The Wedding of Rachel Blaine Read online

  Copyright 2018 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  First published: May 2019

  Today is supposed to be Rachel Blaine's big day. She's going to marry the man of her dreams, in an idyllic location next to a large lake. Everything has been planned, down to the tiniest detail.

  But there's one thing Rachel could never have expected.

  As she prepares for the night before her wedding, Rachel notices strange things happening at the hotel. A mysterious figure watches her from afar. A seemingly freak accident almost kills her. And finally, a horrific secret rises from the depths and threatens to derail everything.

  Is Rachel's wedding day doomed by a vengeful ghost, or has her own past come back to haunt her?

  The Wedding of Rachel Blaine is a horror story about love, hope, death, and the perils of not being able to believe what you think you see.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  The Wedding of Rachel Blaine

  Prologue

  As I stumble along the wooden jetty, I finally feel my legs give way. I don't even have time to grab the railing. Falling, I land hard on my knees, and I let out a gasp of pain as I bend forward and lean against my elbows. My wedding gown rustles in the wind.

  Blood is dribbling from the wound in my chest.

  In the distance, sirens are getting closer.

  I have to get up.

  I have to get up.

  I have to get to the end.

  For a moment, I feel as if I'll never get up; as if my only option is to give up and stay down, to wait for the final moment. I've tried fighting, and I so nearly managed to escape, but the human body can only take so much punishment. For a few seconds, I can't imagine ever again having the strength to stand again.

  But then, somehow, I do get up.

  Supporting myself by clinging to the wooden railing, I rise on trembling, shaking legs. As I do so, my wedding gown rustles again. Once I'm standing, I lean against the railing and look down at my chest. There's a large patch of blood caked all around the rip in the white fabric. I can see scraps of flesh mashed into the beautiful lacework, and I instinctively reach down with shaking hands so that I can start cleaning the mess. At the last second, however, I see a fresh line of blood running from the wound and soaking down the dress's front. I hadn't realized, but I'm still bleeding.

  It'll be a big job to clean this and make it look good again.

  Behind me, the sirens are getting closer and closer, and a moment later I hear the sound of vehicles screeching to a halt.

  I look straight ahead, toward the end of the jetty. The water is so beautifully calm and clear, especially so early in the morning. I watch as a gentle breeze blows ripples across the surface, and slowly I find myself remembering how utterly lovely it was to swim out there in the lake. I swear, I can feel the warm water against my body, and I remember how free I felt when I was swimming and laughing with Robert. I honestly think that was – or seemed, at the time, to be – the happiest moment of my entire life, and now the memory seems to be consuming me entirely.

  I want to go back into the water.

  I take a stumbling step forward, toward the end of the jetty, while still having to cling to the railing. I've come so far. Failing now, at the very last moment, is impossible.

  If I go swimming again, maybe everything will be okay. Maybe there's an escape waiting for me, down there in the water where everything seemed fine before...

  Before.

  Before... this happened.

  “Ms. Blaine?” a voice calls out suddenly, from behind.

  I freeze, still staring at the water. My whole body is starting to shake now, and I feel as if my knees are trembling violently. I can also feel a trickle of blood making its way down the inside of my dress, running over my belly and soaking the fabric. That must be a lot of blood.

  “Rachel?” the voice continues, and now I realize that it's vaguely familiar. “Rachel Blaine? Or is is Rachel Bennington now? Um, either way... M'am, are you okay?”

  I hesitate for a moment, before turning and looking back the way I came. I immediately see Officer Dante standing at the start of the jetty, staring at me with a shocked expression. After a few seconds, however, I look past him and I see the flashing blue lights of several police cars parked up at the front of the hotel, while half a dozen officers make their way through the beautiful double doors that lead into the reception room. There's radio chatter in the distance, and I can hear the officers shouting at one another.

  “Ms. Blaine?”

  I turn to Officer Dante again, and I see that he's slowly coming this way. He looks so worried, but also a little scared. He looks out of his depth.

  “Ms. Blaine,” he continues, with fear in his voice as an ambulance arrives up next to the hotel. “M'am, it's okay, we're here now. Everything's going to be fine but...”

  He stares at my bloodied chest for a moment, and then he looks at me again.

  “Ms. Blaine,” he stammers, “today was supposed to be your wedding day, wasn't it? What happened?”

  Chapter One

  Exactly twenty-four hours earlier

  “Be careful with the dress!” I gasp, rushing around to the other side of the car as Mum starts pulling the first bag from the back seat. “Mum, stop! You'll ruin it!”

  “I won't ruin anything,” she mutters sourly, but I step in the way and make her move aside as I take the bag myself.

  “Just let me do it,” I continue, leaning into the car to check that the long, clear plastic outer-bag isn't caught on anything. My heart is racing, but finally I see that everything's fine so I step back and then I very gently start taking the dress out, while making sure that the trailing end doesn't fall down against the grass.

  “Rachel, it's just a dress,” Mum says with a sigh. “What do you think I was going to do, drop it on the ground?”

  “Just let me handle the dress,” I say, carefully arranging the bag in my arms. So far, so good, but I won't feel completely safe until I've managed to get this hung up in the room. “And it's not just a dress. Come on, Mum, be serious.”

  “I know, I know, it's the dress your grandmother wore on her wedding day,” she says blithely. “Blah blah blah. That doesn't make it nice. It's just some old-fashioned... thing.”

  “I've seen what you got married in,” I reply.

  “I brought it with me.”

  “Oh, I'm sure you did.”

  “As a back-up dress, for when you realize that your grandmother's is some wretched old sack that belongs in a charity shop window.”

  “Sometimes I think you belong in a charity shop window,” I murmur under my breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I say, forcing a smile. I need to swerve this arg
ument, fast. “You can carry the boxes,” I tell her. “Just take them into the reception area and Tom'll know what to do with them. It's all under control.”

  “Oh, that's nice,” Mum says. “You trust me with some boxes. Good to know.”

  “Not now, Mum,” I whisper under my breath, probably too low for her to hear, as I carefully turn away from the car. For a moment, the glittering early morning light catches my eyes as I look at the lake, but I tell myself that there'll be time to admire the beauty of the surroundings later. For now, I absolutely have to get Grandma's dress inside, so I turn and start making my way off the grass and onto the gravel driveway that leads toward the hotel.

  Right now, all that matters is getting this dress to the room. That's job number one on my internal list of what to do and in what order. I have everything planned out perfectly, running all through today and tonight and then on into our vow ceremony at the edge of the lake.

  I just have to stay in control.

  Just as I get to the double doors and start wondering how I'm going to get them open without risking the dress, one of the doors swings open and a short, blonde girl in a dark uniform steps out and gestures for me to go through.

  “You must be Ms. Blaine!” she says a little breathlessly, with a hint of an accent. Eastern European, maybe. “Please, come inside. Welcome to the Mablethorpe Hotel!”

  “Thank you,” I reply, turning and stepping sideways through the door so as to keep the dress-bag from even touching the edges.

  I have to get the dress to my room.

  I have to get the dress to my room.

  Nothing else matters.

  “I saw you coming this way,” the girl continues, with a huge smile as she follows me through and carefully pulls the door shut. “Wow, is that the dress? It looks absolutely gorgeous!”

  “It's in here,” I reply, briefly glancing down at the dark bag that permits only a very slight glimpse of the actual dress within. “I haven't checked in yet, but I'd like to get this into the room as soon as possible. Would it be possible to do that first and then come back down?”

  “Whatever you want,” she says excitedly, almost tripping over her words in her enthusiasm as she hurries past me. “I'll call the lift!”

  “Actually, I'd rather take the stairs,” I tell her.

  She's already pressing the button to call one of the lifts, but then she turns to me.

  “Static,” I continue, even though I know I probably sound insane. “I read in a magazine that lift rides can cause a build-up of static, and static can play havoc with delicate materials. Not to mention hair. I've just got to generally avoid static as much as possible.”

  “Right,” she says, clearly a little flummoxed. “Sure. Whatever you want. It's your big day, right?”

  “Tomorrow's the big day,” I reply, heading over toward the foot of the grand, red-carpeted spiral staircase that swoops up around a dazzling chandelier and winds toward the hotel's upper floor. As I do so, the blonde girl hurries past me and starts going up ahead. “In some ways,” I add, “I guess the day before the big day is more important than the big day itself. Because of preparation and control. Those are the two most important words.”

  She turns and smiles at me again, and I manage to spot her name-badge.

  Am I making sense, or am I just babbling nonsense? I think maybe I'm panicking a little.

  “Thank you so much, Elena,” I say, taking the first few steps very carefully. “You probably think I'm being way too fussy, but I read an article about the hundred worst wedding disasters, and about half of them involved the dress getting damaged. I'm not some kind of bridezilla, I promise. As soon as the dress is safe, I'll totally relax and be normal. Well, as normal as a woman can be on the day before her wedding, at least.”

  “There's no need to apologize,” she replies, still smiling as she walks almost backward up the stairs. It's as if she doesn't want to turn her back to me. “I can't imagine what it's like. I'd be totally freaking out right now. I'd be like a puddle on the floor.”

  “Puddles don't get things done,” I murmur, and for a moment I'm quite shocked by how ruthless I sound. I guess the wedding's bringing out another side of me after all.

  “It's just this way,” Elena continues. “You're in room five, which is one of the -”

  Suddenly she trips and falls back, landing hard on one of the steps and letting out a gasp of pain.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Fine!” she splutters, forcing a smile but wincing as she grabs the banister and hauls herself up. “Sorry, I just tripped slightly.”

  Red-faced with embarrassment, she hurries to the top of the stairs and waits for me breathlessly, but I can't help noticing that she's rubbing the right side of her hips as if she's a little hurt.

  “It's just so exciting whenever we have weddings,” she continues as I join her at the top, and as she starts leading me along the corridor. “I've been working here for over ten years now, I started as a fifteen-year-old washing dishes for a weekend job. I love every aspect of being a receptionist these days, but the absolute best part is whenever there's a wedding. The whole hotel just comes alive that little bit more. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so,” I reply, taking care to not get too close in case she trips again and falls against me. She might damage the dress. “It's certainly a lovely venue.”

  “Oh, it is! You won't regret choosing us!”

  Stopping at the door to room number five, she fumbles in her pocket for the right key-card. As she does so, she smiles at me nervously. I force myself to take a deep breath in an attempt to center myself a little. At a time when I'm trying really hard to stay calm, it doesn't help to have this bundle of excited energy dancing all around me. Elena seems lovely and her enthusiasm is both infectious and charming, but what I need more than anything is some peace and quiet. I swear, my mind is spinning.

  “It's here somewhere,” Elena mumbles, and then she starts trying several key-cards, each time getting a red light and an angry buzz from the door sensor. “I know I programmed one for you, but they all look the same, you know?”

  The door buzzes again, still refusing to let us inside.

  “Damn it,” Elena says, before muttering something in another language. Polish, maybe.

  And then, just when all hope seems lost, a green light flashes and the door swings open.

  “Told you!” she says triumphantly, taking a step forward before stopping and then coming back out of the room. Still grinning, she gestures for me to enter. “Guests first,” she continues. “Welcome to the Mablethorpe Hotel, Ms. Blaine! I promise you, you're going to have the most amazing wedding ever! It'll be a weekend you won't ever forget!”

  Stepping into the room, I barely even hear a word as she continues to talk. All that matters is that we've made it. Grandma's dress survived the journey. Now nothing can possibly go wrong.

  Chapter Two

  Now nothing can possibly go wrong.

  Really?

  Did I really allow myself to think those words?

  Talk about jinxing things.

  Then again, there's no such thing as a jinx. There's just preparation and control. As long as I stick to those two watch-words, everything should be fine.

  Touch wood.

  I reach out and touch wood.

  I take a moment to check that the bag is hanging absolutely perfectly, and then I slowly, carefully close the wardrobe door. There. After the perilous journey all the way from home, after being laid out carefully in the back of the car for hundreds of miles, the dress has finally made it here without any disasters.

  We did it.

  “Can I see it?” a voice asks.

  For a few seconds, I stand in complete silence. All the chaos feels far away now, and I think my innards have finally stopped vibrating with fear.

  “I'd rather not take the dress out just now,” I reply finally, turning to Elena and seeing that she's still loitering in the doorway. “I don't wa
nt it to get dirty or damaged in any way. You understand, right?”

  “Of course,” she says excitedly. “Sorry, I should have realized. Please, just ignore me. That was a dumb thing to ask.”

  “It wasn't dumb at all, I just...”

  My voice trails off for a moment as I try to work out how, exactly, I can explain this sensation of butterflies in my stomach. I never thought I'd be one of those crazy, frantic brides, and I guess I'm not quite at that point yet. I feel like I'm all at sixes and sevens, though, and I'm having to remind myself constantly to calm down. Maybe I should have taken a little advice and hired a wedding planner.

  “The dress belonged to my grandmother,” I explain, “and she died last year. I know it's kind of an old-fashioned style, but it really means a lot to me that I can wear it tomorrow. The truth is, I don't care about any of the other stuff. The flowers, the food, the decorations, the cake... None of that actually matters. I just want to marry the man I love, and I want to be wearing my grandmother's dress at the time. Is that silly?”

  Biting her bottom lip, she shakes her head, and I swear she actually seems to have tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Everything's under control,” I say finally, before taking a deep breath. “I just need it to stay that way.”

  “You must be so excited!” she beams.

  “I am,” I reply, and I can feel a faint, nervous smile on my lips. “Some of the planning was a little rushed, but so far today it's all going like clockwork.” I pause for a moment, surprised by my apparent readiness to have a heart-to-heart with this complete stranger. I need to stay focused instead. “I guess I should go down and check in now,” I add. “I think that's the next job.”

  “No need! It's all done! I even made you an extra card!”

  She holds a second key-card out to me, and as I take it I feel utterly, insanely grateful.

  “If it's the wrong one,” she adds, “just come and let me know.”

  “Thank you, that's a big help.” I pause, waiting for her to excuse herself so that I can be alone for a few minutes, but for some reason she's still standing in the doorway. After a moment, it occurs to me that maybe she's waiting for a tip.