Robyn M. Pierce

Chapter One: Elyssa

I trudged through the rain that poured down upon my shoulders. I’d been soaked through since I left the house, but I had no choice – I could not stay in that place where my life was traded in for an extra amount of time, as though I meant nothing! So I left.

All of my savings from my former jobs were stashed in a compartment of my duffel bag, with clothes and shoes shoved unceremoniously into the main area. I’d only packed enough for seven days, and hoped that I would come across a washing machine before I ran out of clean underwear, but that was something I would deal with when the time came…

I hitched the duffel bag up onto my shoulder, groaning when an ache, sharp and unwanted, made me drop my bag onto the ground.

“Crap,” I muttered, assessing the puddle it had landed in. Thankfully there was no mud involved, but my bag was not waterproof, and I worried for the dryness of my clothes inside – not to mention the birth certificate that I needed to keep safe.

Grabbing the bag once more, I hauled it onto my other shoulder, also holding onto the handle that was positioned closer to the bag for added support.

That was when the lightning started, bringing with it the thunder that caused me to jump and once again drop my bag into the puddle. Again, no mud was involved, but I began to worry for the safety of my document. In the next moment, another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and I felt the rain increase in speed as well as the amount that was coming down. It was really starting to rain cats and dogs on me, and I was nowhere near the ferry docks so I could escape the island.

I continued to walk, so I would not be stranded in the middle of a storm – worse than I already was, at least– and glanced around me for nearby buildings I could try to use as shelter. Having grown up on Lanistter Isle, though, I knew without much looking that the only structure that was nearby was the Lanistter castle, and the thought of going into the castle, or even going up to the castle, for shelter was an unappealing idea.

The rumors surrounding the castle were ugly and borderline insane – rumors of vampires and dungeons circulated the place endlessly, until not even tourists wandered nearby with their Polaroid cameras attached to their necks.

Back at school a couple years ago, though, the students used the castle for dares and hazing, simply to have others do reckless and stupid things to be allowed to spend time with the ‘cool’ kids.

While I waded through the growing puddles in between me and the gates of the castle, I thought back on the first week of my last year in school.

I was heading to the bathroom toward the end of the class period when I heard voices, deep and laughing, echoing through the hallways. Not many kids at school treated me well or even decently, choosing to ostracize me because of the affair my father had had with the school librarian during my freshman year – the affair he had decided to ‘out’ in front of the whole school at a holiday function one year.

I tended to avoid anyone who had not already come out to tell me that they did not care about the rumors, or my status as a pariah. The fact that I am actually quite a likable person meant little to most of the members of my high school but there were the few kind individuals who got to know me before deciding anything.

As I headed to the bathroom, the voices came from nowhere, loud in the otherwise silent halls of the school. I’d jumped and hidden behind a row of lockers, my normal reaction when alone in the halls with others.

This group turned out to be three soccer jocks, coming back onto the premises from skipping class with a lower classman.

“So what should we make him do in order to let him hang out with us?” one of the jocks asked the others.

I heard the squeak of their shoes coming closer to where I hid and held my breath, only to release it when the sound stopped short of the end of the row of lockers. Silence met my ears until I the obvious clang of someone opening a locker echoed in my ear canal, followed by the deafening slam as the locker door was flung open to hit the locker next to it.

“Do you still have that old camera we used back in the day?” a different voice asked, a laugh creeping into his tone toward the end of the question; the sound of his chuckle made the hair on my arms stand up, and I grimaced – what the hell are they going to do to some poor kid?

Some rattling made me peek around the edge of the locker row, and I saw the tallest one of the three – our all-star soccer player Christopher was rummaging through his messy locker, sending scraps of paper floating to the floor. I whipped myself back into hiding when one of the others bent over to pick up Chris’s litter to toss back into the locker.

Chris burst out laughing, and let out a triumphant hoot. Daring to peek around the edge once more, I zeroed my gaze into the camera in his hand – a ratty old Polaroid camera – which he was repeatedly pumping in the air.

The others joined in his hooting and the fair-haired one who had been quiet that far, spoke out. “Are you saying we should make them do what we did? That is not right, guys.” I wondered what could have been so bad about a hazing activity on this boring little island, conjuring a list in my head of all the potentially dangerous or illegal things high school boys would do to one another.

Nothing particularly spectacular came to mind, and I wondered if maybe I was too sheltered to know whatever was going on.

“What? That fucking castle is abandoned, dude, there is nothing that can go wrong if we make him prove his worth by going up there with us to take some snapshots,” Chris said.

I heard the obvious sneer in his voice and scrunched my face in disgust – some people really were assholes all on their own.

The second voice piped up, then, tossing in his two cents. “Yea, Dustin, you really think something can go wrong? Everything went as smooth as the silk panties Mrs. Hauser wears.”

My face heated at this statement, and I nearly bolted from my hiding place then to escape their disgusting conversation, but curiosity – and partly fear about being cornered alone by these three – kept my rooted to the spot.

There was quiet, except for some more ruffling. A quick peek showed me that Chris had put away the camera, and was attempting to shut the door to his locker – the clutter was making it difficult.

“You know as well as I do that there was someone extra in our picture,” the quiet guy muttered. I struggled to hear all of his words, and could practically taste the hesitant nature of his sentence.

Dustin snorted. “You know that was one of us in the background, Trevor! Stop being a pussy.” I balled my hand into a fist and grit my teeth; Trevor seemed to have a legitimate reason to be afraid to use the castle again…

“You’re blond, Dustin? And how about you, Chris?” when silence met his question, he continued in a stronger voice. “That’s what I thought.”

I heard one of the others suck in a breath to speak more, but the bell rang, and I pressed myself against the locker end once more, praying that they would not go in my direction to move along.

A loud crack of thunder brought me from the memory of that day in school, and I squealed, bringing my hands up to cover my ears.

“I really hate thunderstorms sometimes!” I whimpered, tears coming into my eyes. I blinked them away, though, breathing slowly to calm down.

“It’s just a thunderstorm, Elyssa,” I told myself after a few minutes, inhaling slowly.

The amount of rain pouring down had increased again, and I could hardly see through the downpour. A flash of lightning, however, illuminated my surroundings, and I took back my previous squeal, silently thanking the glaring light streak for showing me where I was.

I could see the castle gates, but looked past them, down the road to the ferry docks. “What if I just went to the boat? I’m sure if I pay for my ticket, they’ll let me stay on the ferry until it leaves…”

A few more streaks of lightning rapidly flashed before my eyes, bringing an eerie quality to the castle that was already plenty scary beforehand.

Ghost stories should not scare me away, I thought, chewing on my bottom lip as I headed across the road to the gate of the Lanistter Castle.

At the last moment, I rushed past the gates and began the trek to the ferry docks, only to be stopped by violent flooding…

“How could I forget that the docks were in the flood regions?” I asked myself, slipping my fingers into my hair and tugging furiously from the roots. When that began to hurt, I slowly rotated on the spot and trudged back to the gates of Lanistter castle.

When I got to them, I frowned, gritting my teeth as the cold began to penetrate beneath my sweater. I had already been soaked straight through my clothes, but I had been quite warm until then; for some reason, the gates alone were intimidating.

I set my bag down atop a small, decorative boulder next to the gate and gripped two bars in my hands. The gate was made from iron and was quite rusty. Briefly I worried about cutting my hands and getting infected from the dirty metal, but a quick flash, directly followed by the loud protest of lightning meeting earth caused me to jump, and I closed my eyes.

One sharp push later, and I was on my hands and knees on the ground. “Ouch,” I groaned, rolling myself to sit on the ground.

I squinted through the dark, trying to inspect the scrapes on my hands, but gave up when Mother Nature refused to cooperate and give me lightning when I wanted it. Instead, I turned my attention to my knees, grumbling beneath my breath when I felt the tear in my jeans from the harsh landing.

Instead of dwelling on the misfortune that one single push gave me, I looked up at the gate, lifting one of my hands to shield my eyes from the onslaught of rain. A brief spell of light gave me a look at the gate – Sure, you let me inspect the gate, but not my wound, I thought bitterly. Thanks, Mother Nature – and I began to wonder about how it opened so easily.

Hauling myself to my feet, I winced at the pain that standing brought to my knees, but persisted through the stinging to hobble over to the gate for inspection. “They are too rusty… How the hell did I open it so easily?” When I could not figure it out, I shook my head – my hair whipped me in the face painfully – and retrieved my duffel bag before heading up the long driveway to the front porch.

“I hope no one lives here,” I mumbled, my face heating irrationally. “It would be awfully embarrassing if someone has witnessed that fall.” When I winced my way up the three steps leading onto the porch, I was startled as a dim porch light flickered to life.

“I guess someone stays here?” I asked the moist air around me, stepping under the protective cover that the porch gave me. The light glowed yellow, reminding me of a firefly, and provided just enough light for me to recognize carvings in both the stone floor of the porch as well as the knockers on the double front doors.

I lifted my hand to use one of the knockers, but hesitated, drawing my hand back toward my body in astonishment. The set of knockers both had heads and faces. One was of a man, the other a woman.

Stepping closer, I leaned in to inspect the carvings, brushing my fingertips across the surface of the man’s face. When my fingers fell into the mouth, however, I pulled them out.

The rumors had begun to flow in my mind freshly, and I recalled a time when I spoke to my best friend about the Lanistter castle.

“You know it’s haunted or something, right Elyssa?” Arianne asked me, her voice warbling in an attempt to sound spooky.

I rolled my eyes at my best friend and shoved her playfully.

She caught herself against the wall, giggling madly. “I’m serious! My grandmother was once there. Or, at least she says she was,” she added with a shrug of her shoulders.

Arianne was not very into the superstitions of the island, instead focusing on her future in the photography world. She had every intention of leaving the island and going to the mainland after graduation, so she could get some real photography experience, instead of the same old song and dance on Lanistter Isle.

“You know you don’t believe that.” My tone was teasing as I spoke to her. We were just leaving the school after classes let out, and I balanced on a nearby planter, glancing down at the crown of my blonde friend’s head.

One of her shoulders lifted in a half shrug, and she looked up at me with a grin that should have belonged to the Cheshire cat. “I know I don’t. But I also know that you do,” she told me, placing one of her hands on her chest and bowing toward me while extending the other hand. “Milady,” she tacked on.

Both of us burst out laughing then, but sat on the edge of the planter when we sobered.

“Your grandma really says she was there?” I had asked, trying to keep the hope out of my voice. The island was boring, and I had always fancied a good mythical story.

Arianne nodded. “Yup,” she replied, popping her lips loudly on the ‘p’. “She said she was our age and she went there because of the rumors. She entered without permission, and someone captured her. Tortured her in the dungeons for who knew how long before another person bargained to let her go. She had to vow secrecy for her whole life, or they would come back out and hunt her down.”

I listened silently, wondering how they would manage to find her, or even know if she told anyone.

When Arianne remained silent after the short tale, I pressed on. “How would they even know if she spoke about it, Ari? Not to mention, she told you the story. Isn’t that sharing whatever the secret is?”

Before I had finished talking, Arianne was shaking her head slowly. I waited for her explanation. “I asked her that myself,” she admitted, grinning at me.

I kept my gaze on her brown eyes as she spoke, trying to judge if she was pulling my leg or not. As she continued, it seemed sincere enough to believe, and I let my guard down.

“Because she only told me what happened, and not the secret, everything is fine, Elyssa.”

I let out a quiet, impatient sigh and crossed my arms over my chest. “But how would they even know?” I asked quietly, more to myself than to my best friend.

She heard, though, and gave a shrug, leaning against me. “Granny called it a Blood Contract, but wouldn’t go into the details. She was very vague and mysterious about it all. She even seemed scared…”

A shudder wracked through my frame and I stared at the knockers on the doors, slowly lifting my hand to touch the teeth that had caught my eye before.

“Fangs,” I breathed excitedly, tracing the tiny triangles delicately before lifting the handle of the knocker to knock loudly three times. Minutes passed with no answer and I sighed, looking down at my drowned tennis shoes in defeat.

That was when the carvings on the porch caught my eye. I knocked five more times on the door before kneeling down to look at the carvings.

They consisted of mostly lines, with words carefully etched into the stone at certain points. While studying it, an old piece of paper from a few years earlier came into my mind – my family had shown me our family tree…

“The Lanistter family tree,” I whispered, just as the door opened quickly. Startled, I lost my balance and landed on my rear end once more, glaring up at the person who opened the door.

It was a young man. He looked to be in his mid twenties, with dark hair and darker eyes. He stared down at me, amusement written clearly on his features as he assessed my position. “Can I help you?” he asked. His voice withheld chuckles, and I scowled up at him, hauling myself to my feet for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I was wondering if I could stay the night here… As shelter for the storm,” I told him quietly.

His mouth twisted into a frown, darkening his features further. He had five ‘o’clock shadow, which made him appear rugged, but the look in his eyes was different than the typically rugged guys from when I was in school.

Duh, Elyssa. First of all, he’s a grown man. Secondly, he’s not looking at you with disdain like the boys at school did…

When I opened my mouth to speak, the second door opened, showing another man who appeared a little older than the first. This one had dirty blond hair that was drawn back into a ponytail. His face was solemn and pale, and his eyes were a sort of muddy brown that looked odd with his features.

“Dmitri,” he regarded the other man without taking his eyes from me, “who is this?”

Before Dmitri could reply, I held out my hand. “I’m Elyssa. I was just asking Dmitri here if I could stay here until the storm passes. I have money, if you want me to compensate you…”

I trailed off as the blonde’s eyes ventured away from me to look at the other man. They began to whisper to one another heatedly, with Dmitri’s features hardening with every moment that passed.

When the other man looked back at me, I straightened my posture, holding my head up. “We would be delighted to have such a pretty young lady stay here for the night,” the blond said smoothly, stepping aside to allow me inside.

Dmitri had a wry smile on his face, and leaned out to snatch my duffel bag off the porch where I had set it down. “Right this way, Elyssa,” he whispered.

I spared one last glance at the family tree before following him inside.

The doors were closed quietly behind me, and I spun around to watch the blond latch them. “I’m Zeke,” he said without turning around.

I flushed and looked away; embarrassed that he knew I was staring at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Elyssa.” The words sounded stiff and practiced, and I distrusted them, but nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Zeke. How much can I give you for a night’s stay here?”

Cutting right to business, I shoved my hand into my pocket to fish out my wallet. Laughter met my ears then, and I glanced up to find that both of them were laughing lightly.

Zeke answered my questioning gaze. “You do not need to pay us,” he said, chuckling still. “It is enough compensation to have such a beautiful woman in our midst.”

I felt my face heat once more, and I ducked my head, my hair swinging in front of my shoulders. “Thank you,” I said softly, clenching my eyes shut against the compliment.

“No thanks are necessary.” The sentence came from Dmitri instead of Zeke, and I glanced up. The man was smiling kindly and he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “We don’t get to see very many beautiful faces around here,” he told me.

A sharp glance from Zeke ignited a flame of curiosity within me, but I withheld the questions that came to mind.

I looked around at the large hall, holding my breath. It was a beautiful structure… I tried to imagine that the outside was beautiful, too, but could not get past the darkness I had always seen it in – the turrets had always seemed daunting and overwhelming, ever since I was a child and my family would go on trips to the mainland. Even as I got older, even now, a week before my eighteenth birthday, I still found the outside to be creepy and off-putting.

Having come inside, though, I could see a whole new side to the place. There was a staircase – crossing diagonally multiple times instead of spiraling like scary castle have in the movies – which had a banister with carvings on the ends – the same carvings as the door knockers from outside.

A breeze filtered through the hall. Dmitri stepped forward when I shuddered visibly. “I’m sorry if you’re cold. There has always been a draft in this hall. If you’d follow me, I could show you to a guest room where you can get warm,” he said kindly.

I smiled but shook my head. “It’s already warmer in here than it was outside, so I can stand it just a bit longer,” I told him appreciatively. “I’d like to look around; this place is…” I paused, searching for the right word.

“Magnificent,” I breathed to finish the statement as my eyes landed on a large tapestry hanging just to the left of the main doors.

I moved closer to it, recognizing the lines once more. This time I was able to read the title for certain.

“’The Lanistter Family Tree.’ It’s beautiful,” I said aloud, unsure that either man was listening to me.

The tapestry background was a bland cream color, but the lines were black, and the names were a luscious crimson color.

The words Vivere commune est, sed non commune mereri were at the top, and I struggled within my mind to translate them. I muttered aloud to myself as I fought to remember the Latin I had learned in my first two years of high school.

I did not notice when Zeke walked up to me, but jumped when he set his hand on my shoulder. I glanced at him, my brows still furrowed as my thoughts stayed with the Latin phrase.

Zeke met my gaze blankly, silently. We stood for a moment, eyes locked as I translated slowly. Zeke seemed to wait for me to finish. When I got the definition, I glanced away, uncertain.

“Everybody lives; not everybody deserves to,” I said, glancing up once more to see if I was correct.

Zeke nodded once. “The Lanistter family has always strongly followed that one sentence,” he told me, his gaze intensifying the longer our eyes remained locked.

My ears began to ring, quietly at first, then escalating into a drowning sound that blocked out all other noise. Zeke’s cold hand trailed down my arm to grasp my hand, and he began to lead me up the stairs.

We walked for a short while, though I couldn't tell you exactly how long, or how many flights of stairs we went up.

Finally the ringing left my ears, leaving an intense listening experience in its wake. Every sound was amplified for my ears. Each drop falling from my clothes and hair resounded in my ear canals and every footfall echoed loudly in my head. By the time we had made it to the second floor landing, I had digested all of the different noises in the front hall and by those in it – my breathing sounded different than normal, louder, and my heart beat furiously in my ears.

Quickly, the sounds became quiet again, almost unnoticeable – except that I now knew what they sounded like, so my ears recognized the softer sounds they possessed.

Zeke was leading me up the stairs at quite the speed, making it hard to catch my breath. I glanced around, and did not see Dmitri anywhere. Had he gone up before us without me noticing?

I tugged on Zeke’s arm gently to get his attention. When it didn’t grasp his focus, I planted my feet on the stable ground of the third floor landing, and gave as strong of a pull as I could, putting my whole body behind it.

Zeke glanced back and halted immediately. He looked surprised, and a crease formed between his pale eyebrows as he scrutinized my face. I leaned away from his close gaze and frowned, gasping for breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said tonelessly. “Was I going too quickly for you?” The question had a smirk falling onto his lips, and I glowered at him briefly before tugging my hand again in an attempt to release it from his grasp. After my third tug, he forcefully released my hand, and I shoved both of my fists into the pockets of my sweater.

“I can follow quite easily,” I told him with a shrug and a quick grin. “I may not be the most athletic person, but I make up for it with my sense of direction.”

When he leaned closer, giving me an odd look, I took a large step backward with a frown. “Plus,” I began, flexing my hands within my pockets, “you were nearly ripping my arm off.”

When I said this, a smile formed on his face, but he looked away; when he turned back in my direction, his face was expressionless. “I’m sorry,” he repeated; this time I was sure he did not mean it. “We are almost there anyways. Come this way,” he beckoned, nodding his head sideways as he began to walk down the hallway on the third floor.

I followed him past three doors, all spaced rather evenly from one another, until they reached a fourth wooden door, which was already open. Zeke dodged inside the room and I followed quietly.

Dmitri had set my bag on top of the bed and the two were again whispering heatedly with one another. I cleared my throat and began toward my bag, but Dmitri gently grabbed my arm.

“How would you like a late dinner?” he asked kindly, holding his head high. “Zeke here can make a mean steak and potato meal.”

I looked to Zeke for his reaction, and was mildly startled to see him glaring fiercely at Dmitri. “I would delight in making Elyssa something for dinner,” he said quietly, still looking at Dmitri.

At Zeke’s statement, I felt flustered and glanced at Dmitri; there was no way I was going to eat alone with Zeke! Dmitri registered the shock on my face and laughed.

“No, brother!” he said charmingly. “For the three of us. It would be nice to have a dinner with company for once, don’t you agree? We all eat alone here far too often.” The last part Dmitri directed toward me and I nodded.

It made a little sense to me – their odd behavior stemmed from poorly developed social skills. It made me feel better about staying at the castle.

“I’ll just go freshen up, then,” I said, while the two – brothers, apparently – exchanged loaded glances with one another. I lifted my bag and lugged it into the bathroom that was attached to the room. Shutting the door behind me, I locked it and leaned heavily against it, allowing my bag to sit on the top of my feet.

What am I doing? I should have just swam across the floods, I thought irrationally. I’d rather drown than be chopped up and served to some unsuspecting wanderer who meanders into this castle the same way I did. I knew my thoughts were getting the best of me, so I sighed and turned the shower on, turning the knob until it was pointing completely to the hot water.

I stripped myself of my dirty clothes carefully, wincing at the scrapes on my palms and the bruised scratches on my knees. In the better light of the bathroom I checked them for rocks or other debris, and then stepped into the steamy shower. I watched the dirt roll off my body and down the drain while I wet my hair and lathered it with some shampoo that was in a bottle on the side of the bathtub.

They must have guests occasionally, I thought idly as I massaged my scalp with the pleasant lavender-scented shampoo. Otherwise extra rooms like this would not be stocked so thoroughly…

I rinsed the suds from my thick ebony hair and began to wash my body, opting for an unopened bar of soap from inside the medicine cabinet behind the mirror above the sink.

When I was thoroughly cleaned, I turned the water off and towel-dried my body before wrapping my hair in the towel and slipping into my underwear and a clean pair of jeans.

Surprisingly, not many of my clothes were very wet, and I had a couple outfits to put on that were completely dry. While my hair was still wrapped in the towel above my head, I slipped my bra on, and shrugged on a simple, short-sleeved black button-down blouse, then opened the door into the bathroom.

Dmitri startled me by being seated on the bed, apparently waiting for me to emerge from the bathroom. “Did you enjoy the shower?” he asked, somehow managing to not sound creepy or perverted. “You were so chilled, it must have felt wonderful.”

I nodded slowly, and then glanced around as I unwound the towel from around my head. “Where did Zeke go? Are we still on for dinner?” I asked tentatively.

My stomach chose then to announce itself, and I flushed with heat as Dmitri chuckled. “Yes, we’re still going to have dinner. Zeke went down to prepare it.”

I nodded slowly, rubbing my hair thoroughly with the towel. I chewed on my bottom lip thoughtfully as I contemplated what I wanted to ask. As I flipped my hair right-side up after removing excess water from it I met Dmitri’s eyes.

“Your brother is kind of odd. He was staring at me funnily when we reached the landing,” I said; straightforwardness was always a good option.

Dmitri’s brows arched, and he twisted his mouth, appearing thoughtful. “You may just want to leave that one alone. Remember, Elyssa,” he paused. With a sigh, he continued, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

There was enough of a warning in his words to make me disregard the friendly tone he used, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.