House of Salt and Sorrows

by Erin A. Craig

  “I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, reaching out to feel for Cassius. “The door hit me and—”

  “It’s all right,” he said, finding my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure there’s another one back at the cottage?”

  “We don’t have time. The storm is almost here. There’s a lantern midway up the stairs. I’ll go up and light it. Stay here so we don’t spill any of the fuel.”

  Faint starlight filtered through the lighthouse from the gallery windows above. The spiral staircase’s railing was barely visible. I grabbed it and felt around with my foot for the first step, then the next, and the next after that.

  Keeping one hand on the railing to secure myself in the dark void and the other on the rough stone wall, I felt around for the lantern.

  I was about twenty steps up when something grazed my hair, a phantom caress that jerked me to a stop.

  “Dance with me,” whispered a soft voice just behind my ear.

  “Cassius?” I called out. Had he decided to come up too, rather than wait on the light?

  “Yes?” His voice came from below me, in the center of the shaft.

  Gripping the railing, I waved my other hand around in the dark, certain I would hit another person’s—another thing’s—body and scream. But there was nothing, only the cold, moist air.

  “Dance with me,” the voice repeated beseechingly.

  “Do…do you hear that?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice level.

  “I can’t hear anything over that wind,” he answered. “Should I come up?”

  When my fingers brushed against the small globe of glass, I wanted to cry with relief. I fumbled open the lantern door and found the wick. Just before I struck a match against the wall, I had an awful premonition when I did, the Weeping Woman would be there in front of me. I pictured myself, startled, falling down the metal stairs and ending in a jagged pile of broken and bloody limbs.

  But it was just me, and as the wick flared to life, a soft glow of light warmed the stairwell. Cassius was looking up at me, bucket in hand.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, stepping around the glass shards from the broken lantern.

  I nodded. “My imagination just got the better of me for a moment.”

  He headed up the spiral steps, hauling the kerosene. “I shouldn’t wonder after everything that’s happened tonight. Where are we taking this?”

  I pointed up the shaft of the lighthouse, where the stairs curved around and around, narrowing in on themselves at the top like the tightly curled body of a seashell. “All the way up to the watch room. The beacon’s base is in there.”

  He put the heavy bucket down for a moment and wiped his brow. “Lead the way.”

  * * *

  I set my lantern on the watch room’s table and checked the beacon’s tank. It was empty.

  “We have to crank the piston back up, then put the kerosene oil in,” I explained, spinning the handle. Once the weight was raised, I had Cassius pour the oil in, then reset the weight. “The piston presses the oil up through the pipe here,” I said, showing him the copper tube running up to the burner in the gallery room. “As the wick burns the oil, it’s replenished by the tank.”

  “Until it runs out,” Cassius said, setting down the bucket.

  “Exactly. Now we just need to light the burner, and the beacon will be back.”

  Cassius peered out one of the windows, eyeing the storm. “We should have just enough time.”

  “Stay here in case I need the piston lowered again to get the kerosene flowing,” I instructed, leaving the lantern with Cassius as I scurried up the stairs.

  The gallery was a mess of dark shadows, but I found my way to the beacon and the lamp. Wrapping my skirt around my fingers—oils from my skin would cause the glass to heat unevenly and shatter—I slid the plate aside and lit the wick. It sputtered to a start, flickering as the kerosene pushed up from below. Once the flame was full and unwavering, I put the glass back in place and studied the rotating mirrors. They ran on a pendulum system, much like a grandfather clock.

  “How does it look?” Cassius called. The beacon’s flame offered me just enough light to see him through the opening in the floor.

  I knelt down, pointing through the hole. “See those chains near you? Hoist the weights all the way up and then flip the catch. That will start up the mirrors, sending out the flash of light.”

  Squinting into the dark, I watched him work, checking the wick every few seconds to make sure it was still going strong. I tilted one of the glasses, instantly blinding myself as the room burst into light, amplified by the series of mirrors.

  “It’s working!” I exclaimed, rubbing my eyes. Dozens of brightly colored dots flashed across my vision, making it impossible to see. I heard Cassius on the stairs, coming up to see our work. “Watch out for the flash,” I warned. If Silas were here, he would have fallen over laughing at so amateur a mistake.

  “Annaleigh?”

  I caught the note of concern in Cassius’s voice. Squinting, I could just barely make out his form on the stairs. Stars danced around him.

  “Annaleigh, come to me.”

  “What? Why?”

  He was staring past me, looking at something huddled at my ankles. I turned, and a shriek ripped from my chest, splitting the world in two.

  There, on the floor, twisted with rigor mortis and darkened with decay, was Fisher.

  My knees hit the wooden planks as I crumpled to the floor. I tried to cover my mouth, but nothing would stop the guttural, choking screams from pouring forth. Fisher’s neck was wrenched horrifically to the side, his joints splayed in unnatural angles. Milk-white eyes stared back at me from sunken sockets. I knew they couldn’t actually see me, but they seemed to plead for release.

  “Fisher?” I sobbed, crawling toward the corpse. My trembling hands reached out to somehow help before falling back. There was no helping him. He’d been dead for a long time. The fetid stench of rotting flesh was overpowering, coating my tongue and throat. A wave of sickness climbed up into my mouth, and I turned, spitting it out. “I don’t understand,” I moaned.

  Cassius was at my side in an instant, arms around me, pulling me away from the decaying body of my childhood friend.

  “I saw him not five hours ago. How is this possible?”

  A low chuckle came from the shadows, seemingly from Fisher himself. It grew louder and louder, morphing into a cackle of triumph. Cassius pulled me to my feet and pushed me behind him as he stood guard, and drew a hidden dagger from his boot.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded, pointing the blade at the corpse. “Show yourself.”

  There was an impossible ripple across Fisher’s chest, and his arm lolled off his body, thudding to the floor with a slap.

  “Fisher?” I breathed, daring to hope that somehow he was still alive.

  The arm flexed, contorting as his legs struggled to push the lower half of his body from the floor. They couldn’t seem to find purchase and had to push again, testing their strength. His other arm jerked beneath him, so that he looked like a crab flipped on its back and scrambling to right itself. His torso twisted and writhed, muscles and sinews crunching, snapping, and popping into painful angles.

  A low, keening wail rolled out of my chest as I cowered behind Cassius, my fingers tight around his sides, anchoring myself to him. He was real. He was here. Everything else seemed like something out of a dark nightmare I’d soon wake from.

  Fisher righted himself, standing on legs too far decayed to hold weight. Knees bowed low, his back lurked over, hunched and hulking. He eyed us for a moment with a flat, stony glare, then began to cough.

  Thick, viscous phlegm spewed from his mouth, landing on the floor like globs of tar. His body shook from the force, struggling to expel whatever was lodged deep in his throat. When his lips began to
peel away, curling back like rolls of coiled tree bark, I pressed my face into Cassius, fighting the urge to throw up. I did not want to see whatever came next.

  But I couldn’t mask the gasps and groans as my very dead friend heaved and wrestled against the foreign object. With a wet burst, something awful gave way and fell to the ground. I peeked over Cassius’s shoulder, unable to not look.

  Fisher’s body lay split open, pieces and parts flung out in a gruesome explosion. In the center of this absolute horror stood a figure, her back turned to us. Covered in viscera, she rolled her neck from side to side, stretching her muscles, delighting in her sudden freedom after such a tight confinement.

  She turned slowly, gazing about her surroundings. When she saw us, her dark mouth flashed into a smile, even as oily tears ran down her face.

  Her terrible black eyes met mine. “Dance with me?”

  “Kosamaras?” Cassius gasped.

  “Hello, nephew,” replied the Weeping Woman, squinting at him.

  My mouth fell open with alarm. “You know this…thing?”

  “My aunt.” Cassius lowered the dagger, putting things together that I was not privy to. “The balls, the dancing…that was all you?”

  The Weeping Woman’s eyes were wild in the pulsing light. “It was, it was. It may be my best work yet. Of course, it’s not quite finished.” She cocked her head to the side, staring around him at me. “I do hope you’ve not grown too attached to this one. She’s next on my list.”

  “List?” I repeated. “Cassius, what’s going on?”

  Every fiber in my body was screaming at me to leave, to bolt down the stairs and out into the cold, away from this creature, away to safety. But where was safe? Not this island, and certainly not Highmoor. And with the storm’s rapid approach, even the sea would be dangerous. There truly was nowhere for me to go.

  “Kosamaras,” I whispered, repeating the name he’d called her. I’d heard it before. Dredging up memories from childhood lessons on the canon of the gods, I sifted through them until it came to me. Kosamaras was Versia’s half sister, not wholly a goddess but definitely an immortal. “Harbinger of Madness.”

  She ran her tongue over the pointed tips of her teeth. “And Nightmares,” she added. “Everyone always forgets the Nightmares. It shouldn’t bother me, I know, but it really is my favorite part.” She spread her hands out, gesturing to the ruined bits of Fisher. “I’m just so good at them.”

  “What are you doing here?” Cassius demanded.

  She laughed, a nasty little clicking tone deep in her throat, like a cicada seeking its mate. “I’ve been summoned, dear boy, why else?”

  “By whom?”

  “You know I won’t tell you that, darling nephew of mine.” She breezed past him, making a beeline for me, and I nearly tripped over my skirts to get away from her. Backing me into the glass window, she pressed her body into mine. It was surprisingly cold, sending a shudder of goose bumps down my arms. “We’ve had quite a few fun times, haven’t we, little Thaumas girl? You always were my favorite partner.” She cupped my cheek, running her fingers over my jawline.

  “The dancing?” Every inch of me ached to squirm free of her grasp, but she was stronger than she looked, and her grip on my wrist was like a shackle. “The parties weren’t real? Any of them?”

  Kosamaras laughed in delight. “Now you’re putting it together!” She turned back to Cassius. “You know, I must give credit where it’s due. Your little sweetheart was much harder to beguile than most of her sisters. The boy had to slip her something every time, just to knock her out enough to dream. Wine, tea, champagne, whatever.” She shifted her attention to me again. “But I always got you dancing in the end.”

  “You had Fisher drug me?”

  She slapped my cheek to the side and drifted over toward the beacon, like a moth to a flame. “Him?” she asked, turning back to the pile of Fisher. “It’s never been him. Not truly. He’s been a moldering sack of meat for weeks. I”—she drew out the word with preening importance—“controlled everything.”

  “That’s not possible. I saw him alive just—”

  “You saw what I wanted you to see!” she snapped, every trace of mirth gone from her voice. Around her eyes, dark webs of spider veins throbbed with rage, and a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks, dripping to the floor with abandon. “Everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, has been what I wanted you to.” Her eyes flickered across Cassius. “Well, nearly everything.”

  A bolt of lightning danced by Old Maude, striking the cliffs far below us. I wanted to cry. The storm was here, and we were trapped on Hesperus until it let up.

  “So you sent the girls dancing,” Cassius said. If he’d noticed the lightning, his voice did not betray him.

  I spotted the dagger still in his hand, limp at his side, and briefly entertained the thought of stealing it to plunge into her chest. But a little bit of steel wouldn’t even scratch an immortal and I shuddered to think what she would do to me if angry.

  “It’s quite an impressive beguiling, very elaborate, I’m sure. But I don’t understand your endgame. Why send them off to dance in extravagant castles in pretty dresses? It hardly seems your style.”

  Kosamaras stepped over Fisher’s ankle to stare out the window. She tapped on it once, leaving a bloody smudge across the glass. “I see what you’re doing, nephew—cajoling me into telling you more than I should.” She shrugged. “It’s not as if anyone’s going to believe either of you, though, is it? Not with me in their minds.” She hummed a pretty waltz, dancing around pieces of Fisher. “I admit, the complexity was part of the appeal. Controlling the visions of eight girls at once, with none of them the wiser…it was a challenge I couldn’t pass up. And they were all so moony and swoony. It seemed the perfect theme. I lured them in with baubles and brilliance, then let their own madness take over.”

  Another strobe of lightning briefly lit the sky, far brighter than Old Maude’s beam.

  “Two already danced themselves to death,” she continued, her voice swelling with pride. “Straight out into the cold like lunatics, spinning around and around until they froze into blocks of ice.” She whirled back to us. “And this one—she’s close, so close, Cassius. I wouldn’t be surprised if she takes her own life any day now. You can’t have nightmares like mine every night and not break. You should have seen the way I made her squirm. Did you like the turtle, Thaumas girl? I made it especially for you.”

  “What turtle?” Cassius asked, turning back to look at me. His eyes were heavy with worry.

  “You killed Rosalie and Ligeia,” I murmured, ignoring him as I remembered that horrible day, running through the forest, so hopeful that we’d find them alive. “The third set of footprints in the snow was yours.”

  “His, technically,” Kosamaras said, pointing down at Fisher. “I’ve been inside him for a very long time.”

  There were so many thoughts swirling in my mind, gaining speed as they flew in and out of focus, demanding attention. But they all snapped to silence at her words. “How long?” I demanded, my voice so much stronger than I felt. “How long have you been doing this to us?”

  “Annaleigh,” Cassius cautioned, reaching out to stop me.

  “No, I have a right to know. You said you make us see things—was that what Elizabeth saw? We all thought she had a touch of madness in her—was it you all along? Did you use Fisher to push Eulalie from the cliff? Octavia from the ladder? When did he stop being my friend and become whatever that was?” I pointed to the festering pile of body parts. “How many of my sisters are dead because of you?”

  “You mortals are all so ridiculous, trumped up and puffed out with your petty importance. Who are you to question me?”

  “Tell me!”

  Her eyes narrowed, still and contemplative, before bursting into a skittering, jittery blur. She was on me
in an instant, mottled thighs straddling my chest. Her knees pressed into my collarbone, cutting off my air supply. Though she was smaller than me, her weight was crushing, pressing me into the wooden floor until I thought my bones might shatter. As she leaned in, two giant moths—just like the ones I’d seen that night in the gallery—crept out from her hairline. They crawled over her forehead before reaching out with hooked feet to latch on to my hair. Moldering wings brushed against me, and I felt one’s spiral tongue uncoil, licking at my cheek.

  “Just two,” she hissed. “For now.” She snorted in amusement. “Plus the little clockmaker.”

  Cassius drew up the dagger once again. “Let her go, Kosamaras.”

  She looked him over and laughed as more tears fell down her face. “Maybe I’ll just finish this one off now. Especially as she knows so much.” She tightened her grip, and I groaned as the room blinked in and out of darkness.

  “Please!” His voice quavered, contorting with anguish. “This girl means the world to me. Name the price and it’s yours.”

  Just before my ribs cracked, she rolled off me, striding to the other end of the room as if nothing had upset her. I struggled to sit up, gasping for breath. Cassius rushed over, stroking my hair, finding my heartbeat, whispering reassurances. I sensed the pressure of his lips on my forehead but didn’t truly feel them. Everything inside me had gone numb.

  “Spare me your offerings. You’re never going to save her. This will not have a happy ending for you. Especially you,” she said, winking at me.

  “I’ll tell my sisters everything. They’ll know not to—”

  “Not to what? Not to sleep? Not to dream? We’re past that point, Thaumas girl. Now that I’m in here”—she pirouetted back to me and tapped my forehead—“I don’t need you to sleep. I don’t need you to dream. I’m with you everywhere.”

  I watched in horror as her skin peeled away, leaving bloody fingerprints on everything it touched. Including me.