by J. K. Coi
Every time he blinked, he expected to see one of his fellow soldiers falling into the thick muck of the battlefield, hear the cacophony of the firing cannons and smell acrid, burning gun smoke on the air. If he’d somehow dragged Anna into his worst nightmare, he would never forgive himself.
“I’ll be right behind you, just get inside the house where it’s safe. Go on. Go. Go!”
He pushed her onward. She backed up a few more steps, but her gaze remained fixed on the horrific sight before them. She seemed unable to tear herself away.
He urged her again to get moving and finally she turned and started to run, but their sudden movements drew the horde’s attention. The group swerved en masse to follow, like a swarm of buzzing locusts.
Anna cried out suddenly, stumbling and falling to her knees.
“What happened?” He rushed to her side.
She cradled her bare foot and groaned. “I stepped on something.” Her eyes widened as she glanced over his shoulder and pointed. “Graham!”
Spinning around, he surged up, barely missing the grasping reach of a clawed hand.
The creature roared, its face contorting into a mask of fury before it lunged for him again. Graham fought to hold it off, but it was inhumanly strong. Stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before.
Its fingers dug into his arms and pulled him closer in a kind of sick embrace. The gaping maw that was its mouth opened wide.
It snapped yellowed teeth at him, barely missing his nose. He felt certain that if he let those teeth close on any part of him, they would never let go.
The others were loping toward them at an almost run. He felt the horrible certainty that they wanted a taste as well.
Suddenly his attacker jerked its head up and snarled. It let go of him and spun around. Anna was holding a large rock in each hand. She threw one, bouncing it off the creature’s forehead. “Let him go!” she yelled.
Graham ducked around the thing while it was distracted. It pitched forward and made a grab for Anna, but Graham got to her first and pulled her out of the way with him.
They raced toward the gardens. The creatures were fast. He and Anna were barely able to stay ahead of them, and when Anna tripped again and slowed to regain her balance, he felt fingers snagging the back of his shirt.
“Hurry!” he yelled, pulling her with him faster as whatever had him from behind lost its grip.
Looking over his shoulder, he was surprised how close the ghoulish assailants had gotten. They moved clumsily, and it seemed they shouldn’t have the coordination to go any faster than a stumble. And yet they kept coming as if nothing would stop them, not even the stagnant blood that no longer circulated through their bodies but sat heavy in their feet.
They were able to keep ahead of the horde, but a glance over his shoulder proved they were being followed with dogged determination. They kept coming. Marching for him like a wall of angry, dead soldiers.
If he didn’t do something, these dead things—he couldn’t even pretend they might be otherwise—were going to converge on the main house, which was all too vulnerable. Too many windows that could be shattered, too many unlocked doors. He may have been gone for three years, but it was still the country after all. You never had to worry about trespassers when everyone in the area was a friend.
Anna pulled him to a stop.
“What are you doing?”
He clasped her hand, but she danced away and picked up a large stone from the garden, big enough to fill her hand completely. “Trying to distract them.”
“Wait. No, don’t.” He reached for her again, but she was already aiming for the gardener’s shed, which rose as a dark shadow above the line of hedges about fifty meters away.
He’d misunderstood her intention. She wasn’t going to throw rocks at them. Instead, she threw the rock as hard as she could in the opposite direction, hitting the broad side of the shed. It made a heavy thud, and another dull knock as the rock hit the ground afterward.
Their pursuers stopped. At first only a few of them, but as those turned away to explore the noise, the others followed as well.
“Good move,” he said, impressed with her quick thinking.
“How long do you suppose that will keep them occupied?” she whispered.
He glanced at their retreating backs. Their shambling gaits appeared unfocused and random, but he had a sinking suspicion they hungered for something very specific and would not be distracted for long.
“Hopefully long enough for us to warn the household.”
Neither of them wanted to attract their attention again. With that in mind, they continued walking but slowly, going backward and watching carefully for any sign of renewed interest.
Entering the house through the kitchen, he quickly shut and slid the bolt down across the thick wooden door while Anna raced over to the windows.
The shutters slammed against the window frame as she pulled them together. They locked closed with a simple clip, but it wouldn’t take much to break the glass and tear them open from the outside.
There wouldn’t be enough time to fortify the entire household. He held out his hand for hers. “Come with me. We’ll wake everyone and—”
“You’ve already awakened the house with your mischief, but I suppose that’s the prerogative of the new Earl of Kent.”
Graham spun toward the figure standing in the entrance. The man leaned a shoulder against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles as if he were quite comfortable there. “As is cavorting unchaperoned in the dead of night with gently bred village maidens, I suppose.”
A sneer played across his lips when he glanced from Graham to Anna, taking in her disheveled appearance and bare feet in a long look up and down her body.
This was the figure from the window. Another insolent servant, or could this actually be Lillian’s son? Graham didn’t know why he had expected a youth still in the nursery, but he certainly hadn’t considered that a woman who looked as young as she did could be mother to a man full grown.
“Charles!” Anna gasped, pulling Graham’s jacket tighter around her body.
Charles?
Yet another blow. This was the man Anna had fallen for while he was gone? This long-haired, impudent young bruiser?
As much as he was certainly no child in short pants, he couldn’t be old enough to seriously consider courting a woman…which meant his intentions toward her could not be honorable.
Graham returned Charles’ level stare. The man held himself with a coarse confidence…and buckets of arrogance. He had muscle to him, and his nose had obviously been broken at some point. In fact, if he hadn’t just decided otherwise, Graham would have believed him to be another of Lillian’s strapping servants.
He didn’t look much older than Anna herself, and the thought of her and him, together…a film of red descended over Graham’s eyes. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Gather the servants and your lady mother,” he ordered. Not that he’d seen any other servants except for the one who answered the door earlier this evening.
Charles simply lifted an eyebrow, showing no inclination to do as he was being told.
“Charles, please. We’re under attack,” Anna added breathlessly.
“By what?” He snorted. “Those annoying birds that call at all hours of the day and night? Or the buzzing gnats that swarm as soon as you step out of doors? I swear, London may have been dirty and crowded, but it’s this country life that will be the death—” He stopped and frowned. “What are you doing here at this time of night, Annabelle? Dressed like that? I hope to God you didn’t traipse through those dark woods alone—”
“Take care the tone you use when speaking to her,” Graham snapped, fists clenched at his sides as he started forward. He didn’t like the man’s easy familiarity with her given name.
Anna grabbed his arm to hold him back while Charles barked out a brittle laugh.
“There isn’t time for this,” she said impatiently, glancing between the two o
f them. She shuddered. “Charles, we were outside and…they came from the graveyard…”
The man suddenly straightened and turned a dark glare on them both. Graham was taken aback at the transformation from sullen and haughty to alert and determined. At the same time, Graham noticed the distinct bulge of a revolver holstered under his arm.
Why did everyone in this household feel it necessary to carry a weapon?
“Don’t tell me one of you was stupid enough to make a wish over that cursed tin box.”
“What box?” Anna asked with a frown, looking back and forth between them for answers. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Graham reluctantly pulled the tinderbox from his pocket. “I have a feeling he means this.”
It warmed as soon as he touched it. Looking down, he sucked in a hard breath when he saw that it was just as dirty and tarnished as it had been before he’d diligently rubbed it clean.
“What do you know of it?” he demanded of the young man with a scowl.
“Just when I let myself think we were almost done with this bloody thing,” Charles mumbled. He shook his head as if he were being forced to deal with idiots. “You have no idea the trouble you’ve brought down on us all. Give it to me.” He held out his hand. Graham didn’t move. He didn’t understand what Charles was talking about, but he wasn’t handing anything over to anyone until someone explained what was going on.
“What does this old thing have to do with what’s happening out there?” Anna asked, looking down at it too. As he watched, her confusion and distress turned to fascination and she reverently reached over his forearm to touch it. Graham tucked the tinderbox back in his pocket with a hard swallow and shivered when she let out a breathy cry of dismay.
He was starting to realize this was no ordinary keepsake. Even as he told himself there was something very wrong with it, he couldn’t bring himself to let it go. He couldn’t let anyone else touch it. And the thought of giving it up caused acute pains to shoot through his chest.
“That…” With a sharp clicking of heels on the wood floor, Lillian came up behind her son, who moved aside to allow her entry into the kitchen. “Is the reason we’re being overrun by walking corpses this fine spring evening.”
Graham couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Gone was the glamorous and intimidating new lady of the house. In her place stood a woman who intimidated just as well, but in an entirely different manner.
She had changed from the elaborate gown of earlier, but instead of something more appropriate for an evening at home, she wore leather breeches, high-legged boots and a man’s lawn shirt with a black vest over top.
Her hair was pulled into a braid and leather gloves covered her hands. She held her chin high and, of all things, there was a sword strapped to her hip.
“I told you we should have taken the thing when you saw him with it earlier,” Charles said to her.
She nodded, lips pressed together. “So you did. And if he’d gone to sleep like we expected him to, I would have done just that. But now the damage is done and we must deal with the consequences.”
They had made plans to steal from him under his own roof?
Just who were these people?
“Stop talking in riddles about ridiculous things such as cursed boxes and walking corpses, and tell me what the hell is really going on here. Unless you want me to turn you over to the magistrate as thieves?” Graham raised a brow.
Neither of them looked the least bit worried about his threat. Nor did they look at all ashamed or cowed.
His stomach roiled and he felt a sudden urge to vomit as the horrible thought of earlier returned. Worse than thieves, could they have tricked Graham’s father into marrying this woman, then orchestrated his death? Murdered him to gain control over his wealth, believing Graham out of the picture as a casualty of war? Their effrontery was incredible.
Lillian only laughed in the face of Graham’s sudden harsh scrutiny, hands on her hips. “Not that I’m admitting to being a thief. In fact, I’m still debating my response to that insult, and I think I may be offended. Remind me later and we’ll see.” She paused. “But even though they seem to be preoccupied with something else for the moment, if we don’t deal with the things outside this house, a couple of possible thieves will be the least of your problems.”
She may be right. He feared any moment now that the creatures wandering out there looking for them would start pounding against the door to be let in. And God help them all if they broke through.
“What’s happening out there?” he demanded. “Where did those…things come from?”
There was pity in her eyes as she gazed back at him. “Trust me, my lord. You don’t want to know.”
“You’re right, I do not,” he agreed. “And yet, I have a feeling that what I want doesn’t matter very much.”
“I can’t save you your illusions about the world, my lord.” Her voice gentled. “But if you help us clear the zombies from your property, we will be on our way come morning. It will be like a bad dream and you can soon go back to living your quiet country life, pretending none of this ever really happened.”
Zombies?
He scoffed. “After what I experienced these last three years, trust me when I say I have no illusions left to me, madam. I know all about the darkness in this world.” Granted, he’d never heard of anything like this…not outside of his nightmares at least.
Beside him, Anna slipped her hand into his. He felt the strength of her silent support all the way to his bones. She was like a slice of white light in that darkness. A respite from it. A respite he didn’t deserve.
He gently drew his hand back.
“This is not like what you’ve seen in any war,” Lillian assured him with a brash confidence. “What we’re dealing with here is a result of magic. Old magic. Black magic. It’s the very definition of evil.” She braced her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. “But since you managed to come out of your war alive, perhaps you’ll have a chance against those things outside.”
“And what are those things?” Anna repeated. She jumped as a loud thud sounded against the door.
“They’re the result of whatever wish you made.”
She shook her head and frowned, confused. “But I didn’t make any wish.”
Graham’s stomach fell. He didn’t want to believe this woman’s accusations. It all sounded so ridiculous after all, and yet…
“I did. I made a wish.” He turned to Anna with a bittersweet smile. “I wished for you, and there you were. Now I know it was indeed too good to be true.”
“I’m going to have to insist that you hand over the tinderbox.” Lillian turned to her son. He nodded and swept back the edge of his jacket. He pulled his weapon, an impressive American revolver, and pointed it at Graham.
Anna gasped. He threw his arm in front of her to keep her out of the direct line of fire, although he didn’t think the other man would actually shoot.
He drew in a sharp breath as time unwound and the past became the present. Another weapon had been pointed at him then. Another boy’s face snarling at him, grimy with sweat and mud and blood. Younger than Graham. Younger even than Charles here. Graham had already been injured, but he’d still cut that other boy down without a thought.
He’d seen and dealt so much death, every time he looked down he expected to see himself bathed in it. To see blood dripping from his nose and off each of his fingertips. He expected to look over his shoulder and see the corpses of the men he’d killed coming for him.
He shook his head and focused. His hand went into the pocket of his trousers and closed over the metal box. It was warm now whenever he touched it, almost as if it had been awakened from sleep and now possessed some eerie awareness.
Lillian’s gaze followed. She looked wary and he had the feeling they were holding back. Charles had to know he was unarmed, but although they’d demanded the tinderbox, they hadn’t tried to rush him for it. Could it be they were afraid? Afra
id of what he might do with the grubby antique?
Just how powerful was this thing? Could it be true, was there some magic attached to it? Had his wish actually brought Anna to him out by the lake? Could he make such magic work for him again?
Charles was watching him, his weapon steady on its target, almost as if he knew what Graham was thinking.
All the stories told by the old women down in the village square always warned about the consequences of trifling with magic.
He looked at Lillian. “How did you know about the tinderbox?” Time he turned the conversation back around so he could get some answers. He remembered the way she’d been eyeing it that afternoon when they met. “You knew what it was as soon as you saw it, and yet you didn’t say a word to me.”
She shrugged, showing not a smidgen of guilt. “That’s because I was hoping to steal it from you before you had the chance to figure out what it really was.”
He snorted. She even admitted her criminal intentions! “And what does a lady want with black magic?” he demanded, making it clear her status as lady was seriously in question.
“I want to destroy it.” Her gaze narrowed and her tone could have cut through steel it was so sharp. “And the witch it belongs to.”
“Explain yourself,” he demanded.
Her chin snapped up. “Don’t you order me around,” she snarled, brashly stepping across the room until she stood in front of him, close enough to poke him in the chest. “If it weren’t for me—”
“My father would still be alive,” he finished. Anna gasped. “Isn’t that right, Lillian? Or is that even your real name?”
He grabbed her arm. She’d been trying to slip her hand right into his pocket like a cutpurse off the London streets. “Ah ah ah,” he warned. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for that. Do you?”
Her response was a hot glare that promised she would get what she wanted one way or the other.
“Who are you and what did my father have to do with all of this? Why did he marry you? What did you want from him? Did you kill him?”
Since the moment he met her, Graham had known the woman was other than what she seemed, but now he was officially out of patience…and tired of having a gun pointed at him.