Silenced Voices (Crescent Hill Sequel)

Three - Have Grace, Death

I whip around and see Marie standing at the top of the stairs. Her waxy candle drips onto the base, the flame help close to her face. "What are you doing up?" Marie asks, taking a step down. I walk back up and lead her quietly up the stairs. 

"I just... needed some water. Go back to bed, Marie." I plant a kiss on her forehead, and she nods, sleepily walking down the hallway. I let out a breath, and head back down the stairs.

Aunt Heather's purse is still on the floor, and I quickly pull out her keys. But which one is it? No time to think. I stuff the keys in my sleep pants, and hurry back up the stairs. The wooden stairs groan under my weight, and I stop dead. Aunt Heather and Aunt Juliette aren't talking anymore, all the lights out. When no one gets up, I dare to step up again. 

"I got it. Let's hurry!" I rush into my room, where I'm mortified to see Vicky. "What are you doing in here!?" I whisper harshly. Vicky is far too close to Eric, who's cheeks have gone bright red. 

"I thought I heard you getting water." Vicky laughs. 

"So why'd you come in my room?" 

"Wanted to see if you'd changed it since I left. See you got rid of my bed." Vicky clicks her tongue. "But wherever you two were off to, I suggest you forget about it. I will tell Mother you left the second you step foot outside the house." There's a cold ice in her voice. Eric looks on the verge of tears. 

"Vicky? I didn't find any-" Grace stops short as she exits my closet. It takes everything I have not to yell at them. 

"GET. OUT." I seethe through clenched teeth. 

"No Laine! Please don't be mad!" Grace starts to cry, her small body shaking. 

"You made her do this? What'd you want to find?" I turn to Vicky, that terrible disgrace to the Hamilton name. 

"Laine?" Eric's voice is small, like he's the youngest in the room, not the oldest. "We need to go."

"Then we're coming with you." Vicky crosses her arms. Grace does not look like she wants to go. Her eyes are red, tears streaming down her sweet face. However, she does not look like she's about to be left behind. I turn to Eric.

"Fine." He shrugs. 

"Good." Vicky walks over to the window, and climbs out. She motions for Grace to follow before dropping out of view. 

"What are we doing?" I whisper to Eric as Grace climbs out the window. 

"There's something written on the Town Hall wall. You'll never believe me unless you see it yourself." He shakes his head, putting my shawl around my shoulders and heading to the window. 

The walk to Town Hall is cold and awkward. Eric puts his arm around me, and Vicky casts us death glances every two seconds. Grace walks ahead, cold and shivering. When we finally get there, I take out Aunt Heather's keys, and unlock the front door. Not a soul is out at this hour. 

"I want to go home." Grace whimpers.

"Woman up, Grace!" Vicky snaps, walking through the front. "So why are we here?" Vicky turns to me. 

"Over here." Eric takes me by the hand, and leads me to a desk in the room full of them. But this desk is special. Violet Pinkard's dead body still lays slumped over it, blood, thick and sticky, covering the wooden desk. On the desk next to her, words lay written in her blood.

"The Mother of a Hamilton is still a Hamilton." I breath out the words. 

"Someone's out for us?" Vicky's eyes grow wide, her mouth open, and I can tell she's just as scared as I feel. "Why?"

"I guess someone isn't to fond of your aunt." Eric shrugs. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"Probably not." I agree. "So can we go now? This place is giving me the creeps."

"Yeah, let's go. Grace!" Vicky calls out, but Grace doesn't answer. In fact, as I look around, I don't see Grace at all. My heart drops, and chills run through my body.

"Grace?" I call out. "This isn't funny!" I light my own candle with the flame of a candle on the wall, and head farther into the room. I don't see Grace anywhere in the shadows. 

"Grace!" Vicky is freaking out, her green eyes brimming with tears. 

"Where'd she go?" Even Eric looks scared now, not seeing my young sister anywhere. 

A terrible thought runs through my head. At least it's not Marie...

"Hello, Hamiltons. Feel you can just do as you wish?" A dark figure emerges from the shadows, clothed entirely in black. The only thing you can see are their eyes. It's so dark, I can't even tell the gender. "You see, I was just here to deal with Miss Pinkard's body, but now I want some, Grace." 

"No!" Vicky is showing a side of herself I've never seen. A more sensitive side, that loves her sister.

"She is a Hamilton, after all." The voice sneers. They pull a terrified Grace out in front of them, a cloth gagging her pale face. "And Death deserves to have a little grace." The voice laughs, and laughs, before putting a knife to her throat.

"NO, no, no! Anything! I'll do anything!" Vicky is sobbing hysterically, but the eyes hardly blink. Hardly notice. Hardly care. 

"What do you have against her? She's just a little girl!" I'm crying too now, Grace's terrified face etching itself in my mind. I know I'll never get it out, even if she survives. 

"Police! Put her down!" Sheriff Hudson's booming voice breaks the tension. Eric grabs my hand, and pulls me back. 

"I snuck out and got the police." Eric whispers. "Was that okay?"

"Of course, of course." I nod, my eyes glued to Grace. 

"Death to Hamiltons!" The voice shouts, stabs Grace in the chest, and drops her, disappearing into the dark. 

"Follow them!" Sheriff Hudson's backup chases after the Killer, and Vicky runs over to Grace, screaming and shouting.

"Are you two okay?" Sheriff Hudson asks. The room starts to get brighter and brighter as an Officer goes around lighting all the candles. 

"Fine." Eric nods.

"Physically, yeah." My voice cracks, hot tears streaming down my face. I stumble over to Vicky, my brain unable to comprehend. It happened so quickly. No climax, no daring rescue. She was there, and then, she wasn't.

"Grace... This is all my fault." Vicky cries over our sister. Her eyes are glassy, her face drained of color, the rag still in her mouth. The red stain through her heart has stopped growing. 

"You didn't know. Nobody knew." I put my hand on her shoulder. 

"Am just supposed to go home now?!" Vicky shouts. "Pretend like nothing happened? Like her life was just, nothing? A statistic in the Killer's record?"

"No. No Vicky, we won't let Grace's life go to waste. We can make sure she isn't just a statistic! I promise..." 

"But in the end, aren't we all? Pawns, statistics, the most unimportant characters?" Vicky stands, Grace's blood pooling at her feet. "People will care only for a moment that she's gone. Grace isn't a poor, innocent girl to them. She's the Mayor's niece. Not even the oldest, or the youngest. They'll say sorry, and then they'll forget." 

"Not if we don't let them." I turn to my sister. The sister who I've hated for most of my life. The sister who's hated me. But now, none of that seems to matter. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Maybe even my little sister." I look Vicky in the eyes, holding on to this new side of her. The statement is a peace offering, and she seems to understand. 

"Grace Hamilton. Never to be forgotten." She nods. "Not if I have anything to say about it."