When the Lights Went Out
1706 Words
Chapter Six
Genevieve's POV
The scream pierced through the darkness.
Every muscle in my body locked.
For one terrifying second, I couldn't tell where it had come from. The hallway beyond the room had disappeared into complete blackness, and the only sound left was the violent pounding of my heart.
Damien moved before I could.
His arm shot in front of me, forcing me behind him as though it had become instinct.
"Stay behind me."
I hated that those words still made me listen.
Another scream echoed through the mansion.
This one was shorter.
Cut off abruptly.
"Eleanor!" I shouted.
No answer.
Damien pulled his phone from his pocket and switched on the flashlight. A narrow beam sliced through the darkness, illuminating the old study around us.
Dust floated in the air.
The photograph still rested on the desk.
My father.
Damien's father.
The lighthouse.
And the faceless figure scratched violently from the image.
My stomach twisted.
"We need to find her," I whispered.
Damien's jaw tightened.
"We will."
He reached for the photograph.
I immediately stopped him.
"Wait."
He looked at me.
"What?"
"Someone wanted us to find this."
His eyes shifted toward the photograph.
I swallowed hard.
"And someone wrote that Eleanor knows everything."
For the first time, uncertainty crossed his face.
He slowly picked up the picture anyway and slipped it inside his jacket.
"We don't leave evidence lying around."
A loud crash came from downstairs.
I jumped.
Damien didn't.
His expression hardened.
"That wasn't Eleanor."
"How do you know?"
"Because Eleanor would never break antique furniture."
Even in the middle of fear, I almost laughed.
Almost.
He stepped into the hallway.
I followed immediately.
"Genevieve."
"I'm not staying in that room alone."
He looked like he wanted to argue.
Instead, he exhaled quietly.
"Fine. Stay behind me."
The corridor felt endless.
The flashlight moved across portraits hanging on the walls, making the painted faces seem alive in the flickering light.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
"This house is terrifying."
"It wasn't designed to be comforting."
"Clearly."
We reached the staircase.
The emergency lights suddenly flickered on.
Dim.
Red.
They barely illuminated the mansion, bathing everything in an eerie crimson glow.
I looked downstairs.
"Eleanor?"
Nothing.
Then I noticed something on the first step.
A silver tray.
One of the trays servants used to carry tea.
It had fallen upside down.
A cup lay shattered beside it.
Damien crouched.
His fingers touched the floor.
"What is it?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he held up his fingertips.
Blood.
My breath caught.
"Oh my God."
"Don't panic."
"That's blood!"
"I know."
His voice remained controlled, but I noticed the tension in his shoulders.
He stood.
"She was here."
"Was?"
Before he could answer, a weak voice drifted from somewhere below.
"Help..."
I gasped.
"Eleanor!"
I rushed forward.
Damien caught my wrist.
"Slowly."
We descended together.
The lower hallway was darker than upstairs.
The emergency lights flickered continuously.
The front door remained locked.
Windows were secured.
Nothing looked disturbed except for the broken furniture near the entrance.
Then I saw her.
Eleanor lay against the wall beside the sitting room.
Her dress was torn at the shoulder, and blood stained one sleeve.
She was conscious.
Barely.
"Eleanor!"
I dropped beside her.
She opened her eyes slowly.
"Miss... Moreau..."
"I'm here."
She tried to sit up.
Damien immediately knelt beside us.
"What happened?"
Eleanor looked at him.
Her breathing shook.
"He came back."
Damien froze.
"Who?"
Her eyes moved between us.
"The man..."
She coughed weakly.
"The lighthouse..."
My heart nearly stopped.
I leaned closer.
"Which man?"
Eleanor's fingers suddenly grabbed mine.
Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"Your father..."
Everything inside me went silent.
"What about my father?"
She looked terrified.
"He trusted the wrong person."
Damien's expression changed immediately.
"Eleanor, don't."
She ignored him.
"He came here before he died."
I couldn't breathe.
"He begged this family for help."
"Who killed him?" I whispered.
Tears gathered in her eyes.
"I don't know."
Damien looked toward the corridor.
Something had caught his attention.
His head tilted slightly.
I followed his gaze.
The back door.
It was open.
Cold wind rushed through the mansion.
Damien stood instantly.
"He didn't leave through the front."
He walked toward the open door.
I helped Eleanor sit upright.
"Can you stand?"
She nodded weakly.
"I'll call someone."
I reached for my phone.
No signal.
Of course.
"Damien!"
He turned.
"My phone has no network."
"So does mine."
He looked back outside.
Then his expression darkened.
"He jammed it."
"He?"
Damien returned quickly and shut the door.
"Someone cut the communication around the estate."
My fear returned tenfold.
This wasn't random.
Whoever had entered the mansion knew exactly what they were doing.
Eleanor suddenly whispered something.
I bent closer.
"What?"
"Library..."
"What about it?"
"The key."
Damien heard.
He looked at her.
"What key?"
She shook her head.
"Not here."
Her trembling hand pointed toward the staircase.
"His room."
I looked at Damien.
"Whose room?"
Neither answered immediately.
Then Eleanor whispered,
"Your father's."
Damien became completely still.
His father's room?
I looked between them.
"Your father has a room that's still locked?"
Damien's voice was quiet.
"It has remained untouched since his death."
Eleanor closed her eyes briefly.
"The key is hidden there."
"What does it open?" I asked.
She opened her eyes again.
"The truth."
A chill ran through my entire body.
Before anyone could speak, the grandfather clock in the hallway struck three.
One.
Two.
Three.
The sound echoed throughout the mansion.
Then every light suddenly went out again.
I screamed.
A hand grabbed mine.
Damien.
"Don't let go."
His flashlight returned.
This time, the beam revealed something that hadn't been there before.
A muddy footprint.
Right beside Eleanor.
Fresh.
Leading toward the staircase.
My eyes widened.
"He's still inside."
Damien slowly looked up.
The entire mansion seemed to hold its breath.
Then we heard it.
A single floorboard creaking upstairs.
Someone was walking.
Very slowly.
And they were heading toward Damien's father's room.
Damien looked toward the staircase.
The creaking floorboard sounded again.
Closer.
I tightened my grip around his hand.
“Someone is going upstairs.”
“I know.”
His voice was calm, but I could feel the tension in his fingers.
Elias appeared from the hallway, moving quickly.
“What happened?”
“Someone got inside,” Damien said.
Elias looked toward the staircase.
“Where?”
“Upstairs.”
“Everyone is accounted for?”
Damien's eyes moved toward Eleanor.
“No.”
Elias understood immediately.
He pulled out his phone.
“No signal.”
“The communications are being blocked,” Damien said.
Elias swore under his breath.
I looked at Damien.
“What about the security team?”
“I'm going to find them.”
“No.”
Damien turned toward me.
“You're staying here.”
“I'm coming with you.”
“Genevieve”
“You said this was a deal. You protect me, and I cooperate. So tell me where we're going.”
His eyes narrowed.
For a moment, I thought he would argue.
Instead, he nodded.
“Fine. But you stay beside me.”
Eleanor suddenly grabbed my wrist.
I turned.
Her face had gone pale.
“Don't let him take you to the room.”
“What?”
She looked at Damien.
“Not yet.”
Damien's expression hardened.
“Eleanor, what did you see?”
She shook her head.
“Not here.”
A noise came from upstairs.
A door opening.
Then silence.
Damien immediately moved toward the staircase.
Elias followed.
I stayed between them.
We climbed slowly.
Every step seemed louder than the last.
When we reached the second floor, the corridor was empty.
But the door to Damien's father's room was open.
I stared at it.
“You said it was locked.”
“It was.”
Damien walked toward it.
I followed.
The room smelled old.
Dust covered the furniture, but there was something strange about the desk.
One drawer was open.
Damien crossed the room and searched inside.
Nothing.
“Someone has been here.”
“How do you know?”
He pointed to the dust.
There were fresh fingerprints across the drawer.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
A small brass key.
I picked it up.
Damien immediately turned toward me.
“Where did you find that?”
“Here.”
He took it carefully.
The key had a tiny symbol engraved into it.
A lighthouse.
My heart sank.
“The lighthouse again.”
Damien stared at the key.
Then at me.
“My father kept this room locked for four years.”
“And now someone opened it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He didn't answer.
A faint sound came from behind the bookshelf.
I froze.
“Did you hear that?”
Damien raised his hand.
Everyone went silent.
Then
Three knocks.
From behind the wall.
My blood ran cold.
Damien approached the bookshelf.
He ran his fingers along the edge.
“There.”
He pushed.
Nothing happened.
He pushed harder.
A hidden panel shifted.
A narrow opening appeared behind the bookshelf.
I stared.
“You knew about this?”
“No.”
That answer frightened me more than if he'd said yes.
Damien reached inside.
His hand came back holding a small black box.
The lighthouse symbol was engraved on its lid.
He placed it on the desk.
The brass key fit perfectly.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside was a single envelope.
Damien picked it up.
His face changed when he saw the handwriting.
I knew that expression.
“Who wrote it?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Damien.”
His fingers tightened around the envelope.
“Your father.”
My breath caught.
“He left something for you.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“For you.”
I stared at the envelope.
My name was written across it.
GENEVIEVE MOREAU.
And beneath my name were five words that made my heart stop.
Do not trust the Devereaux heir.
I slowly looked at Damien.
He was already staring at me.
And suddenly, I didn't know which frightened me more
The person hiding inside the estate...
Or the man standing beside me.
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