Unchanged (9 page)

"I did want to die," Eve admitted blandly. "I was going to drown myself in the sea, or else throw myself onto the rocks."

"I do not want you killing yourself."

"Oh, what do you care? You hate me. It wouldn't make any difference to you if I died."

His strained silence was ambiguous and Eve didn't know whether he agreed with her or if his sentiments were exactly the opposite. He said, "Tell me."

Her face crumpled. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I will suffer with you."

She stared at him, then closed her eyes. She was going to tell him and couldn't bear to look at him while speaking the words. She began, almost inaudibly, "Nearly every night . . . I am violated against my will. It's been happening two years now. I don't see a way to escape other than to kill myself. I don't know how I've borne the shame so long. I don't know how I can tell this to you—especially you. This is the first time I've ever spoken of it."

"Your stepfather."

She opened her eyes to see his bright and shining with anger. Eve nodded, feeling unclean. She could see his jaw muscles clenching. Often when she'd caught him looking at her she'd thought he was angry or hated her, but she had never before seen such an abhorring blaze in his eyes.

"There is an escape for you," he finally said. "Something other than suicide."

"What?" Eve asked breathlessly. This was it—he was going to tell her he wanted to take her away.

But when he spoke, it was to say something entirely unexpected. His eyes gleamed darkly as he whispered, "Murder."

~

The sunlight through her window the next morning was strong; she had woken hours later than usual. She could hear her brother talking downstairs. She wished she could stay in bed all day but she forced herself to rise and dress. In the hall outside her room she paused. For a moment she stood without moving, unmotivated and disheartened, but then managed to carry herself to the bedroom where her mother rested.

This morning she was out of bed and reading a book by the window, her frail frame haloed by the sun. She looked up when Eve entered and smiled with soft delight.

"Hello, Daughter."

"Mother," Eve replied. She moved to the plain wooden chair she often occupied during her visits. "How are you feeling?"

"Very well, actually. I don't have quite enough energy to venture downstairs, I'm afraid, but I'm happy to be able to read by the window." The woman's gentle smile faded and she looked at her daughter with concern. "Eve, what troubles you?"

"I'm . . . in love," Eve said, "and it's terrible."

"Terrible?" her mother echoed incredulously. "Eve, dear, please explain. You look as if you feel absolutely wretched."

"I do. I am. The man I love hates me, I'm sure. I can't tell him how I feel."

Her mother's small white hand fluttered to the base of her throat. "That doesn't sound very . . . healthy."

"Moreover," Eve continued as if her mother hadn't spoken, "he's asked me to do something rather . . . dubious. And I
want
to do it, or at least part of me does, because I know it would help me. But another part of me wants to refuse because the deed could only elicit bad results."

"My dear, I am certain you will only do what is right."

"I suppose," Eve mumbled, unconvinced.

She left the room and went downstairs. She crossed the foyer to the parlor. The paneled door was already partially open and she slid it the rest of the way to reveal Jocelyn and Ahaziel. Jocelyn stood in the center of the room, pontificating on something or other, while Ahaziel sat in an armchair, staring darkly into the middle distance. He wasn't listening to Jocelyn, but Jocelyn clearly didn't realize that.

Eve barely glanced at him as she entered the room. She forced a smile onto her face and sat in a rosewood chair facing her brother, her back to Ahaziel. She remained silent as Jocelyn continued to talk, though now he was encouraging input. She had nothing to say; she hadn't been listening. She was too busy thinking about the word Ahaziel had said to her.

Lost as she was in thought, she didn't notice he had risen from his chair until he leaned closely over her shoulder, his long hair brushing her cheek. Jocelyn didn't notice either; he had left the room and expected Ahaziel to follow him. Eve held her breath. He said but one word, dark and low.

"Soon."

Then he left.

Eve closed her eyes for just a moment and felt her blood grow cold.

"Eve?" a dreaded voice called from down the hall. "Eve, come into my study, won't you?"

What now?
she thought.

She went reluctantly, always loath to be alone with Esmond Havelock, but once in his study she saw a third person. He was a young man, good-looking in a bland way, with innocent hazel eyes and an eager-to-please air about him. Eve barely paid him attention and turned impatiently to her stepfather, waiting to hear what he could possibly have to say to her.

"Eve, this is Cayden. I'm training him to be my assistant, since Jocelyn is hopeless with the lighthouse operations."

"Oh," Eve said dully. It didn't matter to her who her stepfather trained and she didn't care about being polite either.

Esmond turned to the boy. "What do you think?"

"Yes, sir," Cayden said enthusiastically. His smile, though, appeared strained.

Eve's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them as she struggled to understand. "What are you talking about?" she demanded acidly.

Her stepfather looked much too comfortable and pleased with himself in the big leather chair behind his desk. He said, "Cayden has expressed an interest in marrying you, Eve. I've given my consent."

His words stunned her. She groped for the right response and couldn't find it. "How could he have expressed an interest?" she finally cried. "He never even met me before now! This is your doing!"

"Eve, please. Your conduct is very unbecoming of a lady."

"I'm no lady! You've seen to that, haven't you?"

On those words she stormed out of the room. Let him come up with a suitable explanation for her behavior!

She couldn't fight anything he did. Tears burned her eyes. She had never hated Esmond Havelock more. By training Cayden as his assistant and arranging for him to marry Eve, he had ensured she would never be able to leave home. Well, Cayden might have been someone he could easily manipulate, but Eve certainly wouldn't be falling for his tricks any longer. She'd find a way out no matter what, even if it killed her—

"Whoa!"

The cry of amused surprise came just as Eve crashed into someone. She had stalked outside without any real aim and hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. Quickly she blinked away her angry tears and looked up into the face of a man she'd never seen before. He was tall and pale with longish, unruly black curls. His eyes were dark and sparkled with silent laughter. She could discern these things and yet he seemed too oddly blurry for her to get a real sense of his appearance. She blamed it on the tears.

"Who are you?" Eve demanded rudely.

He smiled in way that might have been charming. "I am Merko."

"How nice."

She brushed past him and made her way into the trees. She found a fallen log and sat upon it, hands clutching her skirt. She didn't know what to do. She thought Ahaziel might come to her and offer some consolation. She began to think that impossible as murder seemed, it was better than nothing.

From her perch she watched Esmond and Cayden emerge from around the front of the house and amble down the path to the lighthouse. Was it nearly dusk already? She glared at them and felt a new flare of rage.

The crack of a twig drew her attention away from them. Had Ahaziel come? No, not Ahaziel. It was Merko, whoever he was. He had moved so stealthily she didn't notice him until he was upon her. She coolly narrowed her eyes at him. She didn't know why, since she'd barely met him, but she didn't like him at all.

Merko didn't bother with pretense. "It makes you unhappy to know you're to marry that boy, does it not?"

"How . . .?"

"Never mind that."

Who
was
this person? Oh, she didn't really care; she had too much else to worry about. She tossed her head arrogantly. "I'm not marrying him," she declared. She almost believed the claim herself.

"Oh? Your stepfather seems to have a different idea.” He shrugged when she made no response. "You're waiting for Ahaziel," he guessed.

Eve's eyes flicked to him. "How do you know Ahaziel?"

"We're old acquaintances. You are in love with him, aren't you?"

"No," she spat childishly. "I don't love anyone."

The sun was quickly falling and she didn't want to be alone with Merko in the woods after dark. She was about to demand that he leave her alone when, abruptly, Ahaziel appeared behind him. Eve rose a little from the log but then sat back down swiftly, pretending seeing him didn't matter.

He didn't even seem to notice her. He glared at Merko, radiating murderous energy. "You don't belong here," he said in a low voice.

Merko didn't respond except to offer a languid smile. Eve thought it was revolting.

"I want you to leave immediately," Ahaziel continued. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Nothing? I thought you'd have a great deal to say, but I've been wrong before. As it happens, however, I don't wish to leave."

"Then stay out of my way, and stay away from her."

Ahaziel grabbed Eve's hand and led her out of the woods. She realized they were on the path to the lighthouse. She looked up at it and a bright flash stunned her. Soon, Ahaziel had said.

Now.

She tried to pull away but his grip was strong. He was too determined, too angry, driven by hate.

"Let me go!" she shouted. "I don't want to do this! I won't!"

It was as if he hadn't heard her. He tugged her along until at last they reached the lighthouse. They hid themselves around the side of the oil house, their voices hushed by the wind.

"That boy will come out soon," Ahaziel said, "and then you will go inside to do what needs to be done."

"What do you want, for me to push him off the gallery?" Eve cried. Ahaziel's meaningful silence was all the confirmation she needed. "No!" she screeched. "No, I can't!"

"You’d be surprised what you are capable of."

She couldn't voice another protest for at that moment Cayden emerged from the lighthouse, his lips fixed as though he were whistling, the sound lost on the wind. He entered the oil house and the door didn't close all the way behind him.

Ahaziel moved forward and stood just outside the oil house, waiting to ambush Cayden. He looked at Eve. "Go on," he ordered. "I will take care of him."

Protests were beyond her now. Perhaps some of Ahaziel's madness had rubbed off on her. Not allowing herself to think, she shot forward, running against the wind, and darted inside the lighthouse. The echoing slam of the door enveloped her in thick quiet. Reluctantly she looked at the swirl of stairs looming above her. She urged herself to go and began to climb without dwelling on the task awaiting her at the top.

She didn't hear her stepfather. Cautiously she walked around the lantern room, circling the crystal-encased oil lamp. It seemed she was alone.

When she came to the door leading out to the gallery, she went through it. The wind was much stronger up here, causing her to blink and squint constantly. The light flashed every few seconds: bright, dark, bright, dark. The ocean was a starless stretch of oblivion. Looking over the railing, Eve could see dimly where the rocks were by the white foam of waves shattering against them.

A step behind her . . . "Ah, Eve. Have you come to see me?"

Eve turned with poise and erased all expression from her face. "Yes," she said curtly.

At her reply Esmond Havelock's black eyes gleamed and her hatred of him flared. She knew the thoughts in his evil mind and they sickened her. His smugness was loathsome. She hadn't thought she could summon enough venom tonight to actually murder him yet it was there, coiled poisonously inside her, desperate to break free after two years of repression. She remained where she was, standing stoically at the rail with the wind tearing at her hair and dress. Her heart beat frantically and she wasn't sure whether she was breathing. This was going to be the most sickening, difficult task of her life, but also the most wonderful.

Seeing she would not move, Esmond walked forward to meet her. She waited until he was very close and then stepped aside elusively. His big meaty hand closed around the rail instead of her wrist. He took the snub gracefully, but it did not deter him. Eve feared this was not going to be as easy as she'd imagined.

"Beautiful night," Esmond said.

It
was
beautiful, but in a terrible, deadly way. If she leaned too far over the railing a strong gust could fling her effortlessly across it. The roiling ocean would take her body under and hide it beneath years of sediment. Such thoughts were frightening, though she knew
she
wasn't going to be the one heading over the edge that night.