Prisoner and Guard - Naomi M-B (best ebook reader for chromebook TXT) 📗

Rain lashed down upon the blood splattered earth, turning it into a hideous crimson mud. Two people were beneath that torrent, one was sprawled across the ground; pale white flesh torn asunder. The other was on their knees, a sword loosely gripped in their hand; her head was bowed and hidden by dark hair. Hidden so that the fallen man could not see his enemy’s tears.

~/.~

“Here we are!”
Molly stared out of the car window at the house. It was old and massive, the sort of house that in movies is always haunted. Ivy crept up the dilapidated walls and huge windows were blocked by curtains.
“Don’t worry,” her father reassured her, “it’s a lot safer than it looks.”
“That’s not saying much,” her mother muttered, “a tipi is probably safer.” Her father chuckled as though it was a joke. Behind them, the delivery van pulled up and the men climbed out to help shift the boxes.
“Hey, Mol!” her mother called, “why don’t you take these and go choose a room?” Molly smiled and took the keys before sprinting up to the front door and unlocking it. Inside, everything was covered in white sheets, the walls, floors and the light smattering of furnishings. Everything was deathly quiet and covered in dust. There weren’t going to be any bedrooms downstairs, so the first thing she did was walk up the huge staircase. It creaked and groaned beneath her feet despite the fact it looked pretty solid.
The first room she looked in was a bathroom and the second one was huge but freezing cold. The third one was full of empty book cases so it had probably been a library or something. The fourth one was… stunning. Beautiful colours covered the walls, the floor and the ceiling; they formed huge spiral patterns that stretched across the whole room. Nodding to herself, she grinned. This was it.
It took about an hour and a half to get all of the boxes and furniture out of the van and into the allocated rooms. Molly had gratefully jumped at the chance to sort out her room while her parents and the men sorted out the rest of the house.
After putting the sheets and duvet on the bed, she lay down and stared at the pattern on the ceiling. It was hypnotising, enchanting…
“Hmm, who’s this?” It was a man’s voice. Freezing, Molly frowned. Who was that? Was it one of the movers? Very slowly, she sat up. A young man with dark red hair was standing in the middle of her room, right in the centre of the largest spiral. Definitely

not one of the movers. He didn’t seem to be overly bothered that she was there.
Before she could demand who the hell he was and what he thought he was doing there, her mother walked in. She didn’t notice the man, in fact, she walked straight through him to place a small box on the bed.
“The rest of your books,” her mother said, smiling, “I forgot to give them to you.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Molly replied, forcing a smile. Her mother nodded and then left, walking through the man and through a second person who had just entered the room. Just great

there were ghosts

. Why did there have to be ghosts

?!
The second person was a girl who was a foot shorter than the man and had black hair. She was dressed in black leather while he wore loose white clothes that looked a little like pyjamas.
Swallowing, Molly took a book from the box and opened it, pretending not to be able to see them; she glanced over the book occasionally. She wanted to know if they friendly before she made contact.
“What’s going on?” the man asked.
Eye brow raised, the girl shook her head. “Isn’t it obvious? Some people have moved in. We couldn’t expect this place to stay empty forever.”
“This is… great!” the man yelled.
“How?” the girl asked, suspicious.
“Well… great for me. If they get rid of the bookcases, you’ll lose your spells, if they clear out the attic, you’ll lose your weapons and if they redecorate this room I’ll be free!” he cheered. There was the sound of leather hitting flesh and the man flew across the room, colliding with the wall.
“Idiot,” the girl sneered, “you think I haven’t thought of that? Every object is chronolocked along with us, they may take the shelves but the books will remain, they may move the chests but the weapons will still be here. They could burn the house down but these sigils will be here for eternity. You are never

going to leave.”
“Don’t be so mean

,” he whined, “you might

hurt my feelings.”
She snorted. “You only have two: bored and angry.”
“That’s not true!” he protested.
“Yes it is,” the girl snapped, “you either break stuff or you annoy the hell out of me.”
“Well, what about you?” he asked, “you’re going to be here with me, right?
“I will complete my duty,” she hissed, “which is to guard you for ever.” With that, she swept out of the room. He tried to follow her collided with an invisible wall.
“Damn her,” he growled, slamming his head and fists into the barrier. Suddenly he stopped. Molly immediately looked back at her book and turned the page. Panic fluttered through her stomach as she heard him cross the floor. Then her heart began pounding as he climbed onto the bed.
“Now,” he said, “I’m not sure if you can hear me, sugar, but if you can then you should know something. If you can see us, you will usually accept our existence. And if you believe us to be real, we can then touch you.” Very slowly, he stuck his head through her book. Breath catching in her throat, Molly coughed in an effort to hide her rising terror. However, the second she turned back, he immediately kissed her check. Her hand flew out, attempting to connect with his face. Almost lazily, he caught her arm and twisted it behind her back.
“Bree might be impressed,” he commented, smirking, “she’d say that to be able to act like that for more than two seconds is impressive. However-” He swung her around so that her back was pressed against the bed stead while he leaned over her, one arm across her chest, the other beside her head. “I am only happy because I have a new toy. You’ll play nice, right, sugar?”
“Get off of me,” Molly hissed, struggling to appear brave.
“Oh shut up,” he snapped, “I’m not gonna hurt you. Bree would, probably, try and kill me… again.”
“I don’t care!” Molly struggled against him. “Get the hell away from me.”
“No,” he replied shortly, “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” Frustrated, she attempted to bring her knee up into his crotch. Suddenly, she was flying. She hit the wall with force and slid down, crying out. Around her the patterns were glowing softly. “They block out the noise,” the man told her, slipping off the bed, “sometimes my screaming gets too loud for the chronolock, so she installed a sound proofing into the sigils.”
Gasping for breath, Molly backed away into a corner. “What do you want?” she whispered.
“Let’s start with your name, sugar,” he said, strutting toward her.
“Molly,” she murmured, “You?”
“Mist,” he chirped, suddenly happy, “our names begin with the same letter, what’re the odds? ... One in twenty-six, I believe.” He crouched in front of her. “How old are you?” He stared up at her with scarlet eyes.
Scowling, she slowly stood. “I’m fifteen.”
“Fifteen, huh?” he sighed, “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I was fifteen. You should probably ask Bree, she has a better sense of time than I-” At that moment, Molly sprinted for the door. Rather surprisingly, he did nothing to stop her when she crossed the threshold. Panting, she whirled around. He was standing just inside the doorway. “You may have escaped now… but I’m not going to let you move to a different room.”
“Just watch me,” she spat, bravery flooding back now that he couldn’t touch her.
“I’ll be waiting, sugar,” he crooned mockingly, kissing the air at her. Scowling, she slammed the door in his face. For a moment, she stood there, fists clenched, then she turned and stamped down the stairs. Her mother was in the kitchen, surrounded by boxes, making a pot of tea for the men. On the table sat the girl in black who Mist had called, Bree. She was ignoring them for the moment.
“Mum!” Molly bounded up to her and hugged her around the waist.
“Hey sweetie.” Her mother smiled down at her. “Everything alright?”
“Well,” Molly said slowly, “I was wondering if I could change to a different room.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bree frown and slip off the table.
“Why?” Molly’s mother asked, “It’s a lovely room, you probably won’t need to decorate.” Bree took a step closer and reached out her hand.
“It’s just…” Molly began, “it feels like… I dunno, like there’s someone else in there. All the time.” Bree’s hand closed around her arm and her eyebrows shot up.
“Don’t be silly, sugar,” her mother said sternly. Eyes widening, Molly stared at her mother. Very faintly, Molly could see a shadow of the spiral patterns playing across her mother’s face. At the same time, her mother’s eyes flashed red. “We’re very busy. Now, why don’t you take this to the men?” She handed Molly several mugs of tea.
Frustrated and upset, Molly turned away. Bree followed her.
“Don’t worry,” Bree whispered in her ear, “I’ll sort this out.” With that she ran up the stairs.

~/.~

About half an hour later, having helped out with shifting boxes, Molly carefully walked back up the stairs to her room. The first thing she saw was Mist. He was lying in the corner. Blood was dripping from gashes across his face, chest and legs; large bruises were blossoming across the exposed skin beneath his ripped clothes. One of his knees was up and his used it to support his arm which covered his eyes. Over by Molly’s bed was Bree. She looked perfectly fine and was apparently altering the pattern with some kind of glowing stick.
“Oh.” Bree looked up. “Hello, Molly. I got Mist to tell me exactly what happened. When your mother walked through him, he took the opportunity to place a seed in her mind. It means that he can suggest things to her. I’ve cut it off so he can’t do it again; unfortunately, it will take me a while to get the idea ‘Don’t let you change rooms’ out.”
“So…” Molly walked over to her. “What exactly are you doing?”
“I’m modifying the sigils,” she explained, “from now on, neither of us can get onto your bed, so you’re safe while you’re on it. Oh, and-” She pointed at a pattern on the bed stead. “If you press that then it blocks out all other sound in the room. So you don’t have to listen to him spouting crap all the time.” She jabbed her thumb at Mist. “Now,” she announced, straitening up, “I have work to do.” With that, she turned and left, not even glancing at Mist.
There was a moment of silence, then Mist groaned and moved. Almost immediately, Molly bounded to her bed and sat there, staring at him. Mumbling to himself, he let his arm and knee drop, then he rested his head back against the wall, eyes closed. Tears glistened on his cheeks.
“God…” he whispered,