1 A Spirited Manor (10 page)

T
he lid had been slid back onto
the coffin, sealing it closed, and Wesley lay upon it.  He was chained by his
hand 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 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 will lock her
in this tomb and drain her strength to grant you immortal life!  Tell her all
the reason 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 she
there were only seconds before the monster was upon her. 

And that was when Clara
remembered Norman's doors. 

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 other 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.

"C
lara?  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 with worry, his brow furrowed.  She wanted to find out
what caused him such distress, to soothe away his trouble.  And then she
realized that it was 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."

He looked at her, his face a
conflict of emotion.  There were words upon his lips that he seemed frightened
to say.  He seemed to be searching for something, some sign, that to open
himself to this possibility, he would not be rebuked, that he would not ruin
this moment, that he would not destroy the perfection of just he and she at the
start of the world.

So instead, Clara said it.  "I
could not leave you," she confessed.  "I did not wish to live if I
knew that there was not a chance of you being at my side."

Her words seemed to cause time
to stop.  She felt his heart skip a beat, and then double its pounding.  She
felt his breath fill his chest in a mighty sigh of happiness.  He looked down
upon her, his dark, brown eyes filled with tears of joy.  Slowly, taking each
moment so that she could stop him or pull away, he closed the distance between
the two of them, placing his lips softly upon hers to seal her confession with
the tenderest of kisses.

That kiss chased away all the
pain in her bones until the aches were just a memory.  That kiss chased away
the pain in her heart and washed over the wound Thomas left there.  It soothed
its festering like a healing balm and mended it with Wesley's love.  Wesley
gripped her tighter, as if never wanting to let go, and she clung to him,
wanting him to know that she finally found home.

He lifted away from her, his
face awash in disbelief.  Clara almost laughed.  It seemed as if, despite
demons and magic and otherworldly horrors, it was this that he could not think
was true.

"Come, my darling,"
she whispered.  "Let us leave this terrible place.  We have the rest of
our life to begin."

He kissed her once more, and
then slowly helped her to sit.  He crouched, placing her arm around his neck,
and lifted her to her feet.  Her knees buckled beneath her, unable to stand,
but he caught her, letting her use his strength for as long as she needed.

"I cannot walk," she
said, realizing that she was too weak to support herself.

He smiled.  "Then I shall be
your legs."  He reached down and swept his arm beneath her knees, lifting
her like a feather, and carried her out of the room into the world that waited
for them beyond.