Read Belmary House Book Two Online

Authors: Cassidy Cayman

Belmary House Book Two (5 page)

BOOK: Belmary House Book Two
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She didn’t spare him a look, her eyes locked on Kostya. A tear ran down his cheek but he stood like a statue, so still Tilly wondered if he’d been hexed after all.

“It won’t be enough until I get my revenge,” she spat.

Kostya slowly shook his head. “You can’t,” he said. “You know you can’t.”

“Do you mean to confront the Povests?” Ashford asked incredulously. “Is that what this is about?”

“Oh, Julian, you’ve always been so slow in catching on.” Camilla’s face twisted, as if she was fighting tears, as if she’d been fighting them so long they’d dried up completely.

“But why?” he asked, seeming as stupid as she’d accused.

Tilly hated her with such force, she wanted to jump forward and claw her face, kick Donal’s filthy shell to the floor and just beat the tar out of her. Camilla’s cold glare cut to her before locking back on Kostya, as if she knew what she was thinking. The fire inside her was snuffed with that one icy glance and she crept closer to Ashford.

“Do you know I got a message from them after I left the estate?” she asked, her voice eerily changed to pleasantly conversational. “They wanted me to stop practicing. I was getting too powerful for their liking, and I’m no blood of theirs so they can’t even utilize me.” She paused and sighed, waving her hand at Donal, whose head rocked to the side. “A month later, this poor lad was dead, and I’ll tell you, it wasn’t a quiet death.”

“Why didn’t you stop when they asked you to?” Kostya asked pitifully.

“Because they keep taking things from me,” she yelled, finally losing control.

Kostya shook his head back and forth, holding his arms close around his body, as if trying to shield himself from something.

“Camilla, stop now,” Ashford yelled as loudly as she did, and Tilly imagined them fighting as children.

He let go of her hand and took a few steps forward, but Camilla threw out her palm and Donal sprang to life, his slack features changing to a vicious snarl as he raced forward. Ashford drew his gun with lightning speed and shot the creature, but once again the bullet tearing through its flesh only made it falter a moment. Camilla waved her fingers and Donal stopped, close enough to him to cover the ground in two steps if she commanded it. Ashford shakily turned the gun on her. Tilly gasped, but Camilla only laughed.

“Are you going to shoot me, Julian?” she taunted. She locked her attention back on Kostya. “It wasn’t just Donal. They killed our daughter,” she spat. “Do you honestly think they kept their word?”

Kostya doubled over, and Tilly hurried to his side, grabbing his arm. No, Camilla wouldn’t need to use a spell or even her monster to stop Kostya. Her words were enough to cripple him.

“You’re wrong,” Ashford said, looking as confused as Tilly felt. “It was an accident, nothing more.”

“He knows it as well as I do,” Camilla screeched, laughing ruthlessly. “Look at him and stop being so naive.” She finally turned away from Kostya.

Tilly’s legs almost gave way as Donal twitched back on and headed toward her. Ashford shot it in the kneecap, which slowed the monster but didn’t stop it.

“You don’t know what I’ve had to do to get them to face me.” Camilla slashed her fist through the air, causing Donal to jerk awkwardly. “Why couldn’t you just believe me dead, Julian? I did that for you, so you could let me go, and now you’re ruining everything. Everyone who went down on the ship, the people upstairs— do you think that had no effect on me? None of that will be worth anything if I don’t face them and get our book back.”

Kostya went pale and looked despondently at his wife, the wheels of revelation clearly turning in his mind. Tilly found she wasn’t shocked to learn the shipwreck Camilla was supposed to have died in was no accident, and she could tell Kostya wasn’t either, after what he’d seen in the church. Heartbroken, but not shocked.

She was glad she couldn’t see the torment that must be on Ashford’s face at Camilla’s confession, especially the part about doing it for his benefit. How was he going to deal with that? Tilly had never felt such hatred for anyone as she did for that zombie wielding cow.

“How do we stop this?” Kostya asked, while the siblings continued to yell at one another, Ashford still fruitlessly trying to make her see reason.

Kostya swept Tilly behind him and looked for something that might slow Donal more. She felt tears running down her cheeks as she saw Ashford once again turn the gun on his sister.

“Only Camilla can stop it. Or she has to be stopped.” She took Kostya’s hand and cried harder when she saw understanding dawn at what she couldn’t say outright. “He won’t be able to do it,” she said, nodding at Ashford.

Donal, dragging his bad leg behind him, was close enough she could smell his fetid skin. Time was making him more decayed, and even Camilla’s magic couldn’t seem to stop it anymore. Tilly retched as Kostya tossed a chair in its path and pulled her out of its clutches. Ashford shouted for them to run.

Kostya positioned her behind the spiral staircase and squeezed her hand. “You won’t be able to get home,” he said, looking at her with eyes full of sadness.

Her heart wrenched but it wasn’t for herself. If they survived, Kostya would never be okay after this, nor would Ashford easily recover. The creature mowed over the fallen chair in its eagerness to tear them limb from limb, and all her muscles strained to flee back up the stairs. Before she could raise her foot, Donal stopped and stiffly turned away from them to face Ashford. It was within an arm’s length of being able to grab him from behind, and Ashford was too intent on furiously pleading with his sister to realize he was in danger. Seeing how close she was to possibly losing him freed her of any doubts.

“Do it,” she said, gripping the stair rail to keep from falling.

Kostya leaped around the creature and with nearly blinding haste, snapped the gun away from Ashford. The creature let out a bloodcurdling roar and wrapped its waxy hands around Ashford’s throat. Camilla laughed maniacally, her own hands making crushing motions in the air.

Tilly screamed at the same time Kostya fired the gun, her terrified wail reverberating with the blast, until she was left with only the faintly thrumming ringing of the shot in her ears.

The creature lay in an ungainly heap at Ashford’s feet. She raced to his side and took his arm, pulling her toward him, but he stood wooden and cold. Camilla was dead, sprawled out flat after she was shot, and Kostya still held his arm outstretched, pointing the gun at nothing.

“You had to,” she said, voice strangled with tears. She pulled Ashford toward her again, fearful at his lack of response. “He had to,” she repeated.

Memories were trying to find their way out of the deepest recesses of her mind, flapping their dark wings like trapped birds desperate to get free. She was just as desperate to keep them where they belonged. Later, she promised them. She just couldn’t right now, and struggled to know what to do next.

Not looking at Camilla, she pulled Ashford to a place where he couldn’t see her body, and put her arms around him, all while keeping an eye on Kostya. After a moment, Ashford’s hands rested lightly on her back and he pressed his cheek against her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She felt him shake his head and held on tighter.

Kostya slowly lowered his arm and looked down at the gun, seeming to marvel that he held it at all. Her memories flapped harder, called out more shrilly, and she got a sick sense of foreboding as she watched his eyes turn vacant, then decisive.

She pulled away and clutched at Ashford’s jacket, her whole body going numb.

“Take the gun from Kostya,” she said, unable to move. He turned slowly, a look of confusion on his face at her harsh tone.

“Don’t,” she cried, hating herself for the cowardice that froze her.

All she could see was the gun, and the hopeless look in his eyes, and as much as she willed it, her body would not move. His lip quirked up in a sad excuse for a smile, and she watched him raise his hand to place the gun beside his temple.

Darkness threatened to overcome her and she shoved Ashford toward him. Ashford finally realized Kostya’s intent and jumped forward with a sound of anguish. She squeezed her eyes shut, heard the shot, and then everything went silent.

Chapter 5

Tilly found herself flat on her back in the woods behind the church and scrambled, shaking, to her knees. Ashford sat near her, his head in his hands. He must have carried her out here because she didn’t remember anything after the shot rang out. Heart racing, she grabbed Ashford’s arm, collapsing into tears at the look on his face. Still, she fought against believing it and dug her fingers into his wrist.

“Where’s Kostya?” she pleaded, shaking his arm. He let her do so, and continued to stare bleakly past her. “Did you leave him in there?”

She crawled toward the cellar doors that led down into the underground room below the church, her determination to make what she wanted to believe true fighting the icy tendrils of fear that threatened to freeze her once again.

It was her inability to move, grab the gun from him. That was why they were outside and Kostya was still below. It couldn’t be true. Sobbing, she tried to open the heavy door, but Ashford’s voice cut through her thick haze of denial.

“Stop, Matilda. He’s gone.”

She had to squeeze her eyes shut against the flashing images of Kostya’s hand slowly raising. In her mind it felt like it took ages and ages. Plenty of time for her to stop him. But she hadn’t been able to move, too lost in fighting her old memories.

She sat back and rested her head on her knees, feeling like she was being assaulted from every direction. She knew it was a panic response, she’d had dozens of them and had been taught how to deal with them. She needed to breathe, but her tears choked her and she turned her face to the side, unable to look at Ashford.

“I couldn’t stop him,” she said, futilely wiping her face with her skirt, only to flood her cheeks with a fresh onslaught of tears. What had she done in a past life to keep failing like this? What terrible thing had she done?

“Of course you couldn’t,” Ashford said, surprisingly reasonable after what they’d been through.

His gentle tone hit her hard. He’d just lost his sister and brother-in-law and he was consoling her. Shame at causing him to have to do that made her weep harder. If only she could sort the past from right now she thought she could stop crying, but there was nothing in her mind but the relentless cracking of gunshots.

She knew she was going down a slippery slope, and tried to fight it. She had the tools, the things she’d been taught in her years of therapy after being diagnosed with PTSD, she just had to calm down and find them. If only she could stop hearing the sound of the shot.

“I’m sorry,” she said, burying her head in her knees and pulling her skirt up over her ears.

He stroked her back and pulled her toward him. “You feel like ice,” he said. “Let’s go back to the inn. I’ll make a fire.”

She didn’t want to go back to the deserted inn, but didn’t want to be out in the middle of the woods either. The light had the glow of dawn about to break and she felt so tired she didn’t think she could stand.

“We can’t leave him down there,” she said pathetically. “We can’t.”

“We won’t,” he assured her. “But not right now. He’ll— he’ll be fine for now.”

His words jarred her, but the thought of going back down there made her muscles seize up with fresh panic. Ashford helped her to her feet and hugged her close, inching her along as if she was a ragdoll. Once they were out in the street, her tears dried up and she walked numbly beside him, careful not to let him get too far away. If his hand slipped out of hers, she hurried to grab it again, clasping her fingers tightly with his. By the time they reached the inn, she wasn’t sure who was keeping whom from falling to pieces.

She stood in the doorway of the empty dining hall while he built a roaring fire in the big fireplace. It’s comforting crackle and inviting warmth pulled her into the room, and she settled on one of the benches, putting her head down on the table. He sat across from her and rested his hand on her elbow.

The second she felt his touch, the tears started again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry as well,” he said. “I don’t know how we’ll get you home.”

She sat upright at that, knocking his hand away, her tears stanched by her outrage. “Are you kidding me? That’s all you can think of?”

Immediately she broke down again, certain he didn’t want to be with her anymore, not after her inability to do anything right that night.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Stop apologizing,” he told her curtly. “If you were offering condolences it would be one thing, but I think you feel somehow responsible for what happened. What Kostya did.”

She’d been struggling so hard to get her past shut firmly back up in its proper place in her mind, she’d almost forgotten Kostya. Her throat ached from crying so hard and she knew she’d have a three day headache from dehydration.

“Oh my God, Kostya,” she said, putting her head back down.

Ashford took her hands and held them tightly. “What’s wrong, Matilda? Something’s upsetting you that goes beyond Kostya or Camilla.”

She blinked at him through her tears, amazed and a little frightened that he saw through her. She must have been acting even worse than she thought. She felt sick, and berated herself for not trying harder. He didn’t need to be taking care of her right now, she needed to get it together and help him through this. Poor man was probably a mess, but couldn’t show it because he was worried about her childish outbursts.

BOOK: Belmary House Book Two
6.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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