Chapter 2

© Copyright 2006 by Kendra Cornell



Confrontation did not go well. Still have few tricks left.

Am considering calling Miss High and Mighty herself to inform her of her precious husband’s indiscretions. That should shake her up a bit… Tom denies being with that little blonde hussy. Don’t believe it for a second. She’ll get what’s coming to her too.

Elizabeth James finished the journal entry with a flourish of her flowery handwriting. Carefully replacing her fountain pen, she stood in the vacuous bedroom to prepare for bed. Gone were the tears and the hysterics. Left was a woman, bitter and bitterly alone.

Elizabeth sat at her lighted vanity to inspect the ever-present lines. She was disgusted with her skin, disgusted with this room, disgusted with the wealth that had left her nothing… well, nothing that she wanted anyway. Dirk was dead and Tom no longer wanted anything to do with her. But if she couldn’t get him back, she’d at least get even—one way or another.

Elizabeth stood, trailing pools of pink satin on the floor as she walked. She’d known this was coming… Tom had begun to act foolishly weeks ago, neglecting to call her, avoiding her at functions, he’d even threatened her once telling her that if she didn’t back off, she’d be dead. Part of her had wanted to dismiss that as part of his melodramatic streak, but then… Then she realized that if she was dead, he’d win. So she’d prepared for that eventuality as well… with the help of her lawyer. She smiled an enigmatic smile. There was nothing she hated worse than losing.

Somewhere far off in her sprawling home, a door slammed. For a moment, her spine tingled, but she forcibly swallowed the reaction. No one would dare confront her here. It was probably the wind. Exiting her bedroom, she stood in the long hallway. Far at the end, moonlight glowed through the gossamer curtains, creating eerie effects on the thick runner that lined the floor. The panels billowed gently, just as she thought, lit into action by the wind that entered through the open panes.

Shoving the windows shut decisively, Elizabeth began the walk back to her bedroom. Irritation put her ravaged nerves on edge. What was it about the nighttime that amplified the silence so much? She could almost taste the emptiness of the large house.

Just as she was about to enter the safety of her bedroom, Elizabeth heard a faint creak issuing from the other direction, just as though someone had taken a single step and paused. Floor lights set at lengths along the hallway assured Elizabeth that she was alone- at least in the immediate vicinity. Only one man knew the code to her security system. Had Tom come back, begging for her forgiveness? Well, he’d better be ready to grovel. This was easier than I thought… Men are so weak.

“Tom?” she called walking slowly in the direction of the dramatic staircase in the entryway.

“Tom? Are you there?” Through the domed solarium, light from the moon illuminated the large hall. Nothing unusual met her gaze. The house must have been settling.

“This is ridiculous. I’m going to bed.”

“I don’t think so, Elizabeth.” The disembodied voice floated upwards from the first level, echoing through the cavernous space.

Elizabeth spun, swirling yards of expensive fabric in her wake.

“Who’s down there?” Anger rather than fear laced her words. What did she have to be afraid of? This was her home.

A low laugh began to rumble, a laugh designed to fill her with fear. But this man had no idea who he was dealing with.

“Who do you think you are? You don’t scare me, you idiotic cretin. I’m calling the police.”

All at once, one shadow melted from the solid mass. There was a man standing only feet away from her on the landing. A man clad completely in black from head to toe, his face hidden by a mask with jagged, distorted features.

It was the mask more than anything that caused her anger to merge with pure fear… this thing wasn’t even human. She gasped for a breath before bolting in the direction of her room. Warm, yellow light spilled out, belying the danger behind her.

She raced into the room and slammed the door, throwing the lock quickly and easily. No one was going to get through that door. She raced to the bedside table where her husband had always kept a loaded handgun. Riffling through the drawers, she threw papers and other sundries out of the way. Nothing…

She slammed that drawer and opened the next. There it was. Relief flooded down her spine- she must have misplaced it at some point. She awkwardly carried the gun to her vanity table, intending to call the police.

Just stay calm, Elizabeth. He can’t get in here. You can handle this.

She picked up the handset and clicked the phone on, immediately cursing herself. She had left the handset off the jack for too long. She was constantly doing that. A scrape sounded in the lock. Frozen, Elizabeth stared in horror as the doorknob slowly turned. That thing had a key…

“Elizabeth…” his voice grated on every nerve. “You’re a smart woman. It would benefit both of us if you could just make this easy.” He stepped silently over the threshold into the interior of her room. Deliberately, he closed the door behind him.




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Kendra Cornell if you have a comment! She would really like to hear from you.





Return to Right to Refuge

Cybergrace Banner Exchange 2000