Page 1 of Requiem & Reverie

1

Voss

“I want to show you something,” Carl says. Shadows slice across his face, where he stands alongside my bed. “C’mon.”

The room is dark, and the tone of his voice carries an unsettling edge of amusement that makes me reluctant to do as he says. I follow after him, anyway, even though Grandfather would be furious to know I’ve gotten out of bed, because it’s the lesser of two evils. If I don’t, Carl will take pleasure in tormenting me tomorrow.

We pad down the hallway to the door that leads to the cellar. I never understood why it was located at the end of this particular corridor, when the house holds so many rooms and hallways between the north and south wing. It’s no secret grandfather chooses to keep Carl and me as far away from him as possible, and perhaps this hallway is merely a step up from making us sleep in the cellar itself.

Whispers reach my ear, as I approach the dark door that’s crafted of thick ornate wood. At night, without the hallway lights on, it looks like a vacuous hole that would pull an unsuspecting passerby in and swallow him up.

A faint voice reaches my ears, like a cold breeze across my skin, springing goosebumps. “Don’t let him hurt me.”

Carl opens the door to the cellar, his face still obscured by the darkness, which hides the smile I know is there as he moves aside to let me pass.

With careful steps, I descend the stairs, and the whispers seem to get louder. Or maybe the surrounding emptiness just becomes more pronounced the farther I go, like walking into a tomb.

I follow the sound to a room with empty shelves, where grandfather once kept all his tools and supplies. The place I first watched Carl slice open a baby mouse he found, while it was still alive.

Little light penetrates this room, but I can make out a figure lying on the floor. A girl.

Seems no more than a blink later, and Carl is lying on top of her, driving his hips into her, but his eyes are on me. The wicked grin stretched across his face is a trigger that incites my nerves, urging me to attack. He wraps his hands around her throat, and as I approach, her face slowly comes into view.

Nola.

My blood turns hot, every muscle taut with the anger pumping through my veins. I rush toward him, knocking him off of her, and wrap my arms around his throat.

“She’s mine! Fucking mine!” Digging my fingers into his gullet, I tell myself to end it. Kill him now. How long I’ve fantasized about the moment when I can watch life drain from his body.

“Voss!” he chokes out. “Please!”

His pleas only goad me to press harder, to squeeze every last ounce of breath out of him.

“Voss!” It’s not Carl’s voice, but Nola’s.

The face below me morphs into hers, and the moment I release her throat, her body turns limp. Her head falls to the side, eyes vacant and dull.

A tremble starts deep inside of me and ripples into waves of agony, as I stare down at my hands. My murdering hands.

“No!”

Shooting upright, I gasp for breath, clutching the bed sheets at either side of me. I don’t know where I am. The darkness of the room leaves me momentarily disoriented as I search for Nola.

She lies beside me, curled into a ball, and nuzzles tighter, asleep.

My heart gallops inside my chest, pounding against my ribs with each panting breath that tries to keep up with it. To be sure she isn’t hurt, I stroke a hand down her hair, and watch her lips twitch with a slight smile, but she doesn’t wake. She’s alive, though. Alive, and here with me, not lying in some dingy cellar, but right beside me. Safe.

Maybe it’s just the way the small bit of light beaming through the cracks of the curtains hits her face, but she glows like an angel. A beautiful, innocent angel, who somehow got herself tangled up with the devil.

At another flash of her choking for breath, I squint my eyes, retracting my hand. The fuck kind of dream was that?

Two minutes later, and I still can’t shake it off.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and crack the curtain just enough to find the alcohol that I desperately need right now. Crossing the room to the dinner cart, I pour a glass of wine and take a seat in the chair across from the bed, my eyes rapt on Nola as I sip the drink.

It’s no great mystery why I find her so irresistible. The obvious is her looks—the woman possesses a rare and effortless beauty that draws those around her. It’s fascinating, watching her move through life, completely oblivious to the lingering stares from others, the double glances of both men and women who’ve been struck by her natural beauty. As if she doesn’t have a clue.

It’s the goodness in her, though, that attracts the predatory instincts in me. The selfless nature that she carries to a fault. A powerful magnet that excites the bad shit inside of me, the same way darkness cloys its hunger for light.