Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 30

If our not-so-professional sneaking hadn’t sold us out, the dilapidated door hinges surely did. I could just imagine them screeching a warning: “Help! Intruders here!” Not that we were exactly stealthy.

Damon cast a quick glance my way, but he shifted his gaze as soon as our eyes met. We all knew that barging into a potential den of darkness wasn’t the smartest idea. But really, how could I let Damon and Simon stumble into trouble alone? I had practically helped light the fire, and now I felt compelled to jump in after them.

His pleading eyes were no match for my determination. Nope, there was no way I was backing out now. We were going to share whatever fate awaited us—after all, misery loves company, right?

Zuina shoved the pin she had used to fumble with the lock back into her pocket, and Simon took the lid off the container.

“C’mon, Carmiabell,” he urged, a hint of urgency in his voice. “We’re not going to get caught, are we?”

I snorted. “Oh, definitely not. Just the five of us against whatever horror lurks inside. What could possibly go wrong?”

As if the universe had heard my sarcasm, I noticed Phoebi was still on the train. Guilt gnawed at me; I’d forgiven her for dragging up the past, but it was hard to ignore her presence now. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

The darkness loomed ahead, thick and oppressive. But Simon’s candle flickered to life, casting a small halo of light that illuminated the surroundings. With one flick of his wrist, he ignited the other candles in the room, transforming our little hideout into something that almost resembled a cozy gathering—if you squinted hard enough.

“Welcome to the most boring furniture store of all time,” I quipped, taking in the sight. Tables, chairs, a chandelier, and a fireplace. Honestly, it felt like I was back at home. The architect of this estate had a knack for replicating houses, and apparently, no one wanted to change a thing. Who could blame them? Change is hard, especially when it involves more than just swapping out a couch.

I couldn't help but notice the pictures on the mantlepiece. A collection of memories, ours spilling over with laughter and love, while Mrs. Tuth’s lone portrait was a stark contrast. It was a professional piece, the kind that would make even the most seasoned artists weep with envy.

In the painting, Mrs. Tuth stood close to a boy—her face lit up with joy, while his smile seemed to whisper a joke only they shared. The boy was thin, almost translucent, and while he could easily have been her son, their resemblance was questionable. Mrs. Tuth had those full lips and gray eyes, while he sported thin lips and dark, almost black eyes. Their noses told a different story too: hers was elegantly pointed, his hooked like a bird of prey. Still, they both radiated happiness.

“Ever seen a painting that screams ‘I have secrets’?” I said, breaking the silence.

Phoebi, peering closer at something on the floor obscured by the table, blinked. “Has anyone seen this?”

We all leaned in, and my heart raced when I spotted the red, oval pills spilled from a small, translucent container. The atmosphere shifted, a combination of curiosity and dread thickening the air.

“Is it just me, or do those look like trouble?” I muttered.

Zuina picked up the empty container and frowned. “No label. Like we were expecting any.”

“Yeah, because ‘mysterious pills of doom’ really sells itself,” Simon remarked, rolling his eyes before picking one up and sniffing it. “What’s this supposed to be, some sort of vampire candy?”

Damon, ever the cautious one, took a pill from Simon and inspected it with great care. He raised an eyebrow as he inhaled deeply. “I’m not sure. It smells… like a chemistry lab exploded.”

I leaned over and took a whiff myself. Nothing. Just an empty promise of danger. “Not sure we should be sniffing mystery pills,” I said, trying to sound wiser than I felt. “But you know, it has that ‘forbidden fruit’ vibe.”

“Alchemy compounds, a hint of human blood,” Damon said, finally lowering his hand. The mention of blood sent a shiver down my spine, and I was reminded of that innocent boy taken from my neighbor. Could Mrs. Tuth really be capable of such brutality?

“Energy flower, sugar, and more ingredients.” He looked around, as if expecting the pills to jump up and start dancing.

Just then, a loud clang echoed from the kitchen, as if a spoon had chosen that moment to commit suicide on the floor.

Everyone froze. The tension in the room thickened, a suffocating silence that could rival a horror movie. My heart raced as I fought to keep my composure, black veins of panic spreading in my chest. Simon’s candlelight flickered ominously.

Then Mrs. Tuth appeared in the doorway, teetering like she’d just survived a wild night out. “You monsters!” she roared, finally locking eyes with us.

She looked ancient, a relic of a time long past, yet there was a strange energy about her that belied her age. Her hair was a wild mess, framing her face like she had just stepped off a rollercoaster. But those gray eyes, the same ones I remembered, still held a sharpness that could cut through the thickest fog.

“Death is always the end,” her whispers circled the room like a ghost, sending a chill down my spine.

It was then that I realized: we might have stumbled into something far darker than I ever imagined.

“Well,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “at least we’ll be together in death, right?”

Damon shot me a look that could curdle milk. “Now is not the time for jokes, Carmiabell.”

“Right, right. Just keeping it light.” I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever came next. The darkness pressed in, and I steeled myself for the inevitable confrontation.

After all, what was a little monster hunting among friends?