Demon's Tide (Dark Legacy Series Book 3)

by Sara Clancy

  A small smile crept onto Marigold’s lips. The growing smirk robbed Louis’ body of every ounce of warmth it possessed. He couldn’t look away from her eyes. He watched them grow dull, watched them harden, in a way easy to dismiss but undeniable to him. Swallowing thickly, he searched for any trace of Marigold. He couldn’t see her anymore. Air rushed from his lungs as he heard Nadia whisper.

  “What did you do to her?”

  Chapter 5

  Marigold’s body rattled as air finally stormed into her lungs. The icy water beaded across her skin, every droplet feeling like a horde of spiders. Had that been real? Was that really Louis? she thought. Everything she experienced here played on her every sense. Time didn’t exist as it should. With every passing second, it became harder to distinguish reality from the conjurings of her own mind. The idea of actually being able to break the demon’s hold, to force her way to the surface and reclaim her own flesh, felt like a lucid dream. Real in the moment but destined to crumble into vapor and leave her alone. Stuck here. With it constantly searching for her. It wasn’t a trick, Marigold clung to the idea as she wheezed down another breath. And if you did it once, you can do it again.

  The ground beneath her fingers was sodden and loose. Marigold’s fingers curled into it easily as she steadied herself and began to pay attention to her surroundings. The first thing to hit her was the sound of crashing waves. They broke into the air with a constant roar and she felt each breaking swell vibrate through her ribs. Lights pulsed against her closed eyelids. A burst of brilliant burgundy accompanied the breaking waves and dulled as the tide retreated. She opened her eyes and instantly winced as the wave broke and the light became blinding.

  Her eyes were still stinging when her body gave a sudden lurch. Thick, tar-like water spewed from her throat and onto the earth between her hands. She wrenched again and again until her torso screamed with pain and the puddle grew wide enough to turn the soil under her arms to mush. Black goo slipped off of her forearms when she sat back onto her knees. It dripped onto her thighs as she pulled her wet hair back from her face. Looking around, she tried to understand what new layer of hell she had been thrown into.

  As the light dimmed, she could only see the silhouette of a forest, each tree’s trunk perfectly round and solid. There were only the towering trees on the barren soil. Another breaking wave, and the sky was set on fire. The world lit up and scorched her eyes. It took a second for her to adjust enough to see something dangling from the trees. They all had the same odd persuasion just above her head. A scream ripped from her throat as she staggered back. But there was nowhere to go. Each step away from a tree only brought her closer to another. Before the branches reached out their brittle fingers, they twisted and weaved through the flesh of human bodies. Vines burrowed into tender skin and left each person torn open, from their stomachs to the base of their throats. The light faded and left Marigold in the dark, stranded in a sea of suspended corpses.

  The waves crashed again. This time, she was ready for the blinding light and shielded her eyes. It felt like an eternity until the light dulled enough for her to see. Her head filled with a thousand horrors that could happen. She didn’t want to look again but couldn’t afford not to. Biting her lips, she forced her hand down and quickly took in as much as she could, trying to determine where she should go.

  They’re all women, she realized with a sinking sense of dread. And, as the light gave one last dying flicker, she saw that not two of them were the same. Each tree had a victim of its own. She stumbled forward in the darkness, one hand outstretched and her face buried into the crook of her other arm. Prepared for the painful flare, it didn’t stop her from moving. Her heart hammered as the light slowly began to fade. Soon, she would have no excuse not to look. She needed to, or she was never going to find a way out. But the faces of a dozen dead women were already burned into her memory and made her empty stomach heave. Her arm shivered as she lowered it.

  Shock rocked her and her knees began to buckle. It’s the bright light, she could see as far as the horizon in every direction. The forest didn’t just take up the space around her. The human trees stretched out under the glowing blood red sky, the seemingly endless forest. It didn’t matter which way she walked. There was no way to know if she was nearing an exit or delving deeper into the twisted mass grave. But it was the sheer number that rocked her. There were hundreds. Thousands. The last ray of light died and she was swallowed by darkness, but she still saw them. Every last detail of the serene faces amongst the dying trees were there before her eyes, like a photographic negative imprinted upon the sheet of black.

  Pushing the heels of her palms against her eyes, she tried to dislodge the image as she waited for the light to return. The unseen ocean continued its steady pattern and she could feel the earth tremble beneath her bare feet. Still, the crash came suddenly, the sound covering her scream as something brushed against her arm. She slapped at it only to feel a dozen more soft caresses along her shoulders and back, her face, and legs. Her hands flailed wildly but she couldn’t stop the contact. The flare struck her unprotected eyes, the sudden blaze leaving her momentarily blind. But the touches continued, tickling and sliding against her skin. Teasing and soft.

  When her sight was finally restored, she found that the earth was no longer a soggy wasteland. The petals of a thousand different flowers filled the air, tumbling over themselves as they fell to cover the ground in a thick colorful blanket. The once open chest cavities of the women were now full, crammed with the fresh blooming buds that burst free on an unfelt breeze. For a moment, she could only stare in grotesque wonderment. Then she remembered her family’s tradition. For generations, every female La Roux was named after a flower. She had studied them, trying to find some way to sever her tie with the demon that had tormented her family line. She knew a few of them by sight.

  They littered the history books and filled Louis’ files on the macabre. Each one had succumbed to depravity in their own unique way. Primrose was barely more than a child when the demon was passed to her. She used it to her advantage, hiding behind her innocence to poison each family that took her in. Her cheeks retained their youthful plump, even as the colorful flowers spewed from her skin. The slight woman was posted next to an elegant beauty. Azalea looked like a china doll, the finery of her skin only brought out more by the clusters of pink flowers that burrowed out of her skin. All of her victims met death by consuming flames.

  Trails of clover swayed slightly over her head as she passed by the next woman. A special trail of fear twisted around in the pit of Marigold’s stomach as she looked up at her great-grandma. For all the monstrosities that the La Roux women had committed, few had gone after their own. Clover had birthed children for the sole purpose of securing more time for herself. The vibrant green leaves burst free from the woman’s eyes drifting slightly in an unfelt breeze. It sent a gust of cold air down her spine.

  As she wandered, she found all of whom she could name, and more she had never seen before. Each one had their namesake blossoming from their innards. Her stomach lurched as the questing buds pushed free from their host’s eyes and filled the oozing sockets with blooming flowers. The combination of scents turned the air into a thick perfume. She was in the demon’s garden.

  Breaking into a run, Marigold moved through the pillars, unable to keep her eyes from the bouquets of flesh. The sickly sweet stench of rot curled out to become a key note in the scents filling each lung. Still, the lights pulsed, hurrying to coincide with her movements. She pushed herself to run faster until the world only existed in short flickers of blinding red and consuming darkness. Her feet came to an abrupt halt when she heard a familiar, lonesome howl. The demonic hound’s cry rolled out around her like mist, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Catching her breath, she turned in tight circles. Sod and petals covered her feet as she tried to catch sight of the hound. Nothing. Only the dead and the kaleidoscopic rain.

  Her feet felt heavy as she tried to force
herself to run again. Her lungs were on fire and blood rushed through her ears until the rush almost drowned out the chorus of the waves. Then she spotted her. Marigold’s body was moving towards it before her mind had caught up with what she was seeing. Tears were like fire against her eyes as she came to the tree that held her little sister aloft. Jasmine. A scream tore Marigold in two and only her grip on the tree kept her upright. Vines of white jasmine spewed from her tiny stomach and waved in and out of her arms, holding her to the tree and its bare spindly branches. She looked tiny compared to the large expanse of wood. The sweet, delicate scent of the jasmine flowers hung in the air as Marigold reached for her sister. Get her down! Her mind frantically screamed. She never hurt anyone. She was innocent. The demon never touched her! But it had, she knew. It was fear of them having to face the demon alone that had compelled her parents to kill her. Sparing her would have made her just another victim.

  Marigold trembled as she stretched until her shoulder joint threatened to pop free. Get her down!She’s just a child! Her throat squeezed shut as she found that, even when pushed to her breaking point, she could barely just reach Jasmine’s foot. A new wave of revulsion pulsed through Marigold when she found the flesh under her fingertips was still warm and baby soft. Leaning against the tree trunk for support, she looked around her, desperate for something that would help her get higher. Get her down! The thought screamed within her head until her skull vibrated with it. It can’t have her. But there was nothing for Marigold to climb onto. Nothing that could help her get any closer to her sister.

  A rattled gasp turned every cell in Marigold’s body to ice. Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze. Jasmine’s mouth gaped in a silent scream as the vines secured her to the branches. Her eyes were gone, replaced by the flowers of her name, their prefect white petals stained with blood. As Marigold stood frozen in horror, a few stray droplets plummeted down to splatter against her shoulders.

  “Jas,” she whimpered and placed her fingertips against Jasmine’s foot again.

  Her sister responded, breath staggering and her mouth opening to release a gut-churning gargle. Marigold’s knees finally did what they had been threatening to do. She toppled to the ground with a bone-jarring thud against the mushy ground. The world went black. In the darkness, she felt water rise around her, hot and thick. It wasn’t until the light came back that she discovered that the bodies were bleeding. The crimson liquid pooled over the earth deep enough that the petals now floated on the gentle currents. She could still hear the waves, the breaking swell now creating ripples over the surface. It soaked into her clothes and covered her legs. Marigold scrambled back to her feet, to her sister. The blood on her fingertips streaked against Jasmine’s pale skin as she touched her foot.

  “Jasmine, I’m here.”

  Marigold barely got the words out before she broken into crippling sobs. They doubled her over, making it impossible to keep even the slight contact she had made. A howl caused the world to tremble and turned the small ripples into waves that crashed against Marigold’s hips. It was close, and a part of her didn’t care anymore. Its footsteps splashed and hissed in the blood. The lights faded and Marigold slumped against the tree.

  She could still hear it drawing near. It was running. It probably already knew exactly where she was. Chancing a glance up, Marigold caught sight of it. Just a pinprick of a burning flame in the darkness. The spark grew into a bonfire. It would be with her soon enough. Marigold’s sense of acceptance and defeat vanished when confronted with the sight. It couldn’t withstand her will to survive. Marigold pulled herself to her feet and gave Jasmine one last caress. Real or not, this would probably be the last time she would see Jasmine in the flesh.

  “I won’t remember you like this, I promise.”

  “Don’t go,” Jasmine whispered.

  Marigold struggled to breathe as her insides plummeted to her feet. She drew her hand back and stared at the suspended figure.

  “You’re not real,” she said, more to herself than to Jasmine to hear her. “I have to go.”

  “Please.”

  “I can’t get you down.”

  “Maggie.”

  Marigold choked down the lump swelling in her throat. The placid pool of blood at her feet had become constant waves, stirred into movement by the hound.

  “I’m so sorry, Jas. I love you.”

  “Don’t leave me again.”

  Marigold squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. “I have to. I can’t carry you with me.”

  Jasmine’s pleas echoed in her ears, every syllable shredding Marigold’s soul as she bolted in the opposite direction of the hound. She didn’t know where she was going but it didn’t matter. As long as it was away from the demon at her back. The trees closed in around her, the distance between them narrowing until she had to twist and shuffle to get through them. Above her, the bodies began to scream, their death rattles combining into a booming sound that overshadowed the howls of the beast and ushered her into darkness.

  Still, she ran. Crashing into the trucks, her shoulders grinding against the course bark in tightening space. The flowers disappeared but the blood remained. Now up to her knees, it made it difficult to keep her pace. She sloshed forward, constantly moving, eyes squeezed shut as she waited for the light to return. The trees seemed to thicken and meld. In the darkness, her questing fingers couldn’t find a gap to slip through. A thick growl broke the smothering silence. She glanced over her shoulder and risked opening her eyes. The hound was streaking towards her like an asteroid. She slammed her hands against the now solid wall before her. Both directions were cut off as the walls closed in around her. She was trapped. The only way she could move would send her back towards the demon.

  With renewed strength, she turned back to the wall and threw herself against it. The hound roared. The wall rattled under her assault but didn’t fall. Rearing back, she hurdled herself once more, tossing the full weight of her body and strength against the wall. It collapsed and she fell out onto a cold, solid floor. She looked over her shoulder to find only a wardrobe behind her, the coat hangers swinging. Violently, she kicked the door closed with the heel of her foot.

  Blood sizzled within her veins as she struggled to catch her breath. Tears dripped from her eyes to wet the bare floorboards beneath her. Unable to keep her arms solid, Marigold collapsed, crushed under the weight of her grief. All that she had kept inside rushed from her, shattering her like glass. You have to get up, a small part of her brain whispered. You can’t stay here. You didn’t leave her just to die here.

  She locked her shoulders and swallowed down her tears. Keep moving. Find your way back to the surface. It grew easier to obey the command and she climbed onto her feet. Dread swelled within her like a surging tide when she realized where she was. She was in the attic of the La Roux ancestral home. The one Delilah had given her when she had first arrived at New Orleans. When she had first learnt about the demon on her back. The one that Delilah had made into Marigold’s makeshift prison with the intent of breeding her, to force her to create a new generation of La Roux for the demon to feed upon. The fear of that night churned within her anew and she tried her best to swallow it back down. Still, her hands shook. Delilah had been the last of her family, she was supposed to be that one last person who still remained on this planet that would protect her, love her. Her containment had only remained for a few hours but the scars of the betrayal ran deep and would never truly heal.

  No matter how many times that night had swirled within her mind, she was never able to understand how Delilah could bare to do it. To turn against her family more than once. The demon had been her own twisted inheritance, passed on to her like it had been to so many others. Marigold could understand the fear, the living hell that she would have been desperate to escape. But she couldn’t understand how the woman would be willing to pass it on. She still didn’t know if Delilah had been the first one to discover the ritual that passed the demon on to another living relative. Actually
, she had taken pains not to know. To be condemned was one thing, to willfully throw a family member into the pit in your place was something she couldn’t wrap her head around. Delilah had sent it to her father and it had driven him to be an angel of death, turning on the people who trusted him to nurse them back to health.

  And all that death for what? Marigold thought as bile burned her throat. Dozens of people faced their deaths for the demon to return to her door step. Even then, with the destruction of her last living relatives, Delilah had refused to face the demon, and she had used this room to unveil her plan. Each creek of the floorboards under her feet reminded Marigold of that night. Of how Delilah would rather organize the rape of her niece, her only living relative, to force her to bring more children into the world, for the only purpose of having more souls to hide behind. Would she have waited? Marigold tried to force the thought away like she had so many times before. But she was her, surrounded by the memory, her every sense screaming at her that this was real, and the question refused to lay dormant. Would she have waited? Or would she have sent the demon to an infant?

  Her mind flooded with the possibilities of what the demon could do to one too weak to even turn away. The fear which the demon’s presence had created wasn’t lost on her. But Marigold would happily take her own life before she allowed that temptation to ever flourish.

  This place can’t exist, she told herself as sharply as her heart began to hammer and her skin turned cold. It doesn’t exist. She had razed this house to the ground. But now she was right back to where she had started.

  Bile burnt her throat as she bolted to the door and wrenched it open. The long staircase before her was made of unfathomable darkness. Memories of the demon attacking her within that enclosed space boiled to the top of her mind. She didn’t want to go but she made herself move. Her feet smacked against the stairs, the walls rattling with her haste. Exploding out into the next floor, Marigold didn’t hesitate. Now that she was in motion she wasn’t going to stop. Two more flights of stairs and she would be out the front door.