Moonshadow (21 page)

A woman lived in this room—it must have been Charlotte.

Diana carefully stepped inside and the smell of rotting timber and dust filled her nose, reminding her of a musty old barn. Other than the smell of decayed wood, the room seemed like it hadn’t been touched since the last person locked the door.

She slowly walked to the closet and opened the panel doors. Just as expected, it was filled with woman’s clothes of a circa 1920’s fashion. Diana’s fear of what might be living in those clothes kept her from inspecting them further, however.

She closed the door and began to investigate the vanity instead. The musty air inside the house had not been kind to the mirrors, the decades of dirt and grime clouding them until nothing could be recognized in their reflection.

With no small amount of trepidation, Diana slowly sat down on the small upholstered stool, fully expecting it to fall apart beneath her. She was more than surprised to find that it didn’t. Safely seated, Diana opened the jewelry box of polished wood and a song began to play. Her heart ached at the soft metallic notes.

I know that melody—it’s one of Grandma’s dream songs.
As the notes played on, Diana’s memory transported her back to those nights of Veil nightmares and her grandmother lulling her to sleep with the mandolin.

Diana longed to be hear her grandmother’s songs again; she missed the kisses on her forehead and the warm hugs that signaled that the night’s terrors could not harm her if she just sang with her heart.

Diana felt the tears welling up in her eyes and she wiped them away with the sleeve of her jacket. 
You’ll be proud of me, Grandma. I’m going to find out what really happened to Aunt Charlotte. You’ll both be able to rest in peace.

Diana rummaged around in the jewelry box, finding what one would expect—a few pairs of earrings, necklaces, and various rings.

Then she saw it—an exquisitely crafted silver brooch of a lily.

Lily…
Diana had to know for sure.

She quickly stood from the stool, hardened herself against the fear, and went back into the closet. Flashing the light all over the cramped, dark, space, Diana eventually discovered a light blue scarf hanging on a hook—it had white letters stitched on the end of it. She swiftly made her way to the scarf, ignoring the possibility of spiders or other creepy crawlies, and yanked it free before scrambling out of the closet and shutting the panel doors behind her.

After taking a much needed deep breath to regain her composure, Diana inspected the letters on the scarf.
C. G.—Charlotte Green. These
were
her things!

Diana began to feel a strange sense of awe standing within her aunt’s old room. Much of Charlotte’s life remained a mystery to her, just as it had to Diana’s grandmother, but now, she finally felt connected to her great-aunt in a way she never had before. 

Diana looked down to the silver lily brooch.
Did Charlotte mean to give this to Grandma Lily, but never had the chance?

Taking the keepsake into her hands, Diana felt a strange sense of peace fall over her. No amount of glittering gold or shimmering rubies could amount to the treasure she now held—a gift from the past.

The squeaking of the wooden floor brought Diana to attention and she turned around to see Darien walking into the room.

“I found nothing of interest in Flinders’ study,” he said, looking irritated and defeated. “Did you find anything significant in here?”

“I think this was my Aunt Charlotte’s room,” Diana said with wonder. “I found this monogrammed scarf with her initials on it.” She held it up, shining the light onto it so Darien could see the letters. “There’s no evidence that Flinders shared the room with her, though. There aren’t any men’s clothes in the closet and the room only has feminine items in it.”

Diana pondered over her thoughts a moment before continuing.

“I’m pretty sure this room wasn’t used for some time before Flinders’ death. Everything is neat and tidy and kept in place—like one of those historical room exhibits they have in museums. Also, the door was locked. The rot made it easy to open.”

“Interesting,” Darien said as he brought his hand to rub the sides of his mouth, digesting the new information. “Something must have happened to your aunt.”

His words caught Diana off guard. She’d been suspecting whether or not Darien had been keeping Charlotte’s true fate a secret; she was more than a little relieved to know that he hadn’t been lying to her all these weeks.

“I’m sorry if that was insensitive, Diana,” he said, likely noticing her stunned expression.

“It’s fine,” she replied. “Honestly, I started expecting foul play the morning after the gala.”

“Why is that?” Darien asked, looking rather suspicious. “You’ve never mentioned this before.”

Diana felt her guard rising but she quickly dismissed it. There was no sense in keeping things from him any longer.

“My grandma’s stories, mostly,” Diana replied. “In the ‘Tales of Fox and Lotte,’ Charlotte and Flinders are usually being hunted by bad guys for some reason or another. After I saw the stele, I figured they both knew more than they should about the Chalice of the Moon and that those ‘bad guys’ were likely Shadowstalkers. Charlotte even knew that the Holy Grail was really the Chalice—she wrote a whole epic poem about it.” Diana shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, it’s all in Flinders’ huge book of Grail Lore.”

“His what?” Darien asked, his eyes blinking with disbelief.

“You know, that big leather-bound book at the library. It’s part of the Foxwell Flinders special collections.”

At her words, Darien’s eyes twitched and his lip began to quiver ever-so-slightly. He hadn’t known the book existed. Diana could only stare at him with disbelief. “You didn’t know it was there?”

“I have read every book and excavation report that man published, and I can assure you that Flinders never published a corpus of Grail lore; I would know.”

“Well it’s there; I’ve read it.” Feeling a bit defensive, Diana crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe he only had the one made for his personal collection.”

From the slight look of childish shame in his eyes, Darien knew she was probably right.

“Forgive me, Diana. I didn’t mean to imply you were lying. Honestly, I’m just upset with myself; I should have found that book decades ago.”

“It’s alright; I figured as much.” Feeling the tension fade, Diana relaxed and held the lily brooch up to look at again, wondering at her aunt’s true fate.

“What is that?” Darien asked, noticing her keepsake.

“It’s a silver brooch of a lily that I found in the jewelry box over there; I think Charlotte meant for my grandmother to have it. I felt compelled to take it.”

A look of pained curiosity crept into Darien’s eyes. He seemed troubled by the brooch. “I’m finding all of this a bit strange,” he said. “These stories you mentioned; are they the reason you came to study at the university?”

Diana nodded. “It’s why I applied, at least. Flinders wasn’t my first choice of schools, but they offered me a full ride. I couldn’t really choose to go anywhere else.”

“I see,” he replied, considering her words. “What were Foxwell and Charlotte searching for in these stories? Did your grandmother ever mention anything that could be the Chalice?”

She shook her head. “No cups or grails; usually just items meant to unlock a tomb or something.” Diana shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t actually know how the stories ended, or if they ever found what they were searching for. It’s just a coincidence that I met you and stumbled upon this whole business of the Naphalei and the Chalice of the Moon.”

Though he still looked intensely curious, Darien did not seem pained. Instead, Diana felt a flutter of his excitement within her own chest. He drew near to her, taking her hands into his own.

“I rarely believe in chance and coincidence,” he said with an amused smile. “Fate is what we make it—to be sure—but each person’s destiny is just a thread in the weaving of history. Our fates have become intertwined; that much I know. What I don’t know, is at what point. Forgive the cliché, Diana, but when I first laid eyes on you, you took my breath away.”

Diana’s heart leapt at his words and her mouth smiled of its own volition.

“My heart knew you were special to me before I did. The fact that you are human caused an intense bout of inner turmoil at first, let me tell you.”

Her smile dropped, as did her hands, and she pulled away from him.

“I didn’t mean my words to offend.”

His words
had
offended her, and ruined a terribly romantic moment. “That’s what every girl wants to hear—that she fills her boyfriend with inner turmoil.”

Darien’s pale cheeks reddened and he looked apologetic. “Forgive me; I just mean that, regardless of how my people view humans, the heart desires what the heart desires, and there isn’t much we can do about it. My heart desired yours and our threads have been woven together.”

Diana’s smile returned. He managed to salvage the moment, but barely. “Well, tell your heart thanks. It’s that head of yours that’s on my list.”

Pleased that he’d softened the situation a little, Darien took his eyes from hers to look out the window and then sighed in frustration. “We best make our leave. It will be black as pitch soon.” He extended his hand to Diana and she took it.

With caution, Darien led her by the hand back down the hallway. Before they descended the rickety staircase, Diana rushed into the study to grab her bag and the treasured Austen first editions that had most likely once belonged to Charlotte—a fact that made the books even more precious to Diana.

“At least this adventure wasn’t a total loss,” she said with a wide smile and Darien simply shook his head.

When they reached the car, Darien opened the door for her. “It’s a shame we were lost for so long. I would have liked that extra hour to continue our search.” He quickly made his way to the passenger’s side of the car.

“I’m just glad we found evidence that my aunt lived here with Flinders,” Diana replied as Darien sat down and she fumbled around in her pack for the keys. “Before, my grandma’s stories were the only proof I had that Charlotte was even connected to him.”

As she turned the key in the ignition, the unmistakable sound of the engine not wanting to start filled Diana with dread. She tried a few more times to no avail.

“You have got to be kidding me!” She slammed her hands on the wheel in frustration.

“Are you doing it right?” Darien began to reach over to help, but stopped himself, realizing that being in such close proximity to the ignition switch might cause more problems.

“Of course I am,” Diana snipped back. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to start a car the right way.”

Darien shrugged. “What do I know about automobiles? My people never use them unless absolutely necessary. To be honest, this is the first time I have ridden in the front seat of one in over eighty years.”

Diana just stared at him. “You know this is probably your fault, right?”

Darien sighed in resignation and laid his head back on the headrest. “I know,” he said. “I abhor your technology. This entire day would have been much easier if we could have just ridden in a sharifon coach instead of this blasted machine.”

Diana would have asked what a sharifon was had her curiosity not been overshadowed by her frustration. She was in no mood for a lecture.

“Why don’t you just use your mobile phone to call for a driver?” Darien asked.

Diana pulled out her
cell and inspected the screen.

“No signal,” she replied. “It’s not like it would be much help anyways—not unless cabs around here are sixty years old.”

Darien sighed and opened the car door.

“Well, I suppose we’re just going to have to spend the night here and walk into town at first light. I see no other choice.”

Diana got out of the car as well.

“I guess not,” she agreed and shut the door.

Looking at the old dilapidated house, a shiver coursed its way up the length of Diana’s spine. It was even creepier in the darkness of dusk and there was no telling what nasty things came out of the woodwork at night.

“Let’s hurry inside before you catch a chill,” Darien said, noticing her shudders.

“I don’t think it’s going to be much warmer inside the house, honestly,” Diana replied, looking at the holes strewn about it. “We’ll have to stay in Charlotte’s room; it’s the only one that appears to be habitable.”

Darien nodded and they carefully made their way inside the house.

Once back in Charlotte’s room, Diana couldn’t help but sigh in defeat at her present situation. It wasn’t quite how she’d imagined they’d be spending their first night together. She certainly wasn’t happy about sharing the room with God only knows what else.

She shivered again at the thought.

“Let me do something about that chill,” Darien said, heading towards the rotted bedroom door. Picking it up as if it weighed next to nothing, he shattered the door over his knee, and then gathered the pieces of wood into a pile. With a descent amount of kindling, Darien scooped up the wood into his arms, plopped it down next to the fireplace, and then tossed a couple of pieces into the hearth.