CHAPTER ONE

Moving from Illinois to Maine is going to be more difficult than Anna expected.

One of the most important things my mother ever taught me was to be independent. So when the plane I was on touched down in Maine, I forced back the nauseated feeling in my stomach and reassured myself I could handle this.
    A week prior to this dreaded flight, I had spent all day in the local library researching Maine. Cumberland County, to be more specific. I was going to be living in a town called Harpswell, but besides a Wikipedia article and the town webpage, there wasn’t much information regarding the area, so I was forced to broaden my search. From what vague information the Internet provided, pictures portrayed a quaint seaside town with a fondness for boats and white houses with wrap around porches. Skies fluctuated from a clear, glassy blue to an eerie shade of seafoam green.
    Growing up in Illinois, I was used to grey stained skies and open grassy fields. The closest I had ever been to a large body of water was when crossing over the Poplar Street Bridge to St. Louis. I was curious to if the ocean would smell of sewage like the river.
    The speaker system dinged, and the pilot made what I think was supposed to be a joke and thanked everyone for flying with him.
    The stewardesses busied themselves with last minute preparations before passengers were allowed to depart. I took the time to make sure to button my favorite mustard-yellow jacket all the way up before I grabbed my backpack from the unoccupied seat beside me. The contents of the backpack included my wallet, a mini laptop, a cell phone, a bubble wrapped porcelain music box, a small make-up kit, and a stack of instant Polaroid photographs. All of my other possessions had already been shipped via moving trucks a few days prior.
    I waited for the person in the row ahead of me to shuffle from their aisle before getting up myself. One of the flight attendants offered a forced complimentary smile and wave to each individual person as they made their way towards the exit door. I barely acknowledged her with a small nod on my way out.
    I followed the short line, clumsily stumbling over the small dip where the makeshift hallway connected to the airport.
    Clutching the strap of my backpack as a form of security, I inhaled deeply and walked into the open. I reached into my coat pocket and retrieved the small picture I had confiscated from my mothers nightstand. Besides this twenty-something-year-old wedding photograph of her and Hal, I had no idea what my biological father looked like. I scanned the room, searching for a face that relatively resembled the picture which was crushed in my moist palm.
    I couldn’t pick out anyone similar to the man in the picture, but my attention fell upon an elderly man standing unobtrusively in the back of the room. He held a piece of printer paper with my full name scribbled across it in what looked like black marker.
    After a moment of contemplation, I decided to approach him. His expression was gentle, despite his pressed black suit. “Annabel Lee Mayfield?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
    Upon hearing my name, I froze, deliberating whether or not I should comply to the stranger. He brought a leathery hand to his mouth and coughed so violently that his frame trembled. Seeing how worn the man was, I decided that he seemed harmless enough.
    I gave the picture in my hand another look. The photo showed a lean man with wild black hair, a wicked glint in his eyes, and a Cheshire smile. I glanced back at the old man, who held no resemblance.
    “Yes. Are you Hal?”
    A splintered smile parted his lips. He let out a dry laugh, his crows feet latent eyes widening in humor. “Oh, no, Miss. I’m only the butler,” he informed me. “Your father is out of town until nightfall. He sent me to retrieve you.”
    The butler dropped his arm, allowing the sign  to rest against his leg. “Please, follow me. The car is waiting outside.”
    For someone who looked so primordial, he walked abnormally fast. I found myself partially jogging to keep up with him as he navigated through the airport towards the exit doors.
    The lights in the parking garage hummed, flickering in no particular pattern. Everything in it was mysteriously wet, including the sleek black hearse that was illegally parked the wrong way in the fire lane just outside the double doors.
    The tinted drivers side window squeaked as it slid down. The driver grinned sardonically from behind the wheel, his bottom lip full of metal. He pulled his sunglasses down in order to catch my curious eyes. We only locked gazes for a fraction of a second before I broke away, staring down at the ground.
    “Welcome to the death cab for cutie,” he quirked.
    I took an uncertain step backwards, triggering the automatic doors of the building to open. Part of me wanted to think of it as a sign to run while I had the chance. I was carrying a hefty amount of money in my wallet, all I had to do was catch the next departing flight back to Illinois and call my aunt, then work out the legalities from there. If she wouldn’t agree to be my legal guardian, I’d have myself emancipated.
    Over time I had learned not to ask my mother too many questions about Hal. As curious as I had been growing up, I knew the emotional pressure it put on her each time his name was mentioned. Her most common response was a soft sigh, followed by, “He’s a very peculiar man, Baby. You’ll understand one day.”
    But I never would have fathomed she meant those words in this sort of way.
    I turned to the butler. “Do you think Hal would mind if I took a taxi back to the house?” I asked, even though I was already sure of the answer. “I have money. I can pay for it myself,” I added for my own benefit.
    This seemed to humor the driver. “Don’t worry, you’re the only body we’re picking up today. Anyways, this thing is purely for show.” He reached an arm out of the window and patted the door affectionately, then added, “Or at least now it is.”
    I shook my head and scanned the garage for a cab, but no yellow cars caught my attention.
    “Get in.”
    “I’d rather not,” I said, unsure.
    “Donald, D-Man, do you mind sitting in the back? Or would you rather lay? Ha ha! Just kidding. Hurry up, I’m illegally parked and there is a security car doing rounds. I can’t afford another ticket.”
    The butler wheezed a laugh before getting in behind the driver.
    I pierced my lips together, scowling at the monstrosity in front of me. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that this was just the beginning of a series of unpleasant surprises to come.
    Seeing no other option, I heaved a sigh and trudged around the front of the car to the passenger side door. I slid onto the black leather seat, feeling obscurely contrasted.
    “Who are you?” I instantly demanded at the driver.   
    First, his expression conveyed slightly taken aback, but then an impish glint touched his eyes. He pushed his sunglasses back up with his middle finger. “Alas, Miss Annabel Lee, I am your chauffer to your kingdom by the sea.”
    The literary reference didn’t amuse me. My entire life people had made jokes about where my name had derived from. “I meant your name,” I clarified.
    “You can call me Mage.” He flashed a sly grin and put the car into drive.
    Mage didn’t look much older than me, maybe nineteen at the most. His hair was black, almost as shiny as the paint on the hearse, cut so that his bangs brushed across his eyes, angled from longer in the front to shorter and more spiky in the back. His earlobes were stretched because of gages and a silver ring dangled from his septum.
    Catching myself staring a little too long, I forced myself to look away.
    “So, what kind of name is Mage, anyways?” I asked.
    “What kind of name is Annabel?” he countered.
    “A respectable, literary one.”
    “Or a cow.”
    I flustered, unable to think of a reasonable retort. Mage chuckled. I changed the subject. “Is it always this… wet?” I asked, contemplating outside the window.
    Mage let out a hard laugh, then caught himself. He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, that’s one of the disadvantages of living near the ocean. It rains a lot.”
    I crossed my arms before sliding down into the crevice of the seat. I narrowed my eyes and continued to stare outside. “I don’t like it here,” I said flatly.
    “Isn’t it a bit too early to make that assessment?” he questioned. “This is your first time here, after all.”
    I stiffened. “How did you know that?”
    “Your dad told me.”
    “Well, even if it is my first time here, I don’t need to make an assessment if it’s something that I feel. This place doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like home.” I made sure to annunciate the words to get my point across.
    Mage either didn’t catch the extra force placed on the words, or didn’t care. “Well, Princess, that is something you’re going to have to get over. Soon. Because whether you like it or not, you’re stuck here.”
    I hugged my arms tighter around my chest, scowling, watching with distaste as Mage zipped the hearse in and out of traffic on the two lane highway. He was driving a little too close and fast for comfort.
    With a sharp jerk, he slid between a truck and caravan, missing the bumper of the caravan only by a matter of inches. I instinctively crushed my fingers into the seat, holding my breath. The driver of the truck pressed eccentrically on the horn.
    “Will you please slow down?!” I snapped. “You’re going to get us killed!”
    The hearse switched lanes again. “Good thing we’re already in a hearse then, huh?” I only caught the side view, but it was clear that Mage’s smile was full of arrogance.
    “Oh. My. God… Will you just stop? Just stop!”
    “Are you sure?” He strained his neck, checking the rear view mirror.
    “Yes!”
    “Alright. Your wish is my command.”
    The car jolted as he slammed his foot on the brake. The back end fishtailed as the wheels skidded against the damp cement. The car jerked to a complete stop. Horns wailed behind us as cars swerved.
    I flew forward, then the seatbelt wrenched me back again. I took in a shaky breath, well aware that my eyes were frozen wide. “You… You… Idiot!” I screeched. When he began to laugh, I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned over to punch his arm as hard as I could manage at the moment.
    “You told me to stop,” he said, moot point. The reminder only made my nostrils flare. I could feel the blood heating my cheeks.
    “I didn’t mean like that! And in the middle of the highway?! Are you insane?!”
    He stroked his chin contemplatively. The exaggerated gesture showed he wasn’t taking me seriously at all. “Let me think: crazy, narcissistic, sadistic, sexy…,” he ticked each word off on his fingers. “You know, now that you mention it, I’m sure that I have been called insane before.”
    I threw my arms in the air. “I can’t take this!” I reached for the door handle, ready to jerk it open.
    But Mage was one step ahead of me. There was a click, and the door handle jiggled loosely in my hand. “Unlock the door!” I demanded, internally cursing the child locks.
    “Geez, will you lighten up?” He was easing on the gas. We began to move again, but he was driving slower this time, presumably to calm me down.
    “Is this your job? To drive this thing around?” I questioned.
    “One of them, yes.”
    “Well you suck at it.” I tried to settle, but my body was still on edge. I gripped onto the handle of the door for reassurance, but it only made me feel more trapped, so I went back to holding myself.
    The hearse eventually veered off the highway. Mage found a smaller, poorly paved road, but it only stretched a few miles before he turned to a narrower, gravel road. The further along it he drove, the more wild the grass became. Trees lined each side, their stripped branches forming a tunnel as they intertwined together in an eternal embrace, shrouding everything beneath them in darkness.
    Finally, as the hearse came to the peak of a hill, a house appeared in the distance.
    House was actually an understatement. The building was huge. It towered over its surroundings, swallowing them like a hungry giant.
    The mansion sat upon the very ledge of a cliff that overhung the ocean. Monstrous waves crashed against the rocks, seemingly misting the entire back of the house. An earthquake would easily send the building crumbling to its demise in the ocean below.
    Even from afar, the mansion looked centuries old. The exterior was worn and dark, giving it a very ominous appearance. Then again, the deterioration could have also been a result of the location.
    A wrought iron gate separated the front yard from the rest of the driveway, blending into thick bushes that continued the rest of the way around towards the back yard. They scraped against the asphalt as they struggled to open for the hearse as it approached.
    The hearse slipped through the space before the gates completely opened, nearly nicking the outside of the car in the process. Once through they slowly proceeded to shut with a sharp clang.
    Mage slowed, allowing the car to coast the remainder of the way until it reached the front doors. He put the car into park, got out, and nonchalantly walked over to my side to open the door for me.
    I tried not to acknowledge him as I stepped out to the driveway. I turned my attention to the massive doors, wondering how heavy they were going to be to open.
    Donald strolled past me and gave one of the brass handles a sturdy tug. The door jerked open, then slid easily the rest of the way. “After you, Miss.”
    I swallowed down the lump that had risen in my throat and tried to tell myself that I wasn’t nervous, but my inner cheerleader wasn’t very convincing. With much mental persuasion, I puffed my chest, took a firm hold on the strap of my backpack, and marched inside.
    The entrance was wide, and though it was cluttered with various, expensive looking statues and vases, it felt cold and empty. The large space made me feel unguarded, vulnerable. Something about the air in the room was too heavy.
    “Boo!”
    I yelped, my body jerking before I could control it. I spun around and shoved Mage’s chest, feeling the vibrations in my palm as he laughed. “That’s not funny!” I tried to scold, but it ended up sounding too whiny.
    “Maybe not to you. But to me, it was hilarious.”
    My cheeks burned, making me look embarrassed though I was trying to glower. I brushed a long strand of hair away from my face. “I don’t like you,” I said flatly.
    “That’s a shame.” He moved closer, forcing me to take a step back.
    I huffed and turned to Donald, thrusting a finger in Mage’s direction. “Get him away from me,” I demanded. Yes, it was childish, but I was already uncomfortable, and wasn’t in the mood to deal with coyness.
    The butler chuckled, but before he could speak, Mage nonchalantly flipped his wrist through the air. “Don’t bother. I’m already leaving. See you around, Princess.”
    I snorted, deciding it would be in my best interest to ignore him from this point forward.
    Still, I couldn’t help but sneak a last look as he walked towards the doors.
    Mage was infuriating, but something about him- whether it was his good looks or his obscure sense of humor, I wasn’t quite sure- that was luring me in, like a moth to a flame. As he lithely walked away, I couldn’t help but think maybe I was willing to let him burn me, if it meant the chance to be close to him, even if only for a moment.
    With what took too much effort, I tore my eyes away and tried to refocus on the house. So, this was home.
    I cringed, immediately wanting to retract the thought. This wasn’t home. Home was a three room, ranch styled house in Bloomington. Home was waking up at nine in the morning to Journey, Bon Jovi, or Glee blaring through the stereo. Home was the scent of my mothers perfume.
    Home doesn’t exist anymore, I thought bitterly.
    Donald insisted on taking my jacket and backpack, but I refused to part with either. I took a few steps deeper into the front room, telling myself that no matter how long I was here, I would never get used to this.
    I followed him towards the stairwells in the middle of the room. Three sets split at the ground level, leading to a platform. One smaller set reached from there up to the second story. At the second floor, about a four foot long span of spindles blended into full walls on each side. The deep burgundy paint gave the hallway the illusion of being smaller than it actually was. Despite the small space, long decorative tables had been pushed against the walls, displaying books, brass candelabrums and white marble busts. 
    Donald opened a door near the end. “This will be your room,” he informed me. When I managed a thank you, he turned and retreated back down to the main floor.
    I stepped over the rotten wood trim that separated the room from the hallway, curling my nose in distaste when the floorboards groaned beneath my feet. I made a mental note of investing in a large rug.
    The room was too big for my taste- about four times the size of our old living room. Cream colored vintage wallpaper was plastered on all four walls. I liked old things, but the oversized flowers made me feel childish.
    Stacked in unorganized piles near the center of the room were all the boxes that held my belongings. I debated on unpacking, then decided that in protest, I wouldn’t. As long as my things stayed boxed, I wasn’t really living here. This was just temporary. I felt the corners of my lips rise slightly at the idea, but my brain still knew better. I tried to override the feeling of hopelessness but to no avail.
    I settled on the bed and dropped my backpack beside me and examined the rest of the room. All of the furniture was white, but the chips in the paint indicated that years ago it had all originally been oak. There were two nightstands: one on each side of the bed. A desk was placed against the wall at the foot of the bed. A walk in closet was on the same wall as the door, separated by a chest of drawers. There was no television, but there was a record player set on the floor.
    The most intriguing part of the room was the east wall, which was almost entirely made of glass with a sliding door near the edge. I wanted to air out the room, so I pulled open the door. The ocean breeze ripped through my hair instantaneously. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the salty scent, which definitely wasn’t as rancid as the river. I decided that this was the only good thing here.
    Hours went by slowly for the remainder of the day. Because of my protest to unpacking and lack of internet or cell phone reception, I didn’t have much to do. I eventually dug into a box to retrieve a paperback novel, then laid flat on my stomach on the bed and propped it up in front of my face.
    Before I had the chance to get too absorbed in reading, I fixed my eyes outside the window, observing that the sun was setting. I sighed.
    It was going to be a long night.