by Sara Clancy
They hissed and churned, moving in restless, meaningless patterns around them until Mihail felt like a stone in a river of the dead.
“Draciana isn’t going to release you,” he continued. “And she will smash this place to rubble before she ever lets that demon take its due. You’re all going to die.” He shrugged. “Again.”
That got the reaction he was planning on. They all pushed forward only to move back again. Uncertain. Apparently, death didn’t damper someone’s survival instinct.
Mihail lifted his chin and tried to summon some bravery. “We can stop her. Abe, Radu, and I. We can do it. The doppelganger, the man that’s tethering the demon to this place. If we take care of him, it can’t stay. Give me the music box and we can stop Draciana.”
“And then what?” one of them asked in Romanian.
Mihail knew that he should really have very limited understanding of the words, but that didn’t stop them from making complete sense as they hit his ears.
“Then Abe and I will work to set you free. All of you. In your own time. When you’re ready.”
The voice rang as much in Mihail’s head as it did in his ears. “She’ll never let you.”
“Let’s not give her the choice. I’m a Vaduva, just the same as her. I was born here–”
“You left.”
“I won’t again. You have a demon in this house. One that’s making you strong. Help me deal with her and I will take her place. I’ll protect you. I’ll release you. Two things she’s never done and never will do.”
“You’re not one of us. Like her, not us.” They all but chanted the words and the boy twisted his arms tighter around Mihail’s neck in response.
The walls trembled, the motion flooding Mihail with a sense of blistering indignation. “I am more than a Vaduva. I was born here. This is my home. Stone and mortar run through my veins as much as her blood.”
As he spoke, the rocks beneath his feet began to melt, releasing new streams of blood to slosh around his feet. He could feel it now. The house breathing around him. Crying out in pain as it was ripped apart. It was alive. It was the voice in his head, the emotions that weren’t his own. With the demons inside, the castle had woken up, and Mihail could feel it slowly seeping into his skin. His mind.
I never had a chance to leave this place, he realized.
Before he had time to process the thought, one familiar face pushed free of the churning sea of spirits.
His grandfather stood before him. Time being the only thing keeping them from being identical. That, and the thick black string that sowed his mouth shut. Mihail stared at him, waiting for some trace of joy to work through his chest. He had searched for so long. Braved the horrors of the castle. Stayed in hell to find his remains. But there was nothing. And in that empty void, Mihail could feel the castle worm its way deeper.
Holding the child secure with one arm, Mihail reached out. Perhaps it was the influence of the demons, or the castle itself pushing into his cells, but he wasn’t surprised when he felt the stiff material against his fingertips. It turned to dust at the slightest pressure. Drifting down. Allowing his grandfather to part his lips and take a deep, gargled breath.
Mihail turned to study the crowd of faces staring at him. Some fearful. Some raging. Abe’s voice echoed in his mind. Repeating what he had said before they had come back to the castle. How the ghosts were all spoiling for a fight.
“I don’t know about any of you, but I’m done with being the victim,” Mihail said. “I’m going to start a riot, with or without you. Though it would be more fun, with.”
The ghosts seemed to consider that for a moment, each turning to the other. He didn’t dare to breathe. Couldn’t afford not to. Any sign of weakness and they would rip him apart. This would end here. He could only hope that Abe and Radu would be able to escape.
A sharp clatter rushed towards him, skittering across the floor until it stopped against Mihail’s foot.
The music box.
“Well, then,” he said, holding onto the boy with both hands to keep from either crying or cheering. “Let’s get started.”
They rushed past him like an icy tide, the wind they created cooled the blood that covered him from head to toe. Even the boy evaporated from his grasp, joining the pack, apparently just as desperate as the others to join the frenzy. Only his grandfather remained before him.
“Mihail,” the phantom smiled.
“Don’t,” he snapped as he snatched up the box. “There is nothing you have to say that I want to hear.”
His grandfather rushed to grab his arm as Mihail turned.
“I didn’t start any of this.”
Rage flashed through Mihail. He ripped his arm free from the ghostly grasp. “Is that how you see it? You’re innocent in all of this?”
“Your grandmother killed me. She put me in that bull and listened to my screams. She murdered me. I’m one of her victims.”
“Death doesn’t save you from being complicit,” Mihail snapped. “You knew. When you met her, you must have known she was mentally unstable. At the very least, you knew that she didn’t have money or family or wealth.”
“None of that was my doing.”
“All she had, all that allowed her to exist on the fringes of society, was her virtue. And you took it from her with lies and deception.”
“So, I was a cad. Does that mean I deserved to die? Deserved to be tortured?”
Mihail turned fully to his grandfather, his shoulders squared, and his eyes narrowed. “You saw the fire in her soul. You threw gas on it and laughed as she burned. I believe that you never intended to get caught in the inferno, but you sure as hell didn’t care if anyone else did.”
“Haven’t I suffered enough for your forgiveness?”
“For my sympathy, yes. For my forgiveness, no.” Mihail tightened his grip on the music box. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and try to clean up the mess you let happen.”
Mihail didn’t look back as he ran from the room, the small decorative box clutched protectively between his hands. Chaos had exploded to claim every square inch of the castle. Vengeful spirits turned the hallway into a battlefield. Clasping the box to his chest, he leaped over gargoyles struggling to shake loose the ghosts that were ripping them apart. Everything was red, drenched in blood. It clung to everything it touched, making it nearly impossible to judge the size or shape of anything. He ran into more stones than he avoided. What he had thought of as rocks became living creatures under his feet. The sheets of pouring blood were filled with phantoms that swooped by him as he passed.
A mass of stone hurdled towards his head, a blur of movement. Mihail dropped to his knees, but his momentum kept him traveling forward. The snarling beast passed over his head, close enough for him to feel the scrape of the passing gargoyle across his cheek. A tidal wave of blood rushed up in his wake, drenching him anew, the taste lingering in his mouth. The railing that separated the upper floor from the sheer drop into the foyer had already been smashed, creating gaping voids that now threatened to swallow him as he careened helplessly towards them. Still grasping the box as it if it were life itself, Mihail reached blindly for what remained of the railing. Gripping the chipped stone with one blood-sliced hand didn’t stop the motion entirely. His legs slipped over the edge, leaving him to swing around and dangle from his weakening grip.
“Mihail!” Abe called from somewhere below, his voice carrying over the war raging around them.
“I’ve got the box!” he said.
Lifting his arm to show it made him swing again. The motion and the vibrations running through the posts pried his fingers loose. He scrambled to regain his grip, but it was a losing battle.
“We’ve got you!” Radu shouted up.
While he couldn’t see either of them, Mihail didn’t need any more discussion or reassurances. Announcing that he was dropping the box, Mihail let it go. There was a sudden crash above his head. A mangled blur of silver and stone rushed over him,
crushing the railing he was holding, shaking him free long before it splintered apart within his grip. There was no time for warning.
He dropped.
His stomach lurched as the air rushed past. It was both a second and timeless. Barely enough time to think about the fall and an eternity to wonder what would happen when he hit the stones. When the impact came, however, it was into something far more yielding. Pain still rattled through his joints and every molecule of air left his lungs in one sudden burst. But, as he toppled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, he was undeniably alive.
“God damn it,” Radu hissed as he tried to push Mihail off of him. “How does someone so small hurt so damn much?”
Mihail wanted to comment that hitting into hard muscle wasn’t exactly pleasant, but the conversation was broken off as a darkness spread across the room. It moved like ink in water. A bottomless abyss that consumed everything it touched.
“What the hell is that?” Radu screamed.
He was already scrambling away as Mihail pushed himself up. While he might never have seen the shape before, he knew by the sensations it brought exactly what it was.
Demon.
His mind screamed the word as pure fear dug deep into his bones. Pushing himself onto his feet, Mihail turned to find Abe gripping his body tightly in one massive hand. His other was balled into a first, his shoulders hunched, his jaw locked. Prepared for a fight, he was ready to die to keep the box from the demon’s grip. Mihail could see it in the set of his features. No!
Racing to the nearest wall, he began to pull and claw at the bodies he found there. Just like with his grandfather, the stitching that held them fell apart like ash. Blood gushed free with every pull, but it didn’t stop him. He ripped them apart until the bodies could sever themselves. Once the chain reaction had started, he found a new point and started again. The building trembled around them as each body threw itself into the fight. Moving like a pack unleashed, they swarmed the blackened mass, cutting it off in its tracks, forcing it back.
He was so consumed by the sight of it and the raging tide of bodies that he barely noticed Draciana had entered the room. She stood, untouched, amongst the havoc and lifted one slender hand. As if summoning a pet. Spidery arms snaked out of the gaps between the stones by her feet. Staggering further away, Mihail watched in horror as the limbs grew, their joints clicking, arms jolting.
Frank! His mind screamed this realization, his fear making him dizzy. A demon above and a demon below.
Frozen in horror, he watched the demon slither its way into the room. The monstrosity was a grotesque mix of a tarantula and dragon. Standing at full height, it towered over them, tail slithering and pointed legs clacking against the stones. Draciana paid no attention to the demon by her side. All of her focus remained locked on the fog that hovered below the ceiling. Mihail had almost forgotten what was coming towards them.
“Draciana!” he screamed. “Stop this!”
Her eyes shifted to meet his across the battlefield. One glance. That was all she spared him before she turned her attention away. Balling his fist, Mihail looked around him. The foyer lay in ruins. Abe had dropped to one knee, his bulk shielding what he was working on from the flow of blood and dust. Radu tried to protect him as best he could. But there were too many to fend off. Just about every other inch of space was consumed by those that fought for their freedom and those that hungered for the thrill of destruction.
“Draciana!” he called desperately as he rushed closer, breaking through the crowd to get within a few feet of her, as close as he dared so long as that monster was by her side.
This time, she didn’t bother to turn and face him. “Abe will ruin everything. Stop him.”
As if sensing her aggravation, Frank’s movements became frenzied; a blur of snaps and jerks that put him in a thousand positions at once. Mihail couldn’t stop his feet from sliding back but managed to keep from running.
“Everything was in place,” she said. “I had Frank, as you call him, keep the demon from collecting. My life was peaceful. I hurt no one.”
Words of protest stuck in Mihail's chest when Frank began to crawl around her slender frame. She was tiny when compared to its massive bulk, but instead of terror, she lifted her hand to pet the beast as it passed.
“Frank is yours?” The question slipped from his lips, barely audible. He staggered to the side, protecting his head as phantoms rushed past him.
“When your dear friend Abe imprisoned him, I was left alone against these murderous spirits. I had to do something to survive. So, I called on family."
“But you never told me any–" His sentence died in his throat as an icy chill ripped through him. “I was a sacrifice?”
“I had intended it to be your mother,” she dismissed. “That horrid, ungrateful child.”
Mihail's knees buckled and he slumped to the ground. Something large and strong was slamming itself into the door, hard enough to steadily splinter the wood and stir the dust. Mihail didn't see any of it.
“You brought me here to die.”
“Merely to be a distraction,” she dismissed. “I knew they would focus on you. Insipid creatures, all of them. They'd see you as the weakest link, a way to hurt me. By dangling you in front of them, I was able to do what I needed to do, undisturbed.”
“You had no right to do that to me!” Mihail screamed as he rushed towards her.
Frank reared up and hissed. A pet ready to defend its master.
“Sweet boy, I have every right. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even exist. Surely being the reason for your creation allows me such privileges.”
The shadow demon burst free of the ceiling and its attackers. All of Mihail’s words and thoughts died as he watched Frank rush to meet the demon. They clashed, and the foyer became a snow storm. A blinding white that wailed like lost souls as the chill it carried turned their skin to ice.
“Kill the doppelganger!” Draciana commanded Mihail. “If you can find him.”
“I’m not going to kill for you!”
“Then you’ll die for me,” she spat. Mihail could barely see her in the storm as she continued. “That fool willingly gave up his own pathetic existence because the demon promised him your life. There can’t be two Mihail Vaduvas. He’ll kill you to take over your identity. Do you understand that?”
Mihail lifted his arm to shield his eyes only to feel a red-hot pain slice over his forearm. Staggering back, he clutched at his bleeding arm and squinted against the harsh wind. The doppelganger laughed. It struck Mihail like a physical blow to hear his own voice soaked with that much hatred. He emerged like a shark out of the depths, barely spotted before he attacked. Mihail threw himself to the side, but the tip of the blade still sliced a line down his arm.
“This could have been civil,” the imposter said over the gale.
“Why are you doing this?” Mihail asked as he searched the shifting shadows that penetrated the wall of blinding white.
“Why do you think? Look at your life. A billionaire with a pretty face. Who wouldn’t kill to be you?”
“You’re helping a demon.”
“Are you actually trying to shame me?” The doppelganger laughed. “Oh, have morals and be a good boy. You can't be serious.”
“And you can't be this dumb! Whatever it promised you is a lie. Just look what it did to Draciana.”
Instead of responding, the doppelganger struck again, slicing at the air until he found Mihail's flesh. His jacket only offered a light barrier and the blade slashed across his arm. Mihail gasped for air as he tried to flee. To hide in the havoc. But the doppelganger was relentless. A loose stone tripped his feet and Mihail was unable to regain his balance. Hitting the ground made his head spin and the burns on his back rage. Unable to breathe and barely able to see, Mihail reached out to brace himself, to get up. But the sea of crumbled rocks shifted at every touch and kept him down. He peered up to see his clone coming for him again. The blade flashed in the firelight. The tip strea
ked towards his chest.
“Do you really want to be like her?” Mihail said through clenched teeth, his muscles straining.
“No, I want to be you.”
“It’s not worth dying for.”
“You’ve never been hungry a day in your life, have you? Never walked down the street and wondered if this was the day you would die in a drive by. You think I care what happens to me after I die? I’ve already been to hell. I just called it life.” He hissed the words with venom. A lifetime of fury.
Mihail knew he might never learn the doppelganger’s name, but he knew the man. He’d seen that desperation before, that haunting conviction to the course they had started. It was the exact expression Draciana wore. They were ready to die and prepared to kill.
Mihail moved without thought. His fingers latched onto one of the stones and he swung his arm up. The solid thud of rock meeting bone rang in Mihail's ears. The doppelganger tumbled to the side. Rolling, Mihail straddled the imposter, pinning him in place as he hit him with the rock again. And again. The unbridled need for survival propelled him. He hit him until his gloves were slick, the hard layer of bone gave way to pulverized mush, and the replica face was no longer recognizable as human.
The world became a whirlpool, a tunnel of fire and ice. Strong enough to lift the stones into the air and send the silver gargoyles tumbling like leaves. Mihail hunched forward and braced his hands over his head, enduring the storm as best he could. The swirl pulled the air from his lungs. Suffocation burned his lungs until he was on the brink of passing out.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything ended.
Chapter 15
The snow and dust drifted down around them like ash. The gargoyles lay in ruins, corpses that lined the battlefield. A soft, warm glow drifted in from the fireplace in a far room. It caught the ice in the snowflakes that drifted in from the dozens of holes that lined the wall. The whole front door was gone, and the elements quickly rushed inside. Even now, Mihail didn’t feel the cold. Just the unsteady calm. The growing demands and expectations. Ghosts stood amongst the rubble. Silent pillars. Waiting to see if Mihail would keep his word.
