Belmary House Book Two (4 page)

“I wish …”

He patted her shoulder and she shrugged apologetically, feeling awful that he should be trying to comfort her.

“I wish as well,” he said ruefully. “Julian told me about the house. You’ll need Camilla to get you back.”

She swallowed down another dose of guilt. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. The more she thought about it, the more burdened she became. “When we’re there, you do what you need to do. Promise me.”

He frowned and she realized that whatever he anticipated, however bad he thought it would be, he couldn’t understand until he saw it for himself.

“Let’s hope Ashford’s correct in his beliefs,” was all he said.

She had to look away, unable to face him anymore. “Yes, of course, let’s hope that. But promise me anyway.”

Ashford returned before he could answer, and they spent another few minutes resting on the side of the road, in silent anticipation of what lay ahead.

***

“I feel it already,” Kostya said as they rode into Rouleney. “No wonder everyone wanted to leave. It’s quite oppressive.”

Tilly didn’t feel anything other than what she considered a normal level of fear, and while she definitely didn’t want to be there, she thought it was understandable, and not her brain being tampered with by a spell. What did she know, though? She hadn’t realized the first time she’d been duped by a spell outside the church until Ashford explained it to her.

As soon as they put up the horses at the deserted inn’s barn, she stuck to Ashford’s side like she’d been glued to him. They poked their heads in and confirmed the place was empty, and she hoped the surly old man and his daughter managed to get out of town all right. She had to lean over and grip her knees at the thought of their alternative fate.

“Perhaps Tilly should stay here,” Kostya suggested, noticing her struggle to stay upright.

“Definitely not,” Ashford said.

“Hell no,” she added for good measure, getting herself under control. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will,” Ashford said, smiling encouragingly. “I taught her a little trick of mine to help her fight the hexes.”

Tilly nodded and slid her hand into her apron pocket, where she had a small wooden hair comb to hold onto and remind her what was real.

Kostya looked unconvinced, but didn’t argue, clearly feeling he wasn’t the captain of this expedition, and only wanting to get on with things. Tilly suddenly felt an undeniable urge to get to the church as well, and made a long, irritated sound.

“I hate not knowing if my thoughts are my own,” she whined, fighting to sort out her feelings.

Kostya laughed. “Imagine growing up that way,” he said bitterly. “You learn to figure it out. Camilla won’t be able to do anything to me. I doubt if she’ll even try.”

Ashford looked apprehensive and she knew that with her deadly boyfriend at her side, she wouldn’t need to play mind games to get Kostya under control. She thought it would be better to have Kostya’s confidence high, and kept her mouth shut.

The walk to the church was quiet and grim, Ashford stopping at the spot where Camilla’s hex had ceased working before.

“Perhaps we should go through the cellar entrance,” he said, voice tight with nerves. He looked hard at Tilly but she shook her head.

“I think Kostya should see what’s in the church,” she said, surprised at the ice in her voice.

She would have given anything not to walk through that again, not see or smell the remains of Donal’s meals, but it had to stop. Kostya needed to know everything. If there was a chance to save Camilla, it had to be done honestly, or she wouldn’t really be saved.

Before a full blown argument could erupt, Kostya strode away from them. Tilly gaped at his back, tossed an apologetic look to Ashford, and hurried after him. She heard Ashford sigh and knew he would follow them, and it took all she had not to turn around or wait for him. All of them needed to be strong right now and concentrate on what was ahead.

Kostya paused at the double wooden doors, completely unreadable. For once, Tilly was grateful to the hex that allowed her to think nothing was wrong, and for a moment she wondered why they were even there. Ashford gripped her wrist as Kostya swung open the door, and as soon as she stepped through, she started shaking.

The terrible smell of decay had grown stronger since the first time they were there, hitting her full in the face as soon as she was across the threshold. She gagged and Ashford handed her a handkerchief, which she quickly pressed to her nose.

“Dear God,” Kostya said, covering his own face with his sleeve. “What now?”

Ashford edged past him, keeping well away from the pews, and led the way toward the altar.

“I’m sorry,” Tilly muffled, seeing the horror and shock in Kostya’s eyes.

She shouldn’t have been so evasive, should have told him everything, not assumed his imagination could ever conjure something as awful as this. For a moment she hated Ashford, feeling it shouldn’t have been on her to tell him.

He looked away and followed Ashford, and she wanted to beg him not to look down, not look left or right, but as if reading her thoughts and doing the exact opposite, his head swept in every direction. In an agony of pity, she followed with her own eyes, storing up years of fresh nightmares at the ghastly pale flashes of flesh that showed in the dim light.

Kostya stopped at the last pew and dropped his chin to his chest, no longer trying to avoid the smell. “Dear God,” he repeated, glaring up at Ashford, who stood near the trapdoor.

He looked so furious, Tilly feared it would be over before it started. How foolish had they been to call him here? What did they really think he could accomplish? They were torturing the poor man.

“Please,” Ashford begged, his voice barely a croak. “This isn’t her, you know that.”

Even through the anger she felt, she wanted to rush to his side.

“Let’s finish it,” she said, grabbing Kostya’s arm. “Either way, it has to end.”

He looked down at her as if surprised she still existed and blinked several times. “Yes, of course.”

Heartsick and frightened beyond anything she thought possible, she followed them down the long spiral staircase. At the bottom, Kostya looked surprised to see the vast underground room, which must have been storage for the church, or perhaps a dorm for the nuns, but was now a luxuriously furnished space. The big open area was sectioned off into a dining area, a sitting area with several chairs and couches, the stone walls were lined with books, and at the far end, separated by a tall, intricately painted screen, was a piano, with the end of a plush bed peeking out.

At first the room appeared empty, and her heart sped up with apprehension. No mocking piano music had greeted them while they were upstairs, and she wondered if Camilla and Donal were out combing the village for stragglers.

Ashford reached over and got Kostya’s attention, pointing to the door which Tilly knew was another exit. Kostya nodded tersely.

“I don’t think they’re here,” Tilly said in a low voice, leaning toward the door. “We should go.”

“That’s not real,” Kostya said, taking a few steps further into the room. “Camilla? A word, if you please?”

He called out in such a calm and cheery manner that Tilly forgot to be afraid. A pleasant haze filled her mind and she turned to Ashford to see him biting his lower lip and squeezing his pocket watch hard in his fist. She hurriedly pulled out the comb and gripped it until it dug into her palm, concentrating on the pain until her mental confusion cleared and she no longer thought they were here for a nice visit.

Camilla strode around the screen, dressed in a long black gown, her dark hair severely pulled back from her face. She stepped aside to make room for Donal, who stutter stepped to get around her, positioning himself slightly in front of her. His mouth hung slack and his head turned from side to side as if he tried to focus on something that kept moving out of his sight.

“Hello, Camilla,” Kostya said. “It’s been some time.”

“Oh, this is a surprise,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can see why your family has taken so long to call on me. They were waiting for you to arrive as well. Two birds, and all that. I’m sure they’ll be along any time now. You’ll stay, won’t you?”

Kostya’s color drained from his face, rivalling Donal’s pasty hue. He closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them, Tilly was surprised at the diamond hard resolve she saw there. If he was afraid of her, or the mention of his family, he was doing a fine job of hiding it.

“I’d rather not,” he said, taking another step toward her.

At a movement from Camilla, Donal sprang forward a few steps, stopping with his arms half outstretched when she flicked her wrist. Kostya looked the creature over cooly, and Tilly’s respect for him grew tenfold. How he was able to keep his composure in the face of such a fearsome being, who had once been the man his wife had left him for, was beyond her.

“Camilla, put your plaything away for a moment so I can speak to you properly.”

Ashford flinched, but instead of angering her, Kostya’s tone made her smile. At the sight of the tender look in her eyes, Tilly thought for a second that Ashford had been right all along, and that she was still a woman with feelings. For a second.

Camilla waved her hand and Donal’s clenched fists relaxed and lowered to his sides. His chin dropped to his chest like a puppet whose owner had let go of the strings and he made a disturbing low moan.

Tilly felt sick, thinking some part of Donal’s consciousness might be left, trapped in the aberration of his lifeless, animated body. It couldn’t be true, she frantically told herself. Not if he’d really died. No matter how powerful these arrogant witches thought they were, no one could bring someone back to life.

She shook with the fear that she was wrong, wanting to believe so desperately that something of those who passed on got left behind, that they were still around in some way. It was the only thing that kept her going since her father died when she was fifteen. If Donal was in there somewhere, unable to free himself, she couldn’t bear it. It was too cruel.

Ashford grabbed her hand and shook his head, apparently seeing that she was about to lose her shaky grip on her courage.

“It’s only a trick,” he leaned close and whispered. “Let it go from your mind.”

“Who’s this, Julian?” Camilla asked, taking a few steps forward and smiling kindly.

She was still far enough away that Tilly didn’t feel the need to back up, but her skin crawled, despite the outward show of friendliness. When would that crack and they’d all be torn to shreds by her unholy creature?

“She came through the house, Cammie.” Ashford paused when she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the nickname. “You won’t believe this, but apparently someone down the line some years lost it, and it seems it might have been destroyed. The portal’s no longer working.”

She nodded, her smile growing wider. Tilly could now see the resemblance to Ashford, but it was fleeting. Their faces might have been somewhat similar, Camilla having those same steely silver eyes, but the characters they exuded were so different, no one would know immediately that they were siblings, let alone twins.

While Ashford rarely smiled, his true kindness was easy to spot. Camilla was wreathed in smiles, but they didn’t go deep, and as much as Tilly tried to make herself remember everything the woman had been through, she could no longer feel compassion for her. She seemed less human than what was left of Donal.

“Well, that’s fine for you, isn’t it? Now you can try to be normal?” She turned to Kostya and the smile slid from her face. “What will you do if he returns to Scotland?”

Kostya visibly swallowed and glanced at Donal. “Why don’t you consider returning as well? End it with the lad and come home.” His voice was stiff, and she laughed.

“I can see how welcome I’d be.”

“Nonsense,” Ashford spoke up. “I know you loved it there. You know if I hadn’t had to deal with the English side I never would have left.” He stopped and nodded fiercely, gesturing to Tilly, who couldn’t help but shrink under her gaze. “You can help this young lady get back to her proper year, and we’ll all go back. It can be like old times.” He gripped her hand tighter and glanced at her apologetically.

She wondered if it was for calling her ‘this young lady’ as if she was nothing to him, or for calling attention back to her at all, but was distracted by Kostya. He stepped back, making an urgent noise of dissent, for the first time looking afraid.

Camilla’s eyes skated past her and settled coldly on Kostya. “I don’t know how I could help this young lady, since what I do isn’t welcome.”

Kostya’s voice was a mix of command and pleading. “Don’t,” he said. “There’s a difference that you know very well.”

She smiled again, but there was no hint of tenderness now. “Yes, let’s not argue about it again. Let’s speak of old times, then. Shall we reminisce?”

“Camilla, please don’t,” Kostya quietly begged.

“Like the time Lucy got thrown from her pony?” Her shrill voice broke on the last word. “That time when her neck broke and we watched her—”

“That’s enough,” Ashford said, his harsh voice echoing in the huge chamber.