The Ghostly Past

Chapter 20

"Just not with you."

The words were heavy, damning. Clara took a step back, as if she had been slapped. He'd been the one to say he was drawn to her. Had she misread the signs, her heart hammering, feeling sick? He'd kissed her. Maybe she hadn't been very good, maybe he'd decided he wasn't attracted to her after all.

Humiliation drove the blood from her cheeks. She was ready to bolt, ready to run for the house, tears welling in her eyes despite her trying to stay steady.

He hadn't even looked at her.

Clara fled, running onto the dark lawn. Her heels were sinking into the grass, hampering her movement.

"Clara!" Max had run after her, catching her in easy strides. "God, I didn't mean..."

"I understand that you don't feel for me what I do for you." She said, her voice shaking. "I don't blame you. I mean someone like you, someone like me...and that's okay." He started to speak and she cut in. "But I thought we were friends at least."

He was staring at her. The only light was from a single lantern, hanging from the distant wall. She couldn't read his expression. "I would make a bad friend for you." He told her quietly.

"Why?" Clara wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. She took the plunge. "Is it because of the cycle?"

Even in the darkness, she saw him freeze, the blood draining from his face. "Who told you?" He whispered hoarsely. She shrugged.

It was icy cold. She saw the realisation on his face too, that they were standing in the dark without torches, without help and no one knew.

"We should get back into the light." He said. "We can talk about this later."

Angry with him, and upset, she pulled away when he tried to take her hand. She paused as the evening fell away to be replaced by daylight. The well, further across the garden, was no longer battered, the stone tidy and the chipped paint on the wood was bright.

She found herself running towards it, "Eve? Are you there?" She called out.

The young girl, vivid as life was sitting behind it, crying. "They're gone. They're gone."

"I know." Clara, trapped in Amelia's memory said.

"Samuel killed Leonard." Eve sobbed, "They were fighting over me. Thomas tried to stop it, even though he was so cross with me and Samuel. He got hurt, he died too. I was screaming at them to stop." Eve rocked backwards and forwards. "How could you do this to me?" She looked into Amelia's eyes and screamed. "How could you?"

"You couldn't just run away with him." Amelia said, "You're too young. Besides, how could you think I'd stay silent?" Grim tears filled her own eyes, "How could I, trapped in my bed with a broken leg, courtesy of your Samuel?"

"He didn't mean to." Eve sobbed.

"He's a bully." Amelia pronounced, though tears ran down her own cheeks. "He broke my leg to stop me from talking about the two of you, to threaten me. And then when Leonard and Thomas came home from school they found out."

"You told them!"

"Of course I did!" Amelia screamed back. Grief and guilt swirled in her brain, heavy and burdensome. Her leg throbbed. She moved with a limp.

"They're dead then, because of you." Eve hissed. "Samuel's been arrested. If they don't hang him, my father will have him murdered. He already has Jacob under house arrest."

"Do you see them?" Amelia said aloud, "The ghosts. When they're close do you feel them? Their horror? Their guilt?"

"Yes." Eve whispered. Her eyes were raw with tears. "I know where it ends, Amelia. Father told Jacob and I. We are the ones from the stories, the nightmare tales of friends and lovers killing and betraying each other."

"Yes." Amelia replied. "I know the tale." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I know how it ends."

Her feet bumped into the side of the well, her hands gripping the stone, staring into its depths. "When do I do it?"

She leaned over. It would be so easy to let herself fall, hit her head on the stone, go to sleep beneath the water. The water would fill her lungs, she would cough and splutter as she drowned, but unconscious, she would be unable to save herself. Then maybe the pain would stop, the guilt.

They'd died because of her.

"Clara!" A voice that didn't belong there shouted, arms that seemed ghostly became solids around her waist, yanking her backwards, tight against him as she struggled. "Clara, stop!" The voice was yelling in her ear. "It's not real! Fight it!"

She fought him instead, wriggling to break free, to reach the well and end it, but he held her fast as Eve's grieving face disappeared, and darkness fell around her.

Clara gasped, her knees buckling. Max lowered her slowly, feeling the fight go out of her. She was shivering, icy cold from head to toe. She couldn't speak, her teeth chattering, tears half frozen on her face, Amelia's tears.

"Clara, talk to me." Max said urgently. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded, still unable to catch her breath. "...cold." She murmured.

He swept her into his arms, wordlessly lifting her as if she weighed nothing, striding for the house. The warmth of his body thawed her.

"Put me down." She said finally as they reached the drive. "I can walk." Max gave her a long look, but acquiesced. She was a little unsteady, but stayed upright. He kept an arm around her waist until they reached the house. They received a few strange looks as they passed into the main entrance until Max pulled out a set of keys from his pocket, unlocking one of the rooms to the side and tugging her in.

It was a small parlour of some sort, probably used for receiving guests. The dark wooden furniture was old, and highly polished, the green cushions likely antique. Paintings in great gilt frames lined the walls. The curtain were drawn, a heavy green and gold damask. A beautiful golden clock ticked on the mantel.

"Sit." Max pushed her down onto the sofa, disappearing into yet another room and coming back with a heavy blanket that he wrapped around her shoulders, taking her hands in his one by one and rubbing them. She let out a soft cry as the blood flow returned, burning in her veins.

"Did you see what I saw?" Clara finally spoke, her voice trembling. Amelia's grief and guilt still hung heavily, an albatross around her neck.

"No." Max rubbed his eyes. "But I heard you. It was like you went into a trance. I kept calling your name, but you didn't hear me. You kept talking to the girl."

"Her name was Eve Vella." Clara said brokenly. "I was a girl named Amelia. She was going to..." her voice cracked.

"That's what she did, from what I know of town history." Max said grimly. "It shouldn't have affected you so badly." He stood, pacing before her. "You told me this had stopped! You said you didn't see them any more!" He was furious.

"They had!" Clara replied, equally angry. "I haven't seen anything since you day you brought me home from here. I don't know what just happened!"

"It's all wrong." Max said through clenched teeth, pausing by the covered window. When he turned back to face her, his face wasn't what she expected. It was slack with defeat, his expressive mouth turned down, eyes filled with sorrow. "It's putting you in danger. If I hadn't been there, you'd have killed yourself tonight, do you understand?" He asked, his voice rough. "The cycle needs to end for you to be safe."

"Tell me the truth, Max." Clara insisted. "I know more than you think. But I need to hear it all to help."

"You can't help," he laughed bitterly. "This is just the way it is. God, I shouldn't tell you. The others would go ballistic. You should have just stayed away from us from the start. We're bad people to be friends with."

"You're wrong." Clara huddled into her blanket. "You're the one who's always taken care of me."

He sighed, bowing his head. "You deserve to know. I said this from the start. Maybe things wouldn't have come so far if you'd known. Let me tell you the story of the original curse, the curse that sparked off centuries of death and betrayal."