her trembling legs barely able to support her weight. “Please do not attempt to run,” he added, “or I will be forced to restrain you again.”

“Why are you doin’ this?” Scarlett tried to make the words bold, but the fear in her voice made them small and shaky.

The man’s smile vanished, replaced by a serious, intense expression. “I know what happens to you inside those walls. I know what he does to you.”

His words stunned Scarlett into silence. She stared at the man with wide eyes. “How do you know?”

“Because I have been watching you. You carry the humiliation around with you like a sign. I can smell it on you, the fear and the violation. You are not the first one he has done this to. He did the same to the girl whose position you assumed, and plenty more before that. Except he went too far with the last girl.” The driver turned and pointed into the woods. “He buried her beaten body just through there.”

Scarlett could feel the honesty in his words. It made the fear inside her double. “You followed me home last Sunday didn’t ya?”

The man gave a nod. “I wanted to have this conversation with you then, but we were interrupted. I am in a very sensitive position you see. The role I perform within my organisation is at odds with what Mother requires of me, so I must be discrete.”

Scarlett felt her mouth go dry. This man is utterly insane. “And what does your mother want you to do with me?”

“To wait, and bring you in when the time is right. But I want to help you now. I feel it will not be long before I am discovered and captured, so I want my final act to be one of kindness.”

“What type of kindness?”

“I want to give you the power to stop Richard Clarke for good.”

“Master Clarke is a powerful man. No matter what you do for me, it will never be enough to stop him.”

The man’s face broke into a smile. “Oh how wrong you are, my sweet girl.” He curled his top lip back and two curved fangs snapped down from his gums. Scarlett screamed, but the sound ceased as the driver’s hand clamped over her mouth. When he spoke again, his voice had become deeper, more predatory.

“Silence now Miss Reid. You must not reject the divine gift I am offering you.”

Scarlett was overwhelmed with fear. Monsters were something that existed in the horror books she read, but one had somehow climbed from the pages and had her locked in its crushing grip. The beautiful driver with the silver eyes was not a man at all, but rather a demon hidden behind the mask of an angel. Scarlett felt urine leaking down the inside of her leg. The driver shifted his hand to her hair, brushing a hand through the red ringlets. He gave a long sigh. “You are truly a wonderful sight to behold. As if a memory come to life.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.

His expression became one of guilt. “I do not wish to, but I am afraid that pain is unavoidable at this point.”

Scarlett was hoisted up as though she weighed no more than a newborn baby and twisted so her back was pinned against the man’s chest. He forced her neck to the side with a loud crack. She yanked at his arm, trying to escape his grip – but her fingers might as well have been feathers. He took a long, greedy breath, seeming to savor the smell of her skin.

“Miss Reid? Miss Reid is that you? Is everythin’ alright?” Scarlett almost sobbed with relief. It was the voice of Herbert, the groundskeeper.

He heard my scream!

The driver’s head flicked up and he let out a guttural growl.

“Herbert, help me!” cried Scarlett.

The groundskeeper appeared on the path, carrying an oil lamp in one hand and a fowling piece in the other. His eyes went wide when he saw Scarlett and her assailant.

“Take your hands off ’er now!”

“If you wish to live old man, do not interfere,” snarled the driver.

Herbert cocked and aimed the gun. “You’ve got that the wrong way ’round. Now let her go ya sick bastard.”

Scarlett’s assailant swore and released his grip on her. She broke away from him and ran behind Herbert, clinging to his shirt. The groundskeeper raised the oil lamp and narrowed his eyes as he stared. “Wait, I know you…”

Herbert did not have time to finish his sentence. The demon moved like a flash of light, wrenching the fowling piece from Herbert’s grip and throwing it deep into the woods. Then he drove his fist into the man’s sternum. It burst through the groundkeeper’s back, spraying blood across Scarlett’s face. The claret covered fingers flexed and coiled around an exposed spine. With a jerk he snapped the bone in two.

Herbert collapsed like a stingless marionette. Scarlett was aware of a bloodcurdling scream, but failed to comprehend that she was the one making the sound.

“I did not want to do that,” hissed the monster, shaking the blood from his hand. “I liked that man.” He glanced up. “But this is what happens when people attempt to interfere with divine work.”

Scarlett scanned the area for some kind of weapon – something to save her from the insane monster that had killed an armed man in a heartbeat. With the gun gone there was nothing but the oil lamp, cracked and lying on its side, but still alight.

“We must finish what we have begun.”

The driver stepped towards Scarlett. There was the smallest opportunity and the girl seized it. Ducking down, she snatched the oil lamp from the ground and struck with all her strength. The glass smashed against the side of her assailant’s face. Oil mixed with flame as it splashed onto his skin and he screeched as his cheeks, lips and jaw became a raging inferno. A smell of charred meat filled Scarlett’s nostrils and she retched as smoke curled from his face. The demon fell to his knees and clawed at his skin, desperately trying to put out the flame as his howls echoed into the night.

Scarlett turned and ran blindly into the darkness. She tried to find the entrance to the manor, but it was now too dark and she was too frightened to gather her bearings. Instead a bolt of pain flashed through her shoulder as she collided with a tree and realised she had run into the woods.

The girl paid no attention to the direction she fled in; all she desired was to put as much distance as possible between herself and the demon. Something snagged against her cloak and she stifled a scream. Casting it off, she continued to stumble through the woods, tripping over roots and cutting her hands on brambles. She moved as fast as she could manage for as long as she could bear, until her lungs were fit to burst and her fragile heart felt as if it would give out. The she ran some more.

When she had no energy left to take another step, Scarlett felt around for somewhere to hide. After searching for what felt like an age, her hands touched on some type of thick foliage. Trembling, she dropped to her knees and crawled inside, praying it would be enough to conceal her. She lay down, the side of her face pressed against the freezing dirt and tried to control her breathing.

The sound of twigs snapping nearby made her gasp. She had to cover her mouth with a shaking hand to stifle her sobs. Footsteps, slow and deliberate moved by so close, she could have reached out and touched the owner’s legs. Tears streamed down her face and she squeeze her eyes shut.

Please save me someone. Please.

Twigs snapped further in the distance and Scarlett uttered sigh of relief. There was a glimmer of hope that she could stay hidden, make it until morning and then find her way back to the manor and call for help.

A hand seized her ankles.

Scarlett let out a piercing scream.

“Hush girl!” hissed the demon as he hoisted her up by her frock. She couldn’t make another sound as a tremendous grip closed around her throat squeezing against her windpipe. Half of the driver’s face was blackened and scaled like the flesh of a lizard. Rich blood had seeped down his neck, staining it dark red. He pulled her head close and spoke softly into her ear.

“Why do you try to hurt me when all I desire is to help you, my love?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against the side of her head. Scarlett could feel the roughness of his charred skin against hers and she shuddered in a mixture of terror and revulsion. “You are so very lucky that I find you enthralling and familiar. Had you been anyone else, I would have removed your organs one by one and forced you to eat them.” His eyes narrowed. “However, your actions have set my mood to one of ill temper. As much as I truly care for you, if you make one more single sound or attempt to escape I will have no other choice but to kill you.”

Scarlett nodded, as the tears streamed down her face. All hope vanished, like a hand of salvation snatched away from a drowning man. The demon hoisted her off her feet and sprinted through the woods. He moved faster than any man could ever hope to, rushing until the forest became a blur of shadows and noise that streaked around them. The pitch darkness of their surroundings seemed to offer no hindrance to her kidnapper.

After they had been running for some time, the man drew to a sudden halt. A pool of dark shadow sat just in front of them and a harsh smell emanated from within. The driver set Scarlett down and stared into her eyes, a pitiful expression on his wounded face. “It pains me to treat you this way, but I fear we have run out of time for now.”

Before Scarlett could make a sound, the man shoved her backwards and she felt herself tumbling into darkness.