The Heartbeat Thief Read Online Free Page A

dead.
    The naked sensation that gripped her could not be banished by her father’s warm embrace. An alien emotion filled her like cold rain. The shadow into which she’d peered all her life now swooped in to close the distance and swallowed her. The end that she had pondered with unease—it had a name, a substance, the singular definition of truth.
    Death .
    For the first time in her cosseted and protected and pampered life, Senza knew the taste of absolute fear.

 
    That fear never left her.
    The days that followed, the mourning rituals and the church service and the burial in the family crypt—it was all secondary to the dread that lurked in every passing footstep, a shadow on her very heels.
    A frost had dropped overnight, crisping the leaves and drooping the gardens. Senza’s nerves were taut with frustration. People were so shallow. All the fuss over the manner of dress and the wording of the eulogies and the menu for the funeral luncheon... Senza wanted to slap them, to shake each of the aunts and the cousins and the well-meaning family friends and scream at them.
    She is dead. She’s not coming back!
    She felt trapped within her silent grief, unable to speak the words upon her heart. Why couldn’t they see none of this mattered? None of the flowers or pretty words. None of the family that came in from far outside town. They’d always been too busy to visit in the summer or at Christmas. Too involved with their lives to drive up for a birthday or a picnic.
    Nothing mattered because it was too late. Grandmother was dead and she wasn’t here to enjoy any of this. Everything was just a show and none of it mattered.
    Aggie was desolate in her own grief, unable to look at Senza without a renewal of tears. Only Senza’s dear friend, Felicity Keating, seemed to understand. If it hadn’t been for her, Senza would have felt very lost, indeed. Throughout the long day, the somber wake, the echoing of the vicar’s service against the high stone walls of the church, Felicity remained at Senza’s side, holding her hand, providing a simple but sustaining comfort to her bereaved companion.
    “Stay with me, Senza.” Felicity used a low, soothing tone and stroked her friend’s listless hand. “You’re here, with me, and we will get through this together.”
    Senza was vaguely aware of the proceedings about her, entombed within her own tortured thoughts. She felt persistently haunted—not by the ghost of her grandmother, but by the spectre of Death who had stolen her. If Death came for Grandmother, stealing her away a piece at a time, then Death could take anyone.
    Including her.
    She didn’t think they would meet on such pleasant terms. She would not greet Death the way Grandmother had, with a smile and a gentle scolding to wait just a moment more. Death would not be a friend. It would be a demon, teeth bared in cruel delight, ready to snatch away everything she’d ever held dear.
    And everywhere, she saw the grin of the death’s head, in every mirror, in every shadow. Haunted and hounded. Death lurked everywhere, waiting for his chance to purloin her spirit. The fear that quickened every step and kept her wide awake long into the night made her feel as if she’d go mad in her grief.
    Felicity would reach out for her, drag her from the mire of her somber thoughts, anchor her in the living once more. Felicity became a lifeline, keeping Senza tethered to the real world, preventing her from withdrawing into a deep melancholy. Mother couldn’t comfort her; she was deep in mourning of her own.
    Aggie tried her best to be a comfort, but she was too timid to persist and became easily defeated by Senza’s lack of response. Only Felicity’s voice could break through the echoes of the fear that threatened madness, and Senza held onto her hand, her voice, the light and the comfort of her nearness.
    The weeks that followed the funeral were a constant struggle with a fear that threatened to consume her in a black void.