Free Hidden by Marianne Curley

thoughts. A light breeze rustles the crisp autumn leaves. The lane itself is strangely pristine, devoid of dust,debris and, amazingly, even fallen leaves. At this time of year that’s majorly remarkable. I study the trees more closely. There don’t appear to be any bare branches. The trees have not shed any leaves, almost as if time has caught them in a vacuum.
    I should listen to myself! What am I thinking?
    We stop at the end of the lane in front of a set of black iron gates with a silver letterbox built into one of the brick pillars. Engraved on the front in fancy calligraphy is a name:
ZAVIER
    Beyond the gates a sweeping driveway curves out of view behind leafy trees and manicured gardens. An ominous chill runs down my spine as I stare through the gates. I’m not normally superstitious. I know there are no paranormal states, but I am startled by the thought that this residence is evil. It makes me want to turn Shadow around and gallop all the way home. But I’m not ready to leave yet, not without trying to get answers.
    Damn it, I’m being silly. It’s a flare of panic, that’s all. I’ll burst into a fit of laughter next. I do that when I’m nervous. I take a deep breath to pump some oxygen and sense into my brain.
    A light touch on my arm makes me jump. It’s only Amber. She’s frowning. ‘Are you all right, hon?’
    I nod, not ready to speak just yet. She seems to sense this. ‘We know where Mr Zavier lives now, so if you want to come back another time …’
    ‘No, I want to do this now.’
    Amber’s blonde eyebrows lift as she forces a smile to her face. ‘OK. Remember, I’m right beside you.’
    We leave Shadow and Pandora tethered to the left pillar of the gate, which opens at the touch of my hand on the handle. It swings wide enough for us to walk through in single file, and closes behind us automatically.
    ‘Neat trick,’ Amber says.
    ‘The whole place is probably electronically monitored.’ I search for the eye of a surveillance camera. ‘They could be watching us now, assessing whether we’re undercover cops come to break up their black-market baby-napping ring.’
    A paved footpath leads away from the main driveway to meander through a tall rainforest garden. The canopy grows thick and adds an ominous dimension that rekindles the chill that ran down my spine at the front gates. I start to feel breathless, the urge to run away kicking in, but finally the house swings into view.
    ‘I thought we’d never find it,’ Amber murmurs, pulling aside a moss-covered vine. She hooks her arm through mine. ‘Not bad! Sandstone, right? I like the timber veranda with the white rails. It has a colonial look, don’t you think?’ She seems unaware that I’ve not spoken yet, not moved a fraction, or even taken a breath. ‘Ebony?’
    Unconsciously I step backwards and, taking notice of the pressure building inside my chest, I open my mouth. My breath rushes out in a gasp and Amber runs to my side. ‘Ebony, what’s wrong?’
    ‘I’ve been here before. I don’t know how I know this, I just do. And …’
    ‘And … ? And what?’
    ‘It’s the same house as in my dreams.’ I look at her and ask, ‘What does this mean, Amber? What could this mean?’ I go on to answer myself. ‘I have memories of being inside this house. I remember a red room with mushrooms, and fairies pointing wands at mice.’ I shift my eyes from the house to her. ‘How is this possible?’
    She looks lost for words. ‘I don’t know. How could you remember it when you were so little?’
    ‘I don’t have any memory of Willow Tree Lane, the driveway or this path through the forest.’
    ‘Do you still want go inside?’
    I nod and she whispers, ‘Wait here.’
    She runs off around the side of the house. I don’t know where she’s gone, but she returns quickly, breathing fast. ‘We could be lucky.’
    ‘What’s going on?’
    ‘Well, there’s no car in the garage, no clothes drying on the outside line and no pets