Darkness pressed around me. My braids still wet from the bath, wrapped around my neck like a tightening noose. I reached for the locks, and something above me trapped my hands. It felt like fabric, but behind the silky material pressed an unyielding solid foundation. I squeezed my arms to my chest and pushed against the weight, but it didn’t budge.
Panic pounded through me and made my head swim. I gasped, and stale, moist air filled my lungs. An earthy scent lingered, followed by a sickly-sweet smell.
Despite its unpleasantness, the air calmed my spinning head. Darkness consumed my sight, but I knew I was no longer in my bed. The entrapped space felt cold, lacking Alex’s warmth, like a box or crate perhaps. I scoured my memories for how I’d ended up here. Alex and I had slipped from the bath, and I’d taken a moment to prepare for bed. He was asleep when I’d climbed onto the mattress, but he’d gathered me in his arms. I remembered the softness of my pillow and the dancing flames in the depths of the fireplace.
Then nothing.
I reached for my magic, but the power didn’t rise. That wasn’t right. The magic resided inside me, as much a part of my life as every breath I drew. The power tendrils trailed through me, wrapped in the space between body and soul, but the magic ignored my calls.
I laid on something hard and uneven. A sharp object jammed into my spine. I twisted away from it, but more lumps pushed against me. I moved again, and a ripping sound spread through the enclosed space. A cold liquid seeped into my pants, and the scent of sweetness turned to harsh, bitter decay. Bile climbed up the back of my throat. I clawed at the braids, which seemed to wrap tighter around my neck, but my hands pressed against the container’s top without any give.
You’ve hurt me, daughter.
The words cut through my jumbled thoughts, and a new, colder panic unwound from the depths of my soul. It was my father’s voice, that same stale tone he’d used minutes before his hand struck my face. The speech sounded different than when the Master of the Order of Spellcasters had spoken to me. My father’s words connected to my own thoughts, a voice originating from the back of my mind.
“No.” I hated my shrill tone, but I harbored no control of my body. “It’s not you. You’re dead. You’re dead.”
If I’m dead, and we are in the same place, what does that make you, my little Belle?
Fear shot through me, freezing my failing limbs as efficiently as an unexpected winter frost.
“You’re dead,” I said, but the words echoed hollowly. Was I convincing him or myself? “I buried you.”
My father’s hard laughter twisted around me, filling my ears and burying deep into my mind. I tensed automatically and waited for the pain against my face.
Oh, I know, daughter. I know. He laughed again, and I ached to cover my ears. Sweat soaked into my clothes, joining the mysterious liquid on my pants. I couldn’t control my racing heart, and logic had fled my mind. My breathing grew frantic. There wasn’t enough air. I was going to die in this fabric-lined cage.
Do you think you are better than me? Father’s laughter faded. Not even you can escape the grave, Belle.
The…grave.
Bright stars painted across my vision, covering the deep blackness with firework explosions.
I knew where I was. I lay in the very coffin I’d secretly celebrated being lowered into the ground days ago. I was in my father’s casket, trapped between the lid and his decaying body.
My body buckled uncontrollably. More pieces of my father tore away with wet, fleshy sounds. The scent became unbearable and stained the only air I had. My stomach heaved, but vomiting would make me choke. I refused to die here—with the man I’d finally escaped.
I had to get out of here.
I pushed against the lid, and a scream bubbled to my lips. The angle was all wrong. I remained pressed too close to the lid and lost all leverage. My father laughed again, sending more sharp pierces through my brain.
I was going to die in here.
Inside the bitter darkness, a new image formed—Alex holding me in bed on our wedding night, understanding that a marriage of convenience had become much more. Alex when my father abdicated the throne after his terminal diagnosis and Alex recited the vows of peace between our people. Alex’s eyes shining the way they did just for me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Alex, wait for me. I’m coming.
I screamed again, and my throat turned raw. I pushed, driving the last of my strength into my arms.
The lid moved. A fraction of an inch, barely perceivable at all, but it moved.
A smile curled across my lips. New motivation gave strength to my hands. My stomach settled, and all my effort piled into my arms. I pushed again. The lid fought against the dirt, and foul-smelling mud toppled onto my face. It was the best thing I’d ever felt.
What are you doing? Stop it!
I ignored my father. Freedom sat at my fingertips, and nothing would stop me from escaping this pit. I had defeated him before, if only by death’s conceit, and I would prevail again.
Dirt tumbled inside, but the lid opened. I ran my hand along the edge of the coffin and pushed until the gap stretched enough for me to reach through. I stuck my hands into the rocky dirt and scooped it inside the casket, burying my father yet again.
A distant part of me realized something was wrong. The dirt should have seeped around me, stolen my ability to breathe, and trapped me more securely in the casket. Instead, an empty pocket formed. A pocket that denied the laws of physics without any hint of magic involved. Though narrow, it stretched wide enough for me to squeeze through. I reached for more dirt above me and funneled it out of the way.
I clawed at the ground, pushing it around and behind me, anywhere with open space. The rotting scent faded as I continued my trek, and the blank panic in my mind turned to a strong hope. I had to be close to the surface.
My arms ached. They were tired from sword fighting and pushing the impossible mounds of dirt. Despite the fiery ache in my muscles and joints, I continued forward, eager for fresh air and freedom.
I broke through the surface. Cool air licked the skin on my hands. I grounded my palms into the grass and pulled my shoulders from the grave. The summer air rolled over me, and I collapsed beside the ragged hole. My chest heaved, and I inhaled until my lungs felt like bursting.
My stomach twisted again, and I rolled onto my hands and knees. My gut wrenched, and sour vomit spilled onto the grass.
I sat back on my knees and wiped my mouth. Dirt streaked across my face, and the soft moonlight illuminated my tainted skin. Mud and pebbles and the sticky white vines of buried roots stuck to me, my night clothes, and my hair. If I walked into the depths of the forest, I would disappear into the darkness.
“Belle!” The voice I’d yearned to hear screamed my name.
Alex.
He sprinted toward me. His shirt swung unbuttoned, likely due to haste, and he held a sword in one hand. The blade dripped dark blood onto the ground, but Alex didn’t slow to clean the weapon. His wild eyes scanned the area, searching for a threat.
“Alex!” I staggered to my knees.
He wrapped his free arm around me and pulled me close but remained stiff and rigid. He dragged me away.
“We have to go,” he said.
“Why?” I tried to match his hurried pace. “What happened? How did I get out here? In there?”
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. Every step drew my wet pants tighter against my legs. I tried not to think of my father’s remains staining the material. I would burn these clothes when we returned to our room.
“The dead are awake, Belle,” Alex said. “They’ve woken up.”
The fear that had calmed at my escape roared again, smashing a heavy weight into my core.
“It’s impossible.” I knew better, but I couldn’t help it. I turned and looked back at my father’s grave.
A dead, fleshless hand cut through the hole I’d just climbed from.
I screamed. Alex tried to pull me away, back toward the castle, but my feet locked on the lawn. I could never escape.
I have you.
“Belle!” Alex’s yell tore me from my father’s voice. Alex grabbed my arms and looked into my eyes. “Belle, if we don’t get out of here, we will both die!”
Both?
I looked between my father’s body, as it crawled from its hellhole, and Alex, my prince, my king. I imagined him broken and crippled, greying with death, and hot fear drenched over my head. Resolve hardened inside me, a stone statue standing proud in my chest.
Alex would not die.
“Let’s go,” I said, and we ran.
Chaos ruled inside the castle. Screams erupted through the halls; some sounded close, and others distant. Not a single person crossed our path, but sickening crunches and frantic sounds of nails on wood echoed around us.
I jumped at every shadow that danced across the walls. A rogue tree branch blocking the moon’s light accelerated my heart to dangerous speeds. My throat burned with every swallow.
Footsteps echoed behind us, slow and steady.
I froze.
“Don’t look, Belle.” Alex snatched my hand again, my only anchor in the whirlpool of death around us.
I had to. I had to see him.
The body that staggered along our trail didn’t look like my father. His skin sagged around protruding bones, and he limped heavily since his femur was missing on one side. A path of thick, black liquid pooled around every jagged step, sending a steaming stench of decay over me. His face remained the most well-preserved. Thick eyebrows clung stubbornly to the soft grey skin, and his high cheekbones cradled the limp flesh. His eyelids peeled open, twin black stones peeking through the sockets.
The image should have unlocked an eternal terror deep in my mind, but instead, the twisting perversion of satisfaction grew a smug look on my face. My father, so proud and handsome, was reduced to roadkill at my feet.
“Run, Belle!”
Alex grabbed me, and we sprinted away. The doors in this hall parted open, revealing snippets of nightmares inside each room. A dead man grabbed a woman’s heel and bit into her leg, unrelenting at the candlestick she pounded into his skull. The next room had a man cornered by two ghouls, and he tried to embrace one as she bit into the side of his face.
The third room held a softer sound, a tender sob. I caught the flash of a small hand curled into a tight fist, then Alex turned me away.
“Don’t look,” he said. “We can’t do anything now. It’s too late.”
The sob cut off with a guttural wail, and something wet slapped the stone floor.
Adrenaline consumed my body, and the horrors slipped from my mind like an oiled pan. Later, I would remember this, the fear and the helplessness. But now, there was only our footsteps sprinting for the safety of our room.
And the constant shuffle of a monster in our wake.
Do you think you can outrun me? my father said, a hint of laughter in his words. There is no escape, my Belle. Death will be your only relief.
I didn’t rebuke him, but the words swirled in my mind like a glass of fine brandy. Rich and inviting until the first sip and the drink burns one’s mouth. My father’s footless journey remained constant behind us, no matter how much faster we ran. Eventually, he would catch us, and we would be as lost as the child we had abandoned in the hall.
Alex squeezed my hand. I imagined his skin cold and stiff. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
If he died, would he awake as one of them?
Would death, in its finality, be more merciful?
“Alex, stop.” A stitch in my side felt like a hot poker. We’d reached the opposite staircase and had four flights to climb before we got to our room. My arms ached from escaping the coffin, and my feet protested from sprinting when I wasn't used to it. I would never make it up four flights of stairs.
It didn’t matter anyway. There was only one way to save Alex.
My hands skirted the edge of my nightshirt and brushed across a waist sheath holding a knife that wasn’t there moments ago. I wasn’t surprised, however. I’d expected the blade to be there now, when I needed it the most. Not magic, exactly, but the knowledge that the inevitable crept closer had summoned the weapon.
“We have to keep going.” Alex looked behind us, but I only studied his face.
He was beautiful in a classic way. He’d inherited his mother’s dark skin and his father’s sturdy jawline and strong brow. His caring and kindhearted nature made him a better king than my father. He would have been a better parent, too.
This place only held danger for my Alex. The choices remained—allow my father’s corpse to kill him or watch as he died another way and rose again as a half-dead.
That left only one way to keep him safe.
I slammed the knife into his chest. It slipped between the bones, but I had to fight to shove it deeper into his heart. He staggered back, and the stone wall caught his weight. Blood trailed down his shirt, and those perfect lips rounded into a small “O.” I twisted the blade, but it caught against the ribcage and held fast.
I pressed my lips. I hadn’t done enough damage to call death to rescue Alex. Vampires could heal this wound in minutes.
The blade made a sucking sound as it drew out of his chest, and the skin immediately began to heel. Alex turned his dark eyes to me and struggled to draw another breath.
“Belle…” he said. I must have caught him by surprise, or perhaps he could not use his strength against me—his wife.
I ran the knife across his throat. Blood poured over his neck and clothes. He clawed at the wound, trying unsuccessfully to stop the rivers of red. I dug the blade in deeper, searching for that rigid spine in the back of the neck. My knife struck bone, and I shifted it between the vertebrae, then cut through them.
Alex’s perfect head fell from his body and rolled away. The rest of him lingered for a moment, then gravity claimed her victim, and he tumbled to the side in a puddle of blood.
And you called me wicked, child.
I turned to my father’s corpse, ten feet away. His rotten face looked cold and immobile, but I could see the smug smile underneath.
I smiled, too, and the motion made my face hurt.
I slammed the knife into my own chest.
No!
I jerked up, and the sheets fell to the side, exposing my legs to the chilled air. The fire burned gentle embers, casting a soft glow across the room.
My room.
A soft sigh sounded next to me. I hesitated, afraid to look.
Alex, head still connected, lay breathing beside me.
A sob racked my body and drew an ugly noise from my lips. I tried to hold it in, but my mind reeled through the terrors it had collected and played them over and over in my memories. The screams, the child, the feeling of Alex’s spine cracking under my blade.
I wanted to cry, but my throat felt raw.
Alex jerked up, rolled out of bed, and pulled a longsword from under the mattress.
“What is it?” He scanned the room with severe intensity. “Did you see another intruder?”
I struggled for a breath.
“No,” I said. “I think… I think it was a dream.”
A dream? My father’s rotting body underneath me hadn’t felt like a dream. The dirt scratching against my nails as I escaped the grave had seemed real enough. Could it have all been my imagination?
“A dream?” Alex set the sword at the foot of the bed and climbed back onto the mattress. He wrapped his arms around me. “There’s nothing in a dream that can hurt you. Especially when I am beside you.”
I wiped my tears away.
“Because I’m big and scary,” Alex continued. “A dream wouldn’t dare fight me.” He curled his arm, exposing the large bicep.
I laughed, imagining how anyone could describe Alex as scary. I leaned into his chest, and he settled us against the pillows.
“Thank you.” I caressed the clean blankets, expecting a trail of blood to mare the fabric. They remained white and pristine. I remembered Alex’s hot blood on my hands. “I think you should increase your personal guard.”
He propped up onto one elbow. “Why?”
“The assassin, Loui’s curse.” I swallowed, and new tears poked free. “I can’t have you be the next body I bury.”
“Look now.” Alex put his hand on my chin and turned me toward him. He brushed the streaks from my face. “That’s not going to happen to me. We’re going to find out who killed Loui, and they will have a similar fate.”
I twisted my fingers. “I would still feel better if you had more guards during the day. Could you, Alex, for me?”
His eyes were weighted, but he smiled anyway. “Yes, Belle. I would do anything for you. A new guard or two is worth setting your mind at ease. Now, come here, my wife. Let me hold you while we sleep. The nightmares wouldn’t dare to go past me to get to you.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” I snuggled into the hollow curve of his body anyway.
“I’m the king.” He pressed his face into the back of my neck. “It works the way I say it works.”
Alex’s breathing quickly calmed against my back. The gentle rise and fall of his chest rocked me into a content lull, erasing the memories of screams and the scent of rotting flesh. The fire lit enough of the room to ease away the depths of the shadows. Even the heavy weight of the sword Alex had left at the foot of the bed reassured me that I was safe.
It had just been a dream, after all.
My eyes closed, and the blissful warmth of rest blanketed my mind.
But underneath the soothing layers of slumber and my husband beside me, a deeper, darker voice twisted through my thoughts.
I have you now, Belle.