Read The Collector Page 7

I awoke with a start, realizing I had fallen asleep while sitting on the couch downstairs. Exhausted, I glanced at the clock to see it was well past two. I called out to anyone who may have returned while I was asleep, but the castle was still.

  Holding my head in my hands, I realized I couldn’t resist anymore. If the other things I had dreamed had been based in truth, than I owed it to follow up on this dream. Something was going on between the stone walls of the castle, and I needed to uncover whatever it was.

  When I reached the spiral staircase, I looked for a flashlight in an accent table. I opened drawers, scattering their contents, until I came across a small pen light. It was enough to light my way. Clicking the light on, I ascended the stairs. Once at the top, the sight of the dark hall was enough to give me chills. I didn’t know what would jump out at me from the shadows, but I tried to move my pen light in all directions so I could spot everything.

  When I walked towards the threshold of the first room, I saw that the doorway was ajar. I pushed the door fully open, hearing its wails breaking the eerie silence which surrounded me. My limbs began to shake as I stepped into the room. The constant drum of my beating heart filled my ears, causing me to feel increasingly tense.

  With nothing but the moonlight pouring in through the dusty windows, the room was dark. There was nothing special about the space. Its walls were bare and dusty, appearing to have been abandoned for quite some time. Its contents were covered by tarps, appearing like ghosts covered with stark white sheets.

  Nearing the center of the room, I removed a tarp from a piece of furniture and gasped. It was the same mahogany desk from my dream. I ran my fingers against the smooth wood in shock. It had all been real. Finding the desk was confirmation.

  I glanced to my right, seeing a large tarp covering the wall. Stepping towards it, I pulled at the covering with all my strength, uncovering a large bookcase. It matched my vision perfectly. I pulled out one of the volumes, blowing the dust off of the cover. These books were so old their pages had yellowed and the ink had faded. Placing the book back on the shelf, I walked across the room, ready to uncover the last tarp.

  Kneeling, I saw that the tarp covered a long, flat object. The span of it was nearly five feet, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what it was. I ran my hand along the edge of the tarp and hesitated. I felt ready to uncover the mystery, but I feared what I would find. Taking a deep breath, I pulled at the cloth.

  My eyes made contact with another pair of eyes. It took me a moment to realize I was looking at a painting. It wasn’t large. It measured about two feet by a foot and a half. The woman in the portrait was young. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. She was depicted wearing a peach colored corseted gown with lace trim. Her blond hair was done up in a slick updo. Her features were fine and delicate. Her mouth was heart-shaped. Her smile was slight. She was quite pretty, but her looks did not captivate me as much as her eyes did.

  They were almond-shaped with the most stunning electric blue irises I had ever seen. They appeared to stare right through me, sending chills up my spine. Something was not right about the painting. It depicted this woman who by all appearances was content, but her eyes spoke to me. They said another story. I saw sadness and despair in them.

  Realizing there were more paintings under the tarp, I attempted to throw it off, but it snagged on the last one. I had uncovered three more paintings. All of them were young women, appearing barely over the age of eighteen. All of them wore expensive dresses from the same era. All of them had the same look of despair which spoke to me, chilling my heart.

  Suddenly, I realized I knew these women. I had seen these portraits somewhere before. Their faces spoke to me in the deepest places of my subconscious, beckoning me to remember a detail that was lost to me.

  Glancing at the tarp, I remembered that one piece had yet to be uncovered.

  Moving towards it, I shined my light on the tarp as I pulled it off the final painting.

  I jumped back as my heart caught in my throat.

  Shivers overtook my spine, and I broke out in gooseflesh.

  My mind was reeling, and I could not form a complete thought.

  The last portrait was of... me.

  I tried to register what my eyes were staring at. It was a young woman with my exact face. She had my blue eyes and my delicate nose. She shared my full lips and pointed chin. Even her skin tone matched. Like me, she had black hair. It was pinned in a bun with soft ringlets framing her round face.

  She wore a green satin gown which was trimmed with lace around the collar. At her collar, she wore a plain gold locket which I recognized as the one I found in the trunk.

  Then I remembered.

  I remembered everything.

  I saw flashes of my life. I saw myself hiding the trinket box after putting the pieces together. I saw a shadow in the upstairs window and knew I had been seen. I remembered sneaking into this very room to steal the key which would confirm my suspicions. I recalled walking up the spiral staircase, trying to access the next chamber. I remember opening the door and seeing... the girl who owned the charm bracelet.... I knew what I had done. I remembered the window.

  Covering my mouth, I began to sob uncontrollably as images of another life flashed before my eyes like a movie.

  I had been here before. I lived here. I was the woman in the painting.

  “You remember,” a voice spoke to me, jarring me from my thoughts abruptly.

  I turned my attention to the doorway, seeing Lucas Keith stepping into the room. His proximity sent chills up my spine. His eyes appeared angry. His jaw was set. His muscles were taut like a lion ready to pounce on its prey.

  Feeling hot tears stream down my face, I did nothing to wipe them away. Tremors ran down my body as if I were having a seizure. In a state of extreme shock, I felt myself begin to black out. My mind drifted back and forth between two lives so quickly that I couldn’t grasp the meaning of such visions. My emotions were so overwhelming that I couldn’t bring myself to face the truth. “No,” I gasped, shaking my head.

  “You escaped me once, Helen,” he said, taking another determined step towards me. “But you won’t again.”

  “Please, don’t kill me,” I begged, my voice barely audible.

  I didn’t even have the strength to run. Facing my own mortality, I felt the air escape my lungs, and my consciousness began to give way. Unable to control my movements, I felt myself falling backwards, and the picture went black.

  When I awoke, my head was pounding. I moaned unable to lift my head. When I was able to open my eyes, I saw I was in a stone chamber. It took me a minute to realize I was laying on a metal exam table.

  I screamed, fully coming to.

  “Don’t scream,” I heard Isobel whisper from across the room.

  I looked and saw my friend shackled to the wall. She appeared hurt. There were bruises on her face, and her breathing was ragged.

  “Untie me before he comes again,” she begged, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Battling great pain, I managed to sit up. Running a hand over my torso, I saw that I wore a green gown. It was made of satin and had lace trim. Around my neck was a gold locket. My hair was done up in an old fashion style. Then, as if my brain was too slow to comprehend, I realized I was made up to resemble Helen Keith.

  Stumbling off the table, I ran to Isobel’s side. Seeing that she had been shackled with metal chains, I tried to break open the lock with my hands, but the cuff did not budge.

  “The key is over there,” she told me, pointing to a table that had medical tools used for cutting flesh. Atop this same table was the trinket box I had hidden. Grabbing my attention, Isobel reached out to me. I watched as her dry lips tried to form words before her voice escaped her throat. “He is crazy! He is going to kill us. He says you are, his wife, Helen, but he has never been married.”

  I nodded, glancing back
at the trinket box. “Your uncle is not your uncle,” I managed to tell her. “I should have known it when I looked into his eyes for the first time. I should have seen it when I came back to this place.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “He is D. James Keith... or at least he was in a different lifetime,” I told her, hoping that she could understand. “He married five times. He killed four of them when they found out his secret, but I escaped. I was the fifth wife.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she took in my pained expression. “How?”

  “I threw myself out this very window,” I said motioning towards the only window in the room. “I didn’t allow him to take my life. I was the only one that got away.”

  Breaking away from her grasp, I hopped up and ran towards the table, snatching up the key.

  Before I could reach Isobel, Lucas stepped into the room, taking slow determined steps. “Helen Gunn was the most beautiful maiden in the land. It took one glance for me to know I had to possess her; however, she was in love with another, Alexander, and I was old enough to be her father. No one had ever denied me, but she did. So, I took her and locked her in this tower until she agreed to become my wife.”

  “But even that could not stop your sadistic streak,” I told him, holding the key so tightly in my hand I was marking my skin.

  “You came into this very room and found the girl.”

  “You shackled her to the wall and killed her,” I said, seething. “She wore a charm bracelet.... I connected the dots between all the missing girls and your trinkets.”

  He inched closer. His eyes were on fire. “You wanted to expose me. You stole my trophies,” he said, motioning towards the trinket box. “I couldn’t let you live after that.”

  “But you came back.”

  “So did you,” he said, grinding his teeth together as his eyes bore into mine. “I had all these memories growing up... and I couldn’t understand why until Isobel sent me a picture of her and her new roommate at school. Then I knew I had to finish my work. All the girls I had killed before or after did nothing to satisfy me. My soul couldn’t rest after you jumped. I needed to possess you. I needed to be the one to snatch your life from you, but you got away.”

  Taking a step back, I realized I was leaning against the very window I had thrown myself from all those years ago. The realization shot a chill up my spine. “Let Isobel go.”

  “No,” he said with a grin. “She is to be my next victim, and you will watch. Or maybe she can watch you.”

  Without warning, he charged at me.

  My back hit the metal latch on the window, throwing them open. With my head hanging out, I could see the jagged rocks below as the waves washed over them violently. I recalled landing on those rocks and feeling my body being knocked about by the current before I died.

  This time I was going to fight.

  As the weight of his body came over me, I felt his hands grip my throat. Struggling to free myself, I tried to claw at him. Realizing I had the key to Isobel’s freedom, I threw it in her general direction, feeling myself grow weaker from the lack of oxygen to my brain. With my lungs about to burst, I kicked, landing a blow to his shin with my boot.

  He screamed, loosening his grip long enough for me to take a breath.

  Clawing at his torso in an attempt to push him off of me, his grip tightened, and I had no doubt he would succeed in killing me this time.

  “Don’t worry. I am not going to kill you. I am going to dissect you alive,” he said with an evil smile.

  Suddenly, I heard Isobel scream.

  Releasing me from his grasp, Lucas doubled backward, leaning his body on the window frame. There was a dissection knife lodged in his back which he tried to grab hold of the blade.

  As Isobel grabbed another cutting tool from the table, I pushed her away. Knowing if I wanted to be free of the spirit of D. James Keith, I had to put an end to him by myself.

  With all of my might, I pushed him out of the open window, watching him flip over the sill.

  To my surprise, he didn’t fall. He managed to hold onto the ledge with his body dangling in open air. However he knew he couldn’t hold on for long, he begged for his life, reaching out for Isobel with his free hand.

  Conflicted, Isobel covered her ears, looking to me for guidance.

  Shaking my head at her, I knew he didn’t deserve our mercy. He was going to die like all of his victims before him.

  I watched as his fingers began to slide. It didn’t take long for him to lose his grip. He fought to keep control, but in the end he couldn’t hang on and fell fifty feet, landing on the sharp rocks below before the current swept his body away.

  Isobel hugged me, and I assured her that everything would be alright, patting her back. Yet, I secretly wondered... if such an evil could stay dead. Or if we were doomed to play this game in the next lifetime.

  THE END

  * * * * *

  Message to the Reader:

  Thank you for reading “The Collector”. For more information on upcoming novels, releases, freebies, promotions, etc., please join my mailing list by entering your email in the mailing list box on https://www.sandramadera.com and https://sandra-madera.blogspot.com or emailing me directly at [email protected]. Also, don’t be shy and add me on social media. I love hearing form you. Tell me what you thought about my latest short or other ebooks by commenting online, submitting reviews or sending me an email. I read everything I am sent and do try to get back to everyone I can. Thanks!

  Connect with Me Online:

  Website: https://www.sandramadera.com

  My Blog: https://sandra-madera.blogspot.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/s.madera.writer

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/S_Madera

  Google+: https://plus.google.com/117092507235288400262/posts

  Instagram: https://instagram.com/S_Madera

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/S_Madera

  Zazzle Store: https://www.zazzle.com/sandramadera

  List of Literary Works by Sandra Madera

  Short Stories:

  The Collector

  Overboard

  Sangre Falls

  Scattered

  Shattered

  Weeping Willow - Part One

  Weeping Willow - Part Two

  Novels and Trilogies:

  Restraint

  Lament: A Restraint Novel

  Malcontent: A Restraint Novel

  Wicked Magic: A Weeping Willow Novel

  Wicked Love: A Weeping Willow Novel (coming soon!)

 
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net

Share this book with friends