Callasandra

          Prologue{}

         Thunder rumbled in the distance, lightening flashed at will. The pouring rain drenched the three people standing in the shadows: two men and a little girl.
The first man said to the other, “Where do you plan to take her, Mortimer. Surely you don’t plan to keep her with you now that the woman’s gone!”
The second man, Mortimer, had a voice as rough as rocks rubbing against each other. “Of course I’m not going to keep her with me! Do you think me insane? I’ll be sending her to live with my brother and his wife. They’ll take care of her the way her mother and I never could.” Mortimer sighed, already starting to miss his little girl.
“Papa?” called a shy little voice. “Papa are you leaving me? Are you leaving like mama left me?” her voice trembled with unshed tears.
“Oh, Callie, my angel, I am going to take you to Aunt Caroline and Uncle Andrew’s. You remember them, don’t you, angel?” Callie nodded, not saying anything. “They’ll take care of you and treat you just like their own little angel.” Mortimer paused to look down at his dainty daughter wrapped tight in her dark cloak. She shivered and he could see that she was crying silently. The sight of her thus nearly made reconsider, to keep her by his side where he could watch over her himself. He thought briefly of what had happened to her mother and his resolve strengthened. “I shall come and see you on your birthday and at Christmas, and you shall come to me at Moorhead twice each year. When you are older you shall come back to Moorhead to stay. But you must promise me that you will behave for your aunt.”
“I promise, papa. When do I have to leave?”
“Soon, angel, very soon. Now, you go with Jewels into the inn and warm up. We shall leave for Andrew’s within the hour.” Callie went with Jewels and her father stood alone, waiting for the meeting he had stopped at this particular inn for. He was to meet with a highly recommended detective to see about employing him to guard his daughter. As Mortimer watched the sky light up with each flash of lightening, he heard a sound behind him. He spun around, reaching for the revolver in its holster at his waist, but he wasn’t fast enough. The sound of the shot that ripped into his left thigh could be heard at the inn. No one inside looked up, no one except one small girl who ran from the inn.
As he sank to the ground, Mortimer saw a face, more hideous than anything else he had seen in his life. While he watched, the monster’s lips began to move, and with an effort Mortimer concentrated on what the lips were saying. “Didn’t I tell you, James? Didn’t I tell you I’d have my revenge? You did this to me?” The monster said, pointing to his distorted face. “And now I am doing this to you.” The monster laughed cruelly.
“Ollie? Is that really you? No, no, it can’t be! You died that night, in the fire.”
“No, James. I didn’t die. I pulled myself out of the flames that night. I was the only one to survive, you know. Oh, yes, I’m sure you do know. You were there when the flames had died and all that was left were smoldering ashes. I saw you there with mine own eyes as I lay in a puddle of water trying to sooth the pain inflicted by the fire you set. Yes, you, James, I have always known it was you who set that fire, but why? What did I do to you that you would so greatly wish to harm me? I have never known that answer, but I swear to you before I kill you, you will share that secret with me.” Mortimer moaned as he attempted to move away from the horrible man he saw before him, who now accused him of trying to murder him. Ollie placed his foot on the bullet wound and Mortimer let out a scream as the pain sliced through him.
“Quiet you stupid fool! Can you not see the revolver in my hand? I could kill you so easily, here and now. No, I shall not kill you now, nor soon, but you’ll never know the day or the manner in which I will bring about your death, but I shall indeed be your angel of death when I feel your time has come. For now,” he said raising the revolver, now aimed at his right thigh, “a parting gift to remember me by.” Again the shot sounded through the forest.
Mortimer screamed, barely able to remain conscious. “Ollie, you stay away from my daughter! Do you hear me? If you touch her, so help me God, it will be you who dies,” he paused for breath, struggling for consciousness. “And this time, I shall make sure you are dead.” That said he fell into a stupor.
Ollie smiled cynically over the unconscious man. “I am certain you will live up to that threat, James, you damn bastard. I won’t touch her, not yet. When the time comes, I’ll take her from you in such a way you never dreamed it possible.” Without another sound, Ollie disappeared into the night, an evil monster seen only in your worst nightmares. But, someone, other than the unconscious man had seen the evil monster.
Callie had run as fast as her small legs could carry her to find her father after that first shot. She had hidden while the monster spoke to her father and she had wondered if he would take him from her like her mother had been taken. She had waited with a silence uncommon in children her age until the monster had gone. Now she looked down at her father and knew he was not gone, but sleeping. “Miss Callie? Oh there you are.” It was Jewels; he had finally found her. “Oh, may the good lord help us! Miss Callie, did you see anyone.”
Callie said nothing, staring down at her father until Jewels asked her again. “A monster, Jewels, a monster did this to my papa.”
“Come back to the inn, miss. We’ll have the constable and the doctor come back for the body.” He started to pull her away, but Callie fought against him. “No!” she screamed. “Papa’s not gone! His legs, his legs are hurt. That monster hurt his legs!” Callie began to cry.
“Come back to the inn. We’ll have the coachmen come and help carry your father to the inn.” When Callie just stood starring down at her father, Jewels tried again. “Please, miss. There’s nothing you can for him if you catch the fever.”
Callie jumped, as if startled. “Yes, Jewels,” she said and then followed him to the inn. Jewels sent the coachmen to the forest to get her father. There was a doctor in the village near the inn and he brought in to tend to Mortimer’s wounds. The man was not hopeful that the wounded man would ever walk again, and said as much to Jewels. Neither man saw the little girl standing in the doorway listening to them speak.
They did not leave that night or the night after. It was a week later that Andrew came to the inn to take her back with him. “NO! I shan’t go! You cannot take me!” This was the last time James Mortimer ever heard his daughter speak.

Chapter One
The Mystery Begins

“Callasandra, will you please sit down!” Caroline DeWitt scolded the niece she had come to view and to love as a daughter. However, at this exact moment she was really and truly exasperated with her niece. “Pacing around the room will not make your father arrive any sooner, my dear.”
Callie sighed. Her aunt was constantly reminding her of what she should and should not do. “Yes, aunt, I know, but it has been so long since I’ve seen Papa. I have missed him so. Ever since I was brought here to you for protection I have wished to see my father again. Now I shall see him for the first time in nearly twenty years.” Callie turned from the window where she had been searching for a glimpse of her father. “Aunt, must you call me Callasandra? You know I much prefer to be called Callie. It is father’s name for me.”
“Yes, my dear, I am well aware of your affinity to this pet name your father has given you. But Callasandra does seem so much more befitting a young woman who is the daughter of a duke. You are a very eligible young woman.” Caroline looked at her niece. “Please stop fidgeting, it is so unbecoming.”
“Yes aunt. You have trained me well for my station in life, but can there be no exceptions? Is there no point at which manners may be set aside for true emotion?” Callie did not wait for her aunt to answer, but said, “No, I suppose in polite society there is no such time. I sometimes wonder if I truly wish to be a part of polite society.”
Caroline would have responded but at that moment both women heard the sound of hoof beats on the lane. Callie moved quickly to the window, that she might see the new arrival before they were out of sight past the window. She prayed she would see her father atop the galloping horse, but part of her knew that it would not be him. Her father had not ridden since he had been attacked in the forest 18 years before. Callie watched until the man and his horse passed out of view and then stayed by the window, staring at the puffy white clouds that floated overhead. Suddenly it seemed as if she were no longer in the sitting room with her aunt, but rather that she was soaring free, like an eagle. She felt her wings lifting her higher and taking her farther than she had ever been before. They moved over mountains and fields, meadows and streams, flying faster than any true bird can fly.
Their flight ended as suddenly as it had begun. When she looked around at this new place she realized she was at Moorhead, the home she had so longed to return to. She was inside the manor and it was as if nothing had changed in the years since she had seen it last. She followed familiar halls and was soon outside her father’s study. She wanted to go inside, but something was wrong, terribly wrong. She could not open the door and there seemed to be some sticky substance seeping out from beneath the door. Her senses screamed and she was abruptly pulled from the manor and back to the sitting room where her aunt was trying to get her attention. “Callasandra, are you listening to me? Did you not hear Griffin say that your uncle wished to see us in the study?” As her mind returned to her body, Callie could see her aunt’s worried face before her. It was not the first time she had had such an experience, but she had never told anyone about them.
“I am sorry, aunt. I seemed to have been lost in thought. Forgive me. We should go to uncle at once, of course.” She smiled slightly, not yet sure what she had seen at Moorhead then followed her aunt out of the room and toward her uncle’s study. When they entered the room Andrew DeWitt was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, staring at the letter on the desk in front of him. He did not look up, though he heard them, and they quietly approached the desk, waiting for some sign from him. When they were close to the desk he looked up and they could see the tears in his eyes. He motioned them to sit in the two chairs in front of the desk. Watching him silently, Callie began to understand what she had seen in her flight to Moorhead. She now knew that her father was never coming back for her. She would never again look into the smiling face of the man she had missed for so very long. She would go on missing him for the rest of her life, though on day, perhaps, the pain would fade. She did not wait for her uncle to share his sad tale.
“My father has been murdered, has he not?”
Andrew looked up, startled. How on earth could she possibly have known what had happened? Then, Callie had always had a startling way of knowing things before she was told about them. It had always seemed strange to him, but then so many things about his niece might be considered strange, most especially her upbringing. “I don’t know how you could have possibly known that, or even that he had passed away.