by Ilana Waters
That’s how I will be. Brave and unyielding to the last.
“At least tell me what you’re talking about.” Beads of perspiration were beginning to run down the sides of my head. “What’s the reason behind all of this? What—or whom—are you looking for?”
“That reminds me, Dr. Catron.” Cutter jerked her head up. “What about the creature?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, woman,” Catron said. “We don’t need the creature anymore. Not if this procedure goes the way I think it will.”
Dear gods, they’re really going to do this. They’re going to get inside my brain and tear it apart. What if I don’t die? What if I turn into someone like Laura—or worse? I couldn’t decide which fate was more terrible. I saw the light from the gas lamp flicker once or twice again, then dim considerably and stay that way.
“Bloody hell, there’s not enough gas!” Catron threw the scalpel to the floor. “I knew I should’ve topped it off before we started.” He tore off his mask, gloves, and cap, gnashing his teeth.
“I can run and get the canister for you, Dr. Catron,” Cutter offered.
“No. All the canisters are in my office, which is locked. And you know how I feel about other people having a key. I’ll get it. Wait here.” He walked towards the door. Then he turned and pointed at me. “And keep a sharp eye on her.”
“Will do, Doctor,” called Cutter as he left. “’Onestly, ’e’s a brilliant man, but so forgetful these days. It’s the mental strain that’s gettin’ to ’im, it is.” She looked down at me. “But all that’ll be over shortly, won’t it? Soon ’e’ll be back to ’is old self.”
His mad, delusional self, I thought. But at least I had a bit of time to think. A thin sliver of moonlight peeked out from between the bars of the window high above us. I hoped it was enough.
It was difficult to focus the moonlight on the scalpel; I couldn’t move my head a great deal. But if there was ever a time to work hard at something, it was now. I concentrated as intensely as possible, and the scalpel darted across the room and sliced open the top of Cutter’s cheek.
Cutter howled, and her hand flew to her face. The scalpel clattered to the floor. Cutter drew back her blood-smeared palm and stared at it in disbelief.
“What the? ’Ow did—”
“Never mind how,” I said in the firmest voice I could manage. “Untie me before I use that thing for more than a cut on the cheek!” Cutter just stared at me, blood dripping from her face and fingers onto the white-tile floor.
“I said, untie me!” I looked at the moonlit window, then at the tray filled with surgical tools. The metal saw leaped in front of Cutter, bending back and forth like a scrap of paper. The twanging sound it made was almost musical. It was certainly music to my ears.
Cutter, however, was decidedly less enthused. She stood plastered against the wall, body frozen, eyes wide. I moved the saw to the right, then to the left, inches from her face. Almost as if I were daring her to try and escape. She grabbed the ice pick—or whatever it was—from the tray and jabbed at the saw. Her cap went askew and her surgical mask came halfway off. I kept making the saw move in swift, menacing waves.
“Dammit to hell, untie me or I’ll take your head off!” I shouted. Cutter’s eyes darted from me to the saw and back again.
“Oh, for the love of the gods, I don’t have time for this!” Keeping the saw in front of Cutter, I lifted the scalpel off the floor with my mind. As fast as I could, I used the scalpel to cut away the straps that bound me to the table. Then I leaped off and ran out of the room before Cutter could stop me.
I burst through the double doors; there was no sign of Catron. But as I dashed down an adjacent hall, I could hear his footsteps moving swiftly back to the operating room.
“You let her get away?” Catron roared. “I’ll have your head for this, Cutter!”
“Please, Doctor, it wasn’t my fault!” Cutter begged as I flew past portraits and gas lamps on the walls.
“How could she have escaped? She was sodding tied down!” I heard sounds of metal objects overturning and crashing; Catron must have been throwing things.
“She—I—I don’t know, sir! She just, that is—”
“Damn all, Cutter. Stop your blubbering. I don’t have time for excuses. It doesn’t matter. All that matters now is getting her back.” Their voices faded away as I tried to think of a plan.
I had no idea where I was going. My only thought was to run, run, run. So, I wasn’t prepared when I stumbled into the main hall and saw what had become of most of the other patients at Silver Hill.
Chapter 14
There was something ghastly in the main hall, and I smelled it before I saw it.
Formaldehyde. No doubt to preserve the bodies; not for dignity, I wagered, but so the stench of decay wouldn’t attract wild animals. It stung my eyes for a moment, and I covered my nose with one hand, trying not to inhale. Blood from where the table straps dug into my wrists had run down my hands. It was drying in ugly streaks. But I ignored the blood, and the pain, gaping instead at the unholy sight before me.
There must have been eight or ten dead girls stacked in piles on one side of the room. Everything about them looked wilted and gray, from their flat, cloudy eyes to their limp and tangled hair. Some had a waxy, green tinge to their skin. Others were bluish purple, or bloated, with wide-open eyes bulging out of their sockets. I could see veins making black, marbled outlines against their hands and faces. Waves of horror passed over me.
I recognized several faces plainly. Geraldine. Thomasina. Francine. Some I didn’t know by name, but I’d seen them before in the schoolroom or solarium. Almost every one had lobotomy scars like Rose’s just above their eyes.
This is what that mousy nurse was talking about, I realized. “Should at least cover ’em . . . it ain’t right . . .” They must have been awaiting disposal. My guess was that Catron planned to get rid of them in the least noticeable manner. Maybe he was going to throw them into the asylum furnace in the basement. My stomach threatened to revolt. Why isn’t Rose with them? Perhaps Catron and Cutter anticipated moving her here after they’d dealt with me.
I turned away, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. That was when I spotted the front doors flung wide-open, as if someone had left in a great hurry. It didn’t take me long to figure out who. I could see the orderlies Cutter had fired hitching a ride on the back of a horse-drawn carriage, suitcases in hand.
“Hi-yah! Hi-yah!” shouted the driver, whipping the horses madly. Even he knew better than to stay here long. The mousy nurse sat next to him. “Faster, you fool!” she screeched. Over it all, I could hear Laura inside the carriage, wailing. Any hope I had of catching the last ride out of Silver Hill disappeared rapidly onto the distant moors.
The sound of an alarm rang, unbearably loud as the noise came in angry waves. Why is an alarm ringing? I thought. I didn’t even know the asylum had an alarm. Then again, it seems there are a lot of things at Silver Hill I didn’t know about. My eyes scanned the room, trying to determine where to go without looking at the bodies of the girls. The long walls of mirrors once again made the hall seem infinite.
Is there really no escaping this hell?
“FIND HER!” Catron’s voice was so thunderous I could hear it over the alarm.
Dammit! I had to hide, to think. I couldn’t run away from the asylum; Catron and Cutter would come after me. I needed a way to destroy them. There was only one place I knew about at Silver Hill that my enemies didn’t. And that was the secret staircase.
#
As I shut the door to the staircase behind me, I realized too late that I had no way to camouflage it with the sheet on the other side. It was very likely they’d search my room, thinking I’d return there. Maybe they were under the impression it was my safe haven, or that I’d rush to collect mementos before escaping. They really didn’t know me very well.
I sighed and swore. The sheet was a loss. Still, I hoped they would
n’t figure out the trick way of opening the door. That might buy me a bit more time. But I couldn’t stay in the stairwell indefinitely. And I didn’t feel safe at the top of the steps; if Catron and Cutter came to the room, they might still be able to hear me breathing through the wall. I went halfway down the stairwell, taking my Book, candle, matches, and shawl with me. I’d only brought the necessities, praying they would be enough.
The unrelenting noise of the alarm had blessedly stopped. I sat, shawl on my shoulders, candle in my hand, and Book in my lap. I turned the pages furiously, trying to find Drawing Down the Moon or anything else that would get me out of this waking nightmare. I was moving my hands so fast it upset the candle, and drops of hot wax splashed my fingers.
Ow! Bloody hell, that really hurts. I stopped flipping pages and put my burned fingers in my mouth, then put my hand to my head.
Maybe I really am mad, I thought. Maybe there’s something in me, a darkness, an evil that I can’t see. I mean, nonliving things that I make move? Vines that act strangely whenever I’m near? Who wouldn’t think I was odd at least, and perhaps mad at most?
Yet, I couldn’t help but think those things didn’t strictly point to madness. Differentness, yes. But madness, no. And evil, well, not necessarily. Whatever the case, it wasn’t something I wanted to die for, or believed I deserved to. I was just so tired. Tired of thinking, tired of fighting. Paralyzed by indecision, I felt more than a little tempted to give up.
What’s the point of all this? Do I really stand a chance, all alone out here with two maniacs hot at my heels? I turned back to the Book, accidentally tearing out a page.
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” I said under my breath. I couldn’t even read a book right. Trying to fit the torn page gently back in place, I noticed the next page had something tucked inside it. I never would’ve seen it if I hadn’t torn out the previous one. The frail paper was brown with age, even older than the rest of the Book. I had to move it delicately back and forth to get it out, almost as if it were hiding there. There was one word at the top of the page, then a column of text below it. The word was . . .
“ ‘Stay,’ ” I read aloud, then pored over the rest silently.
Stay.
Stay.
Please don’t take
your light away.
Though day may break you
and sun may burn
thought, word, and soul,
mock the yearning
and push towards night
with peace-seeming dreams . . .
Stay.
Stay although
the stars may shine
deceitful beckons
to cut short your time,
and you long to rest
among your kind . . .
Stay.
Stay to free
the ones who’d mourn
the light of you
and souls not born.
They have in mind
a different name
for you to keep . . .
The world does change.
Do not yet sleep.
Stay.
Stay to show
the stars and moon
this name you bear,
set in tune
to your orbit-world:
the Universal,
Irreplaceable you.
Stay.
Stay for all
that’s yet unknown;
solutions found
and problems grown
too small to ponder
as you reach such heights,
galaxies wonder . . .
You soar past sight.
Stay.
Stay.
Shine your light . . .
And break the day.
What on earth could it mean? I wondered. But I didn’t have time to find out because the wolves were at the door.
“Aha!” I heard Catron’s cry far above me, and the sound of stone moving. “I’ve got it! Look, fresh footprints in the dust, Cutter. She must be here, the sneaky hellion. Follow me.”
“Down there, sir?” Cutter actually sounded nervous. “But it’s dark, it is.”
“Then light another candle, you whining simpleton. She’s getting away!”
I jumped up, nearly knocking my own candle out of my hand. They’d discovered my location—and how to open the door. Blast. I’d hoped it would take them a little longer.
Jamming the Book under my arm, I picked up my skirts and hurried down the stairs. I could hear Cutter’s heavy footsteps behind me. They were quickly followed by Catron’s, which were lighter, but no less terrifying. I rushed out into the garden and looked around. I needed something to block the door. But there was nothing large enough.
I put the Book and candle on the ground, then grabbed a nearby vine. Looping it through the iron ring on the door, I tied the other end to a small, dead tree nearby. I pulled and pulled at the vine, but no matter how hard I tried, it didn’t tear off the ring or the tree. It was that strong. I hoped it would work.
Suddenly, the door heaved forward, just an inch. Someone was pushing on it from the other side. I jumped back, my eyes glued to it.
“What’s this?” I heard Cutter cry, her voice muffled behind the stone.
“What’s the matter?” barked Catron. “Just open the damn door!”
“I can’t, sir.” The door moved forward again and again, but each time was caught by the vine going across it to the tree. “It’s stuck some’ow, it is.”
“Move aside, you stupid cow. Let me try.” The door pushed out into the garden, maybe two inches this time. But my rope of vines made sure it went no farther.
“Bloody flaming hell!” Catron shouted. “Turn around. We’ll have to go back up. I said move!”
I exhaled loudly. “Seems like you were good for something after all,” I said to the vines. They twisted and turned for me, almost as if they were showing off. Their undersides looked even greener than I remembered. I heard Catron and Cutter rushing back up the steps, no doubt to find another route to the garden.
I wonder if they searched the garden while I was sleeping today, hoping to find the creature or the goddess. So much had happened since then, it felt like a hundred years had passed. Just like that story where a princess goes to sleep for the same length of time, and a web of vines grows all around her.
But this was no fairy tale, and I was no princess. I picked up the Book and candle and made my way towards the center of the garden. What if they dredged the pond in their search attempts? How can my spell keep Dym safe then?
I was in luck, if one could call it luck. When I got to the pond, Dym was nowhere to be found. I didn’t know whether to be frightened or relieved. Part of me wanted him to be there, on the off chance he’d do something incredibly chivalrous, like save me. Another part was grateful I couldn’t find him. I dreaded the thought of seeing his body—floating on the pond’s surface—because the spell took effect while he was swimming, and drowned him.
Maybe he decided not to swim to Silver Hill tonight. But he seemed so genuine when he said he wouldn’t leave. And if he didn’t leave, then he’s here sleeping somewhere. My spell worked. At the very least, my Endymion is safe.
It worked, I thought again. At least one spell in the Book worked. Maybe a second one will, too. And as Catron said himself, protection spells don’t guard against everything.
I had a decision to make. To my left were the moors. Endless expanses of wild terrain, where my chances of survival were uncertain to minimal. On my right was the lunatic asylum of Silver Hill. If I could get back in, I might be able to perform Drawing Down the Moon on Catron and Cutter. I could prevent them from hunting me down. And perhaps, most importantly, I could stop them once and for all from harming and killing more innocent girls.
If you don’t do it, Seluna, I thought, then who on earth will?
It might have been utterly suicidal and insane, but I chose the path to my right.
Chapter 15
I broke through one of the garden windows into the old ballroom. It was the only window Catron hadn’t bothered to place bars over, probably because it was completely covered with vines. I stood in the moonlight and made sweeping motions with my hands in front of the glass.
Miraculously, the vines parted. I thrust my elbow inside the lowest pane, breaking both the glass and my skin when my sleeve tore. Still, it allowed me to slip one hand inside and unlock the window, which I lifted open with great effort. I’d never been in this section of Silver Hill before, but I knew if I could find my way to the main entrance, I could get anywhere in the asylum.
I can’t believe how crazy all this is, I thought as I exited the ballroom. On my right, I recognized the hall leading to the cafeteria, and followed it. Before, I was running away from Catron and Cutter, and now, I’m hoping to run into them. But if that’s the only way to end this, then so be it.
From the cafeteria, I found the schoolroom, and from there, the hallway to the main entrance. All the gas lamps had been put out. I blew out my candle as well and left it on the floor; I couldn’t risk alerting any enemies to my presence. Thank gods for moonlight and my nighttime senses, I thought. Otherwise, I’d never be able to find my way around here.
Finally, I got to the front of Silver Hill. The first thing I saw was the stained glass window depicting the goddess. The moonlight was shining directly through it, making it glow brighter than usual. Then again, I’d never seen it so late at night. Perhaps it always looked that way at this hour. I hadn’t thought about it when I’d been here earlier this evening; the sight of the girls’ corpses prevented me from focusing on anything else.
