Belmary House Book One

by Cassidy Cayman

  “Another exit.” He rubbed his hand over his face and looked disgusted. “Come now,” he called out. “Let’s have at it.”

  She swiped at him, shocked that he would do something so rash. Something rustled behind the screen and she squinted down the length of the room, about to come out of her skin in anticipation. All her muscles strained to run back up the stairs, but she couldn’t bear the thought of having to go back through the chapel of death again, and certainly not without Ashford.

  She heard a soft, high pitched mewling and it wasn’t until Ashford gently placed his hand on her arm that she realized it was coming from her. She clamped her lips tightly together and stared at the screen. A clomping sound, and the screen moved a few inches.

  “You must remember to do exactly what I say,” Ashford reminded her out of the side of his mouth.

  She nodded dumbly, unable to take her eyes off the spot where the screen had moved. Faster than she thought possible, a man appeared at the other side of it, bumping it as he moved swiftly toward them. He stopped at the dining area and stared at them, rocking slightly on his feet.

  Ashford choked and took a step back and she could see now that the man was closer to them that he was unnaturally pale, with sunken cheeks and dark shadows under his eyes. He raced a few feet forward, nearly causing her to scream, but once again stopped abruptly. It was as if he was on an invisible line that kept reeling him out and jerking him back. Even closer, she saw his eyes were glazed over and unseeing, the irises cloudy and almost white. One glance at Ashford told her this was the unfortunate Donal Blair and as revolted and horrified as she was, she still felt pity.

  It was gone in an instant when he turned his sightless gaze toward her and juddered forward again, arms outstretched, pale hands curled into claws. Ashford threw himself between them, drawing his gun. Tilly stumbled backward and ran around the other side of the spiral staircase, catching a glimpse of someone else standing at the edge of the screen. Tilly thought she saw a wisp of gown as the person snaked further behind the screen and out of her sight. She didn’t have time to further investigate because Donal, or what was left of him, had righted his course and was coming after her again.

  She couldn’t help herself, and finally screamed, long and loud. A flipping zombie was after her for goodness sake. Ashford hurriedly backed up to keep pace with the creature, raising his gun and shooting it right between the eyes.

  The sound reverberated through the cavernous room, and for a moment all she could hear was her own heartbeat, until the ringing started and she shook her head to try and clear it. Donal’s head snapped back and he stumbled several paces backward, but he didn’t fall to the ground.

  “You said the head, correct?” Ashford yelled.

  He sounded tinny and far away, and before she could answer, Donal made his way toward her again, alarmingly fast for someone who had just been shot through the skull.

  Ashford swore and shot again, this time aiming for the chest. He put two rapid fire bullets into the thing and it still kept coming for her, barely pausing as each bullet tore into it. It practically had its hands on her, and with another scream, she ducked under its outstretched arms and flew past him toward the other side of the room.

  Why hadn’t the bullets killed it? She almost laughed that every zombie movie she’d ever seen had given her false information. She didn’t want to get too close to the other side of the room, which would put her the furthest from both exits, but the horrible Donal would not give up chasing her.

  She stopped, able to see clearly behind the screen now, and saw a woman staring straight ahead, mumbling under her breath and moving her hands in a strange fashion. It all clicked into place. The movies hadn’t lied, she just hadn’t recalled them all. Gathering every last wit she had, she jumped forward and kicked down the screen.

  “Oh my God.” She raced around the dining table and back to Ashford. “It’s the wrong kind of zombie,” she yelped, jumping behind him.

  Donal made an unholy guttural noise and corrected his course again. She almost cried with relief that she had the answer, but there was no time.

  “It’s a voodoo zombie, not a virus zombie. That woman’s controlling it. You have to shoot the one who controls it.”

  Ashford’s eyes had been glued to Donal up until that point and he quickly looked to where she pointed. He went blank and his arms dropped to his sides. Donal knocked over a dining chair but was now back on track and moved with ungainly swiftness toward her again.

  “Shoot her,” she screamed.

  Ashford didn’t move. She’d never seen such a look on his face as he locked eyes on the woman.

  “Run,” he said, his voice chilling her. “Get out of here, now.”

  Donal was almost upon her, and with tears in her eyes, she flung open the door and ran.

  The second staircase out of the underground room was steep and seemed to go on forever, but she finally burst out of a set of cellar doors, more than thirty yards away from the church, in a small wooded area. She stumbled out from under the trees until she was in the lane, which at least offered a bit of light from the moon. The rain had completely stopped and it was a clear, cool night.

  She waited for the gunshot, prayed she’d hear it, but either it was too far away, or … she stopped her thoughts and sat on the packed dirt, hugging her knees to her chest.

  Why hadn’t Ashford killed the woman? Anyone who would keep and control such a creature needed to be taken off the face of the earth. She wondered if she was a particularly powerful member of the Povest coven, and maybe he wanted to try and negotiate with her. She thought of the corpses in the church and didn’t think that was possible, but if nothing else he’d need to try to find out where Camilla was before he did anything.

  When she heard the cellar doors slam and saw his outline through the trees, she ran and flung her arms around him, mashing herself to him like a starfish.

  “Are you okay, are you hurt?” she cried into his shoulder as he half carried her toward the road.

  She couldn’t make herself let go of him, and when they were out of the trees, he held onto her for a moment before disentangling himself.

  “We must leave at once,” he said, already moving away from the church. “There were horses at the inn. We’ll ride through the night.”

  She trotted to keep up with him, taking in his stricken face and bleak eyes. “Julian, what happened?”

  He shook his head, still walking purposefully toward the inn. She couldn’t stand it and grabbed his hand, digging in her heels to make him stop. He looked blankly down at her, exhausted and empty, almost broken.

  “What is it?” she asked more gently, pulling his hand to her heart. “Did you kill that woman?”

  “I couldn’t,” he said, unable to look at her.

  “Why? Does she know where Camilla is?”

  After a long moment, he let out a weary sigh and raised his eyes to hers. “That woman was Camilla,” he said. “That was my sister.”

  ***

  “We’ll get to the next village and I’ll send off a message to Kostya.”

  Ashford paced while Matilda hurriedly packed. He wanted to get as far away as possible as soon as possible. The innkeeper would only give him one horse, and that at an exorbitant price. The old man was readying it for them now, and as soon as Matilda was ready, he would get them out of here. He suspected she was dawdling, waiting for him to come to his senses, waiting for answers or the whole story, but he was as confused as she was. How could it have been Camilla?

  He knew Camilla had done something to him, he felt the familiar buzzing around his consciousness, almost like an itch, but for now he was going to go with it. He couldn’t make a proper decision right now, not with Matilda continuing to give him skeptical, pitying looks every time he tried.

  If it wasn’t for her, he’d have gone to pieces at the church, just sat down on the floor of that nightmarish luxury abode and let what was left of Donal tear him apart. Just thinking of he
r tear-stained face when she ran out gave him the strength to go after her. He still couldn’t believe she had actually listened to him, and took a moment from his weary pacing to drop a kiss on her head while she anxiously crammed her things into a valise.

  She smiled up at him, but didn’t say anything, another thing he was grateful for. He didn’t regret for one moment finally telling her how he felt. Being able to admit his love out loud and let that one beautiful emotion run free in his head was another thing that kept him standing. No matter what happened, he had that.

  “Julian, what about—”

  He shook his head, cutting her off. It didn’t matter what she was going to ask about, he didn’t have an answer.

  “Let me send for Kostya. He can get through to her. They loved each other once.”

  Her face told him she didn’t think that was possible. He could see how disgusted and upset she was by what she’d seen. He felt much the same way, but he couldn’t abandon the hope of saving his sister. There had to be a way to save her. If only he could get past the shock that he was now trying to save her from herself and not the clutches of the Povests. Dear God, the Povests.

  “We have to hurry, or Kostya’s family is going to bring down the hammer.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, trailing off with a twist to her mouth. “Maybe that would be for the best. Let the witches deal with their own.” She shook her head and looked apologetic.

  “It’s not like that,” he said pathetically, unable to keep from trying to defend Camilla. “She was so broken after Lucy died. Losing Donal was another blow. You asked me about righting a wrong before? Camilla’s confused and blinded by grief, and thinks she’s righting a wrong.”

  Her mouth was a thin line. He knew she didn’t understand, and he couldn’t expect her to have compassion for someone who’d sent a monster after her. Yet he could see she was struggling to stay strong for him and it tore him in two.

  He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to block it out, and sat beside her on the bed. He felt her tentatively put her hand on his knee and he dropped his hands, blinking to clear the blurriness from his vision. If only it was as easy to clear his mind. She smiled encouragingly and he knew it was taking all her willpower not to badger him with questions.

  “You’re so dear to me,” he said sadly. “I’m so very sorry about all this.”

  “You didn’t cause any of it,” she said, putting her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. “Do you really think Kostya can help?” She sounded bleak.

  He hugged her, trying to convey some sort of hope, trying to feel some himself. “She’ll come to her senses when she sees him, I’m sure of it. She’s loved him since she was a child. There has to be something still there. He can bring her back. She’ll release … that creature and then she can help you get back home.”

  That thought made him wince, not wanting Tilly to leave him, but knowing he had no choice but to keep fighting for her chance to return. He had to accept that he might only have her for a short while, and he wanted to appreciate every moment, no matter how terrible things were.

  She reached up and turned his face to hers, frowning. She pressed her finger in between his eyebrows.

  “Stop tormenting yourself for a couple minutes. We can only do what we can do.”

  “That makes no sense, but thank you.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, savoring a brief moment of respite. If he wasn’t careful he’d be well and truly hooked on her. He laughed ruefully against her mouth, knowing it was far too late to be careful.

  “It made perfect sense,” she said pertly. “Come on, I’m ready. Let’s go ride all night.”

  “I’m sorry, but I could only get one horse. It’ll be close in the saddle.”

  He couldn’t help the upturning of his lips as he thought about her warm, supple body snuggled against him for the journey.

  She squeezed him tight around his middle. “I’m sure I’ll survive it somehow,” she said, making a comfortable sighing sound that almost made him forget the horror they’d been through, and almost let him believe everything would be all right.

  Chapter 31

  Kostya sat in his cramped office room and looked down at the pile of correspondence that had just been delivered to him. He glanced out the one window with a view of the barn and wished he was outside with the horses and sheep, feeling the brisk beginnings of autumn in the air. He realized it was rather stuffy and rose to open the window, fighting with the stiff pane until he managed to crack it enough for a breeze.

  He supposed he didn’t feel like working inside because he anticipated Serena’s visit later, and he couldn’t wait to stroll along the pond with her. She liked throwing rocks the way they’d done as children, counting the ripples and rudely scaring all the fish. She visited every day, but had been coming later and later, citing fatigue and a general malaise she couldn’t seem to shake. He couldn’t help but worry whenever someone he cared about fell ill, but she assured him she felt fine most of the time.

  He forced himself to sit back down in his chair but couldn’t make himself pick up any of the papers, too awash in the new feelings of happiness he’d been learning to accept. It felt ridiculous, sending Serena away every evening, but ever since they’d decided to openly acknowledge their relationship, she’d been more prim and proper than he thought humanly possible. It was rare he could get her to spend the night, and he longed for the winter to hurry up and set in, so she might get stranded with him for the duration of a long storm.

  He’d already decided the moment his mourning period was up, he would ask her to marry him. It wasn’t as if the servants didn’t already know everything, and as discreet as they were, he would be shocked if the villagers were still in the dark.

  It had only caused him a fleeting amount of pain to finally decide to order a gravestone for Camilla. He would go to the next town for it, not wanting to stir up old feelings with the villagers. He knew as time passed they’d forgive if not forget, and everyone loved Serena, so he’d be shown mercy because she loved him. That thought made him smile, still not quite believing any of it. He still couldn’t accept that he deserved another chance. But if Serena thought so, he had to go along with it. He couldn’t deny her anything.

  As if thinking of her had conjured her, she now stood in the doorway, gripping her skirts as if for dear life, a determined look on her face. He stood up, so delighted to see her before her scheduled visit, it took him a moment to discern she was quite pale.

  “My dear, are you unwell?” he asked, hurrying her to the only other chair in the room besides his. “Let’s go to a more comfortable room, there’s no good air in here.”

  She refused to sit and put her hand on his arm, stilling his anxious fluttering and making his stomach sink. He wanted to scream, expecting the worst.

  “I must tell you something, Kostya, and I have to get it out quickly before I lose my nerve,” she said, voice uncharacteristically shaking. She took his hands but nervously dropped them.

  With a huff, he grabbed them again, kissing each one. “Tell me,” he said.

  He realized he held her too tightly for comfort and loosened his grip on her hands.

  She swallowed and laughed. “It’s quite unexpected. I fear it may not be good news.” Tears welled up in her bright blue eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

  “Serena,” he said calmly, but feeling he would go mad. “Tell me at once.”

  “I’m with child,” she blurted. “It’s early days still, so …”

  He dropped her hands he was so shocked. It was the last thing he expected. He’d expected she was gravely ill, or her father wanted her to go to whatever distant land he was visiting. He had thought he was going to lose her.

  “With child,” he repeated, foolishly relieved until all his old fears came rushing back.

  He thought of Lucy and longed for her to have had a sibling, all while already fearing losing this new one, not yet born.

&n
bsp; “Kostya?” Serena asked, her voice both tentative and annoyed.

  He pushed aside the fears, having no choice but to go forward, wanting to go forward. He crushed her to him in a fierce hug.

  “I thought you were going to give me bad news,” he said, voice muffled in her hair.

  “You’re smothering me,” she gasped, and he let go, but only a little. “This is good news, then?”

  He laughed. “It’s wonderful news, but it spoils my proposal plans. Now you’ll think I want to marry you out of obligation and I’m certain there will be no way to convince you otherwise.”

  “Truly?” she asked, looking the same as when he first laid eyes on her so many years before.

  All the hardness and old disappointments were gone from her face, and he hoped from her heart. He selfishly wanted to be the only one occupying that space. He counted off the months until his mourning ended. They should have time to have a proper wedding and not be too much of a scandal. He laughed again, thinking that would really get him back in the villagers’ good graces, they did so love a scandal.

  “Yes, truly.” He dropped to his knee and held out his hand in a showy manner, his sentiments completely sincere. “Shall we get married?”

  “That’s not right, Kostya, and you know it. You wait and do it the way you wanted, I’m not going anywhere.”

  He popped back up and hugged her some more. “You mustn’t,” he said. “Stay with me always.”

  “I am with you always, right here,” she said, placing his hand on her heart. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I did worry, a bit,” he admitted. “I’d forgotten what it feels like to be so happy.”

  She kissed him softly. “I’m so glad I could help you remember. We’ll be a family, won’t we?”

  The word hit him like a blow. Family. He’d had one once and it had been a dream come true. Could he do it again, risk it all again? He looked at her beautiful face, no longer pale with nerves, but glowing with the prospect of their future together. Did he dare risk it? Resignation settled on his shoulders, and something stronger. A desire to keep fighting for what he wanted.