Read Online Caged in Darkness by J. D. Stroube - Free Book Online

had been sold, but a few items
remained. The books were still housed in wall sized bookcases, my
parents’ altar was still in the dining room, and a rocking chair
leaned in the far corner of their library. These were the only
pieces of evidence that someone had lived here.
    “I’m going to look around in the basement. I
am sure you would rather not go in there.” Maye cupped my cheek
with her palm and looked me in the eyes. “If it gets to be too much
for you shout out for me. I’ll understand.”
    I nodded. “I think I’ll be okay. Um, what
kind of items should I be looking for?” I bit my lip and gazed
around in puzzlement.
    “Just follow your instincts. Your blood will
lead you to what is rightly yours. Don’t worry about the books. I’m
going to have them transferred to the Meadow Falls library in the
morning.”
    I watched Maye’s retreating back, as she
opened a door and descended towards the basement. The idea of her
being in that torture chamber gave me the chills. Maye was the
essence of everything my parents had not been. The idea of someone
I love entering a place filled with such hate, did not sit well
with me.
    She wanted me to follow my instincts, but
there weren’t any to be had. I considered what to do first. I could
go room to room, floor to floor, or just randomly pick rooms until
I had seen them all. One thing was for sure, the kitchen would be
my last stop. I wouldn’t be able to look at the tile without
imagining my parents’ blood flowing between the cracks. Though
their deaths did not haunt me; I had enough death to last a
lifetime.
    Turning right, I entered the den. It was a
bland room with wooden floors. I could make out the scratch marks
my nails had left on the finish, and shivered. From what I
remembered of this room, there wasn’t anything special about it.
Now, without any furniture to give it a lived in air, it was even
drearier. Trailing my fingers across the dusty drapes, I followed
the length of the walls all the way around until I approached the
library door. Maye had said not to worry about the books, but in
truth the library was the only room I had fond memories of.
    Before my parents became the embodiment of
evil, my mother occasionally had a maternal side. The memories were
faint, but I remembered her reading to me beside the fireplace. As
I aged, my mother’s mental state deteriorated and her chaotic mood
swings came more often. Eventually, her sanity was completely
immersed in evil, and there was no sign of the mother who taught me
to read.
    The rocking chair we used to curl up on was
in the corner now. The fireplace was dead, and the floor contained
scorch marks. I sat down on the burgundy rocking chair. My horrible
memories crashed down around me. The tears came quickly and drifted
down my cheeks to land on the velvet chair. Not wanting to stain
the velvet, I leaned forward to bury my face in my hands and let
forth a keening cry. It was the cry of a wounded animal, a woman
who just buried her child, and a little one who lost their first
pet. It was a cry from my wounded soul.
    My breath came in pants, as I tried to
stifle my tears. Brushing the salty moisture from my flesh, I
looked down at the rug beneath the chair. When I leaned forward, my
only thought was to save the chairs fabric, but I hadn’t noticed
the rug enough to protect it. The strange thing was that I didn’t
remember seeing the rug, until after my tears fell onto it. A
memory teased my mind and I vaguely recalled learning about the
royal lines among witches.
    There were ten royal families who were the
first witches. The Cross family was one of the most powerful of the
royals. Maye had told me during one of my lessons that the royal
lines had learned to protect their secrets by ensuring that only
one of theirs could find them. They used blood, sweat, saliva,
and…tears to do this.
    I pulled the chair toward the middle of the
room and knelt beside the rug. From a distance the rug looked
Persian, but