Firethorne

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Maya

I sat with my father at the breakfast table the next morning, chewing my toast as I mulled over the events of the night before.

“What did you mean yesterday, when you said you needed to discuss terms for this job?” I asked.

“Exactly that,” he replied. “Mr Firethorne wants to discuss a few little issues. It’s nothing to worry about. Just that there are terms we need to agree on in addition to what was in the contract.”

As usual, his answer wasn’t really an answer.

“Why haven’t I seen this contract? Or better yet, why haven’t I signed one?”

My father sighed, dropped his toast onto his plate and brushed the crumbs off his hands.

“Because this is on me. You’re free to work here, live here, but if you want to leave at any time, you can.”

“That’s not how employment works,” I reminded him, niggling doubts burrowing away in my brain.

“And that’s why we need to iron some small specifics out this morning,” he replied, and I could feel a headache coming on. His inability to be transparent made my head hurt.

“What specifics exactly?” I asked, my jaw locking as my exasperation grew. “And how can they be small and specific?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“But I do worry.”

“Well don’t.”

My tension multiplied as I retorted, “That’s really helpful. Thanks.”

Why was I going along with this?

Why was I letting him get away with sweeping statements and sweeping shit under the metaphorical carpet?

Why was I like this?

But I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, so we finished our breakfast in silence before I asked, “Where do I go this morning? Who do I report to?”

“Mrs Richardson is taking you under her wing. She’s the housekeeper. But don’t worry so much, Maya. Everything will be fine. Today is the start of a new life for us.”

I ignored him, standing from the table and walking over to the kitchen area to rinse my plate and put it in the sink, ready to wash. Then, I told my father, “I’m just gonna get some fresh air before starting this new life of ours.”

“A new chapter,” he announced, smiling as I headed for the door.

I stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind me. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes and savoured the cool morning air. I loved how the crispness of it sparked in my lungs, making me feel alive. The mellow breeze grazed my skin, kissing my face and gently fanning my hair. A calmness washed over me, and slowly, I opened my eyes. But as I glanced down, something caught my eye on the step of the porch.

I took a few steps forward to get a closer look, and then... the calmness that I’d been revelling in only moments ago was ripped away in an instant when I saw what lay there. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand in shock.

A rat.

A dead rat in a trap.

What the actual fuck?

I stared at it for a few seconds, feeling utter revulsion at the dead rodent lying at my feet, wondering whether to call my father to come out. But then, I noticed something white peeking out from underneath. Feeling sick, I kicked the trap lightly with my foot, grimacing at how the rat’s tail quivered as the trap moved. Then, I bent down, and trying to ignore what lay in the trap, trying to block it from my mind, I picked it up between my thumb and finger. My face screwed up as I lifted the trap in front of me and stood back up.

Tucked in the trap, beneath the dead rat, was a piece of paper. Tentatively, wincing in disgust, I pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a handwritten note and the black ink on the paper looked eerily familiar.

They’re all liars here.

I read the words over and over again.

They’re all liars here.

They’re all liars here.

My eyes scanned the text as if the words might change any minute and give me another clue, tell me who it was that was sending these warnings.

I swallowed, even though my throat had gone dry, the sensation like razor blades scoring into my skin. This was the same handwriting as the other note. The flecks and curls of the letters were exactly the same. This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone was following us. And I had to know who they were.

I pushed the note into the pocket of my black work trousers, and that’s when I felt it. The sensation of someone watching me. My head snapped up, eyes darting around the wooded area where our cabin was.

“Hello. Is anybody there?” I called out, but there was no response.

I waited, watching the trees like a hawk, expecting to see movement, and then I heard the crack of a branch. Without a second thought, I ran down the steps of the cabin, racing over to where I’d heard the sound.

“Who is that?” I cried a little louder, but again, there was no reply.

Then, I heard footsteps retreating, and my fear spiked, my heart beating out of my chest as I lurched forward, ready to follow them, chase them, catch them and find out what the fuck was going on.

“Who’s there? Do you think this is fucking funny?” I hollered as I charged through the woods, chasing after those footsteps, my anger rising as I tried to hunt them down.

I picked up speed, running and focusing on the crunching leaves and the clicking branches ahead.

I’ll catch you.

I’ll find you.

I’ll never give up.

I chanted in my mind as I ran and ran. My breaths were pants now as I pounded through the woods. The uneven ground beneath my feet made me stumble a few times, but I didn’t fall. I couldn’t. I was so determined to catch them.

And then, I emerged from the trees as the woodland turned to open land, and I stopped. My breaths were icy clouds as I breathed heavily and stared at the foreboding image of Firethorne Manor that stood before me in all its gothic glory.

But that wasn’t all.

Damien Firethorne stood on the edge of the woodland too, smoking a cigarette as he stared at me. His eyes were narrowed, his brows knitted, but he had a devilish smirk on his face. Like I’d just stumbled unwittingly into his trap, and he was ready to devour me.

“I heard you were a runner.” He glanced down at my feet and sneered. “Nice to see you came prepared for it.”

I glanced at my feet and grimaced at the tatty slippers I was wearing.

“I wasn’t expecting to run this morning.” I held my head high. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me. “Not until I heard you skulking around, stalking us.”

At first, he didn’t react, just took a slow, long drag of his cigarette, and then he flicked it to the floor, and in a bored tone, he replied, “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to entertain this conversation, but I’ll humour you. What the fuck are you on about?”

“This,” I hissed, throwing the rat in its trap onto the ground at his feet.

He snarled, staring down at the rat, then he peered up at me, grinning like a devil as he said, “A rat? What exactly do you expect me to do with this?”

“You tell me. You were the one who left it on our porch.”

He threw his head back and laughed. Actually, it was more like a cackle, and hearing it irritated me. But I stood my ground and waited to hear his response.

He let his head fall forward, the black, silky threads of his hair grazing his lashes as the cool, couldn’t care less aura radiated from him.

“Why would I leave that for you ? Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than leave dead rodents around the estate for the hired help to find?” His grin widened, and he tilted his head. “What makes you so special?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” I shot back, bristling with anger in response to his disdain.

“You keep repeating yourself. You do know that, right? Which tells me you have absolutely no idea what you’re on about. But for the record, I’d be careful if I were you.” He took a step closer to me. “You never know who might be lurking around the woods at this hour.”

At that moment, Lysander appeared to the side of us, and Damien muttered under his breath, “And to prove my point, here he comes.”

Then, standing taller and painting a fake smile on his face, he turned towards Lysander and announced, “Brother. Do tell me...” Damien frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “What source of witchcraft pulled you out of bed before midday?”

“I always take a morning stroll,” Lysander replied brightly, but then he peered at the ground and screwed his face up. “What the hell is that?”

“A little gift from our new employee here.” Damien pretended to whisper as he mocked me. “I think these city girls have a warped sense of humour.”

“I think whoever left that on my doorstep has a warped sense of humour,” I spat back.

“Maybe they were giving you a message,” Damien said, turning to pin me with a wicked stare. I held my breath, waiting for him to say something that would incriminate him. Anything that might give him away. But then he said, “They say a dead rat symbolises a warning, like an omen.”

“An omen that we need to employ pest control today,” Lysander butted in, his nose wrinkling as he stared at the dead rodent.

“Indeed.” Damien took a step back. “Or the pests we need to control are closer than we think.” He glared daggers at me, making it painfully clear he thought of me as the pest. Then he turned on his heel and strode away from us, leaving Lysander to stare at the carcass and me to stare at Damien’s retreating form, willing his body to self-combust like my mind currently was from how bloody rude he was.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” Lysander said, apologising. “I’ll get Beresford to come and dispose of... that .” He pointed at the rat, and then, with a kindness on his face, he stepped closer to me and asked, “Are you okay, Maya?”

I nodded, and when the breeze blew strands of my hair out of place and he reached up to tuck them behind my ear, I froze, not sure how to react.

“You’ve still got your slippers on. Do you want me to walk you back to your cabin?” he asked, but I shook my head.

“No. It’s fine. Honestly. I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t seem happy, and he bit his lip as if to stop himself from arguing his case. Then he nodded, staring at the floor as he said, “I’ll let Mrs Richardson know you’re running a little late this morning. Why don’t you go back home. Take a moment to get yourself together.”

“I don’t have a home,” I blurted out, and I felt tears well in my eyes.

“Yes, you do. Your home is with us,” he said. “Firethorne is where you belong now.”

I didn’t feel that way, but I smiled nonetheless. Lysander did make things slightly better. He was kind.

“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say,” I told him, edging away from him, back into the thick of the woods behind me, suddenly feeling embarrassed that I was standing out here in ratty, old slippers.

“My pleasure. I’m just speaking the truth.” He bowed. “I hope your day gets better.” Then he smiled and turned to walk away, heading in the same direction as Damien. “And ignore my brother,” he called over his shoulder. “He lives for making others feel uncomfortable. But I think even he draws the line at torturing small animals. I don’t think he’d have it in him to torment you to that extent. My guess is Beresford set some traps and you got unlucky this morning, stumbling upon that one.”

“Very unlucky,” I whispered in response, but he didn’t hear me. He was already out of earshot.

Damien fucking Firethorne.

I’d bet there were no limits that a man like Damien Firethorne wouldn’t go to so he could torment someone like me.

I’d had two messages now, warning me about this family. I needed to place more bricks on that wall around myself and my father.

Trust no one.

They’re all liars here.

But despite everything, I had to admit, Lysander was starting to grow on me. He’d offered to walk me back to the cabin. Told me he’d get rid of the rat, and he’d speak to Mrs Richardson to explain why I might be a little late. All Damien had done was blow smoke in my face and smirk at me like a fucking devil.

If I had to trust anyone in this godforsaken place, I know which one I’d choose.