The Outcasts Read online

  “You decapitated that… what was that… thing?” A sob fought its way back up through my throat. “Who are you?”

  We made it to the front of the library before I even realized I was moving, but a flash of red quickly brought me to a halt.

  Gabriel darted in front of me. “Go.” He gently pushed me toward the exit door. “My driver is outside. He’ll take you to your room. Lock your door when you get back and don’t talk to anyone until I get there.”

  I didn’t argue and I was surprised that I found myself immediately obeying him without a second thought. As I headed to the doors, from this vantage point, I could just make out someone’s feet sticking out from underneath the desk. The pit of my stomach dropped as I realized that whoever it was had been there the entire time. The closer I moved toward the prone figure, the stronger the smell of bleach became. When I got close enough, I realized the person was actually a man, and he’d been stripped of all of his clothes except for his boxers and socks. The true Librarian. Blood pooled under the desk and I realized that my attacker had tried to clean up the mess he’d made—there was a mop in the corner stained red. Bleach and the overwhelming smell of iron hit me and I retched. This had clearly been planned in a hurry.

  Time seemed fractured and disjointed as I tried to make sense of what I’d just witnessed. By some miracle, I managed to stumble out of the library doors and into the blaring, midday sun,—thinking about how eggs and toast the second time around were not as pleasant as the first.

  There was no way the proper Librarian was still alive.

  The more I tried to suck in air, the more I found I couldn’t.

  Rough hands seized my shoulders and pulled me to my feet, but I barely processed this, even when I was hauled into a car and shoved into an oversized backseat, left alone to curl into the fetal position.

  Chapter 11

  BLOOD STUCK TO MY hair in dry clumps. My eyes were red-rimmed and I only made it to my room because of Gabriel’s driver—I vaguely remembered him having blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes—had carried me to my room. Being as self-conscious as I was about my weight, I normally would have been horrified at the idea of some strange guy attempting to carry me, but he didn’t seem physically bothered in the least. There was no huffing or wincing or turning red at his extra load.

  I watched in silent shock as he disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, he held out a wet towel with an outstretched arm, careful not to get too close. He was professional and exuded a quiet confidence which left me feeling oddly comforted. I had no reason to trust him, but I didn’t feel threatened, either. He movements were slow and methodical—which told me he knew enough about people in shock to keep his distance, making sure to show me what he was doing; all without a single word. And then, just like that, he was gone from my room like an apparition.

  My mind played back the macabre images from today’s excursion. People were dead. People, or something else entirely?

  Shock makes you see unexplainable things.

  I knew I should go to the police but something stayed my hand. Gabriel’s words telling me to stay put until he got there kept playing over and over again in my head. He had answers I needed. Images of the true Librarian’s torn throat flashed across my vision. What would happen to his body? Were the cops going to question me? What if the next knock on the door was the police?

  My chest started to tighten and suddenly I couldn’t breathe; if I hugged myself tight enough this would all go away.

  Getting up without even realizing it, I found myself standing in front of the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob. But instead of opening it, I pulled it back and resumed my place on the bed. I reached up to my hair and brought it back down, noticing I was still covered in blood. I was a mess.

  The hot water in the shower served its purpose, bringing me back to life a little at a time, but I still couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

  I scrubbed the blood from my hair, feeling marginally better until I started to think about cult members with filed teeth, and then my thoughts drifted to Gabriel as I tried to decipher how he had moved the way he did. I couldn’t get past how inhuman it had looked. He was way faster than any martial arts experts I’d ever seen on TV. And I was not a physics major, but I knew it would take a heck of a lot of effort and strength to chop someone’s head off. Oh my gosh– he’d cut someone’s head off. He was the real psycho here.

  With the adrenaline dump gone, the cuts and bruises started to throb and my whole body ached all over.

  Once the cobwebs in my head started to dissipate, I thought about calling my mom and Corinth, but realized I didn’t have my phone—I left it back at the library in my hasty exit. I had committed both of their phone numbers to memory, just in case I did lose it, so I picked up the in-room phone to discover that it was dead. I tried to unplug it and plug it back in but there was still no dial tone.

  Great, cut off from the world.

  It had been at least four hours—what if he didn’t make it out? Deciding I couldn’t wait any longer, I packed my things and was preparing to leave, when I heard a knock on the door.

  When I didn’t answer, the knock came louder. A voice spoke from the other side. “Open the door, Larna.”

  I wavered for a second, trying to decide what to do. Making my decision, I went to the bedside, unplugged the lamp on the nightstand, and pulled open the door with it at the ready.

  Gabriel’s eyes ticked to the lamp and back to me. “That won’t be necessary.”

  I brandished it all the same as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands folded in his lap.

  “You owe me answers,” I demanded.

  He cleared his throat. “We can’t stay here. There are people who want you dead. I’m the only person who can protect you.” He traced the outline of his scar and I wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you until I know what’s going on. Who are you… what are you?” As soon as it was out of my mouth, his eyes changed—flickered—from inky black to a piercing bright blue. As quickly as a flash of lightning in a storm-riddled sky. When he blinked, it was as if I only imagined it.

  I felt the lamp slip from my grasp and fall to the floor. Corinth’s words came back to haunt me: ‘Your father looked spooked.’ My dad had his reasons for leaving us behind in such a hurry. Maybe he left to protect us from a horrible truth. After a second longer, I whispered, “This has something to do with my father, doesn’t it?”

  He glanced down and when he looked back up, there really was fire in his eyes. “This has everything to do with your father.”

  It wasn’t the answer I expected, and all of a sudden I felt light-headed. “You know my father, I know you do.” I pointed at my father’s journal on the bed. “He took photographs for you, right? Where is he?”

  Gabriel held his hand out and I imagined it how I’d seen it earlier, covered in blood, holding a thin black blade, chopping at a stranger’s neck like vegetable stems. “I don’t know where your father is.” Gabriel’s brows drew together. “But I do know he’s dangerous.”

  “You’re lying,” I scoffed. “My dad is a lot of things, but dangerous isn’t one of them. He’s the guy who tells bad jokes and trips over his own feet.” I glanced down at the lamp on the ground, thinking about how fast I’d need to be in order to grab it again and defend myself. There was no way my dad was anything but a gentle soul. He used to give the spiders that had taken up residency on our front porch nicknames.

  Gabriel saw my gaze flick to the lamp and shook his head as if to say, ‘don’t even try it’ as he scratched his cheek with a finger. “Your father is dangerous. I can explain everything, but just not here. If you come with me, I can protect you. I have many resources.”

  “This has all gotten too freaky. Forget it, I’m out, I don’t want to know—”

  “We don’t have time for this.” His hand curled around my chin, and I jumped because I didn’t even see him move. His li
ps tugged up at the corners of his mouth. “You think you’ll be safe in Texas with your boyfriend or your mother?”

  I took a long gulp trying to stop the trembling of my hands. It was the slow, drawn out way he said it that caught my attention… not a threat but a warning.

  “How do you know anything about my life?” I could understand how he knew where I was from. Sarah, the receptionist, had access to a copy of my passport, but there was no way he would have known about me and Corinth.

  “I know all about you. And so do the people who are after you.”

  Chapter 12

  THAT NIGHT, I DREAMT of Corinth.

  We were in a brick-lined alley with only one way out, which was filled with a fog so thick I couldn’t see my hand in front of me. Laser bright, unblinking eyes pierced the dense haze. Primal fear tore through me, until I saw that the thing with alien-eyes stalking toward me from of the mist was actually Corinth. I relaxed… until I noticed the way he was smiling—a leer reserved only for those you hate the most, or a grin Hannibal Lecter might give to someone he was planning on eating.

  I gazed down at myself as if having an out of body experience. On my fingers and around my mouth was a considerable amount of blood—not mine. The eerie smile plastered across Corinth’s face; the blood that wasn’t my own should have surprised me; even the 1980s’ horror movie fog effects should have surprised me. But what sent me into a tailspin was when I licked the blood from my fingertips like I’d just demolished a bucket of fried chicken.

  I wanted more.

  My fear subsided and turned into an inexplicable craving. Describing it as a want or hunger would not do this feeling justice—consuming felt better. I couldn’t help the drive and urge that hit me.

  I lunged at Corinth.

  ***

  I awoke in a cold sweat, in a strange room, in an oversized four-poster bed. Cold air hit my clammy skin and I hunkered down under the covers to peer around the room, in case I wasn’t alone. I didn’t see anyone else around, so I was fairly certain I was safe for the moment. Slowly, the memories crept back in, except for how I got here. The last thing I remembered was grilling Gabriel for answers about my father. My stomach clenched and the tight-chested feeling began all over again. Maybe this is what a concussion feels like and I was suffering memory loss… which was also not a heartening thought.

  I tossed the covers aside and glanced down. I was wearing pajamas but for the life of me, I didn’t remember changing into them. The top and bottoms were made of a silk so soft I was sure this was what clouds were made from. There was a huge fireplace but no comforting fire greeted me.

  I spun in a circle, overwhelmed by how over-decorated the place was. Massive tapestries hung from the twenty-foot ceilings. Most of them depicted scenes of angels fighting demons or vice versa. The muted dark colors mixed with low lighting made it seem all the more surreal and dream-like. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered.

  I made my way to the corner of the room, hoping this was the bathroom, and turned on the lights. My breath hitched in my throat. The walls were a deep rich forest green; the floor an artistic conglomeration of black stones that made me think of spas I’d seen in luxury magazines. A long bamboo mat lead to an oversized claw foot bathtub. It was so alluring I had already turned the gold handles to HOT before I realized it. The steam warmed the room and I sighed in contentment. An ostentatious gold-framed mirror next to a large double sink showed my reflection. I absentmindedly brought a hand up to my bandaged head. Staring at myself in the mirror, I realized just how tired I looked. My eyes drooped heavily from extreme exhaustion and there were darks circles under them. This had really happened. I wasn’t dreaming about the fanged dude and Gabriel barging his way into my life.

  I tried to work my way through everything I’d learned since the appearance of the Russian at the concert. My father had disappeared six years ago and left behind his favorite jacket and wedding ring. He’d hidden his private journal in hopes that I might find it one day. Or perhaps he’d never intended anyone to find it. According to my dad’s entries, he took pictures of everything around Bromham. There had to be more to him inviting my father to move here and work for him. I just didn’t know what that was. A muscle bound blonde with filed teeth attacked me, for no reason other than maybe he was deranged and Gabriel, who moved impossibly fast, had come to my rescue, promising he’d give me some answers. I think that about covered it. So this all boiled down to my missing father and Gabriel.

  Back out in the drafty room, I found my duffel bag next to the bed and quickly changed into my old jeans and t-shirt. It felt good to still have something familiar in my possession. Searching through the rest of my belongings, I also found my dad’s journal and breathed a sigh of relief. I could still study it for clues. Even though I’d been through it so many times, maybe there was something else I had missed or just couldn’t quite put together, yet.

  Heavy velvet curtains hung over the only window in the darkened room. I had no idea if it was night or day, so I pulled the curtains aside to reveal a football-sized field of lush green manicured lawn that covered most of the grounds. I immediately thought about the photo in the library: Stanton Manor. The room I stood in was on the second floor of the mansion. Gray clouds blotted out the sun as a light drizzle of rain coated the outside window. I shivered at how cold it looked out there. Past the length of lawn was a copse of trees so dense, I couldn’t see what lay beyond.

  Movement below me caught my eye outside and I glimpsed down to see the blonde haired guy, Gabriel’s driver, hurrying along the stone walkway, his mouth set in a hard line as if he were deep in thought. For the first time, I noticed he appeared to be closer in age to me than what I first thought. His sharp blue eyes flicked up as he strode past, instantly connecting with mine. Those eyes were unsettling and the most hypnotic blue I’d ever seen. I sucked in a surprised breath and dropped the curtains back into place. Tracing the edge of my bandage with a finger, I pulled the curtains aside a crack in order to get another look at the blue-eyed stranger, but the path was now empty. Distracted, I moved back into the room and traced the intricate patterns and drawings on the four-poster frame. There were pictures etched into the dark thick wood: a rabbit with a top hat, a cat with a wide smile, hearts, roses, stars and a girl in a dress. The girl in the dress traveled the length of the frame.

  Alice in Wonderland.

  It was beautiful and haunting. I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

  I tried the door and to my astonishment, I found it was unlocked. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall, expecting someone to accost me, but I was alone. The first things I noticed where the intricate paintings that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. They appeared to be just as priceless as the tapestries in the bedroom. There were five different doors that lined the upstairs hallway. Trying each handle, I found them all to be locked.

  At the end of the hall, I found a set of stairs. Just as I was about to venture down them, I discovered Gabriel leaning against a doorjamb with his arms crossed as if in anticipation of my arrival.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake so soon—you took quite a bump to the head.” He pointed to my bandaged head. “I’m sure you still want answers.” Gabriel glanced over his shoulder and nodded at someone I couldn’t see. “I’ll meet you in my study.”

  As soon as he said ‘study’, a man appeared at the head of the stairs. I caught myself taking an involuntary step backward as he quickly darted forward.

  “Jeremy, show Larna to the study.”

  Jeremy was tall, with pale skin and a cleft in his chin. He gestured for me to follow him, but when I turned back to Gabriel, he was already gone. That’s not spooky at all.

  Things like this don’t happen to ordinary people, and I was being generous in the use of that word to describe myself.

  Jeremy led me downstairs, through a hallway with black and white checkered floors, and down another entryway. The only sound was my feet slapp
ing loudly against the polished marble as he finally ushered me into what I presumed was Gabriel’s study.

  In the center of the room was a simple and elegant hand-carved wooden desk. A laptop sat open on top of it along with several books. Seeing the laptop jolted me back into reality. This was the twenty first century. I hadn’t teleported to 1356.

  He gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

  This place and everyone in it was wrong. It wasn’t until the door slammed shut and I heard the soft click of a lock settling into place that my teeth started to clack together in dread.

  This might be my only chance to snoop, so in a rare bold move, I padded to the other side of his desk and touched the mousepad with the tip of my finger. The screen fluttered to life but it was password protected. Maybe his password was Beelzebub or the Devil. My thoughts settled on another word instead: Dracula.

  There was an open book on top of his desk—a rare edition of a Bible, and it looked well-worn. I wouldn’t have thought him religious, but it made sense with all of the other décor, the—angels and demons. If Corinth were here, he would be able to hack into the laptop, since he was a whiz with computers. And a pang of sorrow hit me at the thought of not being able to call him for help. He always had a knack for handling stressful situations; with a calm demeanor and a wit that slayed, there was no trouble he couldn’t get out of. I, on the other hand, was not good with these types of situations. I’d never found myself in a position like this before.