Chapter 52 Hide and Seek
The lighthouse door creaked as Gertrude pushed it shut behind her. The sound echoed once, then faded. It was colder inside, colder than she expected. The air smelled of salt, damp stone, and a leakage of oil. She rested her forehead against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing hard.
She was safe. At least, safer than before.
Her legs shook now that she had stopped moving. Her muscles strained, almost felt like numbing. Her hands throbbed where the oars had rubbed them raw, making them callous and weak. She slid down until she was sitting on the stone floor, hugging her knees to her chest. For a moment, she let herself feel everything...fear, exhaustion, grief, yet, she still forced herself to stand again.
She could not stay still.
The lighthouse staircase curved upward in a tight spiral, lit faintly by a red glow from above. Gertrude wrapped her fingers around the iron railing and began to climb. Each step echoed, the sound following her like someone else was walking behind her. She kept on wondering: what is this made of to make her here safe? There was nothing special to it. Just peeling off the painted surface. Dusty flight of stair. It was suffocating. Its height is frightening. The wide space around the horizon is magnificent yet unfamiliar.
She did not look back. She threw off the imaginations inside the mansion. She believes in Constantine. He knows tha manor better than anyone else. Not even Guillaume. He ruled the land where the small cathedral was erected but this manor... this island, it's Constantine's specialty. As if time and space crossed to determine his destiny. A powerful creature.
With every turn, Constantine’s voice returned to her thoughts. Not the commanding tone he used when danger was near, but the quieter one, the one meant only for her.
You must reach the lighthouse.
The tower felt old, older than the manor, older than the stories and histories. The stone walls were rough beneath her fingers.
She run through them, slowly, studying each marked scratches and cracks.
The vast of the distant roaring sea is surged through the boulders. At the manor, Helga stood rigid in the center of her chamber, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The servants had not returned. Not one. The silence felt wrong, too defeaning, too empty.
Guillaume remained near the circle of sleeping girls, his pale fingers hovering inches above their skin. He inhaled slowly, as if tasting the air.
“He hides well,” he murmured.
Helga turned sharply. “This is not hiding. This is an insult.”
Guillaume’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes stayed cold.
She paced the room, skirts brushing against stone.
“The girl has reached the lighthouse. I felt it.” he uttered.
Guillaume glanced toward the ceiling, as if seeing through layers of stone and sky.
“If Constantine believes the lighthouse protects her, then let him cling to that hope. Hope makes any creature careless." he said with a guttural voice.
"And as long as they separated, we are stronger." she added.
“It's time, Helga." Ingrid nodded her head. She smirked when she reached for the nearest torch and sprinted away, all set to burn the tower down.
Above them, Obsidian cut through the dark corridors of the manor, wings silent, eyes sharp. "What delivered your wings here, Obsidian? Any news?" a voice faltered, followed by the shadow.
The black raven coo and cawed, as if talking to his master. Constantine's eyes darkened and got serious than before, yet, he still got the calmest tone. He understands that the servants are desperately looking for him. Everywhere they looked. The banquet. The guest rooms. The forbidden wing. But not down under, not until the basement where his lair hides.
That he knew. Until he heard a loud thumping outside. He looked beneath the cracks of the bricked walls. Eyes widened but never shaken. They have reached him. The servants kept on calling his name. Unaware as if they are sleep walking. As if zombies trying to get a hold of his flesh.
He cussed under his breath and gazed at Obsidian. "Follow Gertrude. Keep a close eye on her. And no matter what happens, do not let her out the lighthouse." he warned him. The bird stretched out his wings and soared through the gloomy skies outside.
Back in the lighthouse, Gertrude felt like falling asleep. Not until she glimpse outside the rails. A spark of light... a torchlight coming towards the direction of this tower.
"Oh, no... no..." she muttered under her breath.
Gertrude slowly stood up and stepped closer, squinting her eyes to get a better look.
"Madame Ingrid!"
Of course, she is coming back for her. She knew it was still risky. Suddenly, she's got her heart racing. Losing her desire to sleep.
Gertrude keeps on watching the head mistress, who is now, getting aboard the boat.
She looked for other doors and planned her escape. On the other side, at the manor, Guillaume started feasting on the blood of the innocent girls. One by one he sucked the life out of them. His sharp fangs and teeth piercing through the delicious skin of the students, and even under a spell, the poor things choked under their breaths, blood escaping out of their lips. Once they close their eyes, Guillaume will pop their eyes as if they are the ones who sinned.
He has tasted heaven but still in hell. "And you, pretty, will be my last meal..." he whispered to Sylvia's unconscious body. But when he was about to chew on her skin— a loud, destructive whip he heard until he collapsed on the floor, hands twitching, completely off balance and bleeding.
Constantine threw off the flog and looked behind him, where a shadow is secretly hiding. "Get Sylvia out of here, Lila. Now." he commanded with an urgency.
But with every blood Guillaume consumed from the innocents, the more he got stronger. He knew he needed that blood. But he failed with the one that could make him the greatest and powerful: Trudy's blood.
In his eyes, he could only be the greatest, when he make Constantine drop down on his knees begging for the life of his one and true bride.