by J. K. Coi
Anna crossed her arms and stood by him. In the face of such chaos and horror, he was astounded by her quiet strength. Obviously, it didn’t come from battle experience, and she didn’t have a sword strapped to her hip like Lillian and Charles. Anna’s strength was from the core of steel that had always been part of her, even when she was a child being terrorized by hateful boys. He’d gone to war with fully grown men who’d completely fallen apart in less extreme circumstances than these, but not Anna.
Anna was composed. As much as he wanted to wish her away for her safety—and dared not—her presence was a circle of calm, like the eye of a raging tornado.
“I will fight,” she said.
He shuddered. She hadn’t asked for any of this. No matter how capable she’d proven herself to be already, there was no way he could take that kind of chance with her life. “No, Lillian’s right. If we can make it to the village, we’ll be able to rally others to come back and help.”
Charles and Hartman nodded in agreement as well. They quickly retreated to the main hall. Lillian’s other man swiveled toward them, the long barrel of a rifle pointing at them.
“Hold,” Charles stepped up, hands raised.
“Well, you surely did startle me. I heard a heck of a commotion a few minutes ago and was gettin’ a mite worried.” Another American, like Hartman. Younger than Jasper had been, with a shock of blond hair that stuck up in all directions. He smiled a big dumb farm boy smile, and Graham had to wonder how someone like this had gotten caught up in black magic and zombies.
“Let’s go,” he said, tugging on Anna’s hand.
A crash sounded from the kitchen. Another came from the direction of the library, along with heavy pounding on the doors of the front entrance.
“Nobody’s home, come back tomorrow.” Charles called with a grin. Lillian glared at her son, but he only shrugged.
Everyone instinctively moved together and formed a circle, covering one another’s backs as they faced out with their weapons ready. Creatures stumbled out of the kitchen, struggling against each other to get through the doorway. Charles aimed and fired at the one in the lead, but the rest only shoved the body aside or climbed over it and kept coming.
They all edged backward. The dead were pouring in through the front entrance now as well, and the sound of shattering glass echoing down the hall from the library meant that avenue was barred to them too.
Graham looked over as the library door flew open and hit the wall, rebounding back at the zombies coming through it. Not that it stopped them or even slowed them down. With hands outstretched and mouths hanging open, they zeroed right in on the group of humans.
How are we going to get out now?” Anna asked, her gaze fixed. “All of the exits are blocked.”
“We have to move up,” Graham answered. “If we go upstairs, they’ll come after us, but at least they can’t surround us. They’ll bottleneck on the staircase and we can take them on two or three at a time instead of being mobbed.”
Over his shoulder, Lillian said, “We’re going to have to fight our way there.”
Being closest to the stairs, she and Bart went first. He took a shot, scattering the horde standing between them and their destination long enough to make a narrow path.
Graham kept Anna close by his side. Charles and Hartman took the rear, walking backward as they sent calculated gunfire into the throng of zombies surging after them.
He caught the arm of a zombie reaching out for the braided plait of Anna’s hair, and the thought of those dirty, dead hands touching her sent him over the edge. His fist connected with its decaying face and he shoved it back into the ones coming up behind it before moving on to another.
The group was forced to spread out to take on the threat. Three of the creatures converged on them at once, and he had to let Anna go. He fought hand-to-hand using his fists and jabbing with his elbows, feeling bone crunch against his knuckles and watching the zombies fall one after the other, just to get back up again and keep coming.
It was his worst nightmare come true, the sight and smell of rancid blood, that blank soulless look in their eyes…watching dead men rise off the ground and come for him. He clenched his teeth and continued to fight, trying not to think about any of it. He did it for Anna, because he had to get her out of this.
Bart’s next shot missed its mark and a candle sconce on the wall shattered, throwing dark shadows over everything. He was swarmed, and with only one other light source on the other side of the hall, the sight was suddenly even more nightmarish. Lillian hacked at them with her sword and beat them back again. He glanced over, Anna had grabbed a heavy wooden rolling pin from the kitchen and swung it with surprising efficiency.
Finally, they reached the staircase. Charles and Hartman remained there to hold back the horde as Graham pushed Anna up the stairs and Lillian followed. He turned back around.
Charles shook his head. “Keep moving. Don’t worry about us.”
“I won’t leave you two to fight these monsters alone,” he said. “There are too many. You’ll be overwhelmed.”
Charles glanced over Graham’s shoulder to where Anna stood. The defensive façade of a cavalier young scrapper flickered away, revealing a man who’d accepted that there were things he would never have. “You have to get them both out of here.”
Lillian started coming back down, but at Charles’ warning look, Graham took her elbow and held her back. He pulled her with him up the staircase, but after only a few steps she twisted around and dug in her feet. “Both of you had better—”
“You get yourself up those stairs, Lily, or you and me are finally going to have it out between us,” Hartman called after her, the deep twang in his voice more pronounced, even as he took another shot. “You really want to do that here and now?”
She paused. “Don’t you let my son die, Hart.”
Graham felt like an intruder on their private exchange. There was history between these two that he didn’t know about and frankly…didn’t want to know about.
“Watch your back,” she continued, “and keep count of your ammunition, and—”
Hartman grinned and primed his rifle like it was second nature to do so. “In ten years, have I ever failed to come back to you?”
She growled at him. “Just make sure you come back alive.”
“Yes…mistress.”
Chapter Eleven
At the top of the stairs Lillian stopped. “I’m staying here,” she said, pulling a second small pistol from inside her boot and handing it to him.
Graham laughed but didn’t take it. “I don’t know how you manage to hide all those weapons during the day when you’re forced to dress like a well-bred lady. Velvet and lace don’t exactly go with gunpowder and lead.”
“You’re right, it was a constant struggle. Someone like me was never meant to live the life of a lady.” She shoved the gun at him.
He finally took the weapon. “Remember, the widow of an Earl doesn’t live by society’s rules, she can make any rules she damn well pleases and watch everyone else rush to copy her.”
“We all know I’m never going to be a lady in anything but name only.” Lillian dismissed the matter with a snort and refocused her attention to the lower level. “I’ll cover Charles and Hartman from above. Both of you go and try to find a window to climb out. There won’t be as many of the creatures outside anymore. Hopefully, you can make it to the village.”
“There must be some way to stop them without putting anyone from the village in danger,” Anna said.
Graham racked his brain. There had to be some way to break the curse.
“How?” he mumbled. “How do we end this?” He found himself directing his question to Anna, seeking her counsel.
“I’ve been trying to figure out that very thing.” If they got through this, he was suddenly confident they would make an excellent team as parents to a pair of rough and tumble boys, or maybe two brilliant little girls who looked exactly like her.
“What if we wished the creatures away?” he asked.
“That might work, but wouldn’t we only succeed in raising a new batch?” She frowned. “I think that’s what it wants. For us to find any excuse to make a wish so it can keep sending more and more monsters.”
She was right. And yet…
He’d been compromised by the curse. It was in his blood now and he knew it, but it didn’t stop the irresistible conviction that making another wish was the only way out of this mess.
“It’s an endless circle, isn’t it?” he said.
Realizing that his hand was already halfway inside his jacket pocket, he clenched it into a tight fist and took Anna’s hand instead.
Suddenly he had the answer. It was a circle. He knew what they had to do. Tightening his grip, he called to Lillian. “We’ll be right back!”
She spun and grabbed his arm. “Don’t do it. I can see the ridiculous plan in your eyes. I can’t let you make another wish. You’ll think it’s the only way, but you’ll be wrong.” She held out her hand. “Give me the box.”
“You have to trust me,” he said.
“Please.” Her jaw clenched and she shook her head. “I can’t do that. There’s too much at stake.” She raised her revolver. “Give it to me. Don’t make me force that trinket out of your cold, dead hands.”
He slipped his hand into his pocket. Her gaze darted down, eyes widening. She licked her lips and her weapon dipped. It was just enough, and he took her by surprise when he swung out with his other arm and knocked the gun out of her hands.
Lillian screeched after him, but below them Hartman cried out. She couldn’t follow. Not without leaving Charles and Hartman to face the dead things alone.
“Graham, what are you doing? Where are we going?” Anna cried as he dragged her with him into the nearest bedroom, which happened to be his father’s.
Someone had shoved the tallboy in front of the window. A monstrous, four poster bed dominated one end of the room, with a heavy mahogany desk balancing it out at the other end of the room.
Graham could feel his father’s presence in here. He could almost see him pacing across the rug while he dressed Graham down for some childish prank, sitting at the desk writing to his solicitor, or lounging in the oversized club chair by the fire with a book. Although there’d been a perfectly good library downstairs, he’d liked to spend time in this room sometimes, because fewer people had bothered him here.
“We can’t just leave the others,” Anna said, breathing heavily.
“We won’t,” he assured her. “We’re going to save them.”
He was captivated by her sparkling eyes and the blush of adrenaline in her cheeks. He shouldn’t waste any more time, but the temptation to taste the honeyed nectar of her sweet lips was too much. He bent down and kissed her lightly. She clasped his shirtfront in her fists and leaned into him, giving him more.
“Just a taste,” he murmured, “for luck.”
He lifted his head and smiled before squeezing her shoulders. “I’m almost certain we can put an end to this, but we have to do it together.” He had the tinderbox in his hand and held it between them.
Anna caught her breath in a sharp hiss. “Graham, no.” She reached out to touch, but drew her hand back quickly and shook her head. “No more wishes. We both know it isn’t safe.”
“This time it will be different,” he insisted, knowing he sounded desperate but needing her to believe in him despite that. He started to rub the tarnished metal. “If we both put our hands on it and make a wish at the same time—”
“But how can that break the curse, won’t it make things worse?”
“Not if we’re wishing at exactly the same time, for absolute opposites.”
She paused, considering. “It would have to be something truly opposite so that the magic couldn’t somehow grant both our wishes.”
“Exactly,” he said. “But if I’m right and we do this properly, the two wishes should create an impossible dichotomy, cancel each other out and hopefully set everything to rights.”
She bit her lip. “What if we’re wrong and it doesn’t work? Who knows how many of those things we would be raising.”
The sound of breaking glass startled them both, and before they could do anything, the barricade in front of the window came crashing down, pushed from outside.
“Graham, they’re going to get in!”
He aimed the pistol for the window. The zombies had become more tenacious and climbed up to the bedroom balcony. He gazed out. A sliver of light was visible on the horizon. Morning was almost here.
One of the creatures’ worm-eaten faces snarled in at them as it clumsily tried to climb through the broken window. The gun was heavy in his other hand, but he fired. He had to.
The creature careened back and screamed, an enraged high-pitched banshee screech, but his shot hadn’t stopped it. It wasn’t going to stay down. And now there were already three more, all shoving and fighting to get through the window.
He took Anna’s chin and turned her face to his. “Focus on me,” he urged. “Don’t look at anything but me.”
“What do we wish for?” He grabbed her hand and put it on the tinderbox so they held onto it together.
She swallowed hard. Her green gaze was steady, but her voice shook just a little. She was so brave and strong. He loved her so much. This had better work, or he would be damning both their souls to hell.
Suddenly, she straightened. “I’ve got it,” she said. “You must wish for my wish to be denied.”
He didn’t ask if she was certain. He trusted her. “All right.”
A scream. Not from outside, but in the house.
He turned and fired into the throng of dead things climbing through the window. His second and last shot. Another inhuman screech shattered the night, but the rest of the zombies kept coming without hesitation.
Too late. They needed more time.
They needed—
I wish, I wish, I wish.
Anna squeezed his hand. He took a deep breath. They both spoke at the same time.
“I wish for Graham’s wish to be granted.”
“I wish for Anna’s wish to be denied.”
As the words left their mouths, the tinderbox started to burn and the creatures outside the room and clamoring at the window roared so loudly, Anna let go and covered her ears.
Graham’s stomach dropped. Had they made a mistake? A deadly, horrible mistake?
The heat suddenly turned to cold. A cold that enveloped the tinderbox in a layer of intense frost that travelled into his hand and up his arm until Graham feared the shock would stop his heart when it hit.
He dropped the thing to the ground and watched it shatter into dust at their feet.
Anna gasped. Graham turned toward the window.
“It worked,” she whispered, looking stunned. “They’re gone.”
The door burst open and the others tumbled inside, swords and pistols pointing right at Graham and Anna.
“What have you done?” Lillian cried. There was a long scratch down her cheek that hadn’t been there before, and her blade was coated in thick black blood. Charles was similarly disheveled, but his face reflected a cautious hope as he looked around the room.
Graham retrieved Anna’s hand and squeezed tightly. “The tinderbox has been destroyed,” he said. “And with it, the dead have returned to their eternal rest.” At least he hoped to God that was the case.
“You wished for it? And that worked?” She seemed to be having difficulty believing it could truly be so simple.
“Anna and I made opposite wishes on the tinderbox at the same time. I couldn’t know for certain it would work, but I had to take the chance that our wishes would create an unresolvable conflict. I think we did it. Neither wish could be accommodated, so the magic sort of…imploded on itself.”
Lillian finally let the tip of her sword drop. She lifted one hand to rub her forehead, as if exhaustion had rushed in to take the place of fear and
worry now that the threat had passed. Beside her, Hartman lifted his big hand to her shoulder.
“Well, I suppose that’s that,” she finally said, glancing around at the broken window and shattered furniture. “I’ll leave you to clean this mess up, while we go and pack our things.”
Charles looked surprised.
Graham stopped her when she turned to leave the room. “That’s it? You’re going?”
She shrugged. “What is there for us here? It isn’t our home, not really.”
“You’re all more than welcome to stay at Hill House…as long as you promise not to ever decorate,” he said with a smile. “Even if we didn’t owe you our lives, you’re still my father’s widow.”
Through the window came the haunting howl of several dogs. Lillian’s expression turned hard and cold. “The tinderbox may have been destroyed, but the witch is still out there,” she said, turning to her son. Charles’ jaw was clenched tight, but he nodded.
“We’ll continue our hunt for vengeance, as distasteful as it may seem to you. I won’t be satisfied until I’ve pierced her black heart with my blade and condemned her soul to the fires of hell.”
“When will you leave?”
“Might as well leave today,” Charles said, turning to Anna with a grin. “I suppose it was never going to work between us?”
She smiled at his teasing and stepped forward to hug him. “You’ve been a good friend. Please stay in touch as much as you can.”
He nodded. “But if he ever dies for real, you let me know, all right?”
Graham stepped forward, but felt no hard feelings as he put his hand out. “Take care of yourself and be careful.”
“What’s the fun in that?” But he accepted the gesture and they shook hands. Graham even clapped the younger man on the shoulder. He was a decent chap. Cocky. Smart-mouthed. But he would have made a good soldier and Graham wished him well.