Burning Ember

Chapter 26

I'm not sure what I was hoping for, or what I thought would happen, but I paced the attic hoping that Geneviève would appear or show me something, something that would explain what the hell was going on. The past two nights I had the same dream. Geneviève stabbing her husband to death and smiling at me as she handed me the blade.

Wringing my hands together, I stood in the middle of the room, looking left to right, above and below, but nothing. This seemed to be where most of the activity had occurred, though I didn't understand why that was either. She killed Claude in my bedroom, which was unsettling to say the least. I had taken to sleeping in the parlor by the fire. It was warmer anyway. Maybe the attic was her happy place. She must have liked being up here since she had set up her sewing station in the turret room when there were plenty of other rooms on the second floor she could have used.

I could see the allure of it though. The windows, the full view of the property, the light that bathed every inch of it. I liked it quite a bit myself. My mind kept going back to her last letter. The one to Lucienne. How she made a mistake and was afraid of making another. The first mistake was likely killing Claude, but could it really be considered a mistake?

Looking back at everything I went through with Gabriel; I wondered how different my life would have been if I had done the same. Would I be as traumatized as I am now? Would I still hate myself for letting him put me through so much? Always the helpless victim and never the survivor that fights for herself. Or would I be stronger and more confident in myself? Less scars on my body and soul. Maybe the nightmares wouldn't insist on torturing me. But what did I do instead? I ran.

Not that I regret getting the hell away from him, because I don't, but it still felt weak. I still felt weak sometimes. A lot of the time. I still felt afraid, and helpless, and alone, and it felt like I didn't even know myself anymore at times. If only I had been stronger. I let out a sigh, my breath fogged around me in the cold air of the attic.

"Geneviève?"

This was stupid. There wasn't anything up here aside from me and my thoughts. Shoulders drooped; I walked back toward the stairs. As I held my foot out over the top stair, I heard a click. Spinning around my eyes searched the room, and to the right, a wooden panel of the wall had popped open. Maybe Geneviève was listening. Slowly, I crept across the attic toward the newly opened panel. Grabbing the edge of it, I pulled it open. A gush of dust and cold air rushed from the space. Fanning my hand, I peered inside, but it was too dark to see anything.

Making quick work of the stairs, I hurried to the kitchen to grab my phone from the counter before running right back up the two flights. With my flashlight switched on I, I illuminated the long-hidden space. It was narrow but seemed to run back further like a passage in the wall. The dust that clouded the air made it difficult to see to the end. Stepping inside, I had to turn my body and shuffle sideways through the space. The cobwebs that were strung from side did nothing to help with visibility or my nerves. Running my fingertips along the wooden beam of the wall in front of me, I stepped over a few pieces of wood that looked as if they fell from above. Hopefully there were no issues with the roof.

I stopped to shine my light, without knowing how much farther there was to go and not particularly feeling like smacking into anything, I wanted to be cautious. The end of the passage was only a few feet away, and in the corner at the bottom was a box. I crouched and reached through the webs and grabbed it before sliding back out. My shoulder caught on a nail that was sticking through the wall as I turned to leave. Hissing at the sting, I clutched my shoulder in one hand, and held the box firmly in the other as I left the attic. My cream-colored sweater was covered in dust and cobwebs and now had a tear. I sighed as I pulled it off and set it on the kitchen counter. I really liked that sweater.

Whatever was in this box better have been worth it. Blowing the dust from the top, I could see that it was black and polished. I lifted the small latch in the front and opened the box, having no idea what to expect. Inside was a wrinkled and blackened thing that looked desiccated with age, like a piece of fruit or a raisin dried by the sun. Only this was bigger than a piece of fruit and definitely a raisin. I picked it up to further inspect it under the light, hoping whatever it was wouldn't crumble in my hands. As I turned it, I began to make out the unmistakable presence of ventricles. A heart.

I gasped and dropped it to the floor in my shock where it broke into two pieces. My hands were shaking as I took several steps back. I wasn't sure what to think. Having just found a dried-out heart, my thoughts were consistently the same—what the fuck.

After carefully sweeping the halves into a dustpan, I carried it to the fireplace and tossed it in. Maybe if it was what kept the spirit in this house, then it would finally rest. Besides, I had no intention of calling the police again just to receive the looks of annoyance and disdain for wasting their time—again. Making a spectacle of myself in the paper wasn't something I wanted either.

What happened here? A body under the house, a heart in a box in the attic that someone had to have cut out and put there for God knows what reason. The dreams, the knife and the letters, I just couldn't figure it out.