Saige was screaming. Screaming loud enough for all of Ashvall to hear her. “Jasper, please! Don’t let go, please!”
The veins in his hands bulged from the tension. The rain sliding down his fingers didn’t help. His teeth clenched as he groaned from the exertion. “Yeah, the not-letting-go part is obvious to me, Saige.” He was in a precarious position himself, straddling the balustrade so he could lean over and hold on to her arm. “Give me your other hand.”
She lifted her arm. Their fingers just missed. Saige felt the friction release between them. She started to fall. Gravity pulled her down.
With insane speed, Jasper leaned forward and caught her wrist, nearly toppling over in the process.
Saige heard a frantic voice. Her brother appeared by Jasper’s side, his pyjamas already soaked through by the rain. True panic flashed through his eyes when he saw her. She swung her arm up, happiness flooding her when her hand connected with her brother’s.
I might be okay.
Jasper and Xav managed to haul her up and over the balustrade. She stood on shaky legs, grateful to be standing. The upper level of the tower had been built as an observation deck with three-hundred-and sixty-degree views of the landscape. Its use was never intended for storms or wild weather, which meant the tile floors were slippery. Rain lashed from every direction. Against the veiny streaks of lightning, the masterfully sculpted gargoyles were sleek and grotesque.
Saige’s eyes connected with Jasper’s. Relief shone on his face, but something else appeared when he examined her for injuries. He was… stunned. And not in a good way.
Xav’s hooded eyes evaluated her with fury. “What are you wearing?”
She looked down. Shocking familiarity enveloped her.
Zoe’s wedding dress.
But… how?
How am I wearing this?
The dress was ripped and waterlogged, the white chiffon stained. Something dark ran down the front of the gown. It took a moment for Saige to realise it was blood.
I’m not hurt.
At least… I don’t feel hurt.
But that wasn’t the problem.
There was a pattern to the blood.
Saige realised with horror that it spelled words.
YOU’RE NEXT.
“Saige?”
She looked up to see her father. His eyes creased, resentment flaring across his face. Aunt Prue and Aunt Violet appeared behind him. Unable to pull their gazes away from their niece, their lips parted in surprise.
Aunt Prue raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Saige, my dear. What have you done?”
Saige watched all their expressions shift from shock to anger, finally settling on fear.
They… they think I did this on purpose.
They think I ripped apart Zoe’s wedding dress, graffitied it, and wore it as I jumped off the tower.
She stared at them all, grappling to find an appropriate response. A way to explain that this wasn’t her doing, but that would just make her sound crazier.
Her father stabbed a finger in her direction. His voice choked as furious tears spilled from his eyes. “That’s it, Saige. This is enough. I can’t let this keep happening anymore. You need help.” He turned to Aunt Prue. “Go get Dr Ahmadi and instruct him to bring the sedatives.”
“Sedatives?” Saige hoped she’d heard wrong.
Her father wouldn’t look at her. “Yes. I had some brought to the house, just in case one of your episodes made an appearance.”
Saige gasped feebly. “But I didn’t do this.”
Aunt Violet hurried forward and wrapped Saige in her arms. “We know, sweetie. It’s the illness. That’s why we’re going to get you help. You do need help. You know that… don’t you?”
Saige tugged free more violently than she intended. It knocked her aunt right over.
“Saige, that is enough.” Derrick’s voice boomed through the tower. “Xav, help me get your sister downstairs and back to her room.”
The panic inside Saige reached its crescendo. She wondered if this was what an animal felt like when predators were herding it. “I can walk downstairs myself.”
But her father and brother refused to listen. They took her by her arms and dragged her down the tower.
Saige peered over her shoulder. Jasper trailed behind, his face a mask of distress. An understanding that hadn’t been there before rose in his expression, and Saige knew he was thinking the same thing.
Theodosia did this.
Fear crept up from her belly into her chest.
Theodosia possessed me. She made me dream. She made me sleepwalk. She made me jump off the tower.
She was numb to everything now but shock, unable to do anything except be led through the house to her room. Her father and brother bundled her brusquely onto the bed. She was aware of Dr Ahmadi by her side, aware of the syringe, aware of the needle that pierced her skin, but she was too weak to do anything about it. The floor seemed to roll out beneath her bed, the walls shifting. Voices became slow and distant, the conversation muffled. Dizziness closed in. Her eyes wanted rest.
Where is Jasper?
She fought very hard to lift her head, but she couldn’t see him.
He’s not here.
It was her last conscious thought.
* * *
Saige had always loved Wolvercraft’s beautiful rose garden, so it made sense that she’d dream about it. The sun was out, the wind warm and soft against her skin. Her red hair looked more strawberry than auburn in this light, the way she’d always wanted it to appear. Her pale skin lacked the freckles she despised. She wondered if her eyes were blue like her mother’s or if they’d remained hazel-green.
She inhaled the roses’ fragrant perfume. Birds chirped. Wind rustled in the leaves. The gentle tinkling of running water could be heard somewhere in the woods. She wandered among the beautiful red and white flowers. The petals were lush and full. Pearl-shaped water droplets glistened on their vivid leaves.
It must have rained recently.
The grass was wet between her toes. The damp blades tickled her soles.
“Saige? Saige, darling? Where are you?”
Elaine’s voice floated through the garden, faint and waiflike, as though the wind was whispering it.
Saige stopped moving.
No. She can’t be here.
The sun dipped behind a cloud, the warm air now saturated by cold. Saige rubbed at her bare arms. The sky overhead churned, thick with roiling clouds. The first drop of rain splashed like ice on her forehead. Then another on her arm. She gasped, staring above. Violent, grey storm clouds glowered down, the rain breaking from it in a torrent.
The rosebushes no longer resembled a fairy garden. In seconds, they’d grown to an astronomical size, blocking out whatever light still existed. Saige had an impression of herself as a mouse trapped in a maze. Vines and brambles slithered out of the ground like serpentine monsters, climbing higher in a grotesque braid. They surrounded her. Walled her in.
“No, please! No!”
Thorns cut her skin. Branches scratched her arms. The grass beneath her feet no longer felt like grass. It was supple and wet. Horror seized Saige when she realised she was sinking in mud. Quick mud. It swallowed her ankles, latched on to her calves, spilled over her knees.
It’s going to pull me under.
She tried to hold on to a vine, but it twisted up her arm instead.
“Saige.”
For a moment, the shock of not being alone overshadowed her fear, and then it came tearing back. Panic suffocated her.
Dead brides surrounded Saige. Their pupils grew darker, bleeding through the whites, dripping past their cheeks until all that was left was a horrible black stain. Her mother was there, smiling. At least the good half smiled. What was left on the other side was pummelled meat with sticky, gelatinous blood. The stench of it made Saige’s stomach heave.
She recognised the other brides. The hanged woman from the woods, her neck long and bent from where the noose had broken it. The lady with the slit throat. Blood still spilled over her beautiful black-and-gold flapper dress. The dancing bride in the tower. And there were others. Women with horrible things that had been done to them. One had a hole in her head, probably from a gunshot. A woman clawed at Saige’s arm, her nails sinking into her flesh. Saige screamed. The wraith’s discoloured fingers were pruned, the skin grooved and soggy.
She must have drowned.
The women were everywhere. They rose in the mud, looming over Saige, pushing her down. The sludge was to her chest now. She knew kicking and thrashing would only serve to sink her faster, but her fear took over and she did it anyway. The filth and muck climbed to her neck.
Saige had never been religious, but she managed to scramble enough energy to say a final prayer.
Please, let it be fast. Don’t let my death be prolonged.
The idea of drowning always freaked her out. The thought of being compacted in mud for all eternity terrified her.
Fingers curled beneath Saige’s chin, forcing her head up.
Her eyes bulged.
Theodosia.
She’d never noticed before, but Theodosia’s green dress was marred with blood. It pooled from a gash in her throat, soaking the gown.
Her throat… it was cut!
Theodosia knelt down, smiling with quiet menace. “Pay the sins of the father, Saige. A life for a life.”
She transferred her hand to the top of Saige’s head and pushed down.
Saige shrieked hysterically. She scrambled to stay upright, but her feet felt like they’d been strapped with concrete blocks.
The mud scaled up her face, forcing itself into her eyes.
Her nose.
Her mouth.