The Unseen Danger

Night walked Diva across the house's corridors, sleep never in a daydreaming mood around her. Silence that was not broken was present, and creaks of old wood floorboards to punctuate every now and then. She stayed immobilized in one position when she was touched by low, mournful music that reached her on the horizon. It was a faraway place, miles even distant, but with a tremble which swept through her spine.

She looked over at her. The disturbance made her realize that she was in front of a door that she had never seen before.

It was cold alongside it, and fear crept into the space of her heart. She backed away slowly from the door by entering a dusty one that was full of memories.

The room was luxuriously equipped, but everything seemed to have been so little as touched, as if time itself had ignored the room.

Across the wall from her was this absurdly large painting. It was a picture of a really amazingly beautiful woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. Her eyes seemed calm, but there was something sad to the look in them too, and Diva felt her to be kind of sad.

"Lillian was her name," called a voice from behind her, and she leaped. She spun around to Caleb, who stood in the doorway, his expression shut.

"Who was she?" Diva whispered, almost.

Caleb paused, glancing over to the painting. "She was Derek's first mate."

Those three words took Diva's breath. "First mate?" she asked, her heart racing.

"Yes," Caleb said softly. "She meant the world to him. But she's dead now."

"What was done to her?" Diva questioned, holding on tight against the fear and fascination creeping into her tone.

Caleb's face darkened. "She was taken by rogue years back. Derek sought for her but. he couldn't find her. She is believed dead."

"Wait," she blinked hard against the pangs of shame and remorse.

Diva returned to examine the painting once more, her mind reeling. The pathos of the eyes of Lillian in the portrait seemed to copy Derek's and sent a chill down her very veins. And suddenly, that odd discomfort she'd sensed from Derek now became a muddled kind of feeling.

"Why would the binding take another one if he'd had one already?" Diva continued to demand, irritation entering her voice.

That's something we can't say," Caleb agreed. "But somehow your being here has awakened something—both Derek and in this house."

"But do you really believe that she is dead?" Diva asked.

"I don't know, but maybe you should be asking him?" Caleb spat.

Diva shivered, her gaze still fixed on the painting. The air had grown cold, as if Lillian's spirit still lingered there.

In her own bed that night, Diva slept restlessly. Her mind was a jumbled combination of vague thoughts and feelings. Bitterness welled up inside her for being a replacement, for being ripped from the world she knew.

But she couldn't get out of her mind the picture of Derek's vulnerability—the quiver in his voice when he talked about the tie.

And then the crash and the stillness was shattered. Diva leapt to her feet, thudding heart. She flung open her door and raced towards the disturbance, bare feet thundering on chill marble floors.

She was frozen in the passage, her throat constricted in a gasp. The air was heavy, charged with a tension which hung unspoken. At the passage end, the shadows were unaccountable, twisting curling and writhing like some living thing.

"What is it?" she whispered to herself in horror, scowling rigidly into the darkness.

"Diva!”

"There was a boom. Something's wrong, Derek. There's something. in this house," she stammered.

Derek's eyes narrowed into cold hard orbs, and for the very first time she felt a glimmer of fear hiding deep within it. "Go to your bedroom," he sneered. "Now."

"What is the point of it all? I have a right to know!" she argued, refusing to yield.

"You don't have to know. It has nothing to do with you," he barked roughly and frigidly.

She never once got a moment to complain when a blood-curdling growl boomed through the halls, paralyzing her in fear. The growl was raspy and deep and one she had yet to hear. Derek's expression turned hard, and he stepped forward to tower over her like a protector.

Stand behind me," he whispered threateningly, his voice low.

Diva's racing heart as the growl intensified, darkness at the back of the hall contorting into abnormal form. She clung to Derek's hand but couldn't help but feel that whatever was headed their direction was merely the beginning.

Two red eyes locked in the shadows, their stare aimed at Diva with deadly purpose. Derek's body tensed, his drumming growl bubbling up within him as he edged out of sight to protect her.

Derek…"

Diva drew a breath, her voice almost inaudible under the pounding of her heart.

"Behind you," he repeated, his voice admitting no dispute.

But as the creature emerged from the darkness, its demon shape illuminated by the dim light down the corridor, Diva understood this was more than assault. This was something far more evil—something connected to the house's secrets and to her and Derek's relationship.

"Diva," snarled Derek, his voice wound tight with tension. "No matter what, don't run."

But every fiber of her was yearning for her to just do that.