Dead Girls Don't Sing

by Casey Wyatt

  What the heck?

  The shuffling footsteps moved faster whenever I increased my own steps.

  The end of the aisle continued to remain elusive.

  I stopped walking. The footsteps slowed down. I moved ahead again. The footsteps did too.

  Strange.

  As much as I didn’t want to be any closer to the ominous darkness at the end of the aisle, I turned around and returned to the shelf where I’d found the book.

  The footsteps grew fainter. The weight of the books in my arms made me want to set them down, but instead, I thought about my predicament.

  It was like I was lost in a punishment from a Greek myth. Doomed to stay in one place, never moving forward, only backward.

  Only backward. Something about that idea tickled my brain.

  “Charity? Is that you?” a voice called from behind me. Squinting, I tried to peer through the sludgy blackness.

  “Hello? Ian? Jay?” I took tentative steps forward.

  My ankles suddenly felt cold, an odd sensation since temperature rarely affected me.

  “Who? Hold on, I’ll come to you.”

  The scrape of someone sliding or crawling put me on high alert. I didn’t have to wait long. The stench of rot and unwashed body preceded him, the odor strong enough to tickle my gag reflex.

  “Ah, there you are. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  I almost didn’t recognize the stringy, emaciated old man in front of me. Dressed in rags, the brightest thing about him were his green eyes. The same shade as mine.

  “Father? What are you doing here?” I knew how he remained alive. Depending on the strength of the master, a well-kept thrall could live for a very long time. I wanted to know why he was camped out in this particular library, in the exact location of the shelf I needed.

  Co-inky-dink? I think not.

  “Saying hello to you.” Terror danced in his eyes. “I missed my girl.”

  “You’re lying.” I didn’t need to be a vampire to know that. His heart beat a symphony of fear and desperation. “You never change, do you?”

  Malice twisted his expression. The darkness behind him lengthened toward me. He scuttled closer, the stench pressing me with almost physical force. Odor aside, I wasn’t afraid of him. I held my ground.

  “They told me if I held you here, they’d bring me over. Make me immortal.” He licked his cracked, dry lips.

  “Ha. And you believed them? You’re more foolish than I thought. Masters almost never grant their slaves eternity.” I didn’t know revenant etiquette when it came to human servants but he didn’t know that. Time to beat a retreat. “You’re used goods. No one trusts thralls.”

  “You lie!” My father lunged at me.

  I sidestepped him with ease. When he came at me again, I did step backward. The aisle retreated. I moved backward again and this time the exit seemed nearer. With the solution to my escape behind me, I decided to stop feeding the troll.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Trusting I was I was right, I backpedaled the short distance to the end of the row. Whatever had kept me in place going forward didn’t work when I walked backward. My father howled and cursed me.

  Again. So what?

  Free, I rounded the corner and made a hasty retreat to the stairs.

  White mist encircled my ankles. I expected to be able to pass through it easily, but this had substance akin to wading through waist-high water. I tripped, nearly toppling over.

  Ominous laughter echoed deep in the stacks. “Too late, my petulant child. They’re going to catch you.”

  Not if I could help it. I sped up. Slogging through the vapor was an effort. The stairs were close enough that I could make it if I pushed harder. The weight of the books wasn’t helping but dropping them wasn’t an option.

  The mist rose higher, up to my waist. My foot kicked the bottom step.

  Elated, I climbed.

  A revenant floated down the steps, blocking my path. Several more revenants formed around me, rising from the fog. My legs refused to move, stuck to the steps like anchors.

  The revenant on the step raised a hand.

  A haze clouded my vision. Lethargy seeped into my limbs.

  Books thumped to the floor.

  They had me.

  My father crowed, voice slicing through my head, “When you count your chickens before they hatch, you get egg on your face.”

  Bastard.

  Before I could resist, a revenant twisted my arms behind my back and pushed me forward. A round patch of fog dissipated, revealing a circular hole in the library’s floor.

  I screamed for help, my cries absorbed by the insidious mist.

  “Shut her down,” came a command from the staircase.

  A blow landed on the back of my head and then—

  Chapter Thirteen

  Into the Fire

  Pain greeted me when I peeled my eyes open.

  I was bathed in gloom and flat on my back on what felt like a splintery wooden warehouse pallet. Water dripped around me. Judging by the damp, mildew-mixed-with-rotten-dirt odor, I was likely in the sewer system.

  In a small space.

  Panic bit down hard. My arms and legs winged up and down in a demented version of a snow angel. I found space on either side, easing the fear. Until I moved to sit upright. Hard cobblestones banged my forehead. There were only a few inches separating me from the ceiling.

  Tears stung the corners of my eyes. Breaths that I didn’t need to take heaved in and out, inflating my chest like an old bellows. Words formed on my lips but refused to come out.

  A full-blown panic attack assaulted me.

  I thrashed and cried, unable to find room to move. This deep in the earth, I could be lost in the tunnels forever. Darkness sucked me downward. My mind unable to cope.

  Charity. Come here, my dear. Unbidden, my worst memory rose. We’re going to play a game.

  I covered my ears but it didn’t help. The measures Jonathan had taken to block the memories unraveled—

  The day was hot. Sweat coated my skin and soaked my clothes in only a few minutes.

  She’d said we were playing a game as she locked me in the attic cupboard. “No one will find you. At least not right away.” My aunt paced the floorboards. “You must be brave, Charity. Or the monster will find you.”

  “What kind of monster?” I asked. Before that day, I’d never feared closed spaces.

  “Shh. It’s coming. Not a word. You hear? Not a sound.” The lock thunked. My aunt’s footsteps creaked across the floorboards as she moved away.

  At first, I hadn’t been scared or even overly concerned. It was fun. Hiding from the governess. Missing dull dancing lessons. Edwin would be so jealous. My baby sisters were too little to play big girl games.

  It was fun. Until hunger pangs gnawed at my stomach. And my bladder screamed for release. Hours or maybe minutes passed. I couldn’t hear anything.

  I counted again, hoping it would summon my aunt. The heat made me drowsy. I closed my eyes and must have dozed off.

  Something woke me. A spine-tingling sensation of nails scratching a chalkboard. In slow motion.

  My throat was parched. The seat of my pants was wet. I’d peed myself in my sleep. Shame filled me but was forgotten when I heard it again.

  The sound wasn’t a sound. An awful feeling of being hunted.

  I may have been a child but I knew Death had come. It wanted me.

  Loud voices. An argument broke out. I caught snippets.

  “Where is she?” My mother’s shrill scream.

  “No. I didn’t . . . Wait! You can’t go in there. The monster—”

  “Enough Cassandra! No more of your fantasies. It’s ungodly.” The attic door banged open.

  “Wait. Don’t. It’ll find her.”

  “Get away. You’ve done enough!” my mother warned.

  Flesh struck flesh. My aunt wailed. “You hit me!”

  “Charity! Where are you? Tell me!” My mother was in the attic bu
t not near the cupboard. “She’s gone now. You can come out. I’m not mad.”

  “Here!” I croaked before I could stop myself. That thing. I could still feel it in the attic. I didn’t know how or why. But I sensed its greed. It wanted something. I had to warn her.

  “Mother. No stay away,” I pleaded.

  “I’m coming, darling. Hold on,” she said, footsteps moving nearer.

  She didn’t know it was there. She couldn’t feel the monster. Not like Aunt Cass and I could. “No. Stop. It’ll get you.”

  “What will get me?” she asked, a smile in her voice. She was close now.

  Cold seeped into my bones as if winter had replaced summer.

  I could sense the thing’s smug satisfaction. It had found its victim.

  Not me.

  Her.

  “Mother!” I banged on the cupboard. I had to warn her. She needed to run away.

  “I’m here. I’m—”

  She thudded to the floor with a grunt. Then, silence.

  Horrible noises broke the quiet.

  Slurping . . .

  Lapping . . .

  As if a massive dog was drinking from a giant bowl of water. I curled into a ball, hands over my ears, and moved as far from the cupboard door as I could.

  The horrible noises continued. On and on. The worst sound I’d ever heard.

  I was wrong.

  The silence that followed, the dread of not knowing what was outside waiting, was worse.

  Would it come for me next? Or my brother and sisters? Balling a fist, I bit down on my knuckles to keep the sobs at bay.

  The heat lay over me, oppressing my every breath. The narrow space no longer a comfort but a prison. The tightness of the space choked me. Terror gripped me.

  I was going to be trapped there forever.

  I battered the door. Wood tore into my flesh. Blood seeped over my knuckles. If I didn’t escape, I was going to die.

  The door popped open. Cool air hit me as I tumbled to the floor, landing on my stomach.

  The tips of Mother’s black boots stopped short of my face. She extended her hand. “You’re safe now, Charity. Things will change for the better now. You’ll see.”

  White mist surrounded me. Peace filled me. I reached out and took her hand.

  And—

  “Ah, she’s awake.” A woman spoke.

  The present snapped into sharp, terrible focus. I was still shrouded in darkness. Still a prisoner somewhere inside a nasty sewer.

  “What do you want?” Fury replaced fear. I was tired of games.

  “Where did your mind go? Tell me,” she said, ignoring my question.

  “Listen, lady. I have other more important things to do. I don’t have time to listen to your weird-ass questions. So, either kill me or let me go.”

  Not the brightest thing to say to my captor even if it was true. But I was pissed. And anger was a blade I could use to cut away my fear.

  “Kill you? Why would I want to do that? I merely hoped to help you.”

  By terrorizing me. By taking advantage of my claustrophobia.

  “If this is your idea of help, I’d hate to see what you do to your enemies.”

  The woman issued a command.

  I slid backward, then landed hard on wet cobblestones.

  Yup. That hurt. I blinked in the harsh daylight.

  Revenants loosely surrounded me. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I’d been tricked. They’d held me inside a pipe outside a water treatment plant. I didn’t even want to think about the amount of filth I may have touched.

  The female revenant who’d messed with my mind stood before me, her face smudged. Like someone had erased it. Even creepier than Herne and his bunch.

  “What do you want?” I finally asked when no one else spoke.

  “The same as you. The Lost Ship.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Of course I lied. I wasn’t telling her anything.

  I redirected my gaze, unable to look at her obscured face any longer. Dropping my eyes would show deference and could be viewed as submission. That wasn’t happening. She had more power than I did, but so what?

  “I have an offer to make.” One of her henchmen dropped to his hands and knees, offering his back as a bench. Once she’d settled, she continued. “Give me the information I need and I will help you change your destiny.”

  I pretended to consider her words to buy time. Change my destiny? That didn’t sound possible. And would I want to?

  “Tempting as the offer is, no thanks.”

  “Perhaps someone has made you a better offer?” She tapped her fingers on the man’s rump. “Or perhaps a demonstration?”

  She rose with the grace of a bored cat, moving on her own timetable. She raised her palm and made a circular motion. Reality twisted like pulled taffy.

  Enkil’s cuff tugged at my wrist. I couldn’t tell if it wanted me to run away from or toward the distortion. I held my hands behind my back to hide it.

  An arched doorway formed. A courtyard appeared beyond the arch, surround by exotic flowers and trimmed hedges. Spicy aromas and fragrant flowers drifted under my nose. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow on the stone tiles.

  Memories can be triggered by long-forgotten scents or sounds. In this case, it was a laugh. Jay was out there somewhere.

  “What is this?” I asked even though I suspected the answer.

  “Your past. The moment you’ve always regretted. Step inside. Change your future.”

  The mother in me recoiled at the thought. Erasing Vala and never meeting Ian was not an option. It had to be a trick. How could she know what I regretted most?

  The moment I sang and attracted Jonathan, the course of my life changed forever.

  “I don’t regret anything.”

  “You’re lying.” Even with her erased face, I could sense her gaze. “Do not get in my way again, little nightingale.”

  “Since I don’t know what you’re referring to, how will I stay out of your way?”

  A punishing blow came out of nowhere, slamming me into the ground. Several ribs cracked on impact. Probably my spine too because I couldn’t feel my toes or move my legs.

  “Your impudence is outrageous. You’re the same brat—”

  Her minions lifted from the ground, flung by some unseen force toward the treatment plant, splashing into the nasty sewer water.

  She raised her arms, searching for her attacker. Power pulsed from her fingers. “Do not interfere!”

  A bolt of electricity struck her from overhead. Her face became visible before she vanished in a whirlwind of fog.

  It couldn’t be her. Anyone but her.

  I must have been seeing things. Pain overloaded my body in one fell swoop. The agony of my injuries must have clouded my judgement.

  Strong arms scooped me from the ground. Before I could protest, mist rose.

  I blinked. We stood on Belmont Manor’s driveway.

  My jaw hung in disbelief. I had a severe case of #WTFitis combined with #WTFjusthappened?

  Just as cruel, I’d lost the books too.

  My brother cradled me in his arms. “What is it with you? You seem to attract trouble like a magnet.”

  “Edwin? Where’s Ian? And Jonathan and Jay? Why didn’t they come for me?” Maybe it was the sharp shooting pain making me whiny, but I felt bereft. “I saw her face. It was—”

  “Hush,” Edwin said. “You need to heal.”

  “But I saw her. How is that possible?” I studied his expression as best I could from my vantage point.

  “It’s the pain addling your senses,” he insisted.

  I hoped so. If not, my long-dead mother had just handed me my ass.

  I’VE OFTEN OBSERVED—THROUGH first-hand experience and by watching others—that loved ones often lie out of kindness or for the other person’s “own good.”

  That’s the place Edwin and I were in, and I didn’t like the accommodations.

  After we’d arrived at
Belmont, and I healed for more hours than I had to spare, I located my brother seated at the desk in his private study.

  “Start talking, little brother.” I marched up to him and glared.

  “I imagine you have questions.” His bemusement aggravated the snot out of me.

  “Don’t be flip with me. You’re a criminal!” I would love to strangle whoever had turned him.

  “A rather excellent one too, if I do say so myself.”

  “God! You’re insufferable.” I lobbed a paper weight toward his head.

  He caught it. “Now, now sister. Throwing things is a tad dramatic. And a wee bit childish.”

  “I don’t have time for this!” I leapt over the desk, hoping to pin him down.

  Evading me, he was upright and behind me before I could register he’d moved. Damn, he was fast.

  But I was faster.

  My hand squeezed his throat. “Tell me the truth. Are you working with that thing that looks like Mother? My daughter’s life is in danger.”

  In that moment, I was ready to kill him, family or not.

  Edwin’s fingers were clamped around my neck, grip firm and unbreakable. I hadn’t seen him move. His irises were solid black.

  Holding each other’s throats, we were at a stalemate. As his mouth moved to speak, I hissed, taking him aback.

  “Do not tell me there are things happening that I don’t understand. Because I can guaran-damn-tee that you don’t know the half of it.”

  Edwin’s grip remained firm, but the frown lines around his mouth and eyes softened. “You have a child? How is this possible?”

  “Her name is Vala. But that’s not what I want to discuss. When did you become a revenant, Edwin? And were you ever planning on telling me?”

  That hurt more than anything. He’d been alive for decades and I didn’t know it. I may have never known if it hadn’t been for hopping aboard the time-stream express.

  “And you failed to mention you were a vampire.” Edwin let me go and slumped his shoulders. “How did our lives become such a mess?”