Voices in the Snow

by Darcy Coates

  Madeline laughed. It was a gentle, fluttering noise, like something Clare might have heard at a dinner party. “Oh, you are delightful. You look so sad and helpless when you are in pain. It is no wonder my son took a liking to you.”

  Tears blurred Clare’s eyes. She hunched over, gasping, fingers shaking as the fresh wax hardened over them.

  Madeline leaned down to stare into Clare’s face. Her spine didn’t move naturally. The upper back remained straight as she twisted at the waist, creating the impression of an insect bending its thorax. “Oh yes, I know. I saw him carry you back into the house. I listened to him talk to you while you were asleep. You have done a pretty job of seducing him.”

  Clare squinted her eyes to see through the pain. “Leave him alone.”

  “So opinionated, so small-minded.” Madeline sighed delicately as she returned to pacing. “He is the last of his family now that the others have been lost. My only child. My love, my pride.”

  Clare had plenty of words she wanted to spit at the creature, but the burns on her throat still throbbed, and the candle flickered threateningly. She bit her tongue.

  “He was so sweet when he was little. I would hold him close and shush his tears as I picked the scabs open. In the evenings, he would sit quietly and let me poke sewing needles into his back as long as I kissed him and told him I loved him.”

  Clare closed her eyes as nausea choked her. Oh, Dorran. What hell did she put you through?

  “It is my fault he has gone astray. In my love, I allowed him to grow wilful and proud.” Madeline lifted her chin to stare at the ceiling. “As he grew older, he became hardened. He no longer seeks his mother’s love or listens to her guidance. Spoiled, proud, wilful. I gave him everything, and in return, he shows nothing but disdain.”

  Liar. Proud and spoiled were two concepts so far removed from Dorran that Clare’s mind struggled to connect them. He was kind, gentle, and patient. But apparently those weren’t traits Madeline valued.

  “You have never had children, I suppose.” Madeline’s exhale rasped over a dry tongue. “You cannot understand. A mother’s love is infinite. You would do anything to save your child. Even when he scorns you. Even when the future you sweated and bled and sacrificed to build is hurled back into your face.”

  “Are you talking about this?” Clare, unable to stay silent any longer, raised her burnt hand to gesture around them. “A life spent trapped in this house? The last scraps of a wasted fortune? The honour of a family name no one remembers anymore?”

  Madeline’s glance was cold. “A history. A legacy. Being born to the Morthorne bloodline is an honour I cannot expect you to understand.”

  The words left Clare before she could stop them. “At least I understand basic human decency.”

  Madeline’s eyebrows rose. Then she exhaled a fluttering laugh. “You are impertinent. I should have your tongue cut out. But I suppose that would compromise your purpose.”

  Dread rose in Clare’s stomach, cold and sticky. “My purpose?”

  Madeline’s long fingers flicked, as though waving the question aside. She turned to face the wall opposite them.

  Clare’s fingers still stung under the hardened wax. She shot a glance at her ankle. The wax wasn’t a perfect grease, but it was oily enough to help. She pulled her legs up to her chest, hoping it would look like she was simply curled from cold or fear, and squirmed one of her burnt fingers under the metal.

  “I wanted to let you go, you know.” Madeline’s hand twitched around her throat, adjusting the collar. “It was not your fault you were brought into our house. You would have been permitted to leave my estate unharmed. But you relinquished that privilege the day you set your sights on my son. Evidently, he does not have much resistance against a pair of pretty eyes. You have been leading him astray, reinforcing his arrogance, encouraging his selfishness. And now I will require you to be a part of his education.”

  Clare paused her work to glance up. “Education?”

  “I was forced to teach him a lesson many years ago.” She faced away, her chin lifted high as the clawlike protrusions at her stomach twitched. “It was a difficult lesson, one about priorities and loyalty. It took many of my family to make the point, but it was worth it. He began to value his mother’s guidance again.”

  The cyanide in the wine. Clare swallowed the words that wanted to crawl out of her and continued fighting with her shackle. One of the chain links clinked, but Madeline didn’t seem to notice.

  “It appears he has forgotten those learned morals in spite of the care put into them and the price that was paid. Now he will have to learn again.” Madeline looked over her shoulder and smiled delicately at Clare. “He loves you. He is coming to look for you. I will allow him to see you one final time. And then he will watch you die.”

  Clare kept her body curled around the shackle. She had finished smearing the wax across the metal and quietly, subtly tried to squirm it over her foot. It was still too tight. The chattering was growing louder as the hollow ones scurried through the room. They were becoming excited. Clare prayed it wasn’t a sign that Dorran was near. She needed more time. “Dorran won’t be the heir you want, no matter what you do to me.”

  “Oh, you are wrong there, child. He is not quite broken yet, but he will be after today.” She sighed and pressed a hand over her breast. “This body… it is strong. It is a gift. But I know my son will not see it that way. He will use it as an excuse to be repulsed, to reject me, if he can. That is why we hid, biding our time, waiting until he would be ready, until grief broke him enough to be malleable again.”

  “The cyanide tablet I ate was your fault, wasn’t it?” Clare winced as she squirmed her foot in the shackle. The skin was scraping raw, but she was getting closer. “Dorran thought he’d made a mistake, but you swapped the bottles.”

  “You would have suffered less if you had let the tablets take you. It was a mistake to fight it.”

  “So you’re going to kill me now instead. To get Dorran back. That makes no sense. Do you really think this will make him love you?”

  “I think that he will need comfort. He will long for someone who will care for him. If he believes he is responsible.” She held up a finger. “He does not know I am here. He saw you dragged away. By the time he finds you, he will be too late to save you. My darlings will have started their feast.”

  The chattering was growing louder. The creatures were becoming bolder, their incessant laps around the space bringing them closer to Clare. She had a horrible suspicion she knew what Madeline meant. “Feast?”

  “My poor darlings are starving.” She smiled down at them as they grovelled. “I allow them to eat one of their sisters on occasion, but it never ends the hunger. I would know. I feel it too. A pit in my stomach, ravenous, unfillable, no matter how much flesh I consume.”

  Clare’s mouth was dry. She hadn’t seen the maid with the hole in her side. The girl had probably been one of the unfortunate meals.

  “My son will find us soon,” Madeline murmured. “I left bread crumbs for him to follow. When he is near enough, I will give my pretties the permission they crave, and they will begin to eat. By the time he reaches you, you will be too far gone to save. You will be sure to scream for us, won’t you?”

  “They’ll kill him,” Clare said.

  “Oh no, they shall not. My darlings hunger, but they know better than to cross me. They understand that he is off-limits.” She adjusted a strand of loose hair, tucking it back into the bun, her smile lifting a fraction. “I will allow him some time. To bury what is left of you. For his grief to break that maddening spirit. And then, once he is ready, I will emerge from the forest. His mother. The only one who cared for him above all others. The one who was willing to sacrifice her brothers and her sisters to correct his rebellious streak. Yes, he will return to me. He will have no choice.”

  “Why?” Clare spat anger into her words to hide the pain and fear. Blood trickled over her heel as the sharp edges of the shackl
e cut into her. “The world is gone. What do you think will happen? You’ll live holed up in this house with Dorran, surrounded by ruin and mindless servants while you wait to die?”

  “There is honour in remaining steadfast in the face of the changing world.” The friendliness vanished from her voice. “Our family has ruled here for hundreds of years. And so we will continue. I will not shame my grandmother. I will not be the one to fail the empire that she has built.”

  Clare drew ragged breaths. Her foot smarted, sticky blood glistening around the heel, but the shackle was off. She reached her red-tipped fingers into her pocket and found the small knife she’d hidden there. Madeline was turning towards her, the protrusions around her waist twitching with agitation and excitement.

  They were both out of time. Clare lunged.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  She hit Madeline in the chest, right above the twitching clawlike protrusions. The blade embedded itself, but Clare knew that wouldn’t be enough to hobble her. The pain would be a distraction at best. Instead, she relied on the momentum to throw them both to the floor. It worked. Madeline’s spindly legs fell out from under her, and her malformed eyes widened with shock.

  They met the stone floor and rolled. Clare pulled the blade free as she sprang away. She couldn’t win in a fight against the matriarch and her underlings. Her best weapon was the element of surprise and the seconds it would buy her to escape.

  While she’d been struggling to get the shackle off, Madeline had been staring at one of the walls. Clare thought she could see the hint of an archway in that direction. She guessed it would lead to the main parts of the house, and it was the path Dorran would be coming from. She ran for it.

  The candle had survived the fall, but it didn’t survive Madeline. The wick hissed as she squashed it, and the room fell into pitch-blackness. Clare moved recklessly, one hand reached ahead of herself, the other clasped around the bloody knife. She couldn’t afford to feel her way. She just had to run and pray for the best.

  Madeline didn’t make a sound. There were no screamed instructions or commands. But Clare knew the underlings were obeying her somehow. The scraping of nails on stone swelled through the cavern as they gave chase.

  Clare hit a stone wall. She gasped as the air was forced out of her. The throbbing headache robbed her of her balance, and she held on to the wall as she stumbled along it, desperately searching for a way out.

  A hint of light appeared to her right. It was barely anything, but it was enough to highlight the edge of an archway. Clare reached towards it. Something sharp cut into her thigh, and she screamed.

  “Clare!”

  Dorran’s voice was distant, but she could hear the terror in it. She had no breath left to answer. She stabbed the knife down and felt it cut into skin. The pressure was released. She lurched forward, out of the fingers’ reach and through the archway. Hot blood ran down her leg. Pain radiated from the cuts with every step, but she closed her mind to it and spent everything moving forward.

  Flickering light glistened on the rough walls of the natural tunnel. The passage curved to the right and sloped upwards. Clare set her sights on the warm glow ahead.

  Then fingers snagged her dress and dragged her down. She gasped as she fell, and her vision exploded white then black as her head jarred on the floor. She rolled over, gagging as she tried not to throw up. Teeth bit into her leg, then her arm, then her shoulder. She opened her mouth to scream, but the noise caught in her throat.

  No. Please. Not like this.

  She twisted, threw her elbow back, and felt it hit bone. Pain overwhelmed her, blinded her. Hands pawed at her limbs, squeezing. Then, in an instant, the teeth released their hold.

  Bright light arced overhead. Clare squinted her eyes open. Flames hissed and spluttered, a trail of sparks spiralling around her. The hollow ones howled, their eyes bulging as they flinched away. Dorran appeared in the light, his face twisted into a vicious snarl as he planted himself above Clare. He wielded the flames, a burning cloth tied around the end of a wooden pole.

  One of the hollow lunged towards him, but Dorran reacted quickly, jabbing the torch forwards to meet it. Guttural shrieks rose, and the stench of burning skin swelled around them. The hollow one lurched away, clawing mindlessly at its face, shredding the scorched flesh. Its companions backed out of Dorran’s reach, swaying. Waves of anxious chattering rolled through them.

  Dorran crouched at Clare’s side, not moving his eyes from the monsters. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”

  Everything ached, but Clare reached up, hugging him, and his spare arm slipped under her legs. He kept the flame moving, threatening anything that drew too close, as he lifted her and began backing up the passageway.

  “It’s your mother.” Clare struggled to speak and breathe at the same time. She needed him to know in case they were separated again, in case the worst happened. “She’s been here the whole time. I don’t know how, but she’s controlling the other monsters.”

  He muttered something she couldn’t quite make out. The creatures continued to dance around the edges of the light. Dorran was breathing heavily, trying to share his strength between carrying Clare and wielding the torch. “Hold on. We’re almost there.”

  “I can walk.” She wasn’t sure if that was the actual truth, but she hoped she could carry through on the promise. “You can put me down.”

  “Not yet.” Dorran sidestepped. Clare noticed a small metal door set into the side of the stone tunnel and braced herself. Using his shoulder, Dorran shoved the door open. Its hinges had springs, and as they stepped through, the door bounced closed with a bang. Dorran shoved his foot into it, and Clare heard a latch click as it caught.

  He staggered back a handful of steps, dropped the torch, and very gently lowered Clare to the floor. As he pulled back, she tried to read his expression through the spluttering light. He was ashen grey, and his lips were white. Blood beaded in a scratch across one cheek. Stress clung around his eyes in shadows and harsh lines. “Clare—”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  He pressed into her, kissing her lips then her cheek before pulling back just far enough to look into her eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I’m not that easy to get rid of.” She laughed even though it hurt.

  “Stay still a moment.” He pulled back to reach a bench near them. It held a lamp, which he opened and lit half-blind. The space was warmer than the tunnels they had come from. The homemade torch on the ground was burning itself out, but it wasn’t the only source of light. Clare looked behind herself and saw a glow coming from one of the five massive furnaces. Dorran had brought her to the basement.

  The lamp came to life. Dorran knelt at Clare’s side. His smile faded as he saw the blood dripping off her shoulder. The tension returned to his movements as his hands roved across Clare’s body, assessing the damage, finding all of the bites and scratches. “Oh, Clare. No. No. I am so sorry. I am so sorry—”

  “Not your fault.” She ran one hand over the side of Dorran’s face to pull his attention away from the cuts. Sweat dripped into her eyes, and her fingers shook, but she put conviction into her voice. “Listen to me. You don’t apologise, because none of this is your fault. You didn’t do this.”

  His eyes met hers then flicked away as he tugged his jacket off. “I promised to keep you safe. I should have been more careful. I should have gotten to you faster.”

  “It was my stupid ass that got grabbed. And you not only found me, but you got me out of there, which is more than a lot of people would have.” She winced as she adjusted her position. “I’m still alive. I’m calling that a win.”

  He used a knife to cut his jacket into strips then began wrapping them around the cuts on Clare’s arms and legs. They bled freely and hurt like crazy, but as far as she could tell, there were no missing chunks, just tooth marks. Dorran tied off one of the bandages then applied pressure to another wound. “Try not to move. As long as we can get these
to clot—”

  “We can’t stay here for long. The monsters—the hollow ones—they’re mindless, and they probably won’t figure out the door. But Madeline will.”

  He glanced at her sharply. “Are you certain it’s her?”

  “Yeah. Grey hair. Fancy dress. Surrounded by maids. They used to be maids, at least.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed and muttered under his breath.

  “She…” Clare didn’t know how to say the next part. No matter how much bad blood existed between Dorran and his mother, Madeline was still his closest relative. It was hard to know how much loyalty might live under the surface or how painful the news might be. “She was caught in the quiet zone. It changed her.”

  He didn’t look up from his work. “How?”

  Clare flinched as he tied off another bandage. “She… she has a surplus of legs.”

  “All right.” He was quiet as he examined the bite mark on her shoulder, and Clare tried to read his expression. He kept it carefully guarded. She thought it might be possible he didn’t know how to feel. It was a lot to try to process when there were so many other things to be worried about.

  Dorran caught her watching him and glanced aside. “You said she is controlling the others?”

  “She is. She said she brought them back here after they changed. They must have been hiding under her orders. They had instructions to stay away from you, which is probably why you never saw them.”

  “And she knows the secret passageways, which means she has an advantage.” Dorran looked at the door behind them. A rock façade had been fastened over it. Now that it was closed, it was almost invisible as it blended into the rest of the wall. He sighed. “Oh, Clare. There are tunnels everywhere here. I don’t know how far they go, but I must have travelled through half of the house trying to reach you.”

  “So no matter where we go, she’ll have access to us.”

  “We can lock ourselves into a room. Perhaps if we can find somewhere secure, we can wait it out and let them starve. They must have been without food for a long time.”