The Warlock's Kiss

by Tiffany Roberts

  She saw it as a trade of risks—a smaller chance of being set upon by revenants in exchange for more potential difficulty finding food. Most of what they’d eaten over the last half-year had been scavenged from abandoned stores and homes. There were fewer of those places out here to search, but if they found the right place while there was still time, she could teach Danny to grow his own food.

  Danny was quiet and alert, and Adalynn was grateful for it. She loved her conversations with him, but he was still a kid despite the growing up he’d been forced to do. The longer he talked, the more excited he became, and he tended to speak louder and faster as he went on. Addy had trouble keeping up with him sometimes even in the best circumstances, and right now, when their hike was combined with the weather—overcast but oppressively hot and humid—she knew she wouldn’t have been able to breathe if she had to walk and talk simultaneously. She was already sweating after only a few minutes, and each step seemed to make her head pound a little harder.

  Please let us find somewhere soon.

  Though these headaches often started slow, they could be debilitating when they ramped up, especially when they led to nausea, dizziness, and seizures. Sometimes, she’d recover from those seizures within an hour or so. Lately, they’d been draining her more and more, and she often lapsed into unconsciousness for hours afterward. If it reached that point before she and Danny had shelter…

  It wouldn’t be the first time Danny was forced to hide them under a blanket in the middle of the woods overnight, but she didn’t want him to have to go through that again. It was terrifying enough being out here together; she couldn’t imagine how much worse it was for Danny while she was seizing or unconscious. He was helpless during her episodes and had no way of knowing if she’d make it through an attack—no way of knowing if it’d be her last.

  She hated that she put him through that so often.

  Before long, the back of her shirt was soaked, sticking to her skin and pressed in place by her backpack, and sweat was trickling down her face. Before she’d fallen ill, a hike like this would’ve been enjoyable and refreshing, even in this weather.

  Now it was a trek through hell.

  Though she kept the road visible to her left, she didn’t see any mile markers as they walked; it was impossible to gauge how far they traveled as they marched on.

  “Hey, look,” Danny said, turning to face her and jabbing his thumb toward something up ahead.

  Adalynn lifted her gaze to follow his gesture. A narrow road, overgrown and unkept, cut through the forest a few hundred feet away. Though it wasn’t easy to tell from here, it looked like little more than a pair of deep ruts with grass and weeds growing in a strip between them.

  “It might lead to a cabin or a campground or something,” Danny said.

  Pausing, Adalynn placed a hand on the trunk of a nearby tree and caught her breath. She lifted the collar of her shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from her face. After a few moments, she swung her pack down onto the ground and pulled out her road atlas, flipping through its worn pages until she found the area they were in. She nibbled on her lip absently as she traced the lines with a fingertip.

  “I think we’re somewhere around here, which means we’re”—she counted off the distance using her fingers and the map scale—“at least twenty-five miles from the nearest town.”

  “So this might be our best bet,” Danny said, peering at the map from beside her. He left unspoken what they both knew—Adalynn wasn’t going to make it two more miles, much less twenty-five.

  She closed the atlas and returned it to her pack. “We’ll follow it and see where it leads.”

  When she bent to pick her bag up, Danny hurried to grab it first, and helped her get it on. She closed her eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness—and the fleeting sting of threatening tears that accompanied it.

  Danny was thirteen years old; he was her baby brother. He wasn’t supposed to be taking care of her.

  “Drink this,” he said, pressing something to her mouth.

  Adalynn took the water bottle and drank slowly. Though it helped ease her, it couldn’t cure what ailed her. Once the dizziness had passed, she opened her eyes and held the bottle out to Danny. “You too.”

  He drank faster and deeper than she had but didn’t drain the bottle. He knew to limit himself until they found a reliable source to refill their containers.

  They continued forward until they reached the edge of the dirt road. Here, the road was level with the rest of the forest floor, but as it continued into the forest to Adalynn’s right, the ground to either side of it rose to leave the path in its own little valley for as far as she could see. To the left, it ran toward the main road, but overgrown weeds and brush cut it off from the shoulder.

  Reluctantly, she sent Danny to the main road to check for any signs. Her heart thumped as she watched him creep toward the blacktop. He checked both ways and disappeared down the roadside embankment. Twenty seconds later—damn right she was counting—he reappeared and hurried back to her. The relief she felt in that moment seemed both overblown and wholly justified.

  “No signs,” he reported.

  “Probably a private road, then…but it looks like it hasn’t been used in a long time.” Adalynn looked to the right again, drew in a slow, steadying breath, and nodded. “Well, let’s see if it leads to anything.”

  Once again, they kept off the road they were following. Adalynn found something inherently unsettling about the thought of walking with the ground rising overhead on either side, about being surrounded by bare dirt and exposed roots.

  Maybe on some primal level that seemed too much like walking in a grave.

  After a little while, the road led up a small incline. When they reached the crest, Adalynn paused; there was something blocking the road up ahead—some kind of gate. She and Danny exchanged a glance and continued forward with a bit of extra caution.

  The gate grew clearer as they neared it—it was tall, made of rusted wrought iron, its high spikes and arched structure reminiscent of a bygone, gothic era. It was connected to a stone wall that ran to either side and vanished amidst the trees. The wall looked as old as the gate—parts of it were cracked and crumbling, leaving her to wonder how any of it was standing.

  A length of chain was wrapped through the bars at the center of the gate, secured by a rusting padlock. Danny took hold of the padlock and tugged on it. “It’s locked, but”—he crouched slightly and forced the creaking gates apart, opening a space barely more than a foot wide—“I think we can fit through.”

  Adalynn frowned. Though the gate and wall looked like they’d stood here, neglected, for decades, the lock and chain were in somewhat better condition, covered more in dirt than rust. This gate might’ve been sealed for a century for all she knew, but the chain and padlock were newer. She just couldn’t be sure if they’d been here for years or for months.

  It was likely that this place had been abandoned long before the Sundering, but they couldn’t afford to assume that. They’d seen and heard signs of other people—living people—even out in these rural areas, and there was always a chance that Adalynn and Danny weren’t the first to stumble across this place. And if the wall was in this condition, could they expect there to be any safe buildings beyond it?

  But it was also likely that they wouldn’t find another chance at shelter like this before Adalynn had to stop.

  Adalynn stepped up to the gate, took hold of the bars, and leaned forward to peer through. The road continued beyond the wall, curving first to the left and then back to the right. Whatever lay beyond that second bend was blocked from view by a thick, dark copse of pine trees.

  She sighed and nibbled absently on her lower lip for a moment. “We can check it out, but you need to stay close, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  They slipped off their bugout bags, and Danny held the gate open while she squeezed through beneath the chain. The metal groaned and creaked, the chain rattled, and flecks of
rust brushed off onto her clothing, but there was just enough of a gap for her to fit.

  One of the few benefits of having too little food, I guess.

  After he passed her the bags, she held the gate open for him.

  Once Danny was through, Adalynn eased the gate closed again. Her muscles ached; even that bit of exertion was almost too much for her right now.

  They continued along the dirt road, Adalynn scanning their surroundings ceaselessly despite the intensifying pounding in her skull. They’d had it relatively easy today, but they couldn’t afford any mistakes, couldn’t afford to be complacent.

  As they rounded the curve and walked past the pine trees, Adalynn stopped in the middle of the road. Danny continued a few more steps before he, too, halted.

  The area before them was wide open for at least sixty or seventy yards but for a few tall oaks and maples, bordered by thick forest along its edges. Scrubby, unkept grass, blanketed in places by fallen leaves, covered the ground. But Adalynn paid little mind to those details—it was the nearby building that demanded her attention.

  It was a sprawling, ancient-looking mansion with wraparound porches ringing both the top and bottom floors. Dozens of columns supported the roof and second-story porch, and a set of wide steps led up to the front door. The place had so many windows that Adalynn would’ve had trouble counting them even if she weren’t suffering from a massive headache.

  She couldn’t guess when it had been built—it certainly appeared to be well over a hundred years old, but it could’ve been older for all she knew. The paint was faded and flaking, the exposed wood was weathered and worn, leaves and branches littered the porch, and all the windows were dark and clouded but unbroken. If anyone had lived here within the last decade, they certainly hadn’t taken care of it.

  And yet despite all that, it looked surprisingly sturdy. She would’ve expected to see a caved in roof, broken windows, or a sagging balcony, but everything stood tall and proud in defiance of the cosmetic wear it had suffered.

  “Wow,” Danny said.

  “I…didn’t expect this,” she said.

  “Let’s check it out!”

  “Danny!” Adalynn reached out and grabbed the back of her brother’s pack. His forward momentum pulled her along behind him for several steps before he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

  “We can’t just charge in there,” she said. “We need to make sure there’s no one here. It might look abandoned, but you never know. Caution, remember?”

  “Come on, Addy, look at this place. Nobody’s been here in forever.”

  “We don’t know that. Please, Danny, just stay close, okay? Even if nobody’s in there, it might be dangerous. The last thing we need is for a floor or ceiling to collapse on us.”

  Danny nodded—albeit with a frown—and fell into step beside her as they walked toward the manor. Her gaze rose to study the place as they neared. That it was standing at all was a testament to the craftsmanship and care that had gone into its construction; it must’ve looked beautiful when it was new. It seemed silly to feel bad about this house going uncared for after all the destruction, disaster, and death of the last half year, but she couldn’t shake that sadness.

  The front door was closed, and the narrow windows flanking it were dark. She leaned forward to peer through one; the room beyond was dimly lit, a mess of grays and blacks that offered little detail but suggested years of dust and neglect. She didn’t allow herself any hesitation—she reached for the latch.

  It was locked.

  As quietly and carefully as possible, she and Danny walked around the porch to check the other doors—of which there were several—and the larger windows. Everything was locked, and the few windows they could see through offered glimpses of dusty, rundown rooms that seemed as dilapidated as the exterior. Adalynn couldn’t help noticing, however, that the porch was incredibly solid despite its apparent age and wear.

  “So…do I get to break a window?” Danny whispered when they arrived back at the front door.

  “What?” Addy asked, brow furrowed. “No. It’s locked up, so someone might be inside.”

  “Maybe they locked up when they left.”

  “Or maybe they didn’t leave.”

  Danny gestured to the sky; the clouds were darkening as the evening deepened. “It’s going to be dark soon, Addy, and we’re both tired. Everything’s falling apart, there are no cars, and the road is full of weeds. There’s no one here. This is our best bet for tonight.”

  Adalynn frowned. Danny was right—this really was their best bet, especially because the structure seemed so solid despite its appearance. It’d be a perfect place for them tonight.

  “Let’s hope it’s empty.” With no revenants inside. She walked down the steps to the driveway and bent down to pick up a large rock nestled in the weeds.

  Pain stabbed through her skull. Hissing through her teeth, she clutched her head in both hands.

  “Addy?” Danny’s voice was full of concern. The porch creaked as he stepped toward her.

  She took in a few deep breaths, willing the pain away. “I’m okay.”

  Once the worst of the pain eased, she grabbed the rock, straightened, and returned to the front door. She could feel Danny’s eyes on her throughout, but she refused to engage with his concern right now. They needed to get inside—because at this rate, she’d be out of commission within the hour.

  She shouldered off her pack, swinging it around to her front, and settled it on the porch, placing the rock down beside it. She unzipped the bag and rummaged through its contents until she found one of her spare shirts, made of a thicker material—she’d been saving it for the colder days that would be coming over the next month or two. After wrapping her hand and arm in the fabric, she picked up the rock again.

  Angling the rock so the pointiest tip was facing outward, she jabbed it into the narrow window beside the door. The glass shattered. She used the rock to break away the lingering glass shards around the window frame before setting it on the porch in front of her. For several seconds, Adalynn stood still, listening; no sounds emerged from within the building.

  She carefully pulled her hand free of the shirt’s protection and reached through the broken window, bending her arm to the side and feeling for the lock.

  The deadbolt’s thumb-latch required enough force to make her fingers ache, but it clicked open. Danny and Adalynn met each other’s gazes for a moment.

  Stepping back, Adalynn removed the shirt from her arm, shook out a few of the tiny bits of glass clinging to it, and wadded the garment up to shove it back into her pack. She zipped the bag closed, swung it back onto her shoulders, and reached into her pocket to draw her pocketknife. She pulled up its main blade.

  “If anyone’s home, they know we’re here now,” she whispered.

  Danny’s suddenly grave expression would’ve been comical before the Sundering. Kids his age usually didn’t take things very seriously outside of whatever form of entertainment they preferred, and Danny had always been laidback and fun-loving.

  He reached down and drew that massive bowie knife.

  Adalynn stared at Danny’s knife—it seemed just a step or two down from a sword. She hated the thought that he’d ever be put in a situation to have to use it, but if it could protect him…

  “If anyone comes at you, Danny, you use that. You understand?”

  Danny swallowed and nodded.

  She turned toward the door and clenched her teeth against another bout of dizziness before grasping the handle. She didn’t know what awaited beyond, and that scared the hell out of her, but they needed this place—Danny needed this place.

  Depressing the latch, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  For a few moments, a wave of disorientation swept over Adalynn, but she couldn’t attribute it to her illness. Crossing that threshold had been like traveling back in time—that was the only way to explain the stark contrast between the exterior and interior of this home.

/>   They were standing in a foyer that would’ve been the epitome of wealth and décor a century before—the floor was dark, polished wood, arranged in a pattern of circles-inside-squares, and the paneled wainscoting on the walls was made of even darker wood. The high ceiling was pure white with intricate, symmetrical patterns across it, culminating in a huge medallion at the center from which hung a crystal chandelier. A spiral staircase led up to the second floor, which had a railed loft overlooking the foyer. There was a large doorway on either side before the stairs and another set after, and straight ahead—beneath the loft—an arched, open entry led to a large sitting room. Despite the dim light, the elegant carved wood and patterned upholstery of the furniture was apparent.

  And all of it was immaculate.

  “Is this for real?” Danny asked.

  It was amazing, Adalynn couldn’t deny that—it was nothing like the dusty rooms she swore she’d seen when she looked in from outside. But it convinced her even more that someone was living here. There was no way this place could be in this pristine condition without someone taking care of it.

  For a place this size? It probably takes a team of people to keep it looking like this.

  Movement at the upper edge of Adalynn’s vision called her gaze up to the loft, but there was nothing to be seen save the same gloom and shadows clinging to everything else in the place.

  Dread coalesced deep in her stomach.

  They needed to leave. It would be better to spend the night in the woods and avoid any potential trouble here. She didn’t want to be in a situation in which they’d be forced to use their knives—there was too high a chance of one of them winding up hurt or dead.

  Something unexpected came on the heels of those thoughts. The longer she stared at the darkness above them, the clearer that something grew—it was music, music unlike any she’d ever heard.

  I’m not hearing it, though. I’m…feeling it.

  Adalynn furrowed her brow, focusing on the muted, ethereal song. She couldn’t make out the individual notes, couldn’t quite make out the melody, but there was something comforting about it. Something soothing. Something right.