Destined for Doon

by Carey Corp

  Swallowing an agonized squeak, Vee murmured, “It’s Drew Forrester.”

  It took me an instant to connect the zombie in front of us with the boy that’d been Emily’s intended. Gripping the axe handle more tightly with my free hand, I quietly asked, “Should we kill it?”

  “No!” Vee hissed and then lowered her voice. “We need to try to save him.”

  This was no baby bird in need of TLC; it was an abomination. I feared Drew was beyond saving, but as Vee stubbornly clenched her jaw, I didn’t have the heart to speak the words. He’d been her subject, so of course she’d feel responsible. As gently as possible, I said, “I’m not sure that he can be — ”

  “We need to try! For Emily’s sake.” Vee paused to take a shaky breath. “He seems to recognize me . . . Maybe he’s not completely gone.”

  Realizing it was useless to argue, I asked, “What do you have in mind?”

  “Let’s do what we came here to do,” she replied. “Let’s destroy the Pictish stone. Breaking the curse is his only chance.”

  Clutching Vee while keeping my eyes fixed on Drew of the Dead, I backed toward the stone. The former Doonian shuffled along behind us like a ghoulish pet. As I glanced over my shoulder to gauge our distance to the bridge, Vee stepped on my skirt. Thrown off balance, we crashed to the ground in a tangle of pretty dresses. On impact, I lost the axe, which clattered across the ground. I reached for it, realizing at the last second that my other hand was also empty.

  Vee’s scream pierced the night. I turned over to see what was left of Drew on top of her. His bony hands closed around her throat in a superhuman grip. She blindly clawed at him, dislodging little bits of rotten flesh that landed on her neck and shoulders.

  Taking up the axe, I struggled to free my legs from my gown and get to my feet. Perhaps Drew could be saved, but as my bestie’s eyes bulged out of their sockets my choice was clear. I kicked Drew’s shoulder with all my strength. He rolled onto his back, scuttling like a creepy upside-down turtle. Hefting the Arm o’ the Bruce over my head, I screamed for Vee to move to her right. As soon as she scrambled away, I lunged forward and let the axe fall.

  Blackish blood squirted from Drew’s neck. I felt it splatter my face in a cold spray as his severed head rolled away. The putrid stench of decapitated zombie — a thousand times worse than the stink of the limbus — assaulted me. My stomach lurched and I let the axe slip from my hand as I dropped to my knees, retching. The meager contents of my stomach, mostly stomach acid, spewed from my mouth onto wet, blackened ground.

  With my eyes clenched shut, I was vaguely aware of Vee clawing her way up my skirts to touch my arm. Patterns danced across my eyelids as we became once again enclosed in the bubble of light. Pulling Vee with me, I collapsed away from the zombie corpse into a tight ball. Had we really been so deluded as to think we could waltz into the limbus and break the curse? I was an actress, not some crackerjack tribute. I was not prepared to battle to the death.

  The barren ground against my cheek and arms felt like ice. It seemed to leach away the last of my energy. I could sense the nothingness of oblivion reaching for me, lulling me away from my present reality. Fortunately, Vee’s pull was stronger. She rubbed my shoulders, speaking words that sounded like a kindergarten pep talk.

  Numb to the core, I opened a heavy eyelid to glare at her. “What?”

  “Try, try again.” She pointed to the axe lying next to me on the ground. “It’s on the handle.”

  “So?”

  “So — Robert the Bruce coined that motto when he was hiding in a cave, nearly defeated. He saw a spider trying to spin a web. After numerous attempts, it finally succeeded. That spider inspired him not to give up — so he tried again and eventually won Scotland’s independence.”

  “What if this is the one we can’t win?”

  “I believe in my vision. But just because we’re sure of the outcome, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.” She touched my cheek. “But we need to have faith that we will win.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Then I’ll have faith enough for both of us.” She hoisted me into a sitting position. “We’re so close. The stone is right there. All you have to do is finish the job.”

  My head felt cottony, like I’d taken too much cold medicine. The temptation to go to sleep tugged me toward the ground, but Vee yanked on my arm. “Oh, no you don’t! Let’s stand up.”

  She wedged her shoulder into my armpit. Bracing her legs like she was on the bottom of a cheerleading pyramid, she hoisted me to my feet with a roar. Her arm curled around my back and urged me forward. A lifetime of experience told me that resistance was futile. After a few steps of her forced march, my head began to clear.

  Less than ten paces ahead, the stone from Vee’s vision jutted crookedly from the ground. Violet light curled along the symbols that represented the Pictish curse. Thick black sludge oozed from the base of the stone to form a churning, altar-like pool on the ground. Just above the surface of the pool a purple mist swirled in the opposite direction. The effect gave me a queasy sense of vertigo.

  Tendrils of zombie fungus slithered from the pool across the forest floor on their way to suck the life from anything that wasn’t already dead — or undead. Vee was right — we had to stop it. According to her vision, I just needed to strike the stone with the Arm o’ the — Wait a minute! “The axe!”

  “Got it.” The certainty in Vee’s voice bolstered my courage as she handed me the weapon.

  “Thanks.” A few more steps and we stopped at the edge of the source of the limbus. The instant our bubble of light pierced the pool, it began to boil. The contents of the pool rose through the mist, forming and reforming as it grew; cadaverous faces, snapping teeth, bulging eyes, claws, snouts, and grasping hands materialized and vanished. Once the thing reached my height it began to hiss as it solidified into a human-like shape.

  Sludge dripped away to reveal a pale, skeletal face ravaged by time. With a creaky breath, its eyelids popped open. Vee and I gasped as recognition throat punched us. Clothed in robes of zombie fungus and regarding us with unmistakable fury stood Adelaide Blackmore Cadell, the Witch of Doon.

  CHAPTER 30

  Mackenna

  Just like we’d left her after the last encounter, the Witch of Doon resembled an old, haggish woman. Though now, she looked inhumanly powerful. The shroud of the limbus seemed to suck away most of her remaining color. At certain angles, her bones were just visible beneath her dry, translucent skin. Dirty white hair flapped erratically about her face. Only her emerald eyes, irises sparking with purple magic, contained any trace of life.

  My body froze as Addie focused her attention on me. Her creepy leer caused the hairs on my arms to stand on end.

  “The plucky sidekick,” Addie clucked, her voice as ancient as the stone she guarded. “I thought you’d have run away by now.”

  Vee squeezed my hand for reassurance as I faced the being that inspired all my worst nightmares. “Not a chance.”

  “Really, dearie? Because that seems to be your specialty. Face it, you’re not heroine material like our little queenie here.” The witch flicked her wrist, and my best friend doubled over in pain.

  “Don’t let her get into your head,” Vee groaned.

  “How could you?” The witch’s voice had changed, causing me to whip my head back in her direction. But the Addie I recognized was gone. In her place stood Vee in her bedraggled, zombie-gore-encrusted gown.

  Her large turquoise eyes brimmed with accusations. “I needed you, Kenna — more than ever when I returned to Doon, but you left me. You didn’t just abandon Duncan, you abandoned your best friend. Deep inside, I will never forgive you for not staying.”

  My heart sank with the weight of her accusation. “I know.”

  “That’s not me!” Vee gripped my hand so hard that pain radiated up my arm. I glanced between my bestie and her doppelganger, trying to get my bearings. “It must be some kind of magical ward to protect the c
urse. Don’t let it confuse you. You have to destroy the stone!”

  But I couldn’t focus on the stone. The weight of my transgressions against my best friend rooted me to my spot. “I’m so sorry I left you. I wasn’t thinking about how hard it would be for you or all the responsibility you would have. I should’ve been a better friend.”

  Faux Vee said, “You were only thinking of yourself” at the same moment real Vee said, “I forgive you, Kenna. Now destroy the stone!”

  Feeling better, I turned to attack Vee’s likeness. But she was gone. In her place stood my beloved aunt. This was not the vibrant, kaftan-wearing relative that shaped my childhood, but a frail, trembling woman in a fungus-stained hospital gown. I blinked, trying to comprehend the image before me. Aunt Gracie’s gray eyes — the same shade as mine — clouded with confusion. “Why didn’t you come?”

  I gazed at her, unable to say anything. I had no memories of my aunt during this part of her life and had never visited her when she got sick. I only came after . . . to the funeral. A spasm racked her feeble body, but she continued in a thin voice, “I called and called for you. I kept holding on — hoping, then praying, for one last moment together. I was in agony, but I couldn’t let go. It was my dying wish to see you one last time, but you never came.”

  Suddenly, I was twelve again and overwhelmed with the terror of losing the most important person in my life. “I was scared to say good-bye.”

  “So was I.”

  My vision blurred, but I made no move to wipe the wetness from my eyes. “I thought if I didn’t come, you wouldn’t leave me.”

  “You were being selfish, as usual.”

  The tears that began to flow down my cheeks were warm against my chilled skin. Gracie was right; when she needed me most, I let her down. I was all she had, and I let her face death completely alone.

  “Kenna, listen to me!” Vee gripped my shoulder with her free hand, forcing me to look at her. “You were a little girl. Your real aunt understood. She loved you and forgave you.”

  I shook my head, denying Vee’s overly kind words. I’d always wondered if Gracie died mad at me for not coming to see her. But the witch couldn’t have known that — no one could.

  Vee’s thumb dug into my armpit as she ordered, “You need to snap out of this! The witch’s evil — it exploits our weaknesses. I believed I was worthless and she used it against me. Whatever mistakes you’ve made, the people who really love you have forgiven you.”

  “Have they, now?”

  I ripped my shoulder free, whirling toward the sound of Finn’s voice. He looked exactly as he had the last time I’d seen him, when he was thirteen. As he raked his fingers through his dark hair, his lopsided grin faltered. His wounded eyes regarded me gravely. “Do ye remember what passed between us after your aunt’s funeral?”

  I nodded. On the Brig o’ Doon, Finn had threaded his fingers through mine and lifted our intertwined hands to rest against his heart. With his other hand, he’d cupped my jaw as he pressed his lips to mine in our first kiss. Then I’d looked in his velvet brown eyes and made a promise.

  Hurt radiated off of Finn’s likeness. “You said ye’d come back.”

  Before my eyes, Finn grew into a tall, broad-shouldered prince. It wasn’t really Duncan — and yet, it felt like him.

  “You, Mackenna Reid, break your promises — just like ye break hearts.” It was the same accusation he’d made during our recent courtyard encounter. Though I knew in my head the whole thing was a trick, my heart could not deny the truth in his words.

  “I’m sorry,” I pleaded.

  “Save your apology. I trusted you and you betrayed that trust. You destroyed my faith and my heart. You claimed you abandoned me for my own good, but ye know that’s not true. Say the truth.”

  I was vaguely aware of Vee at my side, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than the boy whose life I’d ruined. What he said was as horrible as it was accurate. “I ran away. I was afraid it wouldn’t work out between us . . . so I left you before you could leave me. But, if you give me another chance, I’ll make it up to you.”

  Duncan stepped forward to the edge of the sludge pool. “Implore me.” I opened my mouth and he pointed to the ground. “On your knees — the way a commoner should petition a prince.”

  The earth made a muddy, squelching noise as I sunk to my knees. Vaguely aware of Vee gripping my hand, I wrenched it free so I could plead properly. “Please. Give me another chance.”

  Standing over me, Duncan tipped his head to the side. “Tell me tha’ you love me.’

  “I do. I always have, since we were children. I love you.”

  “Not good enough.” He angled his head from side to side, popping the vertebrae in his neck. “Really convince me.”

  The words began to pour out of me as I confessed my soul. “I’ve thought about you every day since I left. Nothing fills that void, not even theater. Being without you is like being trapped in a world without color — I can’t hear, taste, smell, or even touch my surroundings . . . but it’s more — it’s missing that spark in the core of my being. I’m half of a duet that has no context or melody without you. And if you can find it in your heart to give me another chance, I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I promise.”

  “Do ye promise?” Duncan sneered. His eyes burned with derision as he continued. “You’re a coward and a liar. You canna make up for this. You could spend your entire life atoning and it still wouldna make things right between us. I never want to see you again.”

  “Okay.” I closed my eyes against his condemnation as my soul caved in on itself, making it difficult to speak. Even in his rage, Duncan was blameless. I’d earned every terrible, contemptuous word.

  “This is exactly what you deserve, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He continued to denounce me without any hint of mercy. “Because of your choices, you dinna ever get to have your happy ending. You ruined everything and ye’ve not paid nearly enough.”

  From a great distance, Vee’s voice penetrated my consciousness. She knelt between Duncan’s apparition and me, shaking me back and forth. “You deserve to be forgiven for your mistakes!”

  “I don’t.” I opened my eyes to face her. There was no use in hiding anymore; Duncan had ripped me wide open. “I’ve abandoned everyone I ever loved. I’ve caused so much pain — I need to suffer for it.”

  “That’s what the witch wants you to believe. But the truth is — the people who love you have already forgiven you. Those apparitions — me, Aunt Gracie, Duncan — they’re not us; they’re you. Your guilt, your recrimination, your need to suffer; the witch is using your greatest fears against you. You need to let yourself be forgiven.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Stop torturing yourself and just let go. Surrender all the guilt, the pain, everything you’ve been carrying — leave it all here.”

  I glanced over Vee’s shoulder at Duncan’s seething image. Was he really an extension of my own self-loathing? If it was all in my head, could I really banish all those negative thoughts? I had to try — for all of us, but especially myself.

  With Vee’s help I struggled to my feet. She squeezed my hand as I confronted my own personal demon.

  The princely apparition growled in warning. “Ye canna defeat me. You’re nothing. Ana’s a thousand times the lass you are. That’s why I chose to be with her instead o’ you.”

  “Shut up! You’re not Duncan. You’re not even my subconscious anymore. And I won’t believe your lies.”

  The instant the words left my mouth, the world exploded. The protective bubble created by the rings burst into flames and I braced myself for searing heat . . . but it never came. Despite the raging fire, the air was cool and I felt an overwhelming sense of calm, similar to being in the eye of a storm. Vee and I clutched each other tighter as the fire that engulfed us raced across the riverbank, consuming everything in its path.

  Addie, whose apparit
ion was once again in witch form, lit up like witch flambé. With a blood curdling shriek, she lunged toward us. Howling and clawing, she flailed against the fiery force-field. The witch and the wildfire burned ever brighter until they reached supernova status. Blinding light flashed as the burning limbus imploded. For an instant I felt an uncontainable burst of power rushing at me from all directions. And then, with a deafening rumble, it was gone.

  In the silent aftermath, debris floated through the air, coating my hair and lashes like snowflakes. As far as the eye could see, a fine layer of ash covered the forest and half the bridge. The Pictish stone, while still intact, no longer had any purplish magic coursing through it. The pool of sludge had burned up along with the limbus, leaving only charred earth behind. Even the zombie splatter that’d covered Vee had been burned away.

  Vee’s awed gaze met mine. “What was that?”

  “Forgiveness,” I replied with a shrug.

  Shielding her eyes from the drifting ashes, Vee surveyed the remains of the forest. “It’s done.”

  Just to be sure, I crossed to the source of the limbus. Lifting the Arm o’ the Bruce over my head, I swung at the Pictish stone with all my strength. A single flicker of purple sparked as the cursed rock broke in half with a sharp crack.

  With my burdens burned away, I felt lighter than I had in a year — no, in a lifetime. It was a good feeling, one of closure. Dropping the axe, I wrapped my arms around my best friend. “Now, it’s done.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Mackenna

  A universal truth in acting is that motivation is more important than action. What we do becomes meaningless without the why. Take leaving, for instance. It can be an act of fear, afraid of the unknowable future and what we might have to face if we stay. It can be motivated by a need to control, also fear based, to abandon before being abandoned. Or leaving can be an act of bravery stemming from a heroic heart.