Ring of Roses

by Sara Clancy

  Heart pounding, Annabel blindly gripped the edge of the upper floor and hurled her torso through the gap. A thick layer of soot and grime covered the floorboards she clutched at. Long dregs of it twisted around her clawing fingers. It bellowed around her in a cloud as she scurried on hands and knees. Relieved of her weight, the staircase’s screams quietened.

  Then there was silence.

  The room was as still and dark as the floor below. Fine tremors raced along her spine, shaking her apart as her heartbeat throbbed in her veins. It was quiet enough to hear the stirred filth settle once again upon the floorboards. A new spike of fear drove deep into her chest, morphing Jezebel’s name into a weak whimper.

  “Shh,” Jezebel whispered.

  A rustle of fabric and her older sister found her. Placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Annabel sagged with relief under the familiar weight. It never occurred to either sister to get to their feet. Without a word of discussion, they crawled frantically across the chipped floorboards. Annabel didn’t know where Jezebel was taking her. She didn’t ask. Merely followed the silent instructions spoken through Jezebel’s taps and nudges.

  The dense night gave her no warning. She struck the far wall head first and reeled back with a pained hiss. A sharp, sudden scrap made her flinch. She would have reeled back if Jezebel hadn’t instantly shushed her. While she managed to keep her silence, she was achingly aware of how exposed they were. She longed to hide. To curl into a corner and wait for the dawn. All that she had was the wall, so she pressed against it, relishing in the minimal comfort it offered. Her logical mind had been silent for a moment. Even now it ranted and raved that there wasn’t anything to fear. It didn’t quell the dread that moved under her skin like swarming insects. Instead, it heightened it. Even as a child, logic and will had been enough for her to reduce all of her fears into manageable debris. Reason was a weapon she had long since mastered. But now, it was worthless. And she didn’t know what to do; how to fight back the churning fear that clenched her stomach and left her gasping for air. A cold sweat stood in mockery of her attempts to control herself.

  “Shh,” Jezebel whispered from the darkness. “You have to be quiet.”

  She hadn’t even realized that she was whimpering. A burst of light sent a thrill of terror through her. She pressed her shoulder hard against the wall and flung her hands up to shield her face. Between her fingers, she stared at her sister. In the darkness, the beam had first appeared to have the strength of a lighthouse. Rapid blinks adjusted her eyes and the glare dwindled. The oppressive darkness still gave the light an unwarranted strength, but it was clearly weak on its own. Constant but unstable. Fire? The combination of confusion and sight gave Annabel the strength to lower her hands.

  Jezebel caught her eyes. Slowly, she set a single finger against her lips. The shredded remains of her logical mind raged against the request. Why keep quiet? Someone is finally here! The words didn’t possess the allure they had before. With dread burning her insides like acid, she slowly nodded. Jezebel bit her lips into a tight, thin line and let her eyes roam the room, taking note of all the odds and ends that were scattered around them.

  They watched the light sweep across the walls. Rolling from one corner to the other. By all rights, it shouldn't have been strong enough to stir the shadows. Still, the light slashed into the darkness as if they were physical bodies. The lingering smoke that pressed against the cracked glass of the window scattered the glow instead of stifling it, turning the outside world into a golden mist. What made it through the lens caught the specks of dust and ash and danced through the air. The beam of light crept over the walls slowly. Then, in a swift swipe, it whipped back the other way. Annabel dropped to the floor, jamming herself as much as she could against the wall. It kept her in the weakened shadows. Hidden from anyone outside. Completely exposed to the staircase.

  The siblings shared a glance. Not a word passed, but an agreement was reached. They started to slide towards the window set a few feet behind Jezebel. Neither of them dared to push themselves up high enough to crawl, so they slithered on their stomachs.

  From the moment they had arrived, the smoke had sat heavily over the town square, keeping the tops of the buildings from sight. Annabel hadn’t spared the architecture much thought, but would have assumed that these buildings would have been given the same treatment as the lower floors. All the buildings that had bordered the road here had been sealed tight. It startled her to find that both of the windows, one set on either side, had been left untouched. A network of cracks in the glass had allowed the rain to enter the room. The puddle it had formed beneath the window was thick with clogged dust and stank like something was already growing in the filth. Jezebel’s nose scrunched up with disgust as she crawled through it, stopping at the nearest edge. She waited for her sister to finish the quick spurt of movement. Unless someone was standing at the window itself, it would be impossible for her to be spotted by anyone outside. Still, Annabel watched her sister intensely, sure that she would be seen. That they were about to be found by whatever was lurking beyond the walls.

  It was impossible to draw a decent breath until she saw her big sister make it to the far side. Relief left her dizzy, and she slumped against the wall. Jezebel’s chest heaved as she drew her legs in, arranging herself into a crouch. Neither of them had noticed the beam completing another sweep of the room until the light was almost on them. They cringed away, both trying and failing to conceal their fear from the other. Each now had a corner of the window. Once the light had moved on, they crept up, rising just enough to peek outside.

  There wasn’t a hint of light from smoldering embers, but as she leaned closer to the glass, Annabel caught the scent of new smoke. It struck her nose, sharp and volatile, making her sputter. Pinching her nose, she waited for the coughing fit to pass. Carefully drawing in some air, she paused.

  Roses.

  Mingled with the scent of burning ash were the distinct notes of fresh roses. The light perfume penetrated the air and tainted every lungful. She glanced at Jezebel, needing some assurance that she wasn’t the only one who had smelt it. Confusion creased her sister's brow as she tilted her head, sniffing the air. She smells it, too. Maybe it is a festival after all.

  Almost in unison, the sisters turned their attention to the right, searching the swirling, yellowed mist for a glimpse of the battlement doors. Almost as if swept aside by her will, the smoke cleared, exposing the dark wall. The grand gates were thrown wide. Hovering points of light drifted through the opening, their combined strength allowing her to make out more detail. Battered wood and rusted metal. Flashes of movement. All the while, she couldn't catch a glimpse of anything beyond the gates. She couldn’t even point where the glowing orbs were coming from. They seemed to spark into existence as they crossed the threshold. The orbs swept forward and the smoke crowded forward again. The haze obscured her view and distorted reality. That was the only excuse she could think of. The only explanation for the figures illuminated by the floating balls of light.

  Even as they stood within the minimal light, the glow didn’t touch them. They remained utterly black. With no change in shade or tone. As if they had been forged by some bottomless abyss. Several feet tall and impossibly thin, they drifted forward with unnatural grace. Like they never touched the ground. At the same time, no matter how carefully she searched for it, she couldn't catch a single sign of movement. The long robes they wore never swayed. Their upper bodies were motionless. Their left arms appeared riveted to their sides. Using their right arm, they each held a lantern straight out before them.

  She tracked them with her gaze. Watched them as they travelled from the gates to the town square. And yet she couldn't believe that they had taken a single step. They looked as still and rigid as stone. Even the wrought iron lanterns they held refused to sway.

  The procession travelled in a single line. Annabel tried to count how many there were, but the easy task eluded her. All the numbers jumbled in her head and
her vision blurred. The sensations grew worse with every attempt until she finally gave up. The shrouded figures entered the town square like a breath of wind. Silent as death. Annabel strained to hear their footsteps against the broken cobblestones as they neared. There was nothing. Not even a rustle of fabric. And all the while, the scent of roses had been growing stronger. It filled her head until all other smells ceased to exist.

  Not brave enough to turn her head, in case the movement drew attention, she glanced out of the corner of her eyes to Jezebel. Her sister didn't acknowledge her. Every trace of her attention was fixed on the strangers.

  “Oh, God,” Jezebel whispered.

  Annabel's gut lurched as she snapped her eyes back to the figures. She had only taken her eyes off them for a few seconds, but they were already yards ahead of where they should be. Perhaps the length of two buildings away. And they were coming closer. Nearing the brittle remains of the bonfires. Their chosen path took them directly before the sister's hiding place.

  As they drew near, the fog stirred and Annabel saw what had shocked her sister. Their faces. Not one of the strangers had the features of a human skull. Masks, she thought. They have to be masks. That notion didn’t settle her. The night was warm and the heavy rain would turn a leather mask into a torment. Still, each one of them had the same skin-tight veil, as dark and formless as their robes.

  Her eyes fixed on their faces. On the long, razor-sharp beaks that jutted far beyond the brims of their circular hats. Raven-like. Built for the sole purpose of slashing and stripping flesh from bone. Polished like metal, the tips flashed in the minimal light, constantly drawing her eyes to the wicked point. The line passed by the remains of the closest bonfire, each one still moving without motion. The smoke beyond the reach of their lanterns churned and rolled.

  “Why are they wearing those things,” Annabel whispered.

  “Shh.”

  “Do you think they’re a cult?”

  Jezebel shushed her again, her voice still low but somehow sharper. Clamping her lips together, Annabel struggled to keep her thoughts trapped within her. That resolve was wholly forgotten when a stray breeze swept over the cobblestones, clearing the smoke.

  “They’re not touching the ground.”

  One of them came to an abrupt standstill. Those following didn’t go around. Didn't pause. They continued on their set path, passing through their frozen comrade as if they were both made of moonlight. Cold sweat covered Annabel’s palms. Her heart thudded at a rapid pace, leaving her dizzy and breathless. Ice replaced the marrow of her bones as the single being remained locked in place before them.

  She didn’t know how long she was trapped in a state of gnawing anticipation. Every second was spent with her begging and pleading for it to move. To carry on to where it had been going. As if rotating on a hinge, its head turned towards them. Its face tipped up. Blood red embers burned where its eyes should have been. They blazed beneath the rim of its hat. Perfect round discs. Carving through the smoke as if it didn't exist. One slight shift and it was staring directly at their hiding place.

  The haze that had gathered behind it rushed forward. It curled over the stones as a rolling mist, filled with thrashing limbs and things unseen. Annabel only caught a glance of it before Jezebel flung her to the floor and pinned her down with her weight. The stench of mildew and filth polluted each shallow breath. It wasn’t enough to rid her nose of the flowery scent. The lights washed over the walls once again, the beam stronger and more focused than it had been before. It went against all logic and physics for it to move as it did. The source would have to be standing within the window to get such an angle.

  That thought made her jerk frantically, thrashing against her sister’s hold, desperate to look up. Jezebel used every extra pound she had to her advantage. Being unable to move brought on a rush of hysteria. She squirmed, tears burning her eyes. A pitiful moan dragged from her throat as she fought. You have to look! a voice screamed in her head. How can you protect yourself if you don’t see it?

  Convinced beyond reason that a demonic specter was looming above them, only separated by a few inches and a flimsy sheet of glass, she bucked like a feral creature. Jezebel held her down until the light faded. Only then, in a cautious, slow slide, did Jezebel inch to the side. By the time she was free, Annabel had gathered her wits. At least, enough that she didn’t launch herself back up.

  A small glow still seeped in from the outside, casting the room into deep, dust filled shadows. Blindly, they reached for each other, trembling fingers clutching with a bone-crushing force. Annabel struggled to smother a sob as they watched the soft glow ebb away like a retreating tide. Shadows crept forward, thickening and melting over whatever they touched.

  Then there was nothing. They were returned to the dark stillness.

  Jezebel released a sigh. Her fingers offered a reassuring squeeze. The front door burst open. There wasn't the sound of wood planks being wrenched out of the frame to offer any warning. Nothing broke the door apart to tear its way inside. The sound was one thunderous strike that rattled the house, as if the door had been flung open with force and slammed back against the wall.

  Fine tremors vibrated along the floorboards under Annabel's hands. Sensational proof of the horrified screams of her mind. Someone’s inside the house! The certainty of it slammed into her chest and left her reeling. Someone’s downstairs!

  Jezebel’s fingers tightened. A hand found her hip and she was half urged up, half jerked to her feet. They crossed the room, cautious but swift. She didn’t know where they were going and berated herself for it. Pay attention! It didn’t matter how much she wanted to. The thought was too late. There was only darkness now and it stole any chance to learn the layout and possible hiding places. She could only follow Jezebel. Outstretched fingertips found the edges of a chest of drawers. Then a wall. Brittle plaster cracked under her touch as she kept her other hand in Jezebel’s.

  Heavy footsteps echoed from downstairs. Whatever was there had no concern of being discovered. It ran about the room with seemingly no aim. Items crashed onto the floor and smashed into the walls. The noise covered the rusted groan that sounded close to Annabel’s side. A trunk? A toy box? All that could be determined in the darkness was that it was a deep, rectangular box fitted with a heavy lid.

  “Get in,” Jezebel whispered. “Quickly.”

  It didn’t occur to Annabel to protest. Crowded walls offered a sense of relief and she clambered inside, almost tipping the box over in her desperate need to hide. If either of them had been an inch bigger, it would have been impossible for the box to fit them both. A layer of odd items covered the bottom of it. Whatever it was, it was painful to lay on and rattled loudly with every movement. The staircase shook and cracked with the footsteps. Jezebel tossed a rough fabric over her. Some dirty, decaying, musty blanket that almost made her gag. The moment her sister closed the lid, it struck Annabel that she couldn’t draw a deep breath without either shifting the items or gagging. Either would give away their hiding place.

  The first creak of the floorboards froze them both in place. Neither dared to breathe. Both strained to hear. Each step boomed like thunder but moved at a rapid pace. Whatever was out there didn’t seem to proceed with any real intention or direction. It ran back and forth. Coming closer before bouncing back. Does it know that we’re here? Is it just playing with us? The questions made Jezebel’s heart slam against her ribs. Her pulse became a torrent in her ears. Every second hung in an excruciating limbo, where they could do nothing but wait for whatever was out there, the presence that exuded malice and sadistic glee, to find them.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears seeping out onto the lashes. All attempts to bring reason and logic back to the forefront of her mind failed miserably. Nothing could conquer the shift in the air, the sensations playing over her skin, the bone-deep knowledge that a predator was stalking them. Light exploded into their hiding place. Annabel clamped her jaw so tightly that she almost cracked a
tooth. But she was able to stay still. Keep silent. When nothing grabbed her, she carefully opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the sudden brilliance. The lid hadn’t opened. Instead, it was a series of thin cracks that ran along the edges of the box that allowed the shifting lantern light to cut through.

  Hidden under the burlap sack, her breath humid and wet as it was trapped within the space, Annabel stared at the glow. The footsteps continued to stalk the room. Sometimes, it sounded like the space was filled with staggering, clobbering beings. At others, it seemed that only a single entity was there. Time passed. The light remained. Annabel couldn’t help herself. Careful not to make a sound, she pulled the edge of the blanket aside, the rough material scraping her cheek. Without its filter, the light was painfully bright. A few blinks, a moment of hesitation, and she was able to continue. The process was slow. It felt like hours had passed before she was able to peek around the edge of the fabric.

  There was a gap only just beyond the reach of her eyes. All she had to do was lean forward, lift her chin, and she’d be able to see through it. The chance to glimpse what was out there, the being that terrified her with just the hint of its presence, pulled at her. She risked tilting her head but wasn’t bold enough to move otherwise. A flash of brilliant red streaked past her minimal vision. It was nothing more than a split second of color, but it shattered what scraps of courage she had managed to scrounge together. She cowered back under the blanket like a child.

  A long screech of rusted hinges left her hollow with fear. It took all of her willpower to keep herself from whimpering as the lid rose up. Light draped across them, illuminated the thin fabric that served as their only remaining protection. A wild voice screamed and bellowed for her to move. Run! Fight! Try to get away! Do it now! It was all for nothing. Not a single muscle was still under her control. Terror had turned them to stone.