Firethorne

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Maya

I didn’t belong here, and I didn’t want to be here, but I had to bide my time. It was the only way I could survive, knowing I’d find the culprit of the sick little notes, and eventually, I’d get out of here. Those were the thoughts running through my head as I put my trainers on, after deciding to go for a morning run around the estate. I let my father sleep for those last few minutes before his alarm went off and I crept out of the cabin.

As I emerged into the crisp morning air, I breathed deeply, the coolness refreshing my lungs despite the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I scanned the porch for anything nefarious that might’ve been left there overnight, but there was nothing.

I was hoping a good run would distract my racing thoughts, so I took off, running through the woods first, my feet pounding the uneven woodland floor. Then I emerged into the open, heading for the lake. I did a few laps around it, then made my way into the woods on the opposite side to where I’d started.

The muscles in my legs burned, as did my lungs, but I wanted to push myself. Running meant all the other crap in my head quietened a little, because all I could focus on was the pounding of my feet, the rasps of my breaths, and the urge to keep going. To never stop.

And then I saw it.

My feet faltered as I came to a stop, bracing my hands on my thighs as I bent forward, panting, but my eyes didn’t waver from the sight in front of me. I peered up, squinting, then grimacing as I tried to make sense of what I saw.

The woods were much denser around here, it felt dark, spine-chilling even. A fact that was magnified by what was in front of me. High up in one of the trees, swinging gently in the breeze, was a rope. A noose, to be more precise.

“What the fuck?” I whispered to myself as I stood up, stretching my back, rolling my neck, and shaking my aching limbs. “What the fuck is this shit?”

I took a step closer, the whistle of the light wind and the creak of the branches adding to the creepiness of it, and I shuddered. “This is so fucked up.”

“Ah. You found it,” a deep voice echoed from behind me.

I spun around to see Lysander strolling towards me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats as he meandered without care, like what I’d found was the most regular, unremarkable thing ever. He stopped a few feet away from me and his gaze shifted from my wide-eyed, horror-struck face to the rope dangling above us.

“What the hell is that?” I pointed to the noose but kept my eyes on him.

“That,” Lysander said, his lips in a thin line as he squinted up at the tree through the brightness of the morning sun that was blazing through the gaps in the branches. “Is one of Firethorne’s many, and more unusual heirlooms.”

I screwed my face up, giving him an incredulous look as I replied, “An heirloom? A fucking heirloom? Are you serious? It’s a bloody noose.” I was surprised he was talking about it so calmly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Lysander was sunshine, and this... was so far removed from sunshine. It was pitch black. “Why would you keep it up there? That’s fucked up.”

“Fucked up is our middle name.” His responding half grin and slight shrug of his shoulders only made me screw my face up harder. “Well, for some of us it is.”

Damien and his father.

“Please tell me no one used that.” I swallowed, waiting for him to respond.

He took a few steps closer to me, then folded his arms over his broad chest and stared wistfully at the noose.

“You know, when we were kids, we never really thought anything of it, hanging up there, swinging away. Damien once asked our father if he could make a swing out of it to play, but we weren’t allowed to touch it.”

“Why?” I asked, turning to face him.

“You know Damien. He always wants things. He was always the most demanding when we were kids.”

“No. I mean, why wouldn’t he take it down? Why were you allowed to see that? What sort of sick parent lets their kids play when something like that is up there above their heads?” I stabbed my finger in the air towards the offending ligature.

“The kind that wants to teach them a lesson,” Lysander replied without missing a beat. “To teach everyone a lesson.”

“Which is?” My eyes bugged as I recoiled, waiting... no... urging him to elaborate. Lysander always told me the truth, and this was one truth I wanted to hear.

Lysander watched the noose as he sighed.

“That rope has been up there for years. No one’s ever dared to take it down. My father said it was cursed, and anyone who touched it would bring downfall to the Firethorne name, which is ironic, seeing as the noose was put there by someone who almost destroyed the Firethorne name.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“It’s left there as a reminder,” he said. “That no one fucks with the Firethornes and lives to tell the tale.”

“Now I really need to know more.”

Lysander’s eyes didn’t stray from that noose as he told his story.

“When my great grandfather left here to go to war, my great grandmother was left on her own to oversee the estate. She had to employ extra staff to help her manage the day-to-day running of the place. But a lot of the men in the town had gone away to war, too. Well, almost all of them.

“A local man, Jeremiah Cramner, came to work here. He wasn’t fit for military service, some medical issue, I don’t know what, but what I do know is he was fit enough to come here and start an affair with my great grandmother.” He paused momentarily to catch his breath, maybe gather his thoughts, and then he went on.

“They were together for some time. Eventually, they became blatant about it; they flaunted it. Everyone knew. There was talk in the town that she was going to leave my great grandfather and run away with Jeremiah. And then, one night, my great grandfather came home unexpectedly and caught them together.

“From what I heard, Cramner thought she’d leave right there and then. But when my great grandfather gave her a glimpse of what her alternate reality would be like, made her see what she was giving up by leaving him for a guy who had nothing, she ghosted him. Cramner, I mean.” Lysander put his arms out and shrugged. “The guy couldn’t handle it. He loved her. He was obsessed. Cramner lost everything when he lost her. He couldn’t come back from that, so one night, he put that rope up there and hung himself.”

I took a step back, my gaze falling to the woodland floor to avoid looking at the rope.

“Why there?” I asked.

“Because he wanted to be where she was. He gave his life for her. And legend says, my great grandfather refused to have him cut down until my great grandmother and most of the workers had seen him. I’ve heard he even invited townsfolk to the estate, so they’d see him too. He was a warning. You don’t fuck with the Firethornes. And so, when it got too much to have his decomposing body hanging up there, he was taken down and buried in an unmarked grave. But my great grandfather insisted the noose stayed where it was. He wanted everyone to know, even his wife.”

“What? That he had no humanity?”

“That he took no prisoners. That there were consequences to actions when you messed with him.”

“And your father thought this was a symbol worth keeping... in the twenty-first century?” I mocked, but Lysander didn’t react. “How old were you when he told you that story?”

Lysander frowned as he pondered my question.

“Five, maybe six.”

“Jesus, it just gets better and better.” I couldn’t believe this family were so fucked up that they’d terrorise their own kids like that. And part of me knew I was only scratching the surface of their fuckery. I knew there’d be more below the surface if I dug deeper.

And I would.

“My father would do anything to preserve the family name,” Lysander announced proudly, lifting his chin defiantly.

“Yeah, anything...” I shot back. “But refrain from cheating on your mum.” Instantly, I felt like shit. The words had come out before I could engage my brain. “I’m sorry,” I added, remorse burning in the growing redness on my face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not? It’s true,” Lysander replied sadly, bowing his head as if he felt the shame of what his father had done. “Damien is the byproduct of my father’s sexual gratification. You may as well say it like it is.”

“It’s not Damien’s fault, though, is it? Or yours.”

Lysander took a moment to think, then shifted to face me, peering down at me as he spoke.

“We keep our family issues where they belong; in the family. But to the world, father likes to remind everyone that we’re a force to be reckoned with. I guess that’s why it’s still up there.”

“And when you take over the estate?” I asked.

“It comes down and I’ll burn it,” he replied without missing a beat.

I turned my back on the tree that held so much tragedy. A sick reminder that Mr Firethorne felt he needed to put out to the world.

“I don’t want us to dwell on something so depressing, though,” Lysander said, an easy smile gracing his beautiful face as he stared at me.

The morning sun peeking through the trees made his golden hair shine like silk. He was captivating to look at, but the more I got to know him, the more his true character shone through. The darker side he hid so well in everyday life. And the brightness he exuded that infected everyone around him, a brightness he used to mask the truth.

“I’m so glad I caught you out here this morning,” he went on. “I have something exciting to ask you.”

I guessed he was going to ask me to sit for him for the painting he wanted to do. But he didn’t.

“We’re having a party at Firethorne next week. And I’d love you to come, as my guest.” He cocked his head, excitement growing with every word he spoke. His face beaming as he waited for me to respond with the word he wanted to hear. Yes.

But I faltered, and he stared at me, waiting expectantly like an excitable child.

I hadn’t been to many parties. But a niggling voice in my head told me a party at Firethorne would be like no other. Something I’d never forget. Or perhaps something I’d want to forget.

“I don’t think I should,” I replied, and Lysander’s face dropped. “I work here. You’re my employers. I don’t think it’d be right for me to socialise?—”

“Nonsense,” Lysander butted in, and then he reached forward, a gentle finger stroking my cheek as he smiled. “Our parties are legendary. You’ll have the best time.” And from the way he beamed at me, I wanted to say yes to this man who’d known such sadness but still lived every day in the light, being positive, being kind.

Then a darkness fell over him as he cupped my jaw and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip, his touch morphing from innocence to something else entirely.

“If you don’t come, I’ll call the whole thing off,” he threatened with an insistence I’d never seen before. An urgency to get his own way. His gaze stayed fixed on my lips as his hand kept a hold of my jaw. “And besides,” he said suddenly, using a breezier tone, snapping from mysterious devil back to bright angel in a nanosecond. “You’ll get to dress up. It’s an angels and demons theme. And I can’t wait to see you dressed as the angel you are.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and I wasn’t surprised by what he said. Angels and Demons seemed to fit the people of Firethorne Manor pretty well.

I knew the word ‘no’ wasn’t going to cut it. Lysander wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, I moved my head back slightly to peer up at him, and he dropped his hand from my face.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, giving him a thin-lipped smile.

Lysander gave a silent celebration as he pumped his fist and whispered, “Yes.”

“I can’t promise anything. I only said I’ll think about it,” I reiterated, not wanting him to get his hopes up.

“It wasn’t a no, and that’s enough for me,” he replied.

It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes. It was an ‘I don’t know what to say’.

I backed up, then told him I had to get to work, sprinting out of the woods, away from the tragic rope in the tree, the ghosts that danced around it, and the man who smiled like everything was right with the world, despite what he was standing under. Maybe that was who Lysander was, an oasis of calm serenity in a world where death and destruction reigned.

Could Lysander be the devil from the mirror message?

I doubted it.

But I couldn’t rule him out just yet. After all, wasn’t the devil himself a fallen angel?