The Hallowed

by Lani Lenore

  It was coming now. She had reached the end of her term, and what she would deliver, the world was not ready for.

  Though Celia was aware that Luci had slipped off behind her, she did not stop running. She darted down hallways that should have been somewhat familiar, only now in her frantic state they all appeared the same. She rushed up a flight of stairs to, just a few moments later, come down another. She could not map her way—didn’t know where she was going or where she had been—and it seemed she was going in circles.

  I should slow down and think about this, she thought, but that was quickly followed by: I can’t. She’ll kill me. She’ll rip off my arms and smash my face in.

  So Celia kept moving. The house seemed to grow darker as she slipped further into it, and yet it was not until she passed into a dimly lit corridor that she felt she could run no more, doubling over to catch her breath. She gasped for air, coughing when she tried to fill her burning lungs too quickly.

  Why am I stopping? I’m standing out in the open. Luci will never tire. I should at least find a place to hide.

  She coached herself and knew she was right, but could not pull herself along. She was exhausted by everything—the deaths, the entrapment, her sour thoughts of Adam—and she would have loved nothing more than to be able to rest.

  Yes, rest. Somewhere far away where there is life outside the walls and I can put all of this further behind me as the days go by.

  Celia closed her eyes as she breathed, imagining a comfortable bed in a little house in a quaint town, surrounded by normal, healthy people who would pass by on sunny days and say hello—where she would sleep beside Adam at night and never have to question his motives or his devotion. Celia was nearly carried away by the false notion of birds chirping in her head before her ears recognized the true sounds in the corridor ahead of her. There was a low groaning noise and a steady shuffling sound coming closer.

  Run, her mind told her, and immediately she straightened herself, only to lean forward in pain as a cramping muscle sent pangs throughout her body. Holding her side as she winced, she backed away slowly, afraid of what horror might be approaching and hoping that it had not seen her. All she could imagine was Margot’s half-dead corpse lumbering down the hallway, still refusing to accept death.

  Celia backed away as silently as she could, running her hand along the wall to search for the corner, knowing that whatever was coming was not moving very quickly. She kept her eyes facing the darkness, and eventually a figure emerged in her sight.

  A woman dressed in white was making her way down the corridor, hugging the wall and gripping furniture when she could. Each step was heavy and forced, and Celia did not have to squint to notice the blood that stained the woman’s dress, that trailed down her legs and made a clear path across the floor.

  Anjessica… Odd how she was the one person in the entire house that Celia did not feel threatened by. Now that she knew the truth about Irving, it could be believed that Anjessica was just as much a prisoner of repression as Celia herself. Though her pregnant stomach had been hideous, Celia had been concerned over the woman, and even now when she was confronted with such a horrible sight, she felt the same sympathy.

  Anjessica advanced on stiff legs, her dress covered with vomit and blood. The child had insisted on coming, and it was not being kind. Celia’s eyes widened in horror, but she was frozen. She straightened herself to stand upright and yet she could not retreat. Though Anjessica was focusing all her efforts on holding herself up by the wall, she raised her head weakly and noticed Celia there.

  “Help me,” she murmured. It was barely more than a whisper.

  Celia was unsure. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to decide which way to shove off, but she could not choose. She did not want to retreat from this woman who was in agony, yet she could not make herself advance. What did she know about birthing babies after all? Was this amount of blood normal? How could she even begin to stop it?

  But I can’t just leave her this way.

  Celia took a step forward, resolved but trembling with fear. First, she would try to get Anjessica out of the hallway, get her to lay down somewhere. Then—

  While the girl was still contemplating, the woman twisted back her head and released a horrible wail that echoed through the stark corridor. She fell over onto a table that lined the hall, spilling a candelabrum onto the floor where the flames flickered and went out. Anjessica gripped her stomach as her knees buckled, and she would have fallen if not for the table. Her dark curls fell all around her, hiding her face as she slumped forward in pain. She groaned and whimpered as the blood poured out of her in unbroken streams, splattering her bare feet. Celia could only shake her head as she backed away. She wanted no part of this; she knew that now. If she stayed to watch, all of her horrors would be realized. All of those things she had imagined inside that black belly—a slithering creature, a nest of vipers—would burst out, and she did not want to look.

  But she could not look away.

  Anjessica cried out as her body began to convulse as an epileptic’s, and though Celia’s best judgment was telling her to run, her legs would not obey. She merely stared with wide eyes as the woman screamed and struggled—and then it all stopped. Anjessica became as silent as death, and before Celia’s eyes, her stomach began to cave in, first at one place and then another until there was no evidence of pregnancy left. Her massive belly sank back into her body with a final expulsion of blood from between her legs, and she appeared to be with child no longer, but Celia could not wrap her mind around it, for nothing had come out of her except the blood.

  The woman was still, silent now with no more screams of pain, but she did not fall over in death. And what of the baby? It was as if the whole idea of a child was just an illusion in Celia’s mind.

  “Anjessica?” she tried, though she feared an answer from the woman’s lips.

  Go! Don’t be a fool! Run!

  Celia had finally pulled herself together. She moved one foot—all that was left beyond that was to pivot and turn—but before she had done so, she saw Anjessica lift her head.

  Celia paused, hoping that the woman would tell her that she was alright, though she doubted it, but when Celia saw her face, she soon regretted lingering. Black veins had sprouted up beneath Anjessica’s pale skin, on her face as well as her arms and legs. The eyes, black as coal, stared forward, and Celia knew that they saw her. Then the mouth opened, and a voice came out of it that did not belong to the woman.

  “Hungry.”

  That voice, coupled with the way those eyes were looking at her made Celia understand what the creature had in mind. This was not Anjessica anymore. It was the thing that had just been born, and it had taken over its mother’s body. It was awake now, and its first instinct was to feed.

  Celia spun on her heel and ran, wishing that she had not waited so long to retreat, but it was too late for regrets. The creature in Anjessica’s body was quick, much faster than Celia, and soon it had wrapped arms around her waist and tackled her to the floor.

  Waves of panic had already rolled in, but now Celia was flooded with it. She twisted against the creature’s grip, but had not gotten herself free before Anjessica’s blunt teeth sank into the back of her leg. The pain attacked her nerves, and perhaps it was luck that the cloth of her dress was between the pearly bones and her skin. She was able to roll and strike the creature in the head with her fist. Her blows didn’t carry much strength, but they caused the black-veined monster to withdraw without ripping out a chunk of her flesh.

  Anjessica! What happened to you? What sort of beast were you carrying?

  Celia managed to roll onto her back before the woman made another attempt to sink eager teeth into her flesh. She pushed with all her strength as Anjessica’s monster gnashed her teeth at any part of Celia that was closest to her mouth—going for her arms, nipping toward her nose and chin. Celia finally managed to get her hands on both sides of the creature’s face, trying to control the
head, but the thing in Anjessica’s body was much stronger than her. She would not be able to keep the woman away for very long.

  I can’t get her off of me, Celia realized. She’s going to eat me alive!

  Celia closed her eyes, not wanting to watch as she continued to push upward with all her strength, and she felt the teeth sink into her arm. She cried out in pain, and though she felt the teeth dig in, she didn’t look. She wouldn’t look…

  Footsteps were rushing down the hallway. There was a loud thud and ringing noise as something hit against Anjessica’s head. A weight was lifted off Celia then, but she did not spend time observing. She opened her eyes and instinctually began to crawl away. She did not stop until she reached the wall, where she turned against it and looked over the scene before her. Her savior had come, and he had not abandoned her after all.

  Adam was there, and he was beating the hissing Anjessica creature with an iron rod of some kind—likely a fireplace poker—but Celia didn’t care what it was, only that he had found her. He had not deserted her as she had suspected, and nothing else could have uplifted her heart in that moment. The monster was on the floor, and he continued to smash the poker into the creature’s head as, gradually, it slowed its movement. He seemed to have her in submission, and Celia had to fight the urge to tell him not to kill her. This was not Anjessica, but Celia wanted nothing to do with this.

  Turning her attention away, she winced as she looked down at her arm, seeing the prominent teeth marks, but they had not broken her skin. A deep bruise was already forming underneath. The creature had bitten down hard. When she looked up again, Adam had finished his work.

  Anjessica’s body wasn’t moving, though Celia could not see it clearly, but she had to assume that Adam had finally killed the creature that had taken over her body—whatever it had been. She could only imagine that it was similar to what she had seen inside Margot’s body when Luci had opened her up.

  Celia watched as Adam lingered over the body a moment, staring down at the woman with a look of regret, but he gave his silent apologies quickly and then turned to Celia, who remained crouched on the floor.

  Adam… She wanted to say his name in relief, but she couldn’t manage any words. He came over to her, but didn’t waste time on comfort or concern.

  “Come on,” he instructed, taking her hand and pulling her off the floor, leading immediately into a run. “We’re leaving this place.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Celia felt more secure now that her hand was in Adam’s as they wove through the corridors, but even the safety that his grip promised did not quite relieve her fear. She was wounded and terrified, but she had her motivation back. Following close behind Adam as he led her up the stairs, she tried to stifle her fear by focusing on his promise.

  He’s found a way out. We’re finally getting out of this madhouse! And how many times had she had the hope of that before? She knew she shouldn’t let herself soar too high, but how could she not let herself embrace this idea yet again, even if she was to be disappointed? It was enough to lift her spirits, though she was afraid at each turn they took, believing they would be caught by Luci, the hooded man, or a LaCroix with a gun. As far as she knew, there were only four souls left in the house—Irving, Baltus, Luci and the man who couldn’t be killed—but as Adam continued to lead her along, they saw no one.

  They moved hastily up the stairs to the third floor. Celia began to wonder how there could be a way out from this height, but she held her tongue for now. Perhaps there was another reason for making this trek. Either way, she had to believe that Adam knew where he was going. He directed her down a hallway, past so many doors and yet approaching another, where Adam began to slow his pace. Celia knew then that this was their destination.

  She lowered her eyes and touched her side where a muscle was cramping. She remembered how exhausted she was. She’d been doing a lot of running—quite too much fearing for her life.

  I just want it to be over.

  Adam continued to pull her along, and Celia finally raised her eyes. They had passed both of their rooms, along with the room that held the cages, and paced down the furthest wing of the house. Adam looked behind him as he directed her around a corner—

  And when Celia saw Luci, she threw her heels into the floor and came to an immediate halt. The maid was there in front of a door, one hand on the handle and the other behind her back.

  That’s where she’s hiding her weapon, Celia knew, and she struggled to back away but Adam would not let go of her hand.

  “It’s alright,” she heard him say, but the sound of his voice was not good enough. Luci was staring toward her, no doubt clutching that shard of broken vase, wet with her sister’s dark blood, with murderous intent. Her face was so calm and steady—unreadable—but Celia knew what was going on behind there.

  “No, Adam,” she insisted, trying to free her wrist from his grip. “She killed her own sister and she was going to kill me!”

  Adam turned to look at the young maid, who did not appear to be the least bit ashamed, though she did lower her head a bit beneath his gaze, as if simply for reverence. Celia did not understand what had passed between them but she was not content to stop her struggle until Adam finally let go of her wrist. Even when she was free, she did not retreat, only clenched her sore arm and stepped back a few paces.

  “She does what I say,” Adam told her then. “She won’t hurt you. She’s helping us to get out.”

  Luci? If Celia had known that this evil creature was the aid, she would have protested long before. This had to be some sort of trick, either to trap them further or to do away with them both.

  “No,” Celia muttered, shaking her head in protest. “She’s lying.”

  She kept her eyes glued to Luci’s face while Adam’s back was turned to the maid, and Celia saw a sly smile rise up on her mouth. There was something sinister in it. Luci couldn’t be trusted. Was she the only one who realized that?

  “Listen to me,” Adam insisted, holding her arms gently. “Luci showed me some things that made sense. She told me she could get us out of here, and I believe her.”

  “What things?”

  He hesitated. She wanted an answer, but could see that he did not want to give it to her.

  “I swear I’ll tell you everything, but first we have to get out of here,” he vowed. “I need you to trust me.”

  Celia looked into Adam’s eyes and she noticed how wild they were. His heart must have been beating fiercely. His face was calm, but his eyes gave him away. He was shaken, desperate to be free. He trusted this strange maid, for whatever reason—perhaps for having no other option—and Celia had to admit that she wanted out more than ever.

  Maynard. Anjessica’s baby. Trapped… She sent one more glance at Luci before she made her choice.

  “I do want to get out of here,” she resolved.

  “She told me a way,” he said as an offering, and Celia nodded.

  They moved forward together, and at their approach, Luci opened the door and stepped out of their path. Beyond it was a winding stairwell that led up into darkness. Yet another level to this massive place. Luci didn’t say anything as they moved past her, but once they had both entered inside, the door to the passage was closed behind them. Celia was surprised when Luci did not try to jerk her back by her hair and slice her throat. In fact, the servant did not lay a finger on her at all.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” she asked Adam quietly. The sound echoed off the tight walls.

  “Yes; just follow,” he said without explaining. Did he think the walls had ears? Yet in this house, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see the rounded flesh growing out of the cracks. The way was lit only by a bit of light coming in through tiny windows that were too high to see through. Nevertheless, the stairs slipped away beneath them as they wound upward. At the top, a heavy door opened to a place where the roof was flat. To no great surprise, it was pouring rain, drops pelting off the stone.

  Wi
thout hesitation, Adam led her out into the weather and pushed the door closed behind them. He encouraged her to hurry across the slippery rooftop, past stone gargoyles that glared at them disapprovingly. Celia tried not to look at their faces as she wondered to herself whether or not they would keep her secret. Their stone eyes had seen her trying to flee, and she would simply have to trust them. Adam led her around an upraised eave, and there she saw the shed.

  There was a single room on the roof, hidden away from the rest of the world. It was where Luci had told Adam to go, for he went there directly. The space was reinforced with stone and was relatively dry, though there were drips from secret cracks in the ceiling. A lantern was left inside, which may have been placed by Luci. There was a layer of dust on every wooden surface, but there was a small table, a chair, and a bed inside. Perhaps a groundkeeper or workman had once been allowed to live here, though apparently not for years.

  Perhaps the keeper of the gargoyles lived here.

  Adam, seeming pleased to shut the rain outside the door, moved further into the space and sat down in the chair, propping the fireplace poker up beside him. Celia lingered nearer to the door, gazing around the dimly lit room and hugging her soaked shoulders.

  “Are you sure we’ll be safe here?” she asked. A cold drop of water ran beneath her hair and trailed across her scalp, chilling her.

  “She told me we would,” Adam replied, no doubt speaking of Luci. “We’re supposed to wait here until the rain stops. She said no one would look here because that door leading out of the house is supposed to be locked. They’ve trusted her with those tasks.”

  “I don’t trust her,” Celia continued to insist. “We shouldn’t wait. We should try to go now—while it’s dark.”

  “It’s pouring,” he tried to reason. “It’s not safe now.”

  “Well I can’t just sit here!” Celia cried, throwing her arms and then putting them to her face to hide the tears that were threatening to spring up. Odd, how she had just begun to care if he saw her cry.