Free Wilhelmina A Novella by Ronnell D. Porter Page B

with a twisted grin.
    ‘Then consider it done,’ the blonde said. ‘You will have the money on the night that she is to be changed.’
    ‘Then we have an accord,’ the governess said as she covered her face with her black veil.
    ‘But as I will be supplying most of the cost out of my own pocket, I do have one stipulation,’ the blonde said, a mischievous glance into my eyes.
    ‘And what is that?’
    ‘Charles and I will be allowed to see her each night until the seventh day when he is to change her,’ he said.
    Mr. Abberdean looked at him questioningly, but the blonde didn’t respond.
    ‘I don’t see why he would need to,’ The governess scoffed.
    ‘To grow accustomed to the presence of her flesh, her soul. Charles must learn restraint in such a short time,’ the blonde said. ‘Unsupervised, mind you.’
    ‘The deal is struck,’ the governess said.
    The crowd reluctantly followed her into her mansion, but the three of us stayed behind. Mr. Abberdean dropped me to my feet, and I stared back at him with utter fear in my eyes.
    ‘Please, don’t kill me,’ I begged.
    ‘Wilhelmina, I’m not going to kill you,’ Mr. Abberdean said. ‘I’m going to get you out of this place.’
    ‘What?’
    I was completely confused. When had the tables turned? Who was he?
    ‘But you left me here, you didn’t care. You forgot about me.’
    ‘No, Wilhelmina, never. I had no idea that you were here of all places,’ Mr. Abberdean said. ‘If I had known…’
    ‘This is not the place for this conversation, Charles,’ the blonde urged.
    I didn’t care what he thought of the moment, or its appropriateness. I may wake up in the morning and never see Mr. Abberdean again, and even if his eyes matched theirs and he was something inhuman, I wanted to hold him close to me as long as I could. Now, as he held me firmly, my life was better than it had been in more years than I cared to remember, since my father died.
    ‘You knew I was here, you wrote me letters,’ I sobbed.
    ‘I wrote them to your mother, but I never heard back. She must have forwarded them to the Elizabeth’s estate,’ he said, stroking my hair.
    Eventually I calmed down in his arms, and he carried me with the grace of an angel. He laid me down to rest on my bed, and then he was gone.
    I stared at the ceiling as I wondered if I'd dreamt it all, or if I had gone crazy. Working for the governess, the latter was the most believable scenario. But I had seen my love tonight, and his scent still lingered with me. I pressed my fingers to my lips, and tried not to think of poor Yvette's screams, still echoing through the mansion, or the governess’ true demonic face.
    I thought of Charles Abberdean was twisted, and it felt monstrous of me to think ill of him, even after what I’d seen, but I clung to the thought of him with every last fiber of sanity I had left.

 

    5. Untouched
     
    Everything from the previous night felt like a dream, surreal and terrifying. As usual, I awoke just before dawn and went about my morning chores, such as waiting on Rhoda as she bathed, changed, ate, and then sent her off to the tutor. But most of my afternoon was free, and that was because I hadn’t seen Yvette. Her screams faded sometime in the middle of the night, and I feared for her life.
    I couldn't help staring at Rhoda whenever she was near - partly out of pity, mostly out of fear. I was fearful for her life, and for the years ahead of her. Was that to be her fate as well? Was she to be auctioned off to a room of bloodthirsty demons and then left to die?
    I couldn’t wrap my mind around what they were. Were they demons? Perhaps they were pieces of the devil himself, lurking in the night to stalk and prey on young women like Yvette. The governess was not human; she was like a living statue. The sight of her exposed face, the shattered fragments that were left of it at least, was something that would not leave my dreams. It haunted me, much like she did.
    I knew that