The Kingdom (30 page)

“In Asher Falls,” I said, and I saw him shudder. “So many strange things have happened to me there. I felt a connection from the moment I arrived, and I’m only now starting to understand why.” I paused. “Who am I, Papa?”

“You are my Amelia,” he said quietly. “And I love you more than life itself.”

My eyes filled with tears. He’d never said anything like that to me before. After the ghosts came, he’d withdrawn into himself, never showing me the slightest affection, and for years I was left wondering what I had done. But now to hear the tremor in his voice, that desperate sadness in his eyes…it was too much. I had to look away.

So many questions lingered, but I wouldn’t ask him about his time with Tilly. That belonged to them. I didn’t condone what had happened—I was fiercely loyal to my mother, after all—but I could understand it. Two desperately lonely people with their secrets—Papa with his ghosts and Tilly with her premonitions.

Drawing my legs up, I laid my cheek on my knees. “What are we, Papa?”

“In the olden days, we were called caulbearers. Babies born behind the veil with the ability to see beyond the real world into the spirit world. Nowadays, it’s considered an old wives’ tale, but it happens every generation or so in our family.”

“Was Freya born behind the veil?”

“Yes. And she had Tilly’s ability to sense things. She was an extraordinary child, I’m told.”

I glanced at him. “You never knew her, Papa?”

He stared out over the graveyard so that I couldn’t see the desolation in his eyes. “She was my daughter, my only child, but I never saw her alive.”

My heart quickened. “Have you seen her ghost?”

“I saw her corpse.” And the sorrow in his voice brought a fresh sting of tears to my eyes.

I dug the little broken wing from my pocket and handed it to him. “I found this in your things. I shouldn’t have taken it.”

His fingers closed around the bit of porcelain, and he clasped it tightly as he told me his story, how he had not seen or heard from Tilly since he’d gone back to my mother. He hadn’t even known about a baby until Tilly had called one night seventeen years after he’d last seen her and told him just enough to send him flying back to Asher Falls where he’d learned that Freya, his only child, had been murdered.

“Did Tilly know who killed her?”

“She never told me. I guess she was afraid of what I might do. But she had a vision of her child’s death. That’s what guided her to Freya.”

“She found the body?”

He nodded.

“But if she knew Freya was murdered, why didn’t she go to the police? Why did she let everyone think that her daughter had died in a fire?”

“Because she didn’t want anyone to know about you.”

“Why?”

“You were born after Freya was murdered.”

My heart started to hammer.
“After?”

His eyes grew distant. “The girl had snuck out of the house to meet someone that night. Tilly didn’t even know she was missing until she woke up from a dream. That dream led her to the laurel bald where she found a fresh grave.”

“Freya’s grave.”

“And yours, child.”

The shock of his words stole my breath even though I must have already intuited the truth. That was why I’d been so overcome at the gravesite. Why that terrible suffocation had pressed down on me. I had been buried there with my murdered mother.

Angus had sensed it, too. That must have been how he found the grave. As impossible as it seemed, he must have picked up my scent, not my mother’s.

I tunneled my fingers through his fur, and he turned, dark eyes gleaming as he nuzzled against me.

“The grave was so shallow the dirt barely covered the body,” Papa said. “She hadn’t been there long. Only moments. Her skin was still warm, and Tilly prayed that she might still be alive. But when she unearthed her, there was no heartbeat. No pulse. The only thing Tilly could do was try and save the baby.”

I had been buried alive, I thought in horror. I had been born to a dead mother. No wonder my life was so strange.

“You weren’t breathing, even when Tilly peeled away the veil. She resuscitated you. She blew her breath into your lungs and brought you back from the other side.”

Brought me back from the other side.

An icy hand grazed my nerve endings.

“And then she gave me to you,” I said softly.

“Yes, but before I took you home, I had to see my child. I had to give her a proper burial so that she could rest in peace.”

My poor, young mother hadn’t been able to rest, but I wouldn’t tell Papa. I wanted him to have that solace.

At least I now knew why he’d been covered in blood when he brought me home. “You’ve been caring for her grave all these years.”

“It was all I could do for her.”

“But, Papa, why did you bury her north to south? Surely it wasn’t because—”

“I didn’t want her facing those mountains,” he said harshly.

I caught my breath. “You felt it, too.” The wind, the dankness. That awful howling.

“Yes, I felt it. So did your mother when we lived there. So did Tilly.”

His gaze moved to the angels. “It was there when you were born. It was with you on the other side. Tilly sensed it that night. There was a terrible struggle, she said.”

I thought of that day in the cemetery when she had tugged me out of the briar patch.

“You fought hard, Amelia. You battled your way back, but even as you drew your first breath, Tilly knew it wasn’t over. She was afraid for you. Afraid it would come for you. She knew she had to get you out of Asher Falls. She thought you would be safe with me.”

I hugged my knees. “Why did you shut me out, Papa? Why did you turn away when I needed you the most?”

He looked old and defeated, indescribably weary. “I was afraid the ghost we saw that day had been sent to watch over you. I was afraid the evil had found you and it would use my devotion to you—my weakness—to somehow get to you.”

I couldn’t stop shaking. Angus sensed my agitation and whimpered. “All this just because I came back from the other side?”

“And because the power it could wield through you on this side would be very, very strong.”

“Why?”

“You are the last of the Ashers,” he said.

I buried my face in my arms, succumbing to a storm of emotions. “Who is my father?” I asked fearfully.

“Edward Asher.”

“Was he evil? Was he in league like the others?”

“I don’t know. But his blood runs through your veins, so your ties to that place are strong. That’s why you were lured back there.”

“But why now?”

“The rules kept you safe,” Papa said. “But you broke them, and now that the door has been opened, you’re vulnerable. Those closest to you are the most dangerous because it will try to use them to weaken you. It will lie and trick and deceive you. You mustn’t let it. And you must never, ever return to Asher Falls.”

I lifted my head. “If it fears me, then there must be a way to defeat it. I can’t live like this, Papa. I can’t live with the loneliness. Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead.”

“Don’t say that! Don’t even think it.”

“Then help me destroy it.”

“You still don’t understand, do you?” He turned away quickly, but not before I’d seen that same look of pity and regret in his eyes.

Thirty-Four

A
ngus and I returned to Asher Falls that afternoon. I didn’t tell Papa because I didn’t want to worry him. But I had to go back. I had to find a way to protect myself. I had to close that terrible door, and if it could be done at all, it would be in the place where I had been born on the other side.

A weight descended the moment we entered the foothills. It was raining, and I wondered if it had poured the whole time we were away. The lake looked swollen, and the ditches were overflowing. The deluge subsided as we drove off the ferry, but the sky remained gray and bleak. For the first time, Angus turned away from the window and settled down in the front seat, resting his snout on the console. I put my hand on his head and felt the bristle of his hair.

“I know,” I murmured. “I feel it, too.”

The oppression. The weight of those mountains bearing down on us.

I heard a crack and looked up to see a boulder crashing toward us. It hit the highway directly in front of the car, releasing a shower of rocks and gravel that pelted my hood and windshield. I was so startled, I swerved too sharply and almost lost control of the wheel on the wet pavement. Righting the vehicle, I pulled to the side of the road to catch my breath and settle my nerves.

The boulder had been close. Too close. A very dark omen.

I wanted to believe it was just bad timing, but I had a feeling it was more than that. I had been warned.

“It’s coming,” I whispered and Angus whimpered.

* * *

I had decided on the drive back that if anyone could help me, it would be Tilly. I headed straight for her house, but the dirt road through the woods had washed out, and I had to park my car and hike most of the way on foot. Halfway there it started to rain again, and I was soaked and miserable by the time I stepped up on her porch. She didn’t answer my knock, so I went around back to see if she might be working with the birds. The feeders and houses were empty, the trees disturbingly silent. I might have taken the quiet for another omen if I hadn’t realized the bad weather had chased the birds away.

Angus huddled under the porch as I climbed the steps and opened the screen door. “Tilly?”

No answer.

I moved across the porch and tried the back door. It opened silently, and I stuck my head in, calling out her name.

Still no answer.

I pushed open the door and moved into the kitchen. “Tilly? Are you in here? It’s me, Amelia.”

I stopped just inside the door and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, but I’d only been inside the house once before. I might not notice if a chair had been moved or a cupboard rearranged. Something was different, though. I could feel it. Sense it.

“Tilly?” The echo of her name in that silent house was eerie and foreboding. I made myself move out of the kitchen and into the living room. Nothing out of place in there, either, except for a pair of muddy boots at the front door where Tilly had undoubtedly left them.

I walked down the tiny hallway. The front bedroom door was open and I peaked inside. It was small and sparsely furnished with an iron bedstead and an oak dresser. I saw myself in the mirror, face pale and drawn, eyes wide with fright. Yes, I was frightened. Fear had an icy grip on my spine as I inched deeper into the house.

In the bathroom, I found blood splotches in the sink and bits of glass on the floor.

My every instinct screamed for me to get out of the house, quickly, the same way I’d come in. But I couldn’t. Not until I found Tilly. She could be lying hurt somewhere. She could be—

A sound froze me in my tracks. My hand flew to my chest as if I could quell the panic that accelerated my heartbeat and drove the air from my lungs.

Someone was in the house, and I didn’t think it was Tilly. She would have answered me when I called out.

The wood floor creaked as someone slipped down the hallway toward me. I didn’t dare move for fear of giving myself away. But I couldn’t just stand there. I needed to find a place to hide.

The creaking stopped. Not as if the footsteps had moved away but as if someone had paused in midstride because they’d heard a sound or sensed a presence. And now they waited with suspended breath on the other side of the wall.

I lifted a foot, and the screech of the floorboard drew a cringe. Out in the hallway, a shadow crept along the wall.

A moment later, Catrice appeared in the doorway, and we both screamed.

“Amelia!” She clutched her sweater around her.

I stood there trembling. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in town. I saw you drive through and I followed you.” She glanced around anxiously. “Tilly isn’t here?”

“I thought your car was broken down.”

Her gaze darted away. “I…just got it fixed.”

Her nervous demeanor confirmed what I had suspected all along—that our meeting in town that day hadn’t been coincidental at all. I doubted she’d even had car trouble.

“Why did you follow me?” I asked sharply.

“I have to talk to you,” she muttered. “I just hope—”

“What?”

“I’m so worried about Tilly.”

“Why?” When she didn’t answer, I grabbed her arms. “There’s blood in here. Do you know something about that?”

Her eyes widened. “Blood? Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. See for yourself if you don’t believe me. But first, tell me why you’re looking for Tilly.”

She looked distraught as her gaze flitted around the bathroom like a frightened bird’s. “I never thought it would come to this. You have to believe me.”

“Come to what? Is Tilly in some kind of trouble?”

Her brown eyes filled with tears as she nodded. “I’m afraid she might be.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Bad trouble. I think she’s in danger.”

“From whom?”

Catrice closed her eyes. “From Freya’s killer.”

My heart jumped. “Who killed her?”

“It could have been any one of us,” she whispered. “We were all there that night. And we’d talked about doing it before. Luna said we needed an offering and Freya was so easy to manipulate.”

“An offering…for what?”

“It was just talk, a stupid game,” she babbled. “I never thought anyone would go through with it.”

“But someone did.”

“Yes.”

“Who was there?”

“We three girls, Hugh and Edward. Freya had told Edward earlier that she was pregnant with his baby. He was in shock. We all were, especially considering that she was almost ready to deliver. She kept to herself so much and she had such a small frame that no one suspected. And why would we? Who would ever dream that he would be so careless with someone like…with an outsider? Luna was furious because she’d always planned to have the first Asher grandchild. Hugh wasn’t exactly thrilled, either. And poor Bryn. She was the most devastated of all.”

“Why?”

“She was crazy about Edward. She would have done anything to get his attention, and there he was, sleeping around with someone like Freya Pattershaw.”

“And you?”

She drew a trembling breath. “Oh, yes. I had my reasons, too. I wanted to fit in just as badly as Freya, so I went along with the game. And all these years…” She glanced down at her hands. Her fingers had curled back as though the joints were afflicted with arthritis. “I should have come forward a long time ago but I didn’t have the courage. I’ve been such a coward.”

“It’s not too late. You can still make it right. Catrice…who killed her? You must have some idea.”

“I swear I don’t know,” she said desperately. “Don’t you see? That’s the way we planned it. None of us would know…except the killer. We lured her up there and then we scared her into running off. It was like a game of hide-and-seek. We split up and searched for her. Whoever found her first…” She trailed off. “We would all be complicit, but only one would have blood on their hands.”

“But what about the fire?”

“That was just a cover. We all panicked when we realized…when Freya never turned up, so Luna went to Pell. She convinced him that Edward had killed Freya. Naturally, he took care of everything. The fire, the funeral arrangements. Everything.”

“How did Tilly burn her hands?”

“Somehow she got word of the blaze. A lot of people had gathered to watch the building burn, but no one tried to do anything to help. When Tilly got there, she tried to get Freya out. That was hard to watch because Freya was never inside. She had already been killed when Pell had the fire set.”

And Tilly knew that. So why had she rushed into that burning building?

“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to put Freya’s body in the building?”

“That would have given the killer away because no one else knew where the body was. And we promised ourselves we’d never tell a living soul. We’d just forget what had been done. Forget about Freya.” She touched a hand to her forehead. “But someone must have seen. They dug up the body and delivered Freya’s baby. It had to be Tilly. No one else could have done it.”

I pictured that lonely grave in the laurel bald. Freya’s grave. My grave.

“If Tilly knew Freya was in that grave, why would she try to get her out of a burning building?”

“Maybe she was already unhinged. Or maybe…” Catrice had gone very pale. “Maybe she knew that was what we would have expected her to do. Maybe she didn’t want us to know that she’d found the body because she was afraid for you. She burned her hands trying to protect you.”

I went very still. “You know who I am?” I asked in a strained voice.

“You have a certain way of turning your head…a certain way you smile. I see Edward in you.”

“Who else knows?”

“Luna, Bryn and Hugh. Pell, of course, because he’s the one who brought you here. You’re his last hope of producing an Asher heir. You and Thane.”

I stared at her in shock. “What do you mean?”

“He arranged to have you brought here so that Thane could seduce you.”

“No. That’s not true. He wouldn’t have anything to do with that.”

She looked at me with pity. “It is true. But Pell selfishly put you in danger because the fact that you’re alive proves Freya didn’t die in that fire.”

“Thane didn’t know,” I said numbly.

She put a comforting hand on my arm, but I jerked away from her.