The Unblessed Dead

by Rhiannon Frater

  I struggle to escape the nightmares, but I’m caught in their snare. If the dream alters to something more mundane, it instantly resets so I stand among the Unblessed again. Each time I’m carried along with the dead, my feet unable to find purchase on the hard earth until the wall collapses.

  Sleep holds me captive, and my mind refuses to release me from the nightmares. The dream begins again and I scream with frustration as I’m once again caught in the crush of bodies. Again, I’m pushed toward the wall, and I dread witnessing it fall again.

  One of the Unblessed in front of me abruptly turns around and I find myself staring into the dead eyes of my mother.

  “Wake up, Ilyse. Wake up!” she shouts.

  I startle awake. Kicking off my covers, I exhale with relief. The moonlight filters through the cotton curtains illuminating Carrie asleep in her bed. Swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress, I take deep breaths to help calm my nerves. The nightmare had such a stranglehold on my mind, it felt as though I would never escape.

  My attention is drawn to the clock on the wall and I’m relieved it’s close to midnight. I creep across the wooden floor, one watchful eye on Carrie. She sleeps burrowed under her covers, silent and unmoving. Relieved, I pull on my simplest day dress and step into my slippers. I flinch when I lift my hooded cloak off the hook, hearing the wood floor creak under my feet. A quick peek at Carrie reveals she’s still sleeping.

  My heart thudding in my chest, I tiptoe to the window and press the pane open. The garden is lit by the moon, and there aren’t any stray Beloved Dead waiting for me. I sigh with relief. After the nightmares, I’d almost expected to find my mother. Carefully, I let myself over the windowsill, my feet settling onto the damp earth.

  I gingerly creep across the garden. The windows of the house are darkened. My father and aunt are deep sleepers and I don’t fear them waking. The neighbors are more of a concern, but their houses are dark, too.

  It’s past midnight and the last of the work crews are home. The path along the wall should guide me straight to the Murrow House. I’ve only seen it from afar since it’s a forbidden area. It’s been a source of much frustration among the Council of Crats, who control the economy and infrastructure of the settlement. The owners have adamantly refused to destroy the house or remove the cemetery since they’re not followers of the Lost Texts. Though the dead long ago abandoned their graves, the headstones, marking what should have been their final resting place remain. At dinner, my father expressed hope that Quade might finally remove the graveyard and renovate the house to match the rest of the settlement houses. My father is disappointed that Quade is not a follower of the Lost Texts but excited by the prospect of him infusing the economy with a new business.

  When I reach the other side of the garden, I let myself through the gate into the walled path that curves around the settlement. I hurry along the same route I took with Carrie and Schoolmaster Simmons. When I pass the gate that exits to the Perdition Sanctuary, I warily glance up at its imposing steeple.

  Do the Beloved Dead feel my presence?

  Does my mother know I’m nearby?

  I push those disturbing thoughts away and continue through the shadows toward the outer rim of the settlement. The dogs are quiet tonight. Maybe they wore themselves out barking earlier when the copters destroyed the zombie horde. I’m grateful for the silence. If anyone approaches, I’ll hear them in time to hide in the shadows. At the same time, it also makes me much more nervous for it feels like every noise I make is amplified. I’m acutely aware of the slap of my slippers against the stones and the sound of my breathing.

  When I pass by the residence of the unmarried women, I note that a few lights are still on. I stay close to the inner wall hoping to avoid being spotted in case anyone is near the windows. My steps become slower when I hear voices in the garden. Two women are chatting and giggling together. They sound cheerful and this surprises me. The Unclaimed look so dour in public I’d assumed their lives were unhappy. On the other side of the wall, the women who were discarded at the Bridal Auction and deemed unworthy to be wives and mothers sound more joyful than people in my carefully structured life.

  I continue onward, a little shaken by the discovery. Piece by piece, I feel my convictions being taken apart. All my life I’ve tried to follow the Lost Texts and adhere to the tenets of the faith. My father ingrained in me the belief that the Lost Texts are the only truth and to waver from them would be my undoing. Despite my adherence to the Lost Texts and my desire to not falter, I am steadily drifting away from the life I thought was my future. There’s no doubt in my mind that I have inherited some of my mother’s abilities. I cannot remain at the Atonement Settlement and survive. I never wanted to be a necromancer, but I obviously have no choice.

  I’m so deep in my dreary thoughts I almost miss the exit to the street near the Murrow House. Reaching for the latch, I’m startled by a sharp cry followed by a thud.

  Someone is behind me!

  At first, I search for a place to hide before realizing the voice sounded very familiar. Suspicion draws me back the way I’d come. Moving along the curve of the wall, I see a slight figure climbing to their feet.

  “Carrie,” I hiss.

  Surprised, she hops backwards from me, hiding her face in her hood, tensed to scamper away before realizing it’s me glaring at her.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper.

  “Following you to see Quade,” she answers.

  I frown at her. “You were awake and pretending to be asleep!”

  Lifting her chin, she defiantly says, “Maybe I was.”

  Exasperated, I shake my head with annoyance. “Why?”

  “I knew what you were going to do, and wanted to come. If I’d tried to convince you to let me come with you, I knew you’d tell me no. So… I waited and followed.”

  I fold my arms across my breasts and glare at her. “How did you know I’d come here?”

  “Because it’s what I’d do,” she replies. “You’re not that clever.”

  Rolling my eyes, I exhale with complete frustration. “You need to go home. You can’t risk your standing.”

  “Just being our mother’s child is enough to risk my standing. Do you think you’re the only one they might accuse?” It’s her turn to roll her eyes. “You’re so clueless sometimes.”

  I hate that my sister has a valid point. I’m not very good at seeing outside my own perspective. I should’ve realized I couldn’t protect my sister from what’s happening to me. I’ve done a terrible job hiding my worries from her and only made hers worse.

  “You should go back,” I say again. “You can’t risk this.”

  “And you can? Your Bridal Auction is close but you’re still here.”

  “I have to find out the truth, Carrie.”

  “From Quade.”

  I nod, then give her a sharp look. “How did you know I’d seek him out?”

  “When he touched you during your fit, you calmed down and woke up.”

  Dread bubbles inside me. “Do you think anyone else noticed?”

  Carrie shrugs. “Most of the people around us weren’t from the settlement. I don’t think Father noticed anything other than you being at risk of losing your standing. I’ve been watching him. I don’t think he has a clue what’s going on with you, which probably means you got your tunnel vision from him. Once you both get something in your head, you lock everything else out.”

  I snort with annoyance, yet I know she’s right. “Fine. You’re right. Now go back home.”

  “No, and you can’t make me go back. We’re in this together. We’re both daughters of the only known necromancer in the history of the Atonement Sanctuary. I’m going with you.”

  I know from many years of quarreling with my younger sister that I won’t win this battle. She’s as stubborn as I am and we’ll just waste precious time arguing.

  “Fine. You can come with me.”

  “I was going to anyway,” she retorts, bu
t smiles. Taking my hand, she walks with me toward the gate.

  I pull on the latch, slowly easing the heavy gate open to reveal the narrow flagstone road on the other side. It cuts along the edge of the Murrow House property and swerves past the cemetery before continuing past an expanse of wooded land to the heavily fortified gate that opens to the farmlands. Tall trees laden with Spanish moss surround the tall three-story house with the peaked roof and wide wrap-around porch. There aren’t any iron shutters attached to the windows and the only protection is a wrought iron fence that’s leaning in a few places and covered in rust.

  We slip through the gate and hurry through the cover of the trees and blooming oleander bushes. The half-moon is bright and high in the heavens, illuminating the world enough to allow us to traverse the uneven ground near the fence without falling. I cautiously peer up the street toward the neighborhood that ends just before the Murrow House. All the windows are dark and the gas street lamps give off a soft glow in the humid air.

  Rubbing my clammy hands on my dress, I stare toward the Murrow House on the other side of the fence. It sits on a small hill and the stone steps leading to the front door are cracked and crumbling. The front of the building is dark, but several windows in the back glow with light.

  “Should we knock?” Carrie asks.

  “I suppose. It’s not like we can just enter.”

  Holding hands, we hurry along the fence to the gate. It groans when I push it open, and we both flinch.

  “Just go,” Carrie urges.

  The stone steps are uneven and not easy to traverse, but we climb rapidly toward the entrance. The double doors are inlaid with stained glass, portraying angels kneeling over the sick and dying. The house is unlike any other building in the entire settlement and I’m in awe of the fancy façade. When I reach the porch, I step cautiously onto the wood surface. It creaks, but holds my weight. Carrie is more daring and rushes to the door and begins to knock.

  Strange music pours into the night from deep within the house. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. Music is restricted to the Wednesday Gathering and consists of only a harp and choir. This is different and I can’t even fathom what sort of instrument is creating the sounds.

  Carrie persistently knocks on the door while I stand behind her watching the street. My gaze is drawn to the rows of stone monuments drowning in weeds and tall grass on the other side of the house. A canopy of trees envelopes the area in darkness. I wonder how people my age dare to gather in such a foreboding place. Are any of them out there now? It’s difficult to tell with the constantly shifting shadows beneath the trees.

  “No answer,” Carrie huffs with annoyance. “The music is covering the sound. We need to find another door.”

  Nervously, I stare at the thick foliage surrounding the outside of the house. “It could be dangerous. What about snakes and spiders?”

  Far more fearless than I’ll ever be, Carrie drags me along the porch by the arm. “We came this far, we can’t turn back.”

  The porch curves along the side of the house. I attempt to peer into the house, but all the windows are covered in thick curtains. Another smaller door sits at the far end of the porch and Carrie boldly runs up to it while I linger near the railing to peer down at a narrow path that winds through the overgrown side garden to the rear of the house.

  From where I stand, I can see the dim glow of the burning bodies of the Unblessed beyond the perimeter wall. How could Angelina dare to climb the wall when it’s so dangerous? Was she a necromancer, too? Did she somehow learn how to use her powers before scaling the wall to escape? I hope so. Or else she’s dead out there among the Unblessed.

  My sister pounds on the door, her agitation growing. I worry that her boldness will get us caught, but the settlement is entirely dark. “Ugh! Why does he have to be playing music? And what sort of music is that?”

  Gathering up my resolve, I attempt to be brave. “Stay here. I’m going to the back of the house to see if there is a door there.”

  “What if there are snakes or spiders?” Carrie smirks at me in the dim light.

  “Thanks for reminding me!”

  I playfully sneer at her before descending the stairs near the door. The overgrown garden is fragrant with herbs and flowers. Though grass pokes through the flagstones, it appears someone has taken the time to weed the garden over the years. I wonder at this, but don’t give it too much thought as I gingerly make my way through the dark. I duck under the low-hanging branches covered in Spanish moss and bat away cobwebs that float across my path.

  The moonlight barely pierces the gloom, and I start to reconsider my attempt at bravery. I tilt my head to see a window bright with light over my head. The music is louder here, thrumming in my bones.

  I bend over and scrabble at the path. The flagstones are rough and broken. I find a decent size pebble and straighten. Aiming at the window, I toss it. It clangs against the glass, but the music doesn’t lower.

  “Please hear, Quade,” I mutter.

  I search for another pebble.

  Hands close around my waist, and I am pulled back against a muscled body. I yelp in shock. Whipping about, I find myself in the grip of a tall man. I strike his chest with a closed fist and wrench myself backward.

  A grunt of pain follows.

  I rapidly rush along the path away from my attacker in a panic. I can’t believe someone dared to lay hands on me and tears flood my vision. I’m nearly to the rear of the house when my arm is grabbed in a firm grip. I whip about, my fist raised.

  Bale’s face looms over me in the moonlight. He’s grinning with amusement.

  “I knew it was you when I saw you from the cemetery. Were you looking for me? Did you get Prudence’s message? We gather down in the cemetery near the big mausoleum, not at the house.”

  Gasping, I stare at his fingers pressing into my forearm. “Let go of me.”

  “Why?” Bale asks, his smile teasing. “Didn’t you come here for me?”

  “No, I did not. Now release me.”

  “You like it though, don’t you?”

  “I’m Pious Standing!” I blurt out. “I’m about to have my Bridal Auction.” I don’t know why I’m explaining all of this to him since he already knows, but my heart is hammering in my chest.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here? Because your time is running out.”

  Bale pulls me closer to his chest. He’s dressed in a dark shirt and jeans. I admit he’s handsome, but something about his gaze scares me. I struggle to free myself, but he’s much stronger than I am.

  “Let go!”

  “Ilyse, I know what it’s like to have your future decided for you. I’m lucky. One day I’ll get my pick of pretty girls for a wife, but you don’t have a choice. You’re going to stand up there in your white dress and hope that the man who picks you is someone you can stand. My mother hates my father. Despises him. If she could run away, she would.”

  I continue to pull away from him. “My future doesn’t concern you.”

  Bale releases my arm only to seize my shoulders. Yanking me against his body, his voice lowers. “This is your chance to make a decision for yourself. I’ve seen you peeking at me. I know that you’re drawn to me just like I am to you. Maybe if we lived in a different settlement, we could be together. But we’re trapped here and this night might be your only chance to choose passion over duty.”

  I gape at him in disbelief. The press of his body against mine is unrelenting and sickens me. I hate the way my breasts are mashed against his chest and how he sways with me in his grip.

  “You have misread my intentions, Bale, in every way. I don’t desire you.”

  “I know you’re lying. I know what you want, Ilyse. I can see it in your eyes.”

  When he mashes his mouth over mine, I freeze in terror. I remember the times that Prudence encouraged me to meet her brother. I’d dismissed her messages from him, never giving them serious thought. I never dreamed he’d violate my Pious Standing or my body
in this manner. I don’t want to be touched by him and I’m repulsed by his passionate kiss. The more I struggle, the more ardent he becomes. Bale is clearly excited by my futile attempt to free myself and I wish my aunt hadn’t already instructed me about my wifely duties in the bedroom. I’m acutely aware of his arousal against my stomach.

  “All the Pious Standing girls struggle at first,” he mutters against my lips.

  “Stop!” I exclaim but his tongue ends up in my mouth. Gagging, I let my body go limp hoping gravity will pull me free.

  Instead, Bale lifts me up in his arms and heaves me under a curtain of Spanish moss and pushes my back against the tree trunk. The rough bark scratches my skin through the lightweight cotton of my dress. His hips pinning mine, his hands slide my dress upward.

  Tears stinging my eyes, I gather up all my strength and shove against his chest. He doesn’t budge in the slightest. Far stronger than I am, I realize in a panic that he can force himself on me and I can’t stop him. His words return to my mind and it dawns on me that he has done this to other girls in the settlement.

  “Ilyse?” Carrie calls out from further down the path.

  In a blind panic, I struggle against his searching hands trailing up my thighs.

  “Ilyse?” Carrie is so close, I can hear her footfalls on the flagstones.

  Bale ignores my sister’s approach. I consider not struggling so that she’ll safely pass without seeing us. But what if Bale one day tries to do this to her?

  Rage flares through me, dark with green fire, and I scream inside my mind at the futility of my struggle.

  Hands surge through the thick foliage and grab Bale. Startled, he gasps. He’s wrenched through the moss and branches, liberating me. I dart out onto the path to find Carrie staring wide-eyed at the struggle. I turn expecting to see that my savior is Quade. Instead, Quade stands a few feet from the grappling figures with a startled expression on his face.