Part III

Artemis let the globe spin, letting it barely brush against her fingertips as she watched the front door. Tay had walked out of it a moment earlier, looking back briefly to give her a small smile. For the first time in a long time, she wished she was more of a hugger so she could have at least told him she would miss him.

With a sigh, she stopped the globe and walked to the bookcases where Seneca stood, his whitewashed hair falling in his eyes. He pushed it back with his fingers and then trailed the tip of his finger along the spines of the books before him.

“Are all of these Tay’s?” he asked, looking up at her. “This is the most I’ve ever seen.”

A sad smile played across her lips. “Yeah, those are his.”

She thought of her own collection, each written with her own pen yet each one told of a different year. The shelves that lined the walls to the living room where all Tay’s and the ones in the study were hers.

“A crew will be here in a few minutes to take the ones we need,” he sighed. “The others, you can keep if you want to.”

She nodded, not speaking.

Her mind was still lingering on the sight of Tay as he stood in the doorway, sun shining against his silhouette. She could see the side of his face as he looked back and the single tear that had slipped free.

It felt so wrong to say goodbye to yet another person—another person she would never forget. She remembered every one of them that had left and whether they had looked back or not. Some couldn’t wait to leave, determined that they didn’t need to be disciplined for their actions and somewhere more hesitant to step out. They knew what they were paying for and had to take the last step of forgiving themselves.

She would only allow herself a few seconds to remember before she snapped back to reality just as Seneca crossed the room.

“Hey, are you okay?” Concern flooded his voice.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, her voice cold as ever.

Seneca was like her, paying for a sin he committed so long ago. She remembered the first time she had met him. Candlelight had cast shadows around the room, masking his sharp features and bright eyes. The first time she had gotten a good look at him, blood was splattered on his face and had dried in streaks where he had tried to wipe it away.

For a split second, she felt the cold hilt of his sword to her neck on the night they had met. She could feel his warm body pressing against her back as he held her captive, threatening to kill her.

She absentmindedly smiled at the thought.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, leafing through the journal to her right.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling like something’s funny,” he shut the book with a loud snap. “But I see nothing funny about this situation.”

“Is it sad then?” she challenged.

His eyes met hers and for a moment of silence, they held eye contact. His green eyes sparkled with mischief as a grin slowly formed on his face.

She frowned.

Seneca had always been with her, serving his sentence right next to her. For over 900 years, she had watched him change, reforming from his original actions. He rarely ever brought up the reason the two were stuck together and often changed the subject whenever she brought it up.

But right then, that didn’t bother her. What bothered her was the fact that one day she would have to watch him walk away too. Would he look back? Would he regret it for a moment?

She turned, brushing her long black hair over her shoulders, and headed for the stairs just as the doorbell rang.

“You and the crew do your things,” she started as she walked up the stairs. “I’ll be in the study.”

“What are you going to do after?” he asked.

She paused and looked down at him from the second-floor landing as she chewed on her lip. The crystal chandelier hung a few feet away and she debated reaching out and sweeping the few cobwebs off it. Deciding against it, she answered him. “I have to pay a visit to the dead.”

He raised an eyebrow, setting his jaw as the door swung open. “Don’t stay out too long.”

“Okay, fine, Mom,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll do what I want, thank you.”

The door slammed behind her and she was left by herself. Her thoughts filled her head as she leaned against the wall, trying to steady herself. The room was freezing cold but burning hot at the same time. The light filtered through the lace curtains creating interesting shadows on the wood floor.

She slid down the wall and let her head fall onto her knees as the tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. With a sigh, she wiped her face and looked up at the many paintings that surrounded her.

Each had an interesting splash of coloring, each drawing attention to scenes that they had captured. One was a silent forest, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Another was a village burning as its flames reached up to the night sky, screaming to be saved.

Fire.

She hated it. She hated the thoughts that seemed to dance through the flames in her mind, reminding her of the sins she had committed so long ago. Wherever she went, the fire seemed to follow. It haunted her in her dreams; it stalked her while she was awake. The memories—they hurt.

Standing, she patted at the wrinkles on her shirt and walked across the floor to the window. Her footsteps were the only thing that sounded in the empty room. The sun was blinding as she leaned against the windowsill and watched the crew belong load up the many books.

They were ancient manuscripts—not as old as hers, but they were still old. Many were falling apart at the binding but not a page was missing. They were special books—they may deteriorate and eventually totally disappear from existence but until the contents they held were recorded, not a page would crumple.

Was she like those books? Was she falling apart from the inside, unable to actually die until everything she held prisoner inside was finally released? She hoped—prayed—that it wouldn’t be the case.

The sound of the car doors shutting snapped her back to reality. She looked down, catching Seneca’s eye as he turned to look back at the house. He gave her a nod, signaling that he would be leaving before climbing in. The car revved up and disappeared down the road.

With a sigh, she shut the window and stepped back. She was glad the books were gone. The longer they stayed, the more painful it would be to look at them. As it was, it was a painful reminder that Tay wouldn’t be coming back.

She turned and headed for her closet, searching for an appropriate dress to wear on her visit. Nothing too bright. As it was, the sun was quickly retreating behind storm clouds, darkening her mood. She pulled out a black lace dress and studied it. It had a basic black fabric under-dress with a lace covering and lace sleeves that went all the way down to her wrists. She turned it around, examining it before deciding to wear it.

Just as she laid it down on her bed, the doorbell sounded through the house. She froze. No one had used the bell in years. Those who knew the house was here came in without knocking. She leaned her head to the side, trying to hear for any noise.

The doorbell rang again so she quickly but carefully made her way for the front door. Her hand wrapped around the golden doorknob but she hesitated for a moment. Who would it be? What would they want? Would they know her? Was it just Seneca?

No, it wasn’t Seneca. He would have walked in, ignoring the need to knock. It had to be someone from outside that hadn’t stumbled upon the house before.

She looked around, searching for something to use as a weapon if needed and snatched the ancient letter opener from off the entryway table and held it behind her back as she opened the door.

Before her stood someone she had never seen before. His dark curly brown hair was frizzy from the sudden rainfall as he pressed himself against the doorway, trying to avoid the water as it dripped off the eaves. He clutched the flowers he held close to his chest, protecting them from the relentless wind.

“Can I help you?” she asked slowly.

He seemed so familiar yet she couldn’t place her finger on where she had seen him. Had she ever seen him? Just a second ago, he had looked just like any other person on the road but now, as he smiled, she was sure she had seen him somewhere.

“Um,” his smile widened, dimples appearing. “Is it okay if I step in for a moment?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He bounced from foot to foot. “Well, see, um…I’m kind of in need of saving.”