Haunted: Paperback

Ivan
Prague - two years ago

"Where is he?” Elena’s blue eyes scanned the crowd.

“He said he would be here.”

We huddled together for warmth. Elena tucked her gloved hands inside my sleeves. Outside, a storm battered the ancient city with bitter fury. Wind whipped rain and hail into the glass of the station building. A shiver twisted through Elena’s body, but I didn’t know if it was from the cold or because of what we were about to do.

My chest tightened. He should be here by now. He said he had everything planned. If we can’t—

“There he is.” Elena’s face lit up as Dorien pushed through the crowds of tourists and commuters huddled around the ticket booths and bracing themselves for the dash to the exposed platforms. His black wool coat flapped around his long legs, and the end of his silk scarf trailed behind him like a ribbon of crimson blood. He darted a glance over his shoulder before pulling an envelope from the pocket of his coat and pressing it into my frozen fingers.

“I had to empty my account to get these, and promise him
backstage tickets to future Broken Muse shows, but it was worth it,” Dorien’s grey eyes twinkled. “Who knew the finest document forger in the world is an angry Czech mobster ex-cellist Broken Muse fan?”

That twinkle unnerved me. I knew even given the seriousness of the situation, part of Dorien loved this – sneaking around the ancient city, making shady deals on the black market for fake passports. It was pure theatre, and Dorien’s whole life was a performance.

But he was also my friend, and he’d taken a huge risk for us, for Elena. I took the proffered envelope and slid it into my coat pocket. “What about you?”

“For once, this isn’t about me.” Dorien reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a mobile phone, a couple of tickets, and a stack of Euros. “This will get you to St. Petersburg. You’ll need to exchange the money somewhere. You’ve got visas in the passports, so you shouldn’t be asked any questions. I don’t care where you head after that – just make it somewhere far, far away from her. Stay on the move until I can sort things on this end. The phone is a burner and I’m the only one who has the number. Call me when you get there, let me know you’re safe, then ditch the phone, too.”

“Why Russia?” Elena’s lip trembled. “I want to go home to
Romania.”

“You know that’s the first place she’ll look.” Dorien folded
my fingers over the tickets. “First, we get you away. Then Titus and I will expose her for the monster she is. Once we’ve got your money and she can no longer hurt you, you can go wherever you want.”

I met his eyes. A hundred unspoken things passed between us. I’d been all over the world with this guy. I’d seen him at his absolute worst, and until today I’d never felt as if I knew him at all. He certainly hadn’t known me. These tickets were more than just scraps of paper – they spoke of the depth of Dorien's friendship, of the way he took the pain of others and bore it on his own shoulders, weaving it into his music as if he hoped he could heal the world.

I swallowed. “I cannot thank you—”

“Don’t.” He cut me o. “Don’t you dare fucking thank me.”

I thought of everything Dorien was giving up by putting me on this train. We were only a week into our most successful tour yet – if we didn’t perform in Bratislava tomorrow night, we’d be on the hook with our promoter for a ton of money. Not to mention our pissed-off fans. And Madame Usher… I shuddered to think about what punishment she’d dream up for him after she discovered he helped us flee.

Elena squared my hand, pulling me back to myself. As
much as I loved Dorien in this moment, it paled in comparison to what I felt for her. Elena was my sunshine, my reason for breathing. The gifts of the Zână owed from her, and it was my job to protect her. Now I knew Madame Usher’s plans for her, I felt in my bones that we had to do this.

We’d been prisoners of Manderley since we were eight
years old. The things we’d endured at the hands of that woman still made my skin crawl… and we’d survived it all in the name of a better life. But a respite from her torment would never come. I could live in the shadows – I’d been there all my life – but Elena was made of warmth and sunlight. Locking her away would see her wither and rot. It would break Elena, and watching her break would kill me.

We had no choice. We had to go.

Dorien must’ve sensed what I was thinking, because he
smiled his sad, stormy smile. “I’m sorry, my friend. I thought things could be different for us.”

I thought so, too. When Dorien blew into my life like a
storm breaking against the shore, I dared to dream of something more for Elena. Now, he may be the only way to save her. I looked into that impish half-smile of his, and for the first time in my life, I felt what it meant to trust someone.

A whistle blew. The crowd of passengers surged toward the platform. Dorien gave me a nudge. I squeezed Elena’s hand. With a last nod to Dorien, I dragged her into the fray.

Elena and I fought our way through the crowd to the
waiting train. We stepped on board, ducking and weaving
through people until we found our seats. I slid my violin case into the luggage rack, and Elena clutched a backpack with all our money and a few clothes hastily thrown inside. My heart hammered against my chest so loud I was sure the conductor would hear it and kick us off.

In front of us, a group of tourists from New Zealand in black t-shirts laughed and teased each other. They talked loudly about the bands they were going to see and the mead they’d drink at a heavy metal festival in Germany next week. I longed to be one of them – carefree, thinking only of fun things and friendship.

We were supposed to be playing at that festival. Titus could barely sit still, he was so excited about it. I was pleased I wasn’t there to see Titus’ face when he found out it wouldn’t happen.

Elena huddled against me. As we pulled out of the station,
her head drooped on my shoulder, her long eyelashes fluttering shut. I stared out the window, unable to sleep. I wouldn’t sleep until we were far from Madame Usher’s evil. Maybe not even then.

Prague sped by in a blur of narrow alleys, burgher houses, Soviet blocks, and towering spires. The city lights glittered off the Vltava River, and I wished we could be sitting on one of those open-topped tourist boats, enjoying a beer as though we didn’t have the specter of Manderley bearing down on us. My mind cast back to the euphoria of last night – standing on stage with Titus and Dorien at our sold-out show in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The audience in rapture, clapping and stomping for more, more, more of us. Our music heard and loved and felt. It should have been the high point of my career, and yet, here we were, sneaking away as ghosts in the night.

The train chugged on into the gloom. The city lights gave
way to darkened fields and ugly villages of concrete brutalism. A cart offering reheated meals – stewed meat with potato dumplings – wheeled by, but the smell of the food made me feel ill. It reminded me of another home across the Carpathian mountains, a tiny walled city I’d once been so desperate to escape.

The roar of the crowd still coursed through my veins,
mingled with the ever-present thunder of my racing heart.

The conductor turned out the lights, and the passengers
reclined their chairs and pulled on sleeping masks. One by one even the metalheads fell asleep, hugging their enormous backpacks emblazoned with flags and ferns. I stared into the bleak night, knowing I should sleep but finding the idea of closing my eyes impossible. How could I sleep and leave Elena unguarded?

Even on the other side of the world, Manderley squeezed in on us, the walls of that house becoming our prison. Every year another fresh-faced group of music students entered its walls, but Manderley changed them. Hardened them. Extracted their secrets and left them bound to it forever. Now that Victor was gone, Madame Usher had no one to temper her evil, and Master Radcliffe—

My body jerked as the train screeched to a halt. Elena’s
head whipped up. “Are we in Poland?” she asked sleepily.

“We are not.” I peered out the window. Outside was pitch
black – no lights from a platform, no glittering city sprawling across the horizon. We were stopped in the middle of nowhere, with rain driving into the train.

A commotion started at the front of the car. Doors swung
open and two men barked at the conductor in loud voices. They spoke Czech, so I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I didn’t need to.

“Get up,” I growled. I dragged my violin case from the compartment. Elena opened her mouth to argue, but she must’ve seen the fear in my eyes because she snapped it shut again. She picked up the backpack containing our worldly possessions and followed me toward the rear of the car.

I tugged Elena past the bathroom and through the next car, moving as quickly as we dared. The lights flickered on and passengers stared bleary-eyed into the gloom, trying to figure out why we stopped. I yanked open the compartment door, and we entered the gangway. A foul smell rose from the bathroom, and Elena pinched her nose in disgust.

I slammed my fist into the button. With a hiss, the external
door released. A rush of frigid air tinged with diesel slammed into us. Elena coughed. I grabbed her hand and yanked her down the steps.

“Ivan, where are we going?” She hurried after me as I
picked my way along the tracks, away from the lights of the train, away from the whistleblowing and men shouting. Wind battered against us. I slid into a ditch, dragging Elena behind me. My violin case banged against my knee, but I ignored the pain.

We have to run. We can’t go back.

I tossed the violin case onto the other side of the ditch,
wincing as it bounced against a rock. That violin was precious, and I hoped it wasn’t damaged. I scrambled up the slippery slope and reached back to pull Elena up after me. My palms stung where they grazed the rocks, and the driving rain flayed at my skin. Behind me, Elena whimpered as her sneakers sank into the mud. But we didn’t stop.

I plunged into the trees. Branches scraped my arms and
attacked my violin case. Elena dropped my hand to hold the backpack over her head, trying to shelter her face from the onslaught.

My feet slammed into something hard. I pitched forward.
My violin case flew from my hands. Fuck. I felt around in the gloom for what had stopped me. A fallen log. A hiding place. I tugged Elena down beside me, pressing our back against the log and using it to shelter us from view. She whimpered again as we sank into the mud, but I held my finger to my lips.

The wind howled around us, wild and angry. I pressed Elena into my body, wrapping my arms around her. She trembled – whether from cold or fear, I could not tell.

We needed a little of her Zâne magic now.

In the distance, the train blew its whistle. The tracks shuddered as the wheels turned and it took off. I squeezed Elena’s hands, pressing them to my heart as we waited. Our breath puffed in clouds of steam. The tips of my fingers had gone worryingly numb.

I lost track of how long we waited, huddled together in the brutal cold. We could no longer hear the train or the people. I couldn’t hear anything except the wild wind and the pounding of my heart. I helped Elena to her feet and bent to pick up my violin case.

“We’ll follow the train tracks until we find a village. Hopefully, there will be a bus or—”

A hand fell upon my shoulder, snapping my body backward. My grip on Elena broke, and she screamed as another black-clad figure leaped from behind a tree and grabbed her hands, twisting them behind her back.

“You’re coming with us,” my captor hissed in my ear.
“Madame Usher does not like it when her little birds fly the coop."

Manderley Academy
Book 1 - Ghosted
Book 2 - Haunted
Book 3 - Spirited