Brenna chatted with Clark as she ate a ham sandwich and. Full, she placed the tray onto the counter and thanked Clark once again. She picked up the half-eaten packet of chips and unopened can of lemonade and stood up. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”
“Your very welcome, miss. If I get more customers like you, I just might consider hiring a new chef.” He chuckled.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Right you are. Night, miss.” He picked up his crinkled newspaper and continued to read. Brenna took one last look out the dark window in an attempt to prolong her stay in the office. Unable to prolong the inevitable, Brenna went outside.
Eeriness hung in the air as Brenna talked her heavy feet into moving. They finally carried her to the creaky staircase. She took one step and stopped It wasn’t the spookiness that made her freeze, it was the blood-curdling scream rippling through the darkness. Her teeth chattered. She tried to stop them by clenching them shut but it didn’t help. Her jaw trembling caught on to her legs and they jittered together.
Silence followed the deadly scream. After a few tense seconds that seemed to stretch into hours, Brenna convinced her feet to climb the staircase two steps at a time, taking giant leaps. She bounded across the dark balcony and flew into room number six. Her heart stopped. Or it felt like it did.
The room was dark; somebody had turned off the light. Brenna ran to the light switch and flicked it up, filling the room with light. She let out a sigh of relief when an empty room greeted her. She slammed the door shut and locked it. How was she meant to sleep after that? Maybe a little mindless television would help her sleep. Everything would be clearer in the morning. She hoped so anyway. She dared one last peek out of her window to make sure there were no vamps or entities lurking, then fed enough coins into the TV set to keep it on all night. She flicked through boring channels clogged full of reruns and infomercials until she finally gave in to the sandman.
Chapter Five
Oakwoods 1645
Shrouded by night, Jonathon rode through the heavy forest toward Darkwood as Rowena drifted in and out of troubled sleep. Every time she fell asleep, the horse would lurch or stumble over uneven ground. Turned out sleeping on a horse was as hard as it sounded. She tightened her grip around Jonathon’s waist as the horse bounded over a tangle of vines blocking their way.
“Sorry, that was unavoidable. We’re nearly there by the way.”
“Oh, good. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve had enough of riding with you for one night.”
“Fair enough.” Jonathon laughed.
It wasn’t long until night began to lift and golden light seeped through the trees. The horse steered onto a beaten path and came to an abrupt stop.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re here,” Jonathon said, looking back at her. Rowena raised her eyebrows as she took in the sight of the dozing town beginning to awaken. Sunlight kissed the roofs of cob buildings that housed blacksmiths, bakers, and tailors. She imagined the town a few hours from now when people bustled up and down the cobblestone road. Jonathon led the horse past the businesses and toward what looked like residential cottages. The town had an empty quality to Rowena, but it wasn’t because they were the only people visible, it was because it lacked any homeliness. The cottages all looked the same, without any personality, brown with tall white chimneys sticking out of the roofs. None of them had welcome mats at the doors like the cottages in Wood Grove. They lacked rambling vines and wildflowers. Rowena remembered joyous nights sitting around fires with her whole village singing and dancing. Everybody knew everybody. Everybody cared for one another. This place just seemed impersonal. The sheer size of the place made it seem imposing. Although the people who lived here were probably asleep, she felt like all their eyes were on her. She could have been completely wrong; life here could have been wonderful. Her views might be skewed, given recent events.
Jonathon suddenly dismounted and offered his hand to Rowena. He helped her down, gripping her tightly as she collapsed into his arms. Her legs felt like tree limbs. Jonathon helped her stand until she regained feeling. A thousand needles pricked and prodded, making her bounce up and down. Once the needle jabbing subsided, Rowena followed Jonathon through the streets of Darkwood.
A large homestead eyed them as they approached its courtyard. A young boy was sitting on the terracotta steps in front of the front door. He jumped up quickly at the sight of Jonathon and bounded over to them.
“Who’s this, Jon?” the boy said excitedly, eyeing up Rowena.
“This is Ronan’s sister,” Jonathon stalled. “Gwyneth.”
“Gwyneth?” the boy looked puzzled, “I’ve never heard of you before.”
“Well, I haven’t heard of you either.”
The boy laughed in response and took Jonathon’s horse by the reigns.
“I’m Bill. See you at breakfast, Jonathon.” The cheeky boy curtsied at Rowena and winked, “Gwyneth.” He led the thirsty horse to a water station and secured it to a pole, where it lapped up the water.
Rowena turned to Jonathon. “How old is he?”
“He’s fourteen I’m afraid,” Jonathon replied, looking at Rowena. “He’s a good kid, just getting to be a bit of a handful.”
“Does he belong to you?” Rowena dared to ask.
Jonathon threw his head back and laughed. “Heavens no!” He shook his head, clearly amused. “I’m not yet attached.”
“Not yet?” Rowena looked away from Jonathon feeling roses bloom on her cheek. What was she doing prying into his personal life?
“No. And before you ask it’s not because I’m not in high demand. I can assure you there are plenty of suitors that are indeed after me. I’m just not after them.”
Jonathon’s burning eyes caught Rowena’s gaze and held it, making her feel as if she was going to melt. He gave her the biggest smile she’d ever seen and walked ahead of her to the front door. She watched the wind blow his dark hair sending it in all directions. She cleared her throat and followed him.
Jonathon went through the large wooden doors, motioning for Rowena to follow. When she entered the massive house, she couldn’t help but stare at the highly polished floors and the huge dark oak sideboards lining the beautiful hall. An ornate winding staircase in the middle of the room seemed to go on forever. She’d never been inside a building this big before.
Snap, snap. A clicking woke Rowena from her daze. Jonathon was clicking his fingers in front of her face. “Oh sorry!”
“It’s okay, you must be awfully tired.”
“Very.”
They were interrupted by a short, flustered woman bursting through a swinging door. Her short brown hair was matted to her sweaty round head. She swiped a hand across her forehead then on her stained apron.
“Ah, Jonathon, you’re here. It’s a madhouse in there!” She blew out hot air and neatly placed her hands behind her back.
“Looks like it.” Jonathon gently pushed Rowena in front of him a little. “This is Ronan’s sister, Gwyneth, Gwyneth this is Polly.”
“Nice to meet you, Gwyneth. Can I call you Gwyn?” Polly held out a round, moist, podgy hand and shook hands with Rowena.