Page 38 of The Spiral

Chapter 13

Madeline

EVentually, I slump back down onto my backside, still staring at the door and wondering where he’s gone and why. A bath, like he always does? I skim the floor with my hand then tentatively pull my fingers across the back of my thigh, still feeling his skin on mine somehow. And I can’t stop my own hands from wandering my body, testing areas to make sure I’m real. My skin is prickly, as if it’s restless for something. Twitching almost.

“Jack.”

The name is so loud and clear that I swing my head around to search for whoever called it out, my naked body stumbling back to rest against the mirror as I do. There’s someone else here. Her. It’s the same voice that was in my head.

My eyes rapidly search the space, tracing the outline of the great ballroom for anything that moves, but nothing’s there. Nothing. It’s just dark and still. I look again, curling my legs up into myself and then pushing myself up the mirror to get to my feet.

“Is someone here?” I ask quietly, almost stupefied at my own idiocy as I tentatively step out into the room. There’s no response. No light blinding me. No voice or memory in my mind like there was before. “Who are you?” Nothing again.

I look up to the chandeliers lining the path of the middle section, watching for their crystals to move or perhaps for a wind to burst through the room. Nothing happens there either. Oh, this is pathetic. Do I think there’s a ghost here or something as ridiculous as that? I pull in a long breath, brushing down the front of my naked skin in an attempt to rid myself of whatever lunacy is happening in this house. I need to leave. Whatever, or whoever, was in my mind has no place being there. And the sooner I’m out of here, the better. Draw me a bath so we can talk? Jesus. We just had sex again. There is nothing here but an attractive man and a slightly weird sensation that seems to happen around him. I need to get back to my real life. Normal.

I shake my head at the room and walk backwards to the doorway, still watching for any movement at all as I flick my eyes around. Again, though, nothing happens as I retreat to the set of large doors, only a cold draught filtering across my calves and feet. But the draught begins to intensify the closer I get to the exit, nearly freezing my feet and whipping up the side of the room as I hurry away from it.

I’m frozen to the spot instantly as the deep red curtains billow, lifting into the space and creating a burst of ghostly shapes from beneath them. My heart races as I stare in terror at what’s happening, trying desperately to move my feet. But I can’t shift again, like I’m stuck in a damn vortex that won’t let me go.

Maddy?

Who the hell is that?

I swing my head from side to side, looking for the woman who speaks so clearly to me to find nothing but empty space and a few lights illuminating the outer edges of the room.

I need you, Maddy.

Breath pants out of me as I watch in mystification, the billow of the curtains trailing off and sending a covering of frost across the floor towards me instead. If I could run, I would. If I could scream, I would, but I can’t do either. I’m just frozen and staring in disbelief as a wealth of warmth rushes over me regardless of the ice travelling over the sprung floor. It hovers for a moment, creating a slight crackling on the wood three metres in front of me. Again, I try to back away, tugging at my own weight to lift the pads of my feet as I wrap my arms around myself, but they refuse the movement. I’m just stuck to the spot with nowhere to go.

Slowly, the frost peters away, changing direction and heading for the mirrors, which causes a sigh of relief to spill from me. I watch as it creeps over the floor slowly, all the time producing a pattern of icicles to spread the effort forward until eventually, it reaches its destination, leaving anticipation hanging in the air as to what’s next. My mouth opens. I’m not sure what for. I feel like I want to ask a question, though. What’s happening? Who she is? How is she able to talk to me? What does she want?

I find myself shaking my head again, dismissing the irrationality and trying to lift my feet again instead. Ghosts? This is just some odd frost. More than likely because of a sudden weather change outside. I just need to get to the door, that’s all. Then I can leave. Regain some composure.

The thoughts make me heave on my foot again, hoping it releases this time as I hear Jack’s voice somewhere though the door. Whatever is in this room isn’t real. It can’t be, no matter what I’ve just been through. It’s this house, that’s all.

“Thank god,” I murmur, as my foot eventually lifts and I gingerly move the other one, assuming that’s free, too. It comes loose just as easily, allowing my first step of my own free will since the curtains started swelling from an unknown source.

I turn, ready to leave this madness and make a run for the exit. Exquisite he might be, and infuriatingly intriguing, but none of this is what I need in my life. I need stability not lunacy. My quick walk has me almost at the double doors before a gust of wind slams them closed in my face, almost knocking me off my feet with the intensity of its speed. I grab at the handles, wrenching at it in the hope that it budges, but there’s nothing.

I back away again, rapidly, wrapping my arms around myself once more and searching for another exit or way out. There’s only the other set of doors at the far end. My feet halt as the freezing temperature increases around them, making me check the floor for ice getting too close.

“Madeline?” Jack’s voice calls loudly through the doors. “Open the doors.”

“Jack, I can’t,” I shout back, skirting the outside of the room to keep me away from the frost and heading towards the oak doors at the other end. My head swings back and forth as I move, constantly checking for new visions and threats. “They’re stuck. What’s going on?” I turn on the spot, staring up to the other end of the room and gauging how fast I can get there. It’s a fair distance, and the light seems to be bouncing again, dark then light. “I’m going for the other doors.”

The original door rattles as I start what seems an endless journey to the other end, as if he’s trying to open them from the outside.

“Open the fucking doors,” he shouts, apparently furious all of a sudden.

“I can’t. I told you. They’re stuck,” I reply as I continue my quick step up the side of the room. He doesn’t stop rattling them. In fact, the sound of him kicking the doors starts heightening my fear as I speed for the other exit.

I can hear my own breaths as I edge the windows, trying to avoid contact with the frost that seems to be emanating from them. It terrifies me, sending anxieties about more ghostly apparitions, so I close my eyes slightly, focusing them entirely on my end goal, which is that door and escape.

“Open the fucking doors, you bitch,” he shouts again, his kicking getting louder and louder as I keep edging my way to the end of the space. I half stop, frowning at his tone and wondering what the hell reason he has to call me a bitch. “This is not… nice.”

Nice? Nice? He’s right it’s not nice. If I wasn’t quite so concerned about the odd happenings in here I might well go back and tell him all about not nice.

A soft humming starts as I near the ornate doors, and then I hear a lock clicking. It takes me a few blinks to realise that I did actually see the key in the door turn of its own accord. This can’t be real. I did not just see that, did I?