by Kate Danley
"But it wasn't him!" said Clara. "It was Violet. She is not what she seems. She ate the throat out of Clifford there." She pointed to his lifeless body, his eyes staring wide open in shock and surprise.
But, again, Marguerite was not surprised. "I knew... I knew at the end it was her... I waited because I wanted to make sure... it is my fault... she could smell my perfume... I knew..."
She began to fade, her words becoming weaker. Clara grabbed a goblet from the table and dribbled water into her mouth. Marguerite revived for just a moment, gasping out her words. She clutched at Clara's dress. "You must take my gun... It will not dispatch Violet, but it may slow her down... You must take the sword and cut off her head... It is the only way to stop her..."
Clara looked down at the sword in her hand. "You ask too much!"
"It is the only way to save your Wesley..."
Clara paused, and then nodded, rising to her feet.
"Tell him, when you get a chance, that you love him. Life is too short to leave such things unsaid."
And then Marguerite's eyes closed and Clara knew she was on her own. But not quite on her own...
She whet her lips and said again, this time insistent, "Minnie, your brother is in grave danger. Your brother, whom you love... and of whom I... I have begun to feel things that I have not felt for a long time... He needs your help. Please, Minnie. Do not hide yourself from me. I need your help to save him!"
The room remained the same.
"Please, Minnie!" Clara begged. "I love him!"
Marguerite's lips began to move, but not from her own power. Her eyes were closed and her body lifeless, but the voice which came out filled the house. She said, "I am coming."
Slowly the room began to chill. The gas lights began to dim. The china upon the table began to shake and the goblets dance upon its surface until they tipped over.
Clara waited, terrified as a rabbit facing down a wolf. The energy in the room was not kind. It was filled with violence and anger.
"Please, Minnie!" she pleaded. "Direct your anger not towards me, but towards that creature who has taken your brother hostage. Show me the way and I shall go to him! I shall do whatever it takes to save his life!"
The window farthest from her burst. And then the window beside it exploded, too. A great wind blew through the house, causing all of the lamps to sputter out. It raged against Clara, wrapping her nightgown around her legs and pushing her towards the hallway. It would not allow any protest.
The wind continued, knocking the trophies from the walls and breaking the mirrors. The head of a boar flew across the hallway with such force, the tusks impaled themselves into a wall. The doors opened and slammed shut as Clara passed, and she knew that if she lost courage and tried to run to a room for safety, the door would close on her and cut her in two. The entrance to the basement flung open and a mighty wind roared up the stairs, striking her in the face. It was as if two forces of nature were battling it out to see who would allow Clara to pass.
The upstairs wind grasped her, feeling as if a giant hand had wrapped itself around her waist, and it hurled her down the steps. Her feet could barely keep up with its speed. She could hear the opposing wind howling around the protection of this mighty force.
She placed her elbow over her brow to try and keep her face safe from the debris. A rat flew past her cheek, the wind taking no prisoners. She looked ahead and saw the glow she knew now was Minnie. She prayed that she was not making the gravest mistake of her life. She bent over and followed, and tried to keep up.
They wound their way through the warren of hallways, Minnie's light ahead the only thing to illuminate Clara's way. As the wind buffeted against her, there were a few moments in which she almost lost track of Minnie, in which she was almost plunged into the darkness, and she could feel that there were things waiting for her outside of Minnie's light. She could hear their snuffling and the sound of their claws upon the ground. It was like her nightmares, except this time, they were real. She wondered if Horace ever had known as he was out hunting on the savannah that the most terrible creatures were, in fact, right below his feet.
Clara pushed on, refusing to surrender to the darkness, refusing to let the terrors beyond grab a foothold. She had faced them again and again, night after night, and realized it was, perhaps, all practice for this. She would not go down without a fight. She caught up with Minnie and though exhausted, she pushed on, thinking only of Wesley and that she must save him from whatever horrors Violet had in store.
And then she saw the doorway. Minnie waited for her in front of it, her eyes filled with rage, but also with pleading.
Clara stopped to catch her breath. She did not know whether to carry the revolver or the sword into the room. She was no experienced warrior. She was only a foolish widow, who followed the clues set by a ghost. Fear caused her teeth to chatter and her hands to shake. Minnie's light was beginning to fade, and Clara knew that if she did not go in before Minnie disappeared, she would have no defense against the creatures of this maze.
And then a quiet sense of peace and resolve descended upon her. She would either save this man she loved, or would be sent to join the man who was waiting for her beyond the veil. There would be no losing. Either outcome would bring her to happiness, and she knew that she was now ready to face that. Fear no longer held any power.
She opened the door.
23
The lid had been slid back onto the coffin, sealing it closed, and Wesley lay upon it. He was chained by his hands and feet in a giant X, his limbs pointing to the four corners of the room. Candles were lit and placed in a circle around him. Clara almost sobbed from relief. He was alive.
But that relief did not last for long, for Wesley cried, "Run! It is a trap!"
The door behind her slammed shut and Clara felt a strong foot kick her in the small of her back, sending her sprawling upon the floor. She flipped over to see her attacker.
Violet, dear sweet Violet, was horribly transformed. Her large, doe-like eyes were now red. Her fingernails were like claws. Her clothes were torn and stained with the rust color of her fiancé's blood.
"Tricky, tricky, little girl," she hissed as she crawled slowly towards Clara. Clara scrambled to her feet, holding the sword in both hands before her.
"You thought to hide from my children of the square, hide from the darkness that only wishes to welcome you into its eternal embrace."
"Why are you doing this, Violet?" Clara asked. She jumped to the side with a scream as Violet tried to rush her. "Why?"
Violet looked up, almost surprised that Clara had avoided her grasp. She spun, training her eyes on Clara once again. "You have learned a trick or two from those ghostie friends of yours."
"I have learned nothing, Violet. Just let us go. We shall leave you here in peace. Just let us leave."
"No, no, my dear." Violet looked over at Wesley. "This naughty trickster tried to pretend that he could see ghosties, too. But I see now he does not hold the power. He shall die for his lies!"
"But I do not lie! I can see them! Let him go and take me instead!"
Violet hissed. "I shall take you whether you like it or not!"
She leapt again at Clara and Clara managed a half-hearted swing with her sword, which Violet easily avoided.
"You come here with a sharp little knife, thinking you can harm me?" she laughed.
"I do not wish to harm you, Violet!"
"Violet!" shouted Wesley from where he lay bound and helpless. "Why don't you tell her the harm you were planning to do? Tell her how you killed my sister all those years ago. How you killed all the people in the house searching for just one that could talk to the spirits beyond the grave! Tell her how you will use her powers to lock all the souls who pass away from this moment forward in Purgatory and forever deny them their eternal rest! Tell her how you will lock her in this tomb and drain her strength to grant you immortal life! Tell her all the reasons why she should fight to her dying breath to bring you down!”
Violet hissed. "Quiet, you! Think that your words can turn the tide? I shall have my way with you and you shall be my dinner when I am through!"
But Wesley's words had their intended effect. Clara realized what was at stake. And with Violet distracted, she fired a single shot from Marguerite's derringer.
The bullet struck Violet's shoulder, causing her to turn away from Wesley with a hiss. She flew towards Clara and this time she did not miss. She struck Clara's wrist, knocking the sword from her grasp and it went clattering harmlessly to the floor. Clara was left holding nothing but the empty derringer, and with another blow, Violet rid her of that, too. Wesley struggled against his bonds, as if somehow he could find the Herculean strength to break free from his iron shackles. Violet struck Clara across the face with the back of her hand, and then followed up the blow with a raking slap from her other palm.
Clara was thrown to the ground. She clutched her cheek, feeling a stinging pain and then sticky warmth upon her fingers. She looked up at Violet, unable to comprehend how such a frail girl could be so strong.
Violet licked the blood which her claws had drawn and smiled as if tasting some divine delicacy. "I can feel your power even in this drop." Her eyes fixed upon Clara. "I must have more!"
She flew at the woman, and Clara rolled to the side, barely escaping as Violet struck the ground beside her violently. She did not even pause. Violet scrambled like a dog in a bull pit and came after Clara again. Terrified, Clara tried to crawl away. She felt an iron grip wrap around her ankle. Clara kicked and kicked, calling for Wesley through her tears, “Help!”
And he could not. He strained, every inch of his body trying to get to her. “No!” he cried in vain. "CLARA!"
Clara caught Violet in the face with her heeled shoe, the impact making a sickening crunch. Violet screamed in anger, but that did not stop her from reaching out and grabbing Clara’s other foot. She hung on and Clara could not shake her.
Clara dragged their two bodies across the floor, using her elbows and arms to gain inches. She was going to die, she realized. She was going to die, and for all the times she had longed for death, she finally realized, without a shadow of a doubt, that she did not want to.
She stretched, and with the tips of her fingertips, she touched one of the candles. She pulled it from the circle surrounding Wesley, and with all her might, she threw it upon the creature. Violet let go, screaming, as her dress caught on fire and it went up as if she had been doused in kerosene.
Clara took the moment of Violet's distraction to run to Wesley, tugging futilely at his bonds. "I cannot free you!" she cried.
"Leave me!" he shouted. "You must end her!"
Clara turned around to see Violet screaming, her dress now a roaring blaze. Her skin was charred and bubbling, but as it sloughed away, it revealed that the face of Violet was merely a disguise to hide her true form.
What was beneath was like tanned leather, hide and scales rather than skin. Her teeth were rows of fangs. Her eyes were red. Horns sprouted from her head and the voice which came out was not that of a young girl.
"Think that you can stand against me?" it roared.
Clara could not help the scream which tore its way through her throat. She ran to the far end of the room, as far away from this creature as possible, as if somehow she might find some place to hide within the barren tomb. She pressed up against the wall as the creature grew closer, its voice so strong that it cause the very ground to shake. The room became hotter as the thing continued to burn.
She needed to escape. Panic and fear coursed through her body. She looked over at the door, realizing there were only seconds before the monster was upon her.
And that was when Clara remembered the map which Norman had carried showed four entrances with arrows pointing in. Wesley said that four entrances would be terrible to defend, but perfect for an invading attack. What if the maze was built not to confuse people and keep them away, but to keep this creature trapped? What if there was something out there that could help.
Clara ran to the door closest to her and pushed it open. Wind filled with the screams of a thousand tortured souls blasted into the room. She leaped out of the way, trying to get out of the stream. The creature began to laugh, calling the wind towards it, letting it wrap around its arms and legs lovingly. "You think that letting in my minions will help you defeat me?"
Clara stood in horror, not sure of the damage which she had done. She needed balance for this wind. She needed the opposite arrow as drawn upon the paper, a force which was equal to this force. She needed to counteract what she unleashed. Not knowing if she was about to make it better, or worse, she dodged passed Violet, feeling the searing heat of the creature. She reached the door on the other side, and flung it open. Immediately, another hurricane gale swept into the room, but this one was filled with the sound of tinkling chimes, and then a roar of anger. It smashed into the wind swirling around Violet and ripped it away, turning it into a tornado which now hung above Wesley.
It was not enough, Clara thought. She needed to shift the wind once more. She needed to trap the demon in the center of this force. She looked at the two remaining doors. If this room was about balance, about using two perfectly matched opposing forces to hold something in the middle, one door would bring in Violet's creatures of the dark, the other door would bring in the powers that could vanquish them. Whichever door she chose next would tilt the balance.
She looked at Violet.
The creature was edging around the storm, trying to get to where Clara stood. She saw that time was running out and a decision must be made. There was the door she had entered, the one which required Minnie's protection and guidance to survive. And then the other.
It was a guess, a risk, and she prayed that she was not making a terrible mistake, but she ran to the unknown one and opened it.
A gale poured into the room, almost knocking Clara off her feet, but it did not contain the screams of horror. Instead, it was a deathly cold, and as Clara looked up, she saw that mixed in with the wind and dust and debris, was a glowing light.
"Minnie?" she whispered.
The wind slammed into the tornado and pushed it against the far wall.
Clara picked up her sword, and with great hacking strokes, came after the creature, swiping and knocking away its claws. Slowly, inexorably, she backed it across the room, her will to live stronger than any of the creature's strategy. The wind aided her, sucking the demon back, back, back until it backed itself into the tornado and was caught within the swirling wind.
The creature screamed as it tried to claw its way out from this elemental cage. Clara lowered her sword, and with fierce determination, strode over to the final door and opened it.
Once more, the wind swept into the room, this time bringing with it all the creatures the demon had laid as traps within the maze. They joined the maelstrom, spinning around the thing that was Violet. The wind picked the creature up and elevated it above where Wesley lay shackled. Clara thought that if it had been she, and not Wesley, trapped on that stone, this was where the final moment of the creature's spell would have taken place to free it for eternity.
But that was not how events had transpired.
Clara climbed onto the tomb, standing in between Wesley's legs as the tornado held the creature for her. She raised the sword above her head. The silver edge gleamed. And in that moment, she saw the face of Minnie. Wesley's sister held the head of the creature back for her, baring Violet's neck so that Clara would have a clear shot.
"Thank you, Minnie..." she said.
With a mighty two-handed stroke, Clara cut through the wind. She felt the edge of her blade strike the creature. She felt its roar vibrate the hilt of her blade. She felt herself cutting through the sinews of its neck, passing through as if it was melting beneath her touch.
And then the head fell off the shoulders, rolling onto the ground.
And that was when the world exploded.
24
"Clara? Clara, darling?" came a gentle voice.
At first, she was only aware of the aching pain of her bones, as if she had been thrown from a horse or taken a terrible fall. But then she felt the strong arms around her, gentle hands stroking her face and hair, inviting her to return.
She slowly opened her eyes, blinking in the dim candlelight. Wesley's face floated above her. He was holding her close to his chest, cradling her as delicately as a child. His strong jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed. She wanted to find out what caused him such distress, to soothe away his trouble. And then she realized that he was worried about her.
She was tired, so tired, she wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever, but she gave him a weak, reassuring smile.
This one little movement broke the artifice of control that Wesley had been trying to maintain. He collapsed, leaning his lips upon her forehead and whispering, "Oh my dear, oh my dear... I thought I had lost you..."
She felt his breath shudder in ragged gasps. She felt him try to wrestle control of his emotions and fail. She wanted to murmur to him not to weep, that she was here now, to be with him, and that the danger was finally gone. She lifted a hand to his face, resting her palm against his cheek. He took it in his, pressing it against his lips and holding onto it tight, so tight, it seemed as if he thought it was a lifeline lifting him from beneath the waves to the safety of the shore.
"You are free..." she whispered.
"The manacles disappeared the moment the monster did," he replied. "There is nothing more to fear."
"We are safe?"
"Because of you, my darling," he replied, placing her hand upon his heart, so that she might feel its beat. "All because of you."
"And the creature?" she asked.
"Gone. Gone and with it, all its minions, sent to the pits of hell, never to be seen again. You alone vanquished it. You alone saved us all."
