by Sara Clancy
They scrambled over the burning wood of the desk, but the fire had weakened it and it broke under their weight. Embers rained down on them. Through the smoke, the scent of burning hair and flesh prickled his nose. He found Marigold within the debris, pushed her out and prayed that her long hair hadn’t caught alight.
The fire had spread across the hallway and ravaged the walls. The house released deep groans, on the verge of collapsing altogether. Flames claimed the family portraits, twisting the paper and boiling the paint. The air grew thinner with each flight they staggered but it didn’t make it much easier to breathe. He could barely see and gripped Marigold’s hand to keep track of her. She squeezed his palm with an iron grip.
The house shook as the floor imploded in on itself. Sparks scattered through the newly formed cracks and the fire spread. They jumped the last few steps to the bottom floor and lunged for the front door.
Please open, please open, please open. He repeated the mantra with such desperation that it seeped out of his mouth on a hushed whisper. He could hear Joe calling to them from the outside but the words were mangled and dulled. Please open. The door rattled with the rhythmic thud of a battering ram but remained solid. Please open. Marigold grabbed the handle and tugged. The door flung open and air rushed into the house like a hurricane wind. It knocked them back. The fire above exploded with a vicious howl. It poured down the staircase, completely consuming the space. The chandelier crackled with intense heat. The flames distorted into a clawed hand that rushed towards them, fingers spread and searching. Officers reached across the threshold, latched onto him and Marigold, then hurled them out of the house and into the blinding light of the day.
Chapter 21
Heat hovered in the ambulance, sticky and thick. It filled the air and combined with the drugs that were pumping through her system to turn her bones into tepid silt. The siren blared, the ambulance rocked and under it all she was vaguely aware of the constant tinkle of the metal chains that still hung from her wrists. The paramedics had put an oxygen mask on her face. Each breath carried the faint scent of plastic. She could feel people touching her. Fingers prodded and needles gouged, but with the chemicals flooding her blood, it pushed the pain just beyond her reach.
Someone called to her. A familiar voice, soft but sure. She turned her head towards the sound, but Louis was too far away for her to see him clearly. She could see his hands though. Somehow, they crossed the unfathomable distance dividing them to enclose her own in gentle reverence. The play of colors and slender fingers fascinated her. Bandages snaked around her knuckles and he was careful to avoid the material as he stroked the back of her hand. He called to her again and she let her eyes roll up to meet his.
“You have a really pretty voice.”
Louis leaned forward and suddenly he was right next to her. A smile unfurled across his lips, stretching the skin with the grace of a dancer. She really wanted to touch it but he caught her hand before she could.
“You came for me.”
“Anytime, cher.”
This time, when she reached for his lips he released a soft chuckle. “They have given you a lot of painkillers.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be next, don’t you worry.”
Each word rolled with his southern drawl, shifting through her skull like a rising swell. She blinked and a storm gathered over the placid sea within her. Memories heaved to the surface. More voices spoke to her, their words twisting and melding until they were gibberish. She tried to sit up but the tubes they had latched to her body snapped taught and held her down. The metal around her wrists became heavy and began to burn. She thrashed but her limbs wouldn’t obey. The air had become tar. It stuck to her. Smothered her. Held her in place for the shadows that loomed close.
“It’s okay, Maggie,” Louis ran a hand over her forehead. Even through her mask, she could smell the antiseptic on his skin. “We’re going to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”
She pulled her mask off but once more Louis moved with an unnatural ease and stopped her.
“We’re safe,” he said.
“Delilah?”
“They pulled her from the house, she’s in a different ambulance,” his fingers stroked over her hair again. “Relax, let them work.”
Her vision blurred and each shake of her head made the world sway. “I was stupid. I was so stupid.” She tried to push him away but didn’t have the strength. “She’s just going to send it back to me. We’re going to pass it back and forth until it kills us both.”
“What is she talking about?” a strange voice asked.
Louis gave a dismissive answer and for a moment, Marigold wondered if he was actually the owner of both voices.
Marigold squeezed his hand and was surprised to actually feel the muscles work. “She wanted me to have children,” she whispered. “She was going to send the demon to them after it used me up.”
“We won’t let her do that.”
“How can you stop it? If Delilah doesn’t send it, it will come on its own. It will find them, just like it found me.”
“We have time now,” Louis said. “Things like this stay because something tethers it to the family. We just need to find that connection and sever it.”
“She’ll send it back,” she said as she clung to Louis’ hand. Why wasn’t he listening? Why didn’t he understand? “It will never leave me alone. I’ve made it angry.”
“Maggie,” he leaned in closer until he was all that she could see. She could almost feel the rays from his golden skin. “All we needed was some breathing room, some time for you to catch your breath. We’ve got that now. You’re going to heal up and then we’re going to get you to a safe place, somewhere it can’t follow.”
“It will always follow. You can’t stop it.”
“Then we’ll stop it from touching you. You’re strong, you can handle it being irritated.”
A short laugh bubbled from her, bringing with it a sense of release and a stab of pain.
“We’re going to take this time and find out what is keeping it connected to you. There has to be a trail, something in your family’s history, a point when all of this started.”
“And we can find that?”
“There has to have been at least one person in your family who was vocal about it. A letter, a rumour, a survivor. Wherever that answer is, we’ll find it, I promise.”
It was becoming hard to follow the conversation. There were too many words. “Survivor?”
His voice grew guarded. She didn’t like the way it hit her ear. “The man in the tomb wasn’t Delilah’s only one, although his death might have been the most merciful.” Louis placed a hand against her forehead as he continued, “Maggie, no serial killer is perfect. She must have made a mistake somewhere, and maybe that somewhere will tell us what we need to know. We have leads, we just need to follow them.”
The other voices were growing louder, more instant. They became a grinding noise that dug at the back of her skull. They spoke of needing rest. That they gave all the time they could. She tried but she couldn’t make them fall silent. She heard a beep, a dull clack, and then her veins bulged with a new dose of chemicals that rushed through her. Her muscles melted and she could no longer keep her eyes open.
“Louis?”
“I’m right here, cher.” He cupped her hand with both of his. The only thing that didn’t shift and swirl was his touch.
“What if she dies?”
The raging waters within her skin captured her and dragged her down into silence.
***
Marigold woke with a jerk. The hospital bed below her was damp with sweat and her skin still carried the warmth of the fire. Rain battered against the thin window plane and the sound of flowing water mixed with her panted breaths. She lay still, bandaged and bruised, as she listened to the air work through her lungs. Reality crowded back into her mind as she calmed. It all pressed down upon her until it hollowed her out. What was she supposed t
o do now? Where was she supposed to go? She couldn’t even begin to sort out how she felt. Eventually, she closed her eyes and tried to fall back into nothingness.
Softly at first, and then with mounting strength, the cry of an infant echoed down the hallway. Her battered fingers balled into fists as she waited for someone to soothe the child but no one did. The cry continued, drawing her attention to the silence it hovered in. There was no bustling nurses or machines releasing constant rhythmic noises. Marigold opened her eyes and tentatively sat up. Aside from the bed she was on, the room was completely bare. Her stomach churned in the wake of her growing unease. Still, she pulled her paper gown closer to her and slid her feet from the bed.
She jerked back when her toes slipped into chilled water. The rain continued as she glanced down at the floor. What had looked like dark tiles at first glance was actually a few inches of inky black liquid. The screams continued, twisting into a pained wail that gripped her insides like a vice. It sounded tiny, maybe only a few days old. And terrified. She took a deep breath, clenched her jaw, and got up.
Her intrusion into the water didn’t create a single ripple, not even as she walked to the door. It just swallowed her feet into an icy void. As soon as it was within reach, she latched onto the doorway, just to have something solid and real against her palm. The rain continued. Water ran down the walls in thick rivets, drizzling into the water but still not disturbing the opaque pool that covered the floor. Her heart thundered and she squeezed her eyes shut.
It’s just the painkillers, she told herself. It’s not real. Still, she wasn’t startled when she opened her eyes and the world around her remained the same. From somewhere deep within the bowels of the hospital, the infant continued to wail. The sound coaxed her forward and she began to make her way along the dim hallway. She was alone. The hospital sat in silence beyond the cries and the steady trickle of water. Her footsteps didn’t create a sound even as her toes began to feel numb.
“Hello?”
Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, smoke worn and cracking.
There was no response. She continued on until she reached a point where the light cut off as swiftly as a razor slash. With one more step and she would leave behind the last traces of light and enter a complete, unrelenting darkness.
“Hello?” she repeated.
There was a final scream and then the infant was silent. Water trickled from the walls and bubbled down into the pool that smothered her feet. Her breathing picked up again, a dry broken sound that rattled out of her abused lungs. Ice filled her bones when her fractured pant was met with a mirrored sound. She bit her lips and held her breath, but the ragged breathing remained. As calmly as she was able, she looked over her shoulder.
Fingers clawed out from the murky depths. The bony digits ripped at the liquid surface, somehow tearing the black substance as if it were mud. Marigold turned to face the being that was dragging itself from the darkness. She wanted to run but all that lay behind her was the solid darkness that she couldn’t bring herself to touch. Fingers gave way to broken arms that dragged over the surface in search of something to cling to. She shook, trembling hard enough that even the drugs couldn’t conceal the pain that sizzled through her body. Then the head emerged with a ghastly snarl.
Delilah. Her aunt hurled herself from the thick water over the floor and dragged herself towards Marigold, each limb moving as if they weren’t attached. Marigold’s knees went weak when Delilah reared up her head, eyes burning with rage, her mouth sewn shut with a thick cord. The water sloshed around Marigold as she crumbled to the ground. She scrambled back but was still unwilling to enter the shadows. Delilah lurched forward, eyes never wavering from Marigold’s face.
Her bony hand latched onto Marigold’s shin with a crushing strength and yanked herself closer. As Marigold watched, her aunt reached up and clutched her thin fingers around the cords that kept her silent. Rancid water and clumps of flesh gushed free as she ripped the cord from her lips. Sour breath burned Marigold’s nose as Delilah released a thick death rattle. Her voice was twisted and raw, a throaty hiss that slipped passed the remains of her lips.
“The last La Roux.”
A scream tore from Marigold’s lips as a hand grabbed her shoulder. She flung herself to the side, kicking with feral determination as she scrambled to the wall. Louis’ voice cut through her shrieks but she didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see what mangled version of him they would present. Warm hands took hers and the world snapped back into place. The water was gone, the shadows replaced with a blinding light, and her ears rang as they were hit with an onslaught of noise.
Hands pressed firmly over her ears, Marigold chanced a quick glance. Louis crouched next to her as concerned staff closed in around them. People moved through the halls, the sounds of machines and chatter continuing as if it had always been. She lowered her hands from her ears and met Louis’ concerned gaze. Recognition flashed in their depths. He might not have known what she had seen, but he knew why she saw it, what it meant.
“I’m sorry. She passed away about half an hour ago.”
Marigold nodded. Had Delilah come to her as a warning? Or merely to gloat? For all the pain and blood she hadn’t been able to buy herself a single day of peace. But perhaps she had earned enough strength to face her birthright when it found her once more.
“Do you feel well enough to leave here?” Louis asked. “We need to be quick.”
“It will find me wherever I go,” she said numbly.
“Maggie, I promise you, we’re not giving up. You can’t let this break you.”
Marigold met his eyes again. “I’m not going to break, or cringe, or bow.” She reached out and let him help her to her feet. “After all, I’m the last La Roux.”
* * *
Marigold La Roux will be back in another adventure in November 2016!
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
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