Chapter 22 — Gargoyles and Tombstones

Stephanie froze when a crow cawed. She had finally reached the entrance to the old family cemetery, where two large gargoyles stood guard. Her slight frame pushed hard against the old iron gate, relieved when it finally creaked open, but she jumped when it closed on its own with a loud clang. She stood, gazing at the old tombstones, but the comforting feeling that she’d hoped for wasn’t there. She felt just as alone and lost in the graveyard with her ancestors as she had at Brighton House.

Storm clouds hovered above. She told herself that she must hurry. She ran to the freshest grave and touched the tombstone lovingly, then brushed away leaves and poured out her troubles.

“Grandmother, my whole life is in a shamble. The Amish have shunned me. Shunning is brutal and cruel. People who once loved me won’t even look at me when I pass by them on the street. It’s like I’m invisible to them. There was an exorcism, and I saw demons come out of an old bishop. It was horrible.”

She closed her eyes and said a prayer, just like she always did when she’d visited the graves with her grandmother. “Hail Mary, full of grace, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.”

The ground felt cold, and she felt a movement near her hand. She thought it was a twig, but when she looked, it moved. It was long and black and was crawling up her arm. A scream stuck in her throat and she flung her arm this way and that way, trying to cast off the snake. She shouted into the dark sky.

“Help, help!”

The harsh whistling wind seemed to answer her, calling out, Stephanie, Stephanie.

Raven dove and snatched the snake in its beak.

Stephanie watched, unsure if it was a snake or a black ribbon as it trailed away, the wind whipping it about. Instead of being grateful, Stephanie cursed the bird. “You despicable bird, get off my land. You’re evil and I know it.” Exhausted, her voice faltered and faded.

She wiped a tear away with her hand, leaving a black smudge on her face. There was a beaten look about her when she said, “Despite my doubts about Richard Cooper, I shouldn’t be alone. I’m going to marry him.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth when the sky turned black and ominous. Anger rose within her. She would not make it home before the storm.

She raised her head irritably and yelled into the wind, her entire body shivering.

“Why is this happening to me? Am I cursed?”

She heard Brooks bark and whine, but paid little attention. The fight had gone out of her, and her body felt cold and stiff. She fell, and hard gusts of wind blew debris and leaves on her. Suddenly, the gate clanged loudly, jolting Stephanie back to her senses.

For a moment, she thought she saw ghostly apparitions. “Grandmother?” she murmured as she followed the apparitions slowly towards the gate. Once she stepped out the gate, it slammed shut., and she found herself on the dark hillside all alone, unable to see anything at all as the wind whipped against her face.

That’s when she realized Brooks was missing.

“Brooks,” she called out in a loud voice as the wind whipped against her face.

She thought she heard a horse snort, but it was so dark she couldn’t see anything. She told herself that her mind must be playing tricks on her.

She felt a rush of panic when she heard the sound of hooves coming at a breakneck speed towards her. Suddenly, she was swept up in a vice like grip. The phantom rider held her to his chest tightly.

“Who are you?” she gasped.

His voice was deep. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Do you not know that you are in the middle of a storm without a lantern to guide you?”

They were traveling at a fast speed. It was as if the horse’s hooves were not touching the ground, but flying.

“My dog,” she yelled out against the wind. “I have to go back for my dog.”

“Your dog is fine,” he said in a gruff voice.

At that moment, Brooks barked.

“Thank God,” Stephanie said.

The horse snorted.

The phantom rider dropped her at the door. She squinted her eyes at the wind and rain, and was barely able to make out his form. His black cape whipped about in the wind. The horse was larger than any she’d ever seen before.

“Go in and light your lanterns. Stay warm. And never venture out on a night like this again. You were in grave danger. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding like an obedient child.

“Go,” he commanded.

Stephanie ran to the door and pushed against the heavy gusts until it opened, and Brooks slumped in, wet and exhausted, throwing himself down on the rag rug in front of the door. She had just slammed the door behind them when the storm hit in full force.

Stephanie went to the pantry and brought out two kerosene lamps and lit them. And built fires in the fireplaces in case she lost power. Her phone was beeping a storm alert, and the wind was howling. She felt chilled and made sassafras tea. Then she settled back on the loveseat in front of the fireplace, covering her legs with a white knitted throw. Only then did she grasp the full realization of what had happened. And it spooked her.

“It’s all about the black book, isn’t it?” she said out loud to herself. She wasn’t supposed to read it, but she knew it was just a matter of time until curiosity would get the best of her, and she would go on to the next chapter.

A shiver went down her spine as she thought about the phantom horseman. His voice had been deep and commanding. It had to be Damien; her prince charming. He saved her.

She sighed and threw back the throw, too excited to sleep.

In minutes, she was lumbering up the steps to her bedroom with Brooks at her heels. She lit candles, threw some wood on the fire, then sat down in the easy chair in front of the fireplace.

Stephanie gently opened the black book. All I want is a glimpse of his face before I go to sleep, she told herself. I just need one look. He sounded so manly, so strong. He picked me up as if I was as light as a feather. I must admit, I am wildly attracted to him. It’s wrong—he’s a dark prince. A smile tugged at her lips in anticipation as she leafed through the book, skimming over chapters that she’d already read—the stroke of the quilled pen strong—the lines as black as sin. She felt elated when she found his picture.

“Thank you for saving me tonight,” she said in a whisper.

His smile grew broad.

In an instant, she thought she heard breathing. It was so subtle. She felt her heart pound. Her eyes grew wide when she heard the beat of her heart synchronize with the black book. Then she grew calm.

She felt his warm lips on hers. He kissed her all over her face.

“You must rest, my darling,” he murmured.

“This isn’t real,” she said.

“No, no. It’s only a fairy tale. But you must promise never to go out in a storm again.”

Stephanie drifted into a dreamless sleep, exhausted. And even though she knew it was only a picture in a book, she had convinced herself that her imagination had made his kisses seem real. She was grateful for the comfort the black book gave her.

She could never give it up.

Never.