by Tim O'Rourke
“I love you, Mila,” Flint whispered. “I always have and I always will.”
“I love you,” I panted, knowing that perhaps the truth was that I loved what he did to me more.
We continued to make love until the both of us were gasping for breath, locked in each other’s arms and panting on the floor. Lying in Flint’s arms, my head resting against his rising and falling chest, I closed my eyes. Just as sleep was about to take me, I heard the jangle of keys close by. I opened my eyes and looked toward the door. The sound of a key turning in the lock made me sit up.
“Flint, someone is trying to get in,” I whispered.
He made no reply. I looked to where he was lying on the floor, but Flint had vanished, just like the witches and my mother had. Turning to face the door again…
Chapter Seven
Mila Watson
…I heard the sound of keys rattling in the lock of the cell door once more. I dragged myself up onto my knees. My head ached so much it felt like my skull had been fractured. Thoughts of Flint, the witches of Twisted Den, and my mother seemed just out of reach at the furthest corners of my mind. Had I been dreaming about them? Perhaps, but I seemed unable to remember. The chains which bound my wrists together had caused the skin beneath them to turn red and swollen. I felt as if every single joint in my body had been torn apart from where I’d been sleeping on the cold stone floor of the cell. Two of the three candles had burnt down and gone out, leaving only one, which was close to dying out, too. In what little light the candle cast about the cell, I could see that both Calix and Flint were coming awake, woken by the sound of the cell door swinging slowly open. I readied myself to see Trent, Rea, and Rush come into the cell and take us to the vampires just like Flint said they would. But could I trust Flint? Could I trust anyone? What would my mother have done? From what little I knew about my mother, she, too, had placed her trust in the wrong side. But I really didn’t want to take sides. I had feelings for both Calix and Flint. Something else my mother had done. She had fallen in love with a vampire and a werewolf.
It wasn’t Trent, Rea, or Rush who stepped into the cell. To my surprise, it was someone else altogether.
Clarabelle stepped into the fading candlelight. Her long, black hair hung about her shoulders, and the white dress she wore was almost as dirty and splashed with mud as her bare feet. In her hands she carried both mine and Calix’s gun belts and Flint’s sword. Without saying anything, she placed them on the floor in front of me. She looked back just once over her shoulder into the dark passageway that led away from the cell.
Sensing that we were still alone, she looked back at me and said, “We must hurry, Mila.”
She took a large, circular ring from her pocket from which hung several iron keys. They were the same keys that Morten had used to let me into the cell so I could visit Flint.
“Does Morten know you have those?” I asked, as Clarabelle hurriedly unlocked the chains fastened about my wrists.
“Are you kidding me?” she said, pulling the chains free. “He won’t stay unconscious for long before…”
“Unconscious? What did you do to him?” I asked, trying to suppress a smile that wanted to crack across my face.
“I put a few drops of Essence of Wolfsbane into his evening drink, but I don’t think it will knock him out for long,” she said, turning her back on me and heading across the cell to Calix. As she began to unfasten Calix’s chains, she added, “We need to get out of Shade before the others wake, it’s almost dawn outside.”
Shaking his wrists free of the chains that Clarabelle was pulling from him, Calix said, “What’s this we stuff? You’re not going anywhere with us – you’re just a kid.”
“I’m nearly thirteen,” she shot back.
“Exactly, a kid – and a freaking crazy one at that. If you escape with us we’ll all have to sleep with one eye open to make sure you don’t kill us in our beds, just like you did to those other kids.”
Standing her ground, Clarabelle fixed Calix with a stare and said, “If I’m old enough to save you, I’m old enough to come with you. And besides, if you’re to survive outside of Shade my skills will be of a help to you…”
“Skills!” Calix cut in. “There isn’t any skill in being a psychopath.”
Sensing that she wasn’t going to win over Calix, she turned once more to me. “If I stay, Mila, the others will kill me when they discover I helped you all escape,” she said.
Getting to my feet and brushing myself down, I looked at Calix and said, “She comes with us.”
Nodding in the direction of Flint, Calix said, “What about the vampire?”
I looked hard at Flint and it was impossible for me to deny what we had once shared. But even more so, it was impossible to deny the feelings I knew I still had for him. Strapping the gun belt about my waist, I said, “He comes, too.”
Calix snatched up his gun belt before getting to his feet. “Have you lost your mind?” he said. “Do I need to remind you that he is a vampire and it’s they who are going to be hunting for us?”
“And do I need to remind you that you’re a werewolf and it’s not like your people are going to let us just walk out of here?” I said, drawing one of my guns and checking to see that the chamber was loaded. Seeing that it was, I slid the gun back into its holster in one quick movement. Bending down, I picked up the sword. It felt extremely heavy in my hands. I handed it to Flint.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it from me and securing it in the scabbard that hung about his waist.
“You might not be thanking me later when we find ourselves in the shit,” I said right back at him.
And with that boyish smile I knew so well and once loved creeping across his face, he looked at me and said, “Just like the old days. If I remember rightly, we were always getting ourselves in the shit back then.”
Staring him squarely in the face, I said, “We will never again share times like we once did. What we once shared is now over. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Flint said, looking somewhat taken aback by what I’d just said and how abruptly I’d said it.
Turning my back on both Flint and Calix, I followed Clarabelle from the cell, into the passageway, and the darkness that engulfed it.
Chapter Eight
Mila Watson
It was so dark in the passageway I lost sight of Clarabelle ahead of me within just a few strides. I could hear the sound of Flint and Calix walking close behind me. The darkness that surrounded us seemed thick and almost suffocating. It reminded me of being in the alleyway, trying to force my way through the magic that my mother had once created in it. In such darkness it was difficult to tell how long we had been walking underground, and in reality, it probably wasn’t anywhere near the length of time that it actually felt. But what unnerved me more than the darkness itself was the fact that Morten could have woken from the drug that Clarabelle had slipped into his drink… or even worse, Trent, Rea, and Rush could be lurking to prevent our escape. I was under no illusion of the risks that we faced and might endure if we were to get out of Shade alive. I gripped my fingers tightly around the butt of the gun that I held at my side. I stroked the trigger with my forefinger. I knew the chamber of my gun was fully loaded. But that was all the bullets I had with me. If we did come under attack from the others, I knew that the little ammunition I had would do little to save me when facing such creatures as the werewolves. I now wished I had the silver bullets Uncle Sidney had given me as I’d set out on my journey to Shade. But Rea had been quick to throw them into the fire. That now seemed like a very long time ago, when in reality it had only been weeks since I had left my home in Maze. So much had happened since then. My life, my friends, and even who I believed I was, had been twisted up and turned on its head.
At last we reached the foot of the stone staircase that spiralled upwards into the church. Clarabelle stopped at the foot of them, causing me to bump into her.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
> “Shhh,” she hushed back. “I’m just listening…”
“For what?” I heard Calix say, brushing past me and Clarabelle and heading up the stairs.
“No – wait!” Clarabelle hissed into the darkness. “The others could be waiting up there for us.”
“Your friend seems like a real jerk,” Flint whispered in my ear. “If he’s not careful, he’s gonna get us all killed.”
“He hasn’t tied me to a stake yet,” I shot back at him, my voice barely a whisper, although I had no idea why I was defending Calix. But then again, deep down I knew why I was defending him – he had become more than a friend to me over the last few weeks.
“I can explain why I did that,” Flint said, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath against my flesh.
“I don’t think now is the time, do you?” I whispered, moving away from him and closer to the stairwell.
“It’s all clear,” Calix called down from above.
In silence, Clarabelle began to make her way up the twisting and winding stairs. I followed, with Flint close behind. As we drew nearer to the top, the darkness began to grow weaker with a faint orange glow. And as the candles that lit the church from above began to illuminate my way up the stairs, that sense of claustrophobia began to lessen – but the sense of fear and apprehension I felt, didn’t.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I stepped into the church. Calix stood off to one side near a small, stone font. The church was eerily quiet; too quiet for my liking. Something didn’t seem quite right, but I wasn’t sure what.
“Something’s wrong,” I whispered.
“You’re just being paranoid,” Calix said, sinking one hand into the holy water that filled the font.
“I don’t think we should waste any more time, do you?” I said, looking at Flint and Clarabelle.
“No,” Clarabelle said with a shake of her head. “I have no idea how long the Wolfsbane will knock Morten out for.”
“Then let’s get going,” Flint said, setting off between a row of pews and toward the centre aisle.
With Clarabelle at my side, I followed him. As the three of us drew close to Calix, where he stood by the font, he lifted his hand from the water and flung some into Flint’s face.
Taken by surprise, Flint recoiled backwards. “What did you do that for?” Flint scowled at Calix, wiping the holy water from his face with the back of his hand.
“If I’m going to have a vampire as my travelling companion for the time being, I want to be sure that I know how to kill him,” Calix smirked. “And if holy water does the trick, I’m gonna make sure I take some with me.”
In a blinding flash of movement, Flint reached beneath his long, dark robes, drew his sword, and placed it against Calix’s neck.
“And if I’m travelling with a werewolf, I will make sure that this silver sword of mine will kill you, too,” he said.
Staring at the both of them incredulously, I said, “I don’t believe you two! We haven’t even escaped from Shade yet, and you’re already at each other’s throats. Can’t you just both grow up?”
Reaching out with one hand, Calix pushed the sword away from his neck. Holding Flint’s stare, but talking to me, Calix said, “You might be happy in the company of a vampire, but I’m not so sure that I am.”
“Then stay,” I huffed, marching past the both of them toward the church door. Reaching it, I turned to face them both. “Stay and kill each other for all I care, because it won’t change anything. Tomorrow there will be another werewolf and vampire ready to kill each other, and again the day after that, and the day after that until there are none of you left. Is that what you want? Do your lives mean so little to you that you are prepared to lose them over some pointless war? Isn’t it about time that you two – the Beautiful Immortals – tried to make peace with each other?”
“That sounds like you’re mother talking,” Calix said. “Such words didn’t do her any good. Perhaps she was wrong and there will never be peace between the vampires and werewolves.”
Taking a step away from the door and moving closer to Calix, I said, “If my mother was wrong – if you didn’t believe her – why did you try and save her? And if you really hate the vampires so much why did you save Flint from burning at the stake?”
Calix said nothing, he just stood looking at me, his eyes black and hard.
“Only you know the answer to that question, Calix,” I said.
Then turning my attention to Flint, I said, “And you can stop standing there looking innocent – like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. Calix did save your life and I’ve not heard you say a word of thanks for doing so. I don’t really know or understand why you have to hate each other, but one thing I do know for sure, is that if we don’t get out of here, if we don’t leave Shade, we are all dead regardless of whether we are a vampire, werewolf, or witch.” Reaching out with my free hand, I closed it around Clarabelle’s and led her from the church.
Chapter Nine
Mila Watson
The cold night wind that howled about the graveyard did little to cool my temper. I was angry with Calix for flicking holy water into Flint’s face. It was a childish thing to do. He knew damn well that holy water had no effect on vampires. Flint was just as childish for reacting the way he did. Why couldn’t they just stop with the macho-shit-head attitude? Because if they didn’t, they would end up getting us all killed. Not wanting to waste any more time thinking about either of them, I set off across the graveyard with Clarabelle at my side. The moon was up, fat and round, and bathed the graveyard and its many ancient headstones in a sapphire light. From behind me, I heard the wail of the church door swinging open then closed. I glanced back to see both Calix and Flint following us across the graveyard. They walked some distance apart, as if the tension between them hadn’t fully defrosted – but it was a start at least. Looking front again, I stopped short, aghast.
Clarabelle had turned rigid, and her grip on my hand tightened until her knuckles glowed white. Both of us stood and looked down at the disturbed graves before us. I could see at once that the disturbed earth had come from the children’s graves that Clarabelle had murdered. The graves were now open, the Wolfsbane thrown to one side. Scattered across the ground were the long rusty nails that had kept the dead children in their graves. As I stood with Clarabelle beside the disrupted earth, we were joined by Calix and Flint.
“What the fuck?” I heard Calix breathe.
“What happened to these graves?” Flint asked.
“Someone has woken the wolves,” I whispered, heart beginning to beat faster.
No sooner were the words out of my mouth, I heard snarling from behind us. Letting go of Clarabelle’s hand, I drew my second gun. I spun around as we all did in the direction of the snarling and low growling that was coming from the shadows of the trees at the edge of the graveyard.
The wolves, if that’s what they truly were, came slowly forward. All of us took a step backwards. As the wolves, and I counted seven of them, stepped into the moonlight, I stifled the urge to scream. Although they were twice the size of normal wolves, their coats of hair were matted and clogged with earth. As they came closer still, I could see that there were patches along their flanks where there was no fur, not even flesh. The wolves’ skeletal remains shone white in the moonlight. Their eyes were blood red, long snouts pulled up into snarls, revealing broken and jagged teeth that were mottled yellow and black with decay. Their giant paws were spattered with blood where they had once had nails driven into them.
With his eyes still dead ahead, looking at the wolves as they approached, Flint said, “Can somebody tell me what the fuck they are?”
“They are the souls of the children I once murdered,” Clarabelle whispered, as if all her nightmares had come true at once.
“Calix wasn’t kidding when he said you were a killer, was he?” Flint said, holding his gleaming sword out before him.
But instead of answering him, Clarabelle took
a deep breath and said, “Annabel, is that really you?”
I glanced sideways and I could see that Clarabelle was looking past the approaching wolves and toward the treeline. Standing just beneath the low hanging branches, was Annabel. She still swore the same pretty white dress she had been wearing on the day that she’d fled from me and into the woods. But now it was smeared with earth and lumps of moss, as was her hair, face, hands, and bare feet. My heart began to race faster. Annabel stepped clear of the trees and toward the other wolves and joined them. Once in the moonlight, I could see that the jagged wound across her throat was flapping open and closed with every breath she took. It made a slow slapping sound, like raw steak being tenderised with a mallet.
“Who’s the kid?” Flint asked, still brandishing his sword before him.
“I thought you’d recognise her, seeing as it was you who slit her throat,” Calix said, sliding both guns from their holsters, which swung about his waist.
“I never killed the kid,” Flint snapped at him.
“If not you, then another of your vampire mates did. What’s the difference?” Calix said, taking aim at the fast approaching wolves.
Suddenly, Clarabelle slipped from my side and started to head toward her sister.
“No!” I shouted, reaching for her. But she was out of reach, lost to me amongst the gravestones. As Clarabelle drew near, her sister Annabel sprang into the air. In mid-flight, the young girl changed into the wolf that she now was and would be forevermore. And just like the other wolves, her fur and flesh was decayed, riddled with the maggots that had been feeding on her below ground.