The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Paranormal Romance

Thirty-Six

Dread kept Veronica on the roof of the tower, high above whatever was about to happen this night.

Shadows grew long across the grass. A white wolf slinked into the moonlight.

She's come out now...

Looking up at Veronica, the wolf's green eyes flashed. It raised its head to the moon and howled. This was no ordinary canine cry, but ethereal, sepulchral, the sound of death rising from the underworld.

Its call trailing off, the white wolf lowered its head and gazed at Veronica again.

Veronica felt as if her entire body rose up into the air. She tore herself away from the creature's sight, away from the certainty of where it was, and ran back to the stairway, down to the landing, and all the way back through the house to her rooms. Once in her bedroom she locked the door, and then raced to her balcony to the lock the French doors as well.

Mrs. Twig's voice rose up through the house. "Go away! Go away!"

It was starting again. Veronica shivered in every atom. She froze on the spot to listen.

A voice whispered through the door, yet seemed to be everywhere, coming through the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

I will take back my children....

"Never!" Mrs. Twig rasped out.

The soft cries and groans fluttering around the walls of the house were heartbreaking and terrible. Veronica put her hands over her ears and begged them to stop.

You are wicked. Wicked to keep a mother from her children, a mother murdered and buried alive in her grave.

Mrs. Twig's voice rose up through the house. "You will never cross this threshold. I know you, Sovay Lembron de la Flamme. In the name of Jesus Christ, be gone!"

For a long moment, emptiness hung in the air. Had naming the ghost sent her away?

Veronica tiptoed across her room to a window, opened the curtains, and peered between them to see who, or what, came out to the lawn. The sky was black and dusted with stars, the moon bright between the horns of the tapering yew trees above the ruined chapel.

The lady came out from the shadow of the house, dragging the heavy train of her yellow gown behind her. She turned to look up at the tower. Raising her hands to the heavens, she appeared to speak, but Veronica could hear no words.

The entire earth seemed to howl, the moon, the trees, and the grass vibrated with the cries of the wolves.

The lady lowered her arms, grew still, and gazed directly at the window where Veronica was watching. The twigs on the lady's hat trembled. Her eyes glowed. She pointed her finger at Veronica.

Light flashed. She felt a jolt, like a lightning strike to her body.

Stifling a scream, Veronica fell back. She crept to a different window, and peered out between the curtains.

The lady in yellow was weaving the air with her hands. A breeze blew up, puffing under the skirts of her gown. As she raised her arms to the moon, a powerful wind, carried her into the air, blowing her higher and higher, until the darkness opened, and she was gone.

Veronica felt weak, as if her very essence had been sucked out.