Destined for Doon (36 page)
When we were directly under it, the bird’s desecrated wings
spread wide, and with a bloodcurdling shriek it took flight. I jerked my hands up to cover my head, bringing Kenna’s hand with me. The beast circled the glow blazing from our rings. But before I could digest my relief, it dove straight for us.
I screamed, pulled my hand from Kenna’s, and everything went black.
Claws dug into my scalp. I spun in a circle, blindly swatting at the creature entangled in my hair. My hand connected with something slimy and wet as a burning pain exploded across my head. With another desperate tug, the crow came loose. I hurled it away with all my strength, and as I turned to flee, I smashed into an invisible tree.
The vision had been wrong, I realized as I lay crumpled on the ground. We were going to die or become zombies. And worse, we were going to fail.
F
ailure is not an option. So get up before I pull you up by your tiara!”
Vee lay huddled on the ground, babbling nonsense. She was covered in scratches, but safe for the moment. The zombie crow had lurched away, taking a long dark clump of hair with it.
She teetered on the verge of hysteria, and I was right there with her. Ever since I’d first witnessed the undead crow, I’d had nightmares. Turns out my fears were not unfounded. The forest was full of red, beady eyes peering at us. I had to assume they were the limbus’s defense system, which meant there’d be more coming.
“Get up!” I shouted.
In an effort to reclaim the path, the fungus had begun to creep its way onto Vee’s gown as she thrashed about. Her head whipped one direction and then the other. “Kenna? Where are you?”
“Right here.” The zombie crow hadn’t pecked out her eyes — to my great relief. Yet she stared sightlessly in my general direction. Why couldn’t she see — Of course!
I bent down and slipped my hand into hers. The stench, which had been nearly unbearable, receded as the red and green glow of the Rings of Aontacht blazed to white.
As if touched by Rapunzel’s tears, Vee blinked up at my face. She sighed, relief softening her features. Then, suddenly remembering where we were, she started to scramble to her feet. Holding tight to her hand, I helped her up. “You’re safe.”
With large, haunted eyes, she wildly surveyed her body. Her tiara was hanging off to one side, her hair disheveled, arms scratched, and the limbus had begun to disintegrate the hem of her dress, but all things considered, she was okay. Satisfied that I was telling the truth, she took a calming breath. Her body trembled despite the resolution to be brave.
“The crow?” she croaked.
The cold wind nipped at my exposed skin, causing my teeth to chatter. “It’s g-gone — for now. But we need to keep g-going.” After an instant of hesitation she nodded vigorously.
In our little bubble of protection, we continued along the path to the riverbank. Mere inches ahead of our feet, the fungus shriveled away only to swallow up the path in our wake. Our heavy skirts were a nightmare in themselves, but as much as I longed to rip away the bottom half of the fabric, I wasn’t letting go of Vee for anything.
With each step, unholy things scurried in the underbrush. Every time I glanced behind, the number of beady, red eyes following us multiplied. As the light of the Rings of Aontacht illuminated the way, I caught sight of an undead squirrel. When the light caught the tip of its rotting tail, it shrieked and scampered off the path.
We’d been foolish to go into the limbus without any weapons other than an unwieldy axe. If we’d thought to bring a knife, we could’ve easily hacked our skirts away — not to mention
undead animals. As it stood, we were nearly defenseless and totally dependent on one another.
When we found the Pictish stone, would we have to swing the axe in tandem? I was a whole head taller than my bestie, and although I didn’t know much about lumberjacking I knew we wouldn’t get an effective swing approaching it like a three-legged race or a bicycle built for two.
The trail narrowed to the width of a deer track. Still gripping my hand, Vee shuffled awkwardly behind me. The rings ensured we were protected from the limbus, but skeletal remains of underbrush snagged our gowns with every step.
The sound of rushing water grew louder. As I led us around a bend, the clearing for the Brig o’ Doon became visible through the trees. I gave Vee’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “We’re nearly there.”
Ahead, I could see the bridge. Our side of the riverbank was covered in black slime and little black flowers that’d already made it halfway across. Vee’s vision had been dead on. In addition to destroying Doon, the limbus would attack Alloway. We were the modern world’s only defense against the zombie apocalypse.
To the left of the bridge stood a four-foot-high tablet of stone protruding from the ground at a crazy angle. Little purple sparks — witch’s magic for sure — erupted from the surface. All we had to do to break the curse was chop the stone in half with the axe. For the first time, I felt as if we might come out of this okay.
Rustling at the mouth of the path drew my attention. While the whole forest bristled with zombie critters, whatever made this noise was significantly larger than a bird or a squirrel. It sounded more like an elephant or a bear.
I made a shushing noise and froze in my tracks. From Vee’s
blizzard encounter, I knew the occasional grizzly roamed the woods as part of the kingdom’s natural border protection. I seriously hoped we wouldn’t have to face down a zombie bear to get to the stone.
Vee’s free hand dug into my waist as she peered around my side. Mirroring my alarm, she asked in a low voice, “What is it?”
“Can’t tell,” I whispered as a shiver crawled its way down my spine. “But whatever it is, it’s big.”
Her fingers tightened ever so slightly. “Maybe we can sneak past it.”
Despite the sinking feeling in my chest that said otherwise, it was worth a try. Unwilling to risk another sound, I nodded. Ever so slowly, we began to sneak along the path. The light from our rings provided our protection, but it was also a giant beacon. If it did draw the creature, I hoped the divine force field, or whatever it was, would continue to hold.
The noise grew louder as we crept into the clearing. Just as I stepped free of the woods, Vee gasped. Spinning around, I saw her terror-stricken face first. But then, in the dimness of the limbus, I discerned another face looming just above hers.
Hunks of gray flesh hung from the emaciated face and one eyeball dangled precariously down its cheek. The other lidless eye gaped at Vee like something from the horror movie that’d haunted me since childhood. Its nose and lips were missing, along with its hair. Decomposing skin exposed yellowing bone all over the creature’s body. It still wore the tattered remains of pants, which covered most of the hips and thighs, and part of one rotted, flapping boot.
The creature made a guttural sound and reached hesitantly toward Vee with a bony finger. It stopped just short of the light bubble and gurgled again. My stomach heaved as I realized it no longer had a tongue.
Swallowing an agonized squeak, Vee murmured, “It’s Drew Forrester.”
It took me an instant to connect the zombie in front of us with the boy that’d been Emily’s intended. Gripping the axe handle more tightly with my free hand, I quietly asked, “Should we kill it?”
“No!” Vee hissed and then lowered her voice. “We need to try to save him.”
This was no baby bird in need of TLC; it was an abomination. I feared Drew was beyond saving, but as Vee stubbornly clenched her jaw, I didn’t have the heart to speak the words. He’d been her subject, so of course she’d feel responsible. As gently as possible, I said, “I’m not sure that he can be — ”
“We need to try! For Emily’s sake.” Vee paused to take a shaky breath. “He seems to recognize me . . . Maybe he’s not completely gone.”
Realizing it was useless to argue, I asked, “What do you have in mind?”
“Let’s do what we came here to do,” she replied. “Let’s destroy the Pictish stone. Breaking the curse is his only chance.”
Clutching Vee while keeping my eyes fixed on Drew of the Dead, I backed toward the stone. The former Doonian shuffled along behind us like a ghoulish pet. As I glanced over my shoulder to gauge our distance to the bridge, Vee stepped on my skirt. Thrown off balance, we crashed to the ground in a tangle of pretty dresses. On impact, I lost the axe, which clattered across the ground. I reached for it, realizing at the last second that my other hand was also empty.
Vee’s scream pierced the night. I turned over to see what was left of Drew on top of her. His bony hands closed around her throat in a superhuman grip. She blindly clawed at him,
dislodging little bits of rotten flesh that landed on her neck and shoulders.
Taking up the axe, I struggled to free my legs from my gown and get to my feet. Perhaps Drew could be saved, but as my bestie’s eyes bulged out of their sockets my choice was clear. I kicked Drew’s shoulder with all my strength. He rolled onto his back, scuttling like a creepy upside-down turtle. Hefting the Arm o’ the Bruce over my head, I screamed for Vee to move to her right. As soon as she scrambled away, I lunged forward and let the axe fall.
Blackish blood squirted from Drew’s neck. I felt it splatter my face in a cold spray as his severed head rolled away. The putrid stench of decapitated zombie — a thousand times worse than the stink of the limbus — assaulted me. My stomach lurched and I let the axe slip from my hand as I dropped to my knees, retching. The meager contents of my stomach, mostly stomach acid, spewed from my mouth onto wet, blackened ground.
With my eyes clenched shut, I was vaguely aware of Vee clawing her way up my skirts to touch my arm. Patterns danced across my eyelids as we became once again enclosed in the bubble of light. Pulling Vee with me, I collapsed away from the zombie corpse into a tight ball. Had we really been so deluded as to think we could waltz into the limbus and break the curse? I was an actress, not some crackerjack tribute. I was not prepared to battle to the death.
The barren ground against my cheek and arms felt like ice. It seemed to leach away the last of my energy. I could sense the nothingness of oblivion reaching for me, lulling me away from my present reality. Fortunately, Vee’s pull was stronger. She rubbed my shoulders, speaking words that sounded like a kindergarten pep talk.
Numb to the core, I opened a heavy eyelid to glare at her. “What?”
“Try, try again.” She pointed to the axe lying next to me on the ground. “It’s on the handle.”
“So?”
“So — Robert the Bruce coined that motto when he was hiding in a cave, nearly defeated. He saw a spider trying to spin a web. After numerous attempts, it finally succeeded. That spider inspired him not to give up — so he tried again and eventually won Scotland’s independence.”
“What if this is the one we can’t win?”
“I believe in my vision. But just because we’re sure of the outcome, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.” She touched my cheek. “But we need to have faith that we will win.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll have faith enough for both of us.” She hoisted me into a sitting position. “We’re so close. The stone is right there. All you have to do is finish the job.”
My head felt cottony, like I’d taken too much cold medicine. The temptation to go to sleep tugged me toward the ground, but Vee yanked on my arm. “Oh, no you don’t! Let’s stand up.”
She wedged her shoulder into my armpit. Bracing her legs like she was on the bottom of a cheerleading pyramid, she hoisted me to my feet with a roar. Her arm curled around my back and urged me forward. A lifetime of experience told me that resistance was futile. After a few steps of her forced march, my head began to clear.
Less than ten paces ahead, the stone from Vee’s vision jutted crookedly from the ground. Violet light curled along the symbols that represented the Pictish curse. Thick black sludge oozed from the base of the stone to form a churning, altar-like pool on the ground. Just above the surface of the pool a purple
mist swirled in the opposite direction. The effect gave me a queasy sense of vertigo.
Tendrils of zombie fungus slithered from the pool across the forest floor on their way to suck the life from anything that wasn’t already dead — or undead. Vee was right — we had to stop it. According to her vision, I just needed to strike the stone with the Arm o’ the — Wait a minute! “The axe!”
“Got it.” The certainty in Vee’s voice bolstered my courage as she handed me the weapon.
“Thanks.” A few more steps and we stopped at the edge of the source of the limbus. The instant our bubble of light pierced the pool, it began to boil. The contents of the pool rose through the mist, forming and reforming as it grew; cadaverous faces, snapping teeth, bulging eyes, claws, snouts, and grasping hands materialized and vanished. Once the thing reached my height it began to hiss as it solidified into a human-like shape.
Sludge dripped away to reveal a pale, skeletal face ravaged by time. With a creaky breath, its eyelids popped open. Vee and I gasped as recognition throat punched us. Clothed in robes of zombie fungus and regarding us with unmistakable fury stood Adelaide Blackmore Cadell, the Witch of Doon.
J
ust like we’d left her after the last encounter, the Witch of Doon resembled an old, haggish woman. Though now, she looked inhumanly powerful. The shroud of the limbus seemed to suck away most of her remaining color. At certain angles, her bones were just visible beneath her dry, translucent skin. Dirty white hair flapped erratically about her face. Only her emerald eyes, irises sparking with purple magic, contained any trace of life.
My body froze as Addie focused her attention on me. Her creepy leer caused the hairs on my arms to stand on end.
“The plucky sidekick,” Addie clucked, her voice as ancient as the stone she guarded. “I thought you’d have run away by now.”
Vee squeezed my hand for reassurance as I faced the being that inspired all my worst nightmares. “Not a chance.”
