Book Read Free

Into the Dim

Page 25

by Janet B. Taylor


  “Hold him down,” she commanded. Eleanor held a lamp aloft as the rest of us arranged ourselves around Collum, each restraining an uninjured limb.

  Collum’s eyes looked glassy. Sweat poured off him, but he didn’t utter a sound. When he nodded at Rachel, she took a deep breath and, holding the ragged edges of the wound together, pressed the poker to his skin and seared the wound closed. Collum reared up, shoulders and heels the only thing touching the floor as his flesh sizzled. The sickening stench of cooked meat filled my nose.

  He was gasping and horribly pale as Rachel bound the wound. I stood, my stinging eyes scanning the chamber. From the door came a loud thud. It shuddered, and the tip of an ax appeared through the wood.

  Can’t go through the door. What do we do? Think, Walton. Think.

  The others’ worried voices blended together, but I closed my eyes, blotting them out. Summoning the last ounces of concentration I possessed, I opened my mind and let everything I’d ever seen or read about the history of the Palace of Westminster flood in. My head pounded as the words of each article, rare book, drawing, sketch, scrap of paper, innuendo, or passing gossip began to scroll through my mind in glowing green columns. Books flipped open and pages flapped away like a colony of disturbed bats.

  I could feel my fingers twitch as I cast off one after the other. Come on. Come on.

  There.

  My eyes flew open. Got it.

  I turned to William Lucie. “Behind one of those tapestries on the north wall there should be an entrance to a hidden passage.”

  He started to shake his head, but I urged. “Just try. Please.”

  The door to the hallway was shaking under the weight of blows. “All is well here!” The queen was trying to buy us time, but the axe blows kept coming. A crack had appeared in the thick wood. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

  “Hope,” Bran called, “Sister Hectare wants you. I—I don’t understand what she’s saying.”

  I hurried to the nun’s side and dropped to my knees. Behind me, I heard the grinding of stone on stone and William’s shout of surprise. I didn’t turn. Sister Hectare’s bleary eyes were burning into mine.

  Mesmerized, I leaned close as she whispered in a voice weak as wet paper. “We were wrong. It is not . . .” Her eyelids drifted closed. Her mouth twisted. Her head pitched from side to side on the pillow as she struggled for breath. Alarmed, I rested my hand on her forehead, trying to soothe her. The tissue-thin skin burned my palm.

  “It’s all right, Sister Hectare,” I whispered, my words thick with tears. “You rest now.”

  Sorrow etched Bran’s brow as he met my eyes. When he took the nun’s gnarled hands in his own, she grasped him hard, pulling him closer.

  When she began to whisper, I leaned in but still could barely make out the crackly words. “The lady lies beneath their knees in robes of purest white.” A wheeze. “She guards her dark treasure in the deep. Only its children see the light.”

  Puzzled, I glanced at Bran, but he seemed just as befuddled as I was.

  The loud crack of wood beginning to splinter sounded from the door. The muffled shouts grew louder. Hectare blinked rapidly. Her eyes cleared as she looked up. “It is time for you to go now, my children.”

  “Thank you,” I managed as I swiped my wet eyes with a sleeve. “I will never forget you.”

  “Nor I you, sweet girl.” She closed her eyes, a beatific smile lighting her face. “Nor I you.”

  When we turned, my shoulders slumped in relief. I’d been right. A dark rectangle now mawed open in the stone wall.

  Bran helped my mother into the passage. Rachel had secured Collum’s arm in a sling. With a last look in my direction, he leaned on his sister and limped to the entrance.

  Phoebe called over her shoulder. “Ready, Hope?”

  I held up a finger and turned to William and Rachel. Next to the tunnel entrance, William cupped Rachel’s face between his palms. “Come with me,” he was saying. “We shall flee to the continent and start over. Now that Becket knows, this did naught but decide things for us. ’Tis our chance, my love. As long as you are by my side, we will conquer any trials that come our way.”

  I grinned as Rachel whispered her answer and melted into his arms. Her eyes shone like gilt when she drew back and returned my smile.

  I suddenly realized I’d never see these two remarkable people again. “Rachel,” I said. “William. I can never thank the two of you enough for helping us.”

  “Mistr—” Rachel corrected herself. “Hope. It is I who give thanks. If not for you and your friends, I would never have gained the courage to follow where my heart led.” She reached up and, placing gentle hands on my head, murmured a Hebrew blessing. “I wish you long life,” she said quietly. “And happiness. And that your journey home is a safe one.”

  William cradled my hands between his large, callused palms. “Go with God, Mistress Hope.”

  I watched as they blended into the tunnel’s darkness. They’d have a difficult path, I knew. But they’d be together, and maybe that was enough. I closed my eyes and sent up my own prayer that they’d have a happily ever after.

  The heavy chamber door was almost fractured now. Queen Eleanor hurried over to me as I entered the passage.

  “I will close it behind you, to cloak your escape.”

  Bowing low, I thanked her. My eyes grazed over the dead and unconscious men in her chambers.

  Eleanor caught my look and shrugged. “I am the queen. Who would speak against me? Not that craven priest, now that he’s failed. Though I daresay Becket and I shall cross swords again.”

  I nodded, thinking, Oh yes, Your Grace. That you will.

  Eleanor glanced over my shoulder to the darkness where my anxious friends waited. “Hectare told me of your strange travels. My friend speaks naught but truth, and yet . . .” When she glanced down the tunnel, there was such longing in her face, I couldn’t look away. “If I did not have a duty to my kingdom, I would wish to go with you. There is much I would know, but I shall not ask how my life turns out. That is for God alone to decide. I would ask one question of you, however.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. However much I wanted to, I couldn’t warn her. Couldn’t reveal the pain she would suffer when bitter jealousies arose to warp and ruin her family. But neither would I lie to this extraordinary queen.

  “I’ll tell you what I can, Your Grace.”

  Her voice was tentative, and I could see her brace herself for the answer. As she looked into my eyes I glimpsed the vulnerable woman behind the queen, the legend.

  “So many queens before me have come and gone, their legacies washed away like sand beneath the tide. In that place to which you return . . . will my name fade as have so many before me? Will anyone remember?”

  Against all royal protocol, I reached out and took one of her soft, ink-stained hands in mine. “Your Grace,” I whispered around the giant lump in my throat, “your legacy will never fade. You will be remembered. Even a thousand years from now, your name will live on.”

  Chapter 40

  I MADE SEVERAL WRONG TURNS AS I LED THE OTHERS through the twisting, turning passageways. The musty, damp stone pressed heavier as they followed me down and down. The torches Phoebe and I carried spat flecks of hot pitch onto our gowns, but I beat out the sparks, never slowing. When the walls tightened, forcing us to squeeze through sideways, my heartbeat faltered.

  Oh no. Can’t breathe. Too tight.

  I wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose control.

  Not now.

  Claustrophobia pecked at me. Peck. Peck. Peck. An evil bird nibbling away my reason. Collum frowned at me but said nothing as I moved faster through the tunnel. My brain filled with two words. Get out. Getoutgetoutgetout!

  When the tunnel split into three smaller ones, I nearly lost it.

  Oh God. Which way?

  Phoebe shot me a scared look as my mother’s rhythmic groans grew closer together. We both knew what it meant. The baby was on its way. And we had
to get home before it arrived.

  I braced myself against the wall, choking on the sharp, metallic tang of fear and adrenaline. Beneath my palm, I felt a design, grooves carved into the stone. Something buzzed up from my memory, but I shoved it back at Phoebe’s shout.

  “Oy! I can feel wind. This way.”

  The torch’s flame trembled as a cold breeze wafted against my sweaty face. I nearly sobbed with relief.

  Thank you. Thank you.

  The tunnels ended at a grated entrance near the back of the abbey. I gulped for air as we emerged into the crisp winter night. Marveling, I realized we’d traveled underground all the way beneath the cobblestoned square to the rear of the cathedral. The large village that surrounded the palace and abbey was dark, all its occupants still abed. But that wouldn’t last for long. Dawn was approaching. And we had to be deep in the forest when it came.

  Between us, Collum and I kept my moaning, barely conscious mother upright as Bran and Phoebe stole inside a nearby stable, absconding with several horses and tack. Without wagon or sled, we had no alternative. Wrapped in her cloak, Mom curled sideways on the front of Bran’s saddle. He held her in place with one arm, controlling the reins with the other.

  Snowflakes floated down as we raced through the village, down a rutted road, past sleeping farms, until we reached the treeline. Mom’s guttural moans occasionally drifted up like smoke into the frigid air. Galloping at his side, I watched Bran grip her tighter, jaw flexed as he glanced my way. The bluish glow from the snow-covered ground shadowed his eyes and carved his face into a marble statue.

  I must’ve looked worried, because he winked. “Not to worry, preety lady,” he panted in an awful Russian accent. “Am strong like bull.”

  By the time we reached the spot in the woods where we’d emerged three days before, the snow had stopped. The moon peeked between rushing black clouds, illuminating the thick powder.

  I jumped down and bolted to where Bran was struggling to keep my mother from tumbling off. I helped her down, keeping her upright while Bran dismounted. She was shivering uncontrollably. With no nearby place to sit but the snow-laden ground, we sandwiched her between us, sharing our heat as she convulsed. My mother’s belly pressed into me, high and round. Her knees sagged and her head dropped onto my shoulder.

  Bran’s eyes bored into mine across my mother’s shuddering body. “Hope.” My name emerged from his lips in a mist of white that wreathed around us. “There’s something I—”

  Phoebe skidded to a halt beside us, ice particles spraying from her horse’s hoofs. I took on Mom’s weight as Bran went to assist Collum, but was waved away.

  “Coll’s bleeding again,” Phoebe said quietly at my side. “It’s bad. Can you watch out for him and I’ll help Bran with Sarah?”

  “I’m not deaf, you know,” Collum spat. “And I don’t need help. Let’s just bloody well get this over with.”

  “I’ll take Sarah,” Bran murmured. With a last, troubled look at me, he scooped my mother into his arms and trudged off into the forest.

  Phoebe raced ahead of Bran to break a trail. As Collum stumbled after, she called over her shoulder. “Quit being such a stubborn ass, Coll, and let Hope help you.”

  I drew even with Collum, almost gagging at the strong, mineral waft of blood that emanated from him, corrupting the clean, cold smell of the forest. In the night’s bridal shades of moonlight and snow, the liquid streaming down his arm gleamed black as an oil slick.

  “I said I’m fine,” he muttered.

  “Oh yeah?” I countered. “Well, you look like a freaking ghost. And if you bleed out any more, you’ll pass out and I’ll have to drag you the rest of the way. So, please . . . Please just let me help you.”

  Collum stared at me for a long moment, mouth tucked in at the corners. “You,” he said quietly, “have surprised me, Hope Walton. I never expected it of you.”

  “Why, Collum MacPherson,” I kidded. “Is that an actual compliment? Coming from you?”

  He didn’t smile. Instead he inched closer. “Listen,” he said, hazel eyes intense. “We wouldn’t have made it out without you. I just . . .” He sighed. “I just want you to be careful around Cameron, aye?”

  I looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes you do,” he said. His head jerked as Phoebe shouted from the woods.

  “Come on,” he said. “We have to hurry.”

  With that, he allowed me to drape his good arm over my shoulders and together, we navigated after the others.

  Breathless and sweating despite the cold, we finally reached the glade, still oddly bare of snow or a single leaf. I looked back at the path of gore and broken branches we’d left. A blind man could’ve followed our trail. Once inside the eerie circle of trees, Mom slithered from Bran’s grip. Phoebe helped me ease a shaking Collum to the dirt. A whine escaped Mom’s clenched teeth, and in the inconstant light, her skin looked bleached. Dead.

  “How long?” I huffed.

  Collum glanced up at the patchwork of black clouds scuttling across the silvered sky. “Not long now.”

  Mom whimpered as a contraction took her. I knelt and gripped her hand. When the pain subsided, she panted. “Hope, listen to me. I have to tell you something. It’s important.”

  “It’s okay, Mom,” I soothed. “Not now. It can wait till we get back.”

  “No,” she insisted. “You have to know. It was long ago, but—” Her eyes flew open. Her back arched, and a sound like the cry of a trapped animal ripped from her lips.

  “Mom!”

  Her lips moved without sound. I leaned closer to listen.

  “Something’s wrong,” she gasped through lips bleached with shock. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened. “It happened before.” When her pained eyes met mine, I sat back on my heels, stunned at the realization.

  “What’s she talking about?” Phoebe’s voice was screechy with fear.

  “She lost a baby when I was little,” I managed. “It was bad, Pheebs. And that was in a hospital. We have to get her home.”

  Mom’s next cry dragged on until I wanted to cover my ears and scream. Tears welled in Phoebe’s eyes.

  “What do we do? Is she supposed to be bleeding like this?” She gestured to the blood seeping out around my mother’s skirts.

  I tried to burrow into my memory, to bring up everything I’d ever read about childbirth, but when Mom slumped sideways in a faint, the words scattered.

  “I can’t do this.” I cradled her head in my lap. “It’s too much, Mom. Please wake up. Tell me what to do. I need you.”

  I hugged her to me, buried my face in her shoulder, and wept like a child.

  Shivering, I felt warmth settle next to me. I looked up to find Bran at my side. Collum moved to kneel beside Phoebe on the other side of my mother’s supine body. They didn’t say a word, but as they all watched me I could hear them just the same.

  We’re here. You’re not alone.

  The back of my throat burned. I’d grown up a mostly solitary being. My grandmother had always, and very deliberately, made certain I never felt like part of the larger family. And though I had my parents, my mother had long ago determined I hadn’t the time or need for friends in my life.

  Now, as these three people clustered around me, their combined strength bathed me in a warmth I’d never experienced. I’d been weak, a broken and fragile creature. I knew that. But maybe with actual real friends beside me, I was learning to be strong.

  I nodded and closed my eyes. Years of study began marching through my head in systematic rows. Pain struck in the middle of my forehead, but I ignored it. When I came across a paragraph that matched my mother’s symptoms, I flinched and tried to discard it, but it fit too well.

  Placenta previa. An abnormal implantation of the placenta at the opening of the cervix. This condition can impede the child’s delivery and, left untreated, can lead to maternal hemorrhage. Without immediate medical attention, the condition can cause severe injury an
d/or death for both mother and child.

  My eyes popped open. “We have to get her back,” I said. “Fast. There’s no other option.”

  I followed Collum’s gaze as he read the sky. To the east, there might’ve been a hint of gray, but would it come soon enough?

  Black blood spread out beneath us on the hard packed dirt. Under my knees, my gown sopped it up like syrup. Mom’s freckled face looked ghostly, as if she were already gone. My whole life, she’d guided me. Now, when I needed her most, she was far away. Farther than she’d ever been.

  The pendant jolted against my skin. My head jerked up, and I saw that the others had felt it too. Somewhere, a thousand years in the future, Doug was fiddling with the dials of the Tesla device, ready to flip the switch and bring us home. The Dim was coming for us.

  Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  “The Nonius Stone,” I gasped. “It has be on Mom when the Dim comes, right?”

  With his uninjured hand, Collum fumbled for the dagger in his bag, cursing his own stupidity. Phoebe took it from him and unsheathed it. With the knife in my boot, I slashed through the bottom of my underskirt, making a long strip to secure the blade to my mother’s arm.

  We’re going to make it. Lucinda and Moira will know what to do. We’ll—

  A twig cracked in the forest. Bran leaped up, the two curved swords instantly in his hands. Collum tried to struggle to his feet. When he fell, Phoebe gestured him back and withdrew her knives. Side by side, Bran and Phoebe peered into the darkness.

  Chapter 41

  “AH.” HER SULTRY VOICE PRECEDED HER AS SHE STEPPED through the circle of trees. “It seems we are in the nick of time, yes?”

  Celia Alvarez’s glossy dark hair poured down on either side of her face. Her forest-green gown blended perfectly with the trees as she surveyed the scene before her.

  My eyes fastened on the object in her hand. A very small, very modern gun.

  She brought a gun?

  Phoebe took a step toward her. “Celia.” Hatred burned as she spoke the name.

 

‹ Prev