Accursed Abbey: A Steamy Regency Gothic Romance (Nobles & Necromancy Book 1)

by Tessa Candle

  But she could not leave Lenore. Elizabeth was seized with nervous energy and ran to the place where her friend hung as the sounds of a struggle ensued from Orefados' corner. She needed to focus. What could she use to cut the rope?

  She cast about the clutter of the ruined sanctuary and saw a gruesome looking knife on the little bench near of the mirror. Not permitting herself to consider its intended use, she ran back to the bench and grabbed the blade. A great iron pot whistled past her head.

  She ducked down and looked to see whence the assault had come. Giuseppe was binding Mrs. Grissoni's feet and hands with a length of red yarn. She stood trance-like, without resisting. Mill, with Silverloo's assistance, was chasing Orefados.

  The man darted here and there with an unworldly speed and a manic smile on his face, occasionally grabbing items from around him and hurling them at his adversary. This must have been the source of the hurtling pot.

  Keeping her head low, she hurried back to her friend and discovered that she could reach neither Lenore, nor the rope that suspended her.

  Upon closer inspection, Elizabeth found that the contraption the girl had been tied to was more complex than a mere scaffold. A long board was connected to a rope strung though a series of pulleys. Elizabeth could see that if she stood on one end of the board it would lower, raising the other side and allowing the rope to slacken and roll through the pulleys, thus lowering Lenore to the ground.

  Just as she was about to step onto the plank's end, an instinct stayed her foot. Do not be so trusting, it told her. She withdrew her foot and bent down to examine the device more closely. A tiny filament ran from the surface of the board and disappeared above her into the shadowy rocks of the ceiling. Of course he had laid a trap. And she knew, with a conviction that she could not explain, that the trap was laid for her.

  But how was she to free Lenore? She needed something heavy to place on the board. Recalling the pot that had almost brained her, she ran to the corner where it had fallen and retrieved it. A quick movement near her head made her instinctively dive behind the pot in front of her. She shook a little as a spear bounced off of the surface of the cauldron.

  Elizabeth struggled her way back to Lenore, rolling the heavy pot and marvelling that Orefados had hurled it so far and with such force. She looked again at the booby-trapped board. She had no idea what nasty surprises it had in store for its victim.

  Before she could lose her nerve, with one gigantic spurt of effort, she heaved the cauldron onto the end of the lever. Then she quickly dashed away, leaping to catch Lenore as she dropped.

  Elizabeth knocked the girl's limp body sideways, softening the blow of her landing and grappling her as best she could, in case the pot rolled off of the lever and flung her back into the air.

  She suddenly heard the sound of a thousand tiny bells ringing.

  The noise was so out of place that at first Elizabeth thought she had imagined it, but it became louder, and she felt tiny pricks on her arm. Elizabeth stumbled to pull Lenore further away from a cloud of small objects, falling from the shadows above.

  The arm closest to this deadly precipitation had little slices where miniature knives had bitten into Lenore’s flesh. She could not loosen her grasp on her friend to remove them, but could see that the tiny butterfly-shaped metal pieces with razor sharp centre blades had embedded themselves in her own skin as well. Blood trickled down from the wounds.

  Elizabeth cursed as she realized that she had left the knife behind her when she went to fetch the pot. She had nothing with which to cut Lenore free. But she looked over at the pot through the cascade of tiny, sparkling blades, which were still falling. It had not rolled away. She released her grip on Lenore slightly, and found that the girl's body did not fly upward.

  She pulled the blades out of her arm, then used one of them to cut at the rope. The blade proved to be very sharp, but was so tiny that it did not cut very effectively. She cursed again. As she looked back to see where she had left the larger knife, she saw a small stool fly through the air and strike Giuseppe, who fell to the floor with a cry of pain.

  They had to get out of there. She scrambled to retrieve the knife, ran back and, supporting Lenore's body as best she could with one arm, cut her free with the other. The knife sliced through the rope like it was butter. Mindful that there might be further traps to rain peril upon their heads, Elizabeth dragged her friend away from the area, not even stopping to pull the girl's skirts down to conceal her modesty.

  She made for the tunnel, and all around her objects flew madly, as though not being thrown by one person at all, but animated by some invisible maelstrom. Elizabeth kept low and continued to drag Lenore, who now began to stir.

  “Lenore, are you awake? Can you hear me?” Elizabeth paused to try to help Lenore stand, which she could not do.

  Lenore's eyes were glassy, but she spoke. “Elizabeth, is it really you? I cannot walk. I can barely feel my legs.”

  “Can you crawl?”

  The girl made an attempt and managed to move a few feet, dragging herself by the arms.

  “Good enough! You see that hole in the wall there?” Elizabeth gestured. “We have to get to it.”

  The girl nodded. As they both crawled along, Elizabeth forced herself to focus on her task, and stifled her fears about what was happening to the others.

  Chapter 50

  “I should have run him through while he was still standing there.” Canterbourne cursed as he chased the robed lunatic around the dilapidated sanctuary, yet again.

  “Look at the Ali Baba, tilting at the thief!” jeered Orefados, with a bizarrely shrill squeal of laughter. His form was more amorphous than ever and appeared to Canterbourne to writhe around under his robes, as though it were a bubbling cauldron of flesh.

  Giuseppe had been knocked down, but was stirring again. And Canterbourne had seen Elizabeth cut Lenore free, but had lost sight of her in the melee. Yet, he had to believe she would be safe, so long as he had Orefados engaged in combat. He wished to end this foolishness, kill the ruddy bastard and leave with his soon to be bride.

  This was hardly a respectable duel. Canterbourne felt less like a knight defending the honour of his fair lady, than like a cat chasing a cowardly little mouse around the chamber.

  “Puss in boots!” came another bizarre jeer, almost as though Orefados had read Canterbourne's thoughts.

  Suddenly the mage paused, and Canterbourne expected something to hurl at his head, as it usually did, accompanied by another taunt. But he could see that Orefados was distracted, staring at something. Canterbourne saw his chance and lunged, driving his sword toward the red-robed chest of Orefados.

  But Orefados wiggled his fingers gleefully, and Canterbourne felt as though he were travelling through molasses so that he could not reach his target.

  Still staring at the spot just over Canterbourne's shoulder, the mage said with a sigh, “Ah, and the marriage is consummated. Quisma ve kiz. Quis ut Deus in monte?”

  Then Orefados’ face was calm. His flesh ceased its bubbling and settled into the normal, static form of a man. He turned to Canterbourne. “You would pierce me, too, as you have done the maidenhead? Do you not know that the wanton is much more useful than the virgin?” Then he drew something from his robe and threw it to the ground.

  A great flash and booming noise blinded and stunned Canterbourne as he completed his molasses-slow thrust, only to stumble forward through the air where Orefados had been. The space was now empty, save for smoke. The magician was gone.

  Canterbourne looked about, waving the smoke aside. His quarry was nowhere to be seen. He ran about the room searching, but found only Giuseppe standing before the mirror, his hand pressed to its surface. Martinus stood on the other side, tearfully peering out at his friend.

  “Did you see where Orefados went?”

  “No,” said Giuseppe, sadly. “How can we save Martinus? This mirror will never pass through the tunnel.”

  “I cannot think of that now. I
have to find Elizabeth. She is not safe here as long as that mad creature lives.”

  “She went into the tunnel with Miss Berger. The little dog went after them.” Giuseppe gestured to the hole in the wall. All the devil-may-care humour had abandoned his face, and his hand flopped without its usual philosophical vigour. “You will pursue her and leave Martinus here.” It was not a question. The monk knew what was in Canterbourne's heart.

  “We cannot stay and we cannot take him with us, under the present circumstances. You could try to carry him through the abbey ruins, through the manor and out the front door. But I warn you, the manor is a maze, and I cannot lead you. I must go after Elizabeth.”

  Giuseppe looked pitiful.

  Canterbourne sighed. He formed an iron resolve in his heart. “Do you agree, Giuseppe, that death would be better for Martinus than his current fate?”

  Giuseppe looked in the mirror at Martinus, whose grief stricken face nodded vigorously. “Yes,” Martinus answered for him. “I cannot enter a state of grace, not even the grace of purgatory, while I am trapped here in this half-life of nightmares.”

  Without asking further permission, Canterbourne went to the back of the bone-framed mirror and cut a slit along the stitching of the leather back.

  A horrid stench of unspeakable decay—decay beyond nature—belched out of the gaping slash. Canterbourne turned his face and fought a wave of nausea.

  “No!” cried Giuseppe. He ran around the back of the mirror, and reaching his arm in to the festering, stinking gash, fished around inside. “Martinus! Martinus! Take my hand!”

  Canterbourne winced, then also plunged an arm in. He felt many indescribable things, but none of them was Martinus.

  “Wait, I have his arm!” Giuseppe pulled as hard as his wiry frame would permit.

  Canterbourne removed his own arm with a shudder of revulsion and grabbed Giuseppe around the waist. “Hold onto him tightly!” He pulled Giuseppe for several minutes before Martinus' head and shoulders finally appeared. One more pull tugged the rest of him out. Martinus slipped to the floor like a newborn calf in a frightfully filthy and stinking mass.

  The smell was overwhelming.

  “Right.” Canterbourne fought his rising gorge. “I must find Elizabeth. You two can catch up at your leisure.” He wiped his filthy arm on a wall-draping, then crawled into the mouth of the tunnel.

  Chapter 51

  Elizabeth's progress through the tunnel was not fast going. Lenore could only crawl slowly, and Elizabeth had to pause frequently to allow her to catch up or to rest. Silverloo took up the rear.

  At times Elizabeth felt guilty for leaving Mill behind, yet she had to believe that he would dispatch Orefados, or else give up, and would follow behind her.

  Gradually, Lenore's legs became stronger and the three were able to proceed more quickly.

  “You saved me again, Elizabeth.” Lenore's voice sounded very serious and tearful. Elizabeth knew it was not just the acoustic of the tunnel. “I do not know how to thank you.”

  “I could do no less, my dear friend. And I had assistance.”

  Silverloo yipped.

  Lenore chuckled. “I also thank you, Silverloo. You are a very brave dog.”

  Elizabeth's heart warmed to hear her friend laugh after such an ordeal. “And you should not worry about a thing. Lord Canterbourne and I will protect you. We are leaving this horrid place, and returning to England. And we mean to take you with us, if you will come.”

  “Oh, I should like nothing better. It is such a kindness, thank you.” Lenore seemed very tired, and a shudder was audible in her voice as she added, “This place is under a curse. If I ever get away, I pray to God that I shall never see it again.”

  “I could not agree more.”

  “You and Lord Canterbourne are to be married, then?”

  “Yes! I should have told you before, but with all the lunacy… Well, we shall be married by a priest in Melonia. So you see, you shall be chaperoned by a married woman and travel under a viscount's protection.” Elizabeth could not help but laugh.

  “Why are you laughing?” asked Lenore.

  “It just occurred to me how silly such nice considerations are, after everything you have been through.”

  “I think all of the chaos makes the order of your arrangements even more appealing. It is the niceness of it that seems more necessary than ever.”

  The sudden glow of daylight ahead told them they were approaching the tunnel's end. They were both spurred on to a quicker pace by the joyful thought of getting out of the cloying hole.

  Elizabeth emerged first, pushing the loose top of the rose bush aside. But then she saw that it was no longer a rose bush. It was an acacia sapling. A chill rippled through her, as she climbed carefully out.

  She assisted Lenore, whose limbs were still wobbly. Silverloo leaped out and sniffed the air, then growled. Elizabeth snapped around to see what was disturbing her dog.

  As she looked down the drive, she blinked with disbelief at its transformation. The entire area was decked out with draperies and ornate tents. Persian carpets lined the ground, and low tables stood laden with piles of fragrant bread, platters of glossy rice, yellow with butter and saffron, great smoking trenchers of lamb and beef, carefully posed suckling pigs, and whole roasted peacocks, dressed in their feathers with massive diamonds glistening where their eyes should be. Pitchers of wine presented themselves at every available surface.

  There were cascades of grapes, pomegranates, dates, figs and other delicacies which Elizabeth could not identify, all radiant in jewelled tones with the dew of cool freshness still upon them. Spider and worm had been put to work, spinning out silk around the surrounding bushes. Gold dust had been liberally sprinkled over their craft, so the entire area was fenced in by a fairytale barrier, at times translucent and glittering, at times gleaming radiantly in the sunlight like a line of burnished shields.

  Mrs. Grissoni stood in the shade of a pavilion, wearing a long white tunic and a sash of turquoise silk draped over one shoulder. Her hair was dressed into snake-like coils and dusted with gold powder. A single diamond bedecked her forehead, just above the bridge of her nose.

  And in the middle of it all sat Lord Orefados on a raised, diamond-studded dais. He perched upon a massive red velvet cushion from which long clusters of finely wrought gold chain had been suspended to form heavy tassels at the corners.

  He was transformed. His face was cleaned of the earlier muck, his robes resplendent layers of fine silk, whispering in the slightest breeze and featuring every colour, not even outdone by the jewels that glistened on the heavy necklace emblazoning his chest. His hands no longer bore the stains and grime of his strange arts and were now pristinely clean, smooth and manicured, each index finger ornamented with a signet ring in blood red gold. His turban was scarlet, and a single ruby the size of a baby's fist was set in the middle, glowing as though it were the hearth fire at the centre of this strange encampment.

  Elizabeth's jaw dropped open at the sight of it all.

  “It is the fête of the devil.” whispered Lenore, and she crossed herself.

  “Welcome, brides, to your wedding feast.” Orefados' voice rang out deep and clear, not at all like the rasping squeak it had become after days of chanting nasty little spells. It seemed to resound as though it were an angelic proclamation through the mountainside. “I wish you joy.”

  “What does he mean by wishing us joy?” murmured Elizabeth. There had been no wedding. Elizabeth certainly had not married the revolting lunatic. She turned to Lenore. “Did you marry Orefados?”

  The girl crossed herself again, the gesture made more sobering by the streaks of blood on her arms where she had been cut by the same little knives that had fallen upon Elizabeth. “Herr Gott! No! I should never marry such a servant of evil!”

  “Nor I. But he seems to think we are married. But no, stay. He is wishing us joy. The groom never wishes the bride joy. So he appears to think we are married, but not to him? He i
s confused.”

  Lenore shook her head, incapable of, or unwilling to contemplate the man's meaning. “We should not try to understand this mind.”

  A voice sounded in Elizabeth's ear, so that she started and looked over her shoulder. “But you see, you are wed now,” it said. No one was there.

  It was Orefados' voice, but it was impossibly located. Elizabeth could see him clearly, sitting on his plush, elevated perch, still in the middle of the arabesque encampment. He certainly could not be whispering in her ear.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked Lenore.

  “Hear what?” The girl's eyes were puzzled. “Elizabeth, we should leave this place.”

  Elizabeth knew it was true, but how could they get around this encampment? They would surely be captured and not permitted to leave.

  “You still do not understand, but that is because you have not yet wiped the scales from your eyes and drawn the batting from your ears. But let those who have eyes to see and ears to hear bear witness: you are wed to the chorus, and the chorus is wed to me.”

  A ripple of dread ran down Elizabeth's spine, and her stomach turned molten. Surely Lenore heard that. “Did you not hear that?”

  “I hear you, only.” Lenore looked puzzled. “What is it that you are hearing?”

  “Do not enquire of her. I am speaking only to you,” Orefados told her. “She is merely the setting. You are the jewel. Her virgin blood is useful, but not precious. And of all the chorus, you are the diva. Now rise, and be the queen!”

  Elizabeth could no longer stand the weird horror of what was happening to her. Perhaps she was drugged or mad, or perhaps this man really was allied with the devil, but she had to get out of there. She grabbed Lenore's hand and pulled her along. “Run!” she said.

  But Lenore's legs still would not wholly oblige her. She could only move slowly.

  They made for the edge of the encampment, but Elizabeth could see that there was no room to pass the pavilions, unless they went into the brushy forest. Elizabeth was not certain that Lenore could make it through such terrain, and in the other direction the road came to a dead end at a rock face.