(Skeleton Key) Princess of the Damned (5 page)

Brittan paled, the fear in her soul clenching her heart.

Apparently, she'd met Elizabeth.

"Whatever you do, don't dance with the damned. They will return to the living and—"

"Could you please not tell me what to do? No offense, but you're not my mom." Brittan rolled her eyes. Her fake lashes threatened to fall, clinging haphazardly to her eyes.

"No. I'm not your mother. I've just been here for fourteen years, learning how to survive. Don't dance at the ball." Eiress whirled, lifting her skirts out of the way of her chains. She had to change. Mary did not like her princesses to wear the same dress twice, and Eiress, for the life of her, couldn't remember if she'd even bothered to change since last night.

"You're leaving me?" Brittan shrieked, her hands like claws on Eiress's arm. "But—but this place—"

Eiress shook her off. "If you're afraid to be alone, I suggest you get dressed and come with me. I'm not waiting to be fetched by Elizabeth."

"Dressed?"

Eiress nodded toward the massive armoire and crossed her arms over her chest. "Hurry up. My dragon's waiting."

Brittan's blue eyes widened in alarm. "You have a dragon?"

Eiress could have pointed out that her having a dragon was probably the least bizarre thing Brittan would run into today, but she just wanted to go. Brittan was not an ally. Her soul was too dark. Even though she had a body like Mary and Elizabeth, she couldn't hide her soul from Eiress. No one could, not here. Not when reading souls was how Eiress survived.

Although she wasn't sure, if she ever saw a soul too beautiful to be here, that she would have the courage to dance and send herself to hell so she could set the soul free. If the last fourteen years weren't hell, she couldn't imagine how awful it might actually be.

Nor did she want to.

"What is this place, anyway?" Britton asked as she dug through the armoire.

Eiress sighed. "It's the Isle of the Damned. Apparently, when Mary was beheaded, the devil rewarded her with the Isle and the castle for her evil deeds. She has her own court, her own subjects. No one can ever take it away from her."

"Weird." Brittan spent the next fifteen minutes criticizing each beautiful black and gray dress she'd been given.

Black and gray. Everything in this world was colorless. Apparently, Mary wasn't fond of color. Mary, or whoever had created this place for her.

That was why Eiress's bright red hair was such an anomaly. Her only act of defiance.

"Brittan, honestly, if you aren't ready by the time I count to thirty, I'm leaving without you." It didn't matter how long Eiress had been there. She was still terrified of Elizabeth.

Terrified might be an understatement, actually.

"What?" Brittan gasped. "It will take me twenty minutes just to figure out how to get this thing on!"

Eiress glared at her for about five seconds. She snatched up her skirts, stalked across the room, grabbed a dress out of the armoire, and threw it at Brittan. "Get. Dressed."

Brittan glared back, but Eiress didn't care. She whirled away and stalked out the door.

"Wait! I'm coming!" Brittan, clutching the dress, came flying out after her, eyes wide and terrified. Eiress breathed in silent relief.

It took her far longer to make it back to her quarters than it had when she'd raced recklessly through the halls. She had to stop to explain to Brittan twice that she had no idea how the chains worked, or why they seemed to be almost alive, or why they didn't clank and scrape like normal chains. "We all wear them. Elizabeth, Mary, me. You. It's just how it works here. You come through the mirror and the chains clamp on. So we can't escape out of the mirrors. Or," She motioned with her head, "out into the nightmares."

"You've never been out there?" Brittan asked, peering around Eiress into the darkness beyond.

The darkness, which was a blessing and a curse. It hid the nightmares, except for the occasional glowing eyes, but it also
hid
the nightmares.

"Only a few feet. To rescue my dragon. That was as far as the chains would let me reach." Eiress shuddered.

They made it to her quarters as the bell started to toll. "Kaida, hide." Eiress said, dumping her little dragon off her pillow. He squeaked in protest and then stretched his wings and soared up, into the darkness. The ceilings were so high, and light so weak, that Eiress had never even seen the top half of her room. She raced to her own armoire, yanked out a dress without looking, and flung the one she was wearing to the floor. "Hurry, Brittan," she whispered.

This time, Brittan did as she was asked, changing as quickly as Eiress. Eiress grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room, into the halls as the last toll of the clock sounded. They sprinted silently through the castle, but they weren't fast enough. Rounding the corner, Eiress nearly ran right into Elizabeth Bathory.

The witch would have been beautiful, if Eiress couldn't see her soul. Long, long black hair, pure white skin, perfect bone structure. But her eyes. Her eyes were pure black, swirling with fiery hatred. "You're late."

She didn't wait for an answer. She slid through the shadows around Eiress, to Brittan. Brittan whimpered, clinging to Eiress's hand, turning her face away. "You haven't made a very good first impression, young one." She ran a fingernail along Brittan's cheek, drawing black blood. "Your skin is soft. Your blood is pure." Her other hand reached for Brittan's neck, the nails growing into claws.

"Stop it." Eiress wasn't sure where the voice had come from. She nearly fell over when she realized it was her own. "Stop it, Elizabeth. You can't have her."

Elizabeth jerked upright, whirling to glare at Eiress. "You dare defy me, little princess? Just because Mary fears—"

"We are late, Elizabeth. Mary doesn't like it when we're late, does she? Save your evil little games for another time." Eiress had no idea where the strength in her voice had come from. She glanced up, saw the gilded mirrors running along the length of the ceiling, and felt him. Her friend was here with her. And she was strong.

Pulling Brittan away from Elizabeth, they hurried the rest of the way to the ballroom. Brittan's quiet sobs and Eiress's hitched breathing echoed off the harsh black walls. Behind them, Elizabeth dissolved into the shadows.

Mary's wrath could be felt before they even opened the ballroom doors. Eiress trembled so hard she could barely grip the handle. It swung open at her touch, despite how much she feared the woman on the other side.

Vlad grinned at them, a horrifying grin full of sharp teeth and blood lust. Brittan cried out, clutching at Eiress's back as she cringed away from him. "The Princesses of the Damned, your majesty."

"Stand tall. Don't look her in the eye and whatever you do, don't dance with anyone," Eiress whispered.

Brittan nodded too fast, her head snapping on her neck.

"You will not sit on your thrones this evening." Mary's smile was cruel, and Eiress trembled harder. "You will kneel. There." She pointed one long, clawed finger toward the center of the ballroom. They would be surrounded by the damned.

Eiress felt a terrified sob rise in her throat, and she fought to contain it. Mary loved to see fear. She fed off it. Eiress refused to give her that power. Instead, she nodded, raising her chin, and went to the center of the room. Settling on her knees on the floor, she smoothed her skirts around her, secretly hoping they would protect her from the evilness of the souls. Black chains joined the silver ones, winding around her ankles and her neck, keeping her in place.

Next to her, Brittan sobbed.

And Mary smiled.

As he did every night, Vlad announced them and swung open the doors. The rotting souls swarmed the room, the brave going to Mary and Elizabeth, the weak eagerly surrounded Eiress and Brittan. Eiress squeezed her eyes shut tight and held her breath. Maybe if she didn't breathe, she wouldn't…

But no. They touched her, and every evil thing they'd done, their lust in it, and their madness, invaded her mind, pulling her into their memories. As if she were them. As if she were the one raising the gun, the fist, the knife. As if she were the one raping, murdering, torturing. She heard the screams, the crying and begging. Every so often, through their memories, she'd see a cave in the darkness. A solace they had found in the Isle. They would promise to take her there, and she would shake her head no, and they'd be shoved aside by the next damned in line. Every time a new soul touched her, begging for a dance and another chance at life, she was pulled back under.

Like she was drowning in their memories.

Somewhere, from a distance, she could hear Brittan screaming. She wanted to reach for her, to lend her strength, but her chains held her fast.

Eiress wasn't sure she had any strength to lend, anyway. Still, she fought to raise her hand. Fought, and failed, and Brittan kept screaming.

Hours, years, centuries passed, each soul darker than the one before, and finally Mary raised her voice. "Would you care to dance, little princesses? I give you permission to rise."

The rustle of skirts, and Eiress's eyes flew open. "Brittan, no!" she cried.

"I will dance! Let me go and I will dance! I will dance with them all!" Brittan babbled through her tears.

"Brittan, don't do it. Your soul—you'll lose your soul! Brittan!"

But Brittan wouldn't look at her. Her frantic eyes scanned the souls. "Him. He's hot. I'll dance with him." She pointed at one whose memories would haunt Eiress forever. Hot? How could Brittan not see?

No one sees their souls but me.

That may have been true, but even if Brittan couldn't see what he was, she could feel it. She was pulled into their memories just as Eiress was.

"Brittan, don't do this. Please, Brittan, listen to me—"

"Stop it, Eiress!" Brittan shouted, covering her ears with her hands. "Leave me alone!"

The soul came to her, offered his hand. Brittan smiled through her tears, even batted her eyelashes. Mary and Elizabeth watched, practically giddy.

Brittan took the soul's hand, and her chains fell away.

She started screaming again, as his rotting corpse sucked her life away, eating her from the outside in. She fought to escape his grip, but they were bound tight. Eiress sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut tight like she could escape into herself.

Again, she felt him. He didn't usually come to the balls. She could feel his fear, his pain, his helplessness, but her friend, the boy from the mirror, he stayed. As if he somehow knew the comfort he brought. The strength. She could almost hear him, begging her to be strong. Begging her to keep fighting. She could almost hear his soothing words, praising her courage, telling her she would make it through this. When the screaming stopped, when Brittan's soul had been dragged through the gates of hell, and the souls, seeing what one dance could do for them, massed around her once more,
his
voice kept their memories out.

I
T WASN'T UNTIL
E
IRESS
was returned safely to her rooms and had cried herself to sleep that Landon left the mirror. It was four o'clock in the morning, and he had school in a few hours.

It didn't matter.

Landon always been a good kid. He never cut class, didn't party, didn't break curfew. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been grounded. He'd never snuck out before in his life.

Until now.

Moving with the stealth of a badly wounded ninja, he grabbed his truck keys, a shovel, a flashlight, and his wallet. He wasn't sure what else, exactly, one needed to go grave-robbing, so he stuck to the basics. Somehow, he made it outside and, like every smart kid in the movies had done, he pushed his truck down the driveway and into the road before climbing in and starting it.

He was lucky his parents were deep sleepers.

He'd been to West Haven a few times before, to hang out with friends or for football games. He'd mapped out where the cemetery was and put the address into his GPS. The streets were deserted. If the farmers were awake, they were tucked away in their barns, because he saw no sign of life.

After what he'd just seen at the ball, that thought nearly crashed the car.

GPS only misled him once, and he had to backtrack and figure out where the heck he was. It wasn't until he realized Eiress's mother was whispering directions to him that he shut off the technology and listened to the ghost. She led him through a corn field and his truck left wide paths of torn, bent stocks. It would probably come back to bite Landon later, but they found the cemetery.

The gates were locked, of course, because only heathens would attempt to hang out in a graveyard at night. He backed his truck up as close as he could, climbed into the back, and jumped over the gate.

He had no idea how he'd get back out.

But that wasn't important. Right now, he was just glad he'd made it over without impaling himself or injuring any limbs. He had a football game in a few days. "Okay. Where to now, Mrs. Ghost?" he muttered.

He didn't actually expect her to answer.

"This way."