by Julie Reece
“Good Lord in heaven.” I shake my head. “How did they ever get him down here?” I can’t even guess how many decades the animals have been here. There’s no decay, no emaciated bodies to hint at their age.
Gideon wipes his hands across his red T-shirt, leaving white streaks of lime. “Times were different. The world was smaller, and men didn’t question idiosyncrasies of the man who paid their salaries. Over a hundred years ago, I imagine Mathias Maddox’s field hands thought him no more than eccentric.”
Yeah? I imagine they thought a lot more than that, but I don’t say so. “You’re going to wake the horse up?” I angle my head. “And the dog?”
He blinks. “Don’t you want me to? I thought … I mean, I want to do this right for you. What if it were Edgar?”
The lump in my throat is the size of a bowling ball. I clear it and answer him. “Don’t do this for me. Do it for yourself.”
His lips press into a grim line. “We’re going to have a hell of a time getting that animal up the stairs, but he’s waking up.” Gideon’s smooth voice is pure determination. “They all are.” He lifts his head, his gaze searching mine out. I think he wants to say something, but he keeps silent. Under that intense stare, my stomach flip-flops, and before I can figure out what he wants, he steps to the coffins and holds up the decanter of salts.
I hold my breath as he starts sprinkling the substance over the bodies. I wrap my waist with both arms to quiet my nerves. My focus cuts across the people in the coffins, to the animals in the far corner and back. There’s pressure, and expectation, and fear in the waiting. No sound but the hopeful beating of two hearts. Then the view changes.
Shapes fade in and out of the gray shadows around the room. They waver, finally taking semi-solid form.
“Gideon?” I whisper. “The people from the photos, they’re here. Can you see them?” He doesn’t answer. Cole appears at the head of the casket housing his body. I glance beside me, and just as I thought, his ghost-like image is gone from my side. My nerves tingle with anticipation. My heartbeat quickens. I press my hand to my chest to steady my rapid breathing.
Rex barks. His image stands beside that of the white stallion. The horse’s neck bends as he paws the air. They both wait at the heads of their physical selves. That’s when I know the silver salt is going to work. They’re all here. As I scan the crowd, the flickering ghosts all pause beside their caskets, waiting to reclaim their bodies, and their lives.
One man frantically waves his arms. Something’s wrong. Gripping the stair railing, I half rise from my seat on the step for a better view. The brow of a shimmering spirit creases in angry furrows; another’s teeth are bared. Mouths twist in horrific violence. The prisoners raise their fists in the air, pounding, shouting over one another. They curse the Maddox name. Everyone except Cole.
“Wait!” I shriek. “They’re angry. Talk to them, Gideon. Tell them why you’re waking them up now.” But it’s too late. The drama I expected when Gideon shattered the photos upstairs is happening now. Shimmering, silver fog rises from the bodies in the caskets. Thin and snake-like, the mist winds itself around each individual, ascending until it bumps and curls against the ceiling. Cole meets my gaze. The ground trembles. A loud crack and Gideon shouts my name. He thrusts out a hand as the room bursts into a kaleidoscope of swirling color.
The stallion whinnies and rears. His ghost stands snorting and nickering over his prone carcass. I blink as his body and essence meld. Steam chugs from both nostrils. His mane is thrashing red fire down his arched neck. Yellow flames flicker and snap at his sides, while the animal’s eyes glow white-hot. He screams. Rex howls, as his frame is encased in crackling red and blue embers.
Across the room it’s the same with the other, human bodies. Cut off from the stairs by the enchanted flame, Gideon presses himself against the rough wall of the cellar. His wide eyes and incredulous expression lets me know he sees them, too. My heart thuds against my ribs. Panic climbs my throat. I scan the room for Cole but can’t find him.
Rising above the coffins that housed them for so long, the corpses stand erect. I cringe, flinging myself back until my spine presses against the far wall of the staircase, but I can’t stop watching. I swear the glowing men appear to grow taller. As they burn, bones bulge, pushing to break free of their ancient skin casing. The necks and heads of the men elongate. Their rib cages spread and deepen, legs grow longer, and arms bend and break at odd angles.
The group morphs into twisted, grotesque images of their former selves. Contorting the way a twig bends and curls in a fire pit. Their eyes bug from the sockets to the point of bursting. Instead, they deflate, melting from the sockets like runny egg yolks. Muscle drops from their heating bones, drips from their frames hitting the earth in sizzling plops of dying flesh. Orange and yellow, the skin pops and bubbles on the floor, incinerating before turning to black ash.
Shrieking echoes off the thick walls. I cover my ears to block the sound, but it’s in my head, expanding in my chest, all around me. Sulfur burns my sinuses. My eyes water. The horse is gone, as is the little dog Rex. Under the effects of the withering curse, the men writhe and lash at each other, but their blows are ineffectual. The din rises. My head spins, and I feel incredible pressure building in my lungs. My ears pop with pressure over and over, and somewhere, above the cacophony, a clock ticks.
When the pain in my head reaches its zenith and my lungs threaten to burst, my scream joins with the others. A mushroom cloud billows against the ceiling, all red and orange and pink, promising a hot, sulfuric death. Lightning flashes. Thunder cracks, hits the cellar like a sonic boom, blowing me off the stairs. I crash against the far wall, before dropping to the floor. Gasping for breath, I roll to my side and peer back up the empty staircase. I touch my stinging forehead at the hairline, and pull my fingers back sticky with blood.
A final blast, a gush of angry wind and the room stills, growing quiet.
“Gideon?” I croak. A hand slides beneath my arm, and I’m drawn to my feet. When I raise my head, it’s not Gideon I see, but Cole. And not the Cole I knew. This one is solid all the way to his shoes. He’s taller, broader. His face has both filled in and sharpened. What the heck?
A deep frown covers his handsome features. “Are you all right?” His voice is lower than I remember.
“Cole. I thought I’d lost you.” Weak, I lean against the wall.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “You can’t lose me.”
“Get. Your hands. Off of her.”
We pivot together. My weight sags, and Cole’s arms support me. “Gideon,” I say, relief flooding my being. A crimson line runs down his left arm to his elbow. There’s a gash on his cheek. “You’re here. Thank you, God.”
“Relax, Gideon. If I let her go, she’ll fall down.” As if to prove his words, Cole releases me and I stumble backward into his arms.
Gideon lunges and trips.
Perhaps he wants to avoid a fight. Whatever his reasoning, Cole eases me down onto the cold floor and backs off. My shoulder rests on the rough stone as I struggle to clear my head. Gideon’s kneeling at my feet, his expression a tangle of concern and relief.
“I’m all right.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Just need a minute.”
Cole strides to the nearest coffin and inspects the contents. “Dust,” he says. “Ashes and dust.”
“What happened to them?” I ask.
Raising his arm, Cole stares at his hand as he flips it over. His fingers slide up his torso and neck. They run across his face, as though he’s discovering himself for the first time.
Following my gaze, Gideon rises. He walks to the head of the first casket and turns. “Yes, you’ve aged … around four years, I’m guessing. Though age hasn’t improved your looks any.”
I suppress an eye roll, actually afraid it might hurt.
Gideon scans the ankle-deep dust at his feet. “Many of these men were at least middle-aged when they were photographed.
Some have been here for decades.” A light goes on in my head.
Cole kneels before another coffin, peering inside. “So for the older ones, if the aging process was cumulative—”
“They were dead the minute they woke up.”
A white flash darts from the shadows at the back of the room. One, dull clank later, Gideon crumples to the floor. I push off with my knees to a stand. Unsteady, my hand searches out the gritty wall for support.
Desiree stands over Gideon, a haughty grin on her lovely features. Flashlight in one hand, Gideon’s shiny, black gun in the other, she faces us with a leer. “That leaves us youngsters. Only you and I made it out alive, Cole.” She peeks at the unconscious form at her feet. “Sleep well, baby. You and me, we’ll tango later, after I dispose of these distractions.”
Ten feet away, Cole’s frame straightens. “Don’t do this.”
“You have nothing I need anymore, little one.” She laughs and points the gun at his heart. “I’m finally free.” Her eyes narrow. “As you were my favorite cellmate, you will live, as long as your little girlfriend here does what I say. Now get moving, up the stairs.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I offer, as if that will help. Stupid must take over when I’m scared, because I know what she’s asking. My feet won’t obey, and apparently, I say the dumbest things possible.
“Shut up!”
I stall for time. “What is it you want?”
She stares at me with incredulous eyes. “Idiot! I want my life back. I want my money, my house, and I want him.” Her eyes flicker toward Gideon, face down in the ash. “I’ve lived abroad and lately come home to stay, haven’t you heard? Clean, plausible, and to the point. It won’t take more for the simpletons in this backwater town to believe. Though I can’t exactly have you here, can I? He’s infatuated with you, but that won’t last once you’re gone. Now move!”
With Gideon still out cold on the floor, Desiree keeps her gun trained on Cole. There’s no arguing, pleading, or reasoning with insanity. We’re on our own. I search out Cole and our eyes lock. Maybe we can make a plan once we know what she’s up to. I don’t know how to convey that, I just hope he’s thinking the same.
I hobble up the stairs hearing two sets of footsteps climbing behind me. We’re directed through the kitchen, outside and to the rear of the house. Desiree keeps her gun pressed deep into Cole’s back. One wrong move and he’s dead, for real this time. Whatever she wants, she’ll get. I won’t allow her to kill him on the birthday of his second life.
Outside, moonlight paints pictures of misty ghouls in the surrounding gloom. My head pounds and every vertebra aches like it’s been bisected. My pace is slow, extracting a string of curses from Desiree. When she’s done blessing me out, I ask her which way.
“Over there, by the millpond.”
No blood, no body to find, I get it now.
“Desiree. Please. Let me take her away,” Cole pleads. “I’ll take her home, to my family in Europe. I’ll keep her there. Whatever it takes, whatever you want. I promise. You’ll never see us again. Please!”
The ground under my feet squishes at the edge of the pond. It’s treacherous here, the soil sodden with the quality of quicksand. I stop with my back to the water. The mill house stands in the distance. Moonbeams silver the crumbling shingles. Blackened windows for eyes, it stands as a blind and silent witness to my murder.
“Touching, kiddo. My heart goes out to you, really, but I can’t take the chance she’ll show up again. She’s a bit inconvenient since I’ve waited so long to reclaim Gideon for my own.” She shoves Cole away and takes several steps back. “And you’re just so damn hard to get rid of. You wouldn’t scare, so I called the authorities to take you away.”
“That was you?” I couldn’t exactly see her ghostly fingers dialing, but this maniac was resourceful, no doubt.
She laughs, the sound as hard and hypnotic as diamonds. Her blond hair gleams under the moonlight. Even with her dress tattered and filthy, her face smeared with ash, and the added years, she’s beautiful. “I even tried a nice high school dance bonfire, just to be sure. Yet, here you stand.”
Cole lifts his hands. “Listen to me—”
“Enough talk! You,” she says to me, “in the water, now.”
I hesitate and it’s one second too long.
Desiree shifts and pulls the trigger. Cole cries out. His legs shoot out from beneath him, and he flies back, landing on the ground with a soft thud. My scream echoes through the live oaks. Limbs askew, Cole’s moan assures me he’s alive.
“Quiet!” Desiree orders. “Both of you.” She marches toward me with dainty little steps that would be comical if she weren’t so deadly. When she’s two feet from me she stops short. “That shot won’t kill him, but the next one will.” She stretches her arm out, aiming her weapon at Cole. His knees draw into his chest. He groans and the sound wrenches my heart. “In the water.”
I obey. First one foot slides in, then the other.
She smiles, her expression triumphant as I continue inching into the water. The suction takes over, pulling me down to my knees, my waist. “You almost had him, didn’t you, darling. Almost. Well, Gideon’s all mine now. I’ll devour every square inch first, and then I’ll kill him.”
When the water reaches my chest, fear crawls up the back of my neck. Drowning. Well, I offered it freely, didn’t I? A hysterical laugh boils up, and I choke it down. If it saves Cole, buys Gideon any time at all to fight her, they’re worth dying for.
I raise my arms, fat lot of good it does me. It’s instinct now. Cole groans my name, but I can’t help him. I can’t help anyone anymore. Panic wells up inside me. I know to struggle is to die faster, but my terror of suffocating is too strong.
“That’s it, Raven. Good girl. Why prolong the inevitable, eh?”
A shadow looms behind Desiree’s shoulder. Dark arms wrap her white dress, and a shot rings out. Moonlight reveals Gideon’s face but he disappears again as Desiree struggles for control of the gun. Water covers my mouth. I tip my head back and breathe through my nose. A third blast of gunfire and I hear the bullet rip across the water near me. I pray with all my might Gideon wins.
A cry from Desiree and a heavy splash rocks the water. The ripples roll over my head, and I sink farther down. This is how I die. Panic knifes me with her icy fingers. Be brave … God take me to my mother. I quit struggling, let go. My arms fall.
Another splash hits the water. Something rough and hard brushes my arm. I grab and miss. Reaching once more, I take hold. My fingers curl around the uneven object and I feel a tug. I grip with all my strength as the tree branch lifts me an inch.
The mud is relentless and fights for me, sucking me down. But my will is stronger. I press my lips together to keep the muck out. With my lungs near bursting, I grit my teeth; pull until my muscles shake with effort. My nose breaks the surface. Water fills my mouth. I fight like a cat as I’m hauled a bit further out. My lungs are on fire, begging for air as my head clears the pool. I cough and choke, but I don’t let go of the branch.
“Raven! Oh God, baby, hold on!”
Gideon’s smooth voice is like music. He’s alive. As my eyes clear of water, I see someone pulling on the tree branch alongside him. Jamis? My body slides over the bank, and as my feet disengage from the deadly peat, Gideon grabs my wrists and pulls me into his arms. His hands cup my face. Despite the mud covering me, he kisses my head and cheeks, my eyelids.
While I break into another fit of coughing, he pulls his cell from his back pocket and hands it to Jamis. “Call Dave. His number is in there under ‘physician.’ Tell him we have a gunshot wound and near drowning. Then bring the car around.”
“You hurt?” I gasp. My lungs scorch as air fills them again. “Cole.”
His arm tightens around my waist. “He’ll be okay. We’re both okay.”
Memories rewind to the heavy splash I heard just before I went under. I crane my neck, peering o
ver my shoulder at the murky waters. “Where’s Des—”
“Let’s get you to the car, all right?” Gideon lifts me against his chest and stands. A girl could get used to being carried everywhere she goes, especially by this guy. My muscles go limp as his body warms me. I snuggle into his neck. The scent of ash and musk lingers on his clothes. Gideon rubs his jaw on my face; stubble scrapes my skin. “You’ll be the death of me, girl.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sales Hollow Medical Center is closed for the night, but Dr. Dave is hard at work anyway. Gideon must pay him a small fortune to drop what he’s doing at four AM and see us, but that’s what’s happening.
Cole and I are in separate rooms. I swear we’ve been here ten hours, but Dave says more like two. Gideon sleeps in the chair by my bed. It’s becoming a habit. I notice with some satisfaction the clock above his head keeps ticking.
I like that.
My fingers shake as I slowly pull the needle connected to my arm from the vein. I wrinkle my nose, hanging the tube over my bed rail. There’s something I need to do, and it won’t wait. Out the door, down the short hallway, and into Cole’s room I go. It wasn’t hard to find. There are only six doors on this hall.
My new friend lies in a bed hooked to an IV just as I was. He’s naked from the waist up, the planes of his chest defined and lean. His shoulder is bandaged in several layers of gauze covering a wide area. Cole Wynter looks much like his picture did, but older, more mature. His eyelids blink open. I take a deep breath, but all that comes out is, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” I love his accent. An American girl is usually a sucker for a European accent, and I’m no exception.
I wrap my stupid gown tighter around me and shuffle over to the bed. “If I sit here, will it hurt you?” I nod toward the end of the mattress where his feet make two hills beneath the covers. “I think we should talk.”