A Flight of Souls
Page 40
“We must marry, my love,” she breathed.
Lucas looked physically sick. “No, Anthea,” he stammered, shaking his head and brushing her away again. “No! This was not supposed to happen.”
He moved toward the mill’s exit.
She hurried after him, her expression forlorn as a lost fawn. “Lucas, what are you saying? You love me, don’t you?”
This Lucas did not answer.
“We must marry,” she said, her voice rising with despair. “We must!” Tears began to spill from her eyes. “I bear your child, Lucas. Your child!”
Her cries rang through the chamber as Lucas turned on his heel and bolted from the mill.
The scene faded out, and was immediately replaced by another.
Lucas moved through a dark, wet forest with the stealth of a vampire. The trees thinned, giving way to the edge of a cliff. A sodden graveyard lay beneath, grim and grey beneath the overcast sky. The graveyard was empty but for a lone boy with dark, shoulder-length hair. A young Jeramiah. He stood in the pouring rain in nothing but a thin cotton shirt and pants. Holed shoes gave little protection for his feet. The boy was gazing down at a white tombstone. I could just about make out a name etched into the stone: Anthea Monrov.
Pain seared through my head as the ghoul’s hand relinquished its hold. The lid to my coffin clicked open, and although my vision was hazy, I managed to make out the outline of a ghoul, standing over my and Lucas’s coffins. She had her hands above either one of them, as though she had tortured us both simultaneously. Her right hand shot out and grabbed me by the throat while her left dipped into Lucas’ box and yanked him out.
As my uncle hung by the neck, he’d become practically unrecognizable again. His eyes had lost the shine they’d started to develop and now looked utterly dead. Kailyn was lifted out by a second ghoul, and the two of them dragged the three of us not back through the entrance as I had been expecting, but through a door around the back of the coffin room, which held a small, empty pool. The ghouls thrust us inside and we were all far too weak to even attempt to rise back up again as they left us and slammed the door behind them.
I was too far gone to think much about the last two visions that I’d experienced—visions that belonged to Lucas, not me—or how I had even managed to experience them. Neither could I wonder much about why the ghouls had placed us in this small pool, all alone, rather than returning us to where we belonged. It took a Herculean effort just to focus on a single thought for more than a few seconds. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sink… deeper, and deeper, down to the bottom of the pool…
Ben
Like after the first time I’d been tortured, I knew instinctively that I had to keep my eyes open no matter what. I had to keep myself conscious. I could not sink into the deathly lull that I was fated to. I had to fight, and I had to fight hard.
As the time passed in silence, I could see that Kailyn was resisting too. Even as her eyes drooped, her expression worn and ragged, she was fighting to keep the fire alive. Watching her fight the same battle I was fighting, I found myself drawing an unexpected sense of strength from her. Her eyes locked with mine and the two of us stared intensely at each other, both of us willing and urging the other to not give in.
Whatever those ghouls did to us during that torture, it was clearly a lot more than just blasting our minds with horrid visions. It was as though they drained our minds, our very souls.
I looked past Kailyn to my uncle. His eyes were already closed.
“No, Lucas,” I tried to shout, though it came out barely louder than a breath. “Wake up!”
Why I felt so panicked at the sight of him fading, and why I wanted to help him so badly, I wasn’t even sure. But he was my uncle—and a changed uncle at that—and I guessed that should be reason enough.
“Lucas,” I said again, managing to raise my voice louder this time.
He didn’t respond in the slightest. Oh, how I wished that I could shake him. I realized that my intense focus on my uncle, on willing him to return to consciousness was increasing my own strength. Increasing my determination to not fade away myself. I attempted to raise myself into an upright position. It felt like one of the hardest things that I’d ever done, which was ironic, considering that now I was a ghost, I didn’t even weigh anything. By sheer willpower alone, eventually I managed to sit up.
My show of strength seemed to rub off on Kailyn, and she too began striving to sit up. I instinctively reached my hand down to hers to help her, but of course she was on her own. She managed it, albeit in a longer time than I had taken, and now the two of us, sitting upright, set our focus on Lucas.
“Lucas,” I said, still louder. “Lucas!”
Oh, God. Could this really have been the fifth and final strike for my uncle? Or perhaps it had only been the fourth, but had been enough to finish off his weary soul.
“Come on, Lucas!”
“He needs to wake up,” Kailyn murmured, her voice thick and sluggish. I turned to see that a glimmer of life was slowly returning to her eyes, as I guessed was the case with mine, too.
I tilted my head slightly in question.
Kailyn blinked, clearly still struggling to stay awake, before explaining in a slow voice, “Marcilla told me that sometimes, after the ghouls torture ghosts, they bring them to a back room, to their own little pond, where they wait for a few hours… and if they haven’t fully recovered by then and made their own way back to their pool, they get shifted down to a lower level to join other demoted ghosts. She warned me that if I ever got taken to this pond, I should do whatever it takes to get back to the upper levels. I should act lively in the pool and not like a dead rock, even if that’s what I feel like. Because they come round to inspect whether you’re still attractive enough to belong in their highest, most prized ornamental waters.”
Lucas looked physically sick. “No, Anthea,” he stammered, shaking his head and brushing her away again. “No! This was not supposed to happen.”
He moved toward the mill’s exit.
She hurried after him, her expression forlorn as a lost fawn. “Lucas, what are you saying? You love me, don’t you?”
This Lucas did not answer.
“We must marry,” she said, her voice rising with despair. “We must!” Tears began to spill from her eyes. “I bear your child, Lucas. Your child!”
Her cries rang through the chamber as Lucas turned on his heel and bolted from the mill.
The scene faded out, and was immediately replaced by another.
Lucas moved through a dark, wet forest with the stealth of a vampire. The trees thinned, giving way to the edge of a cliff. A sodden graveyard lay beneath, grim and grey beneath the overcast sky. The graveyard was empty but for a lone boy with dark, shoulder-length hair. A young Jeramiah. He stood in the pouring rain in nothing but a thin cotton shirt and pants. Holed shoes gave little protection for his feet. The boy was gazing down at a white tombstone. I could just about make out a name etched into the stone: Anthea Monrov.
Pain seared through my head as the ghoul’s hand relinquished its hold. The lid to my coffin clicked open, and although my vision was hazy, I managed to make out the outline of a ghoul, standing over my and Lucas’s coffins. She had her hands above either one of them, as though she had tortured us both simultaneously. Her right hand shot out and grabbed me by the throat while her left dipped into Lucas’ box and yanked him out.
As my uncle hung by the neck, he’d become practically unrecognizable again. His eyes had lost the shine they’d started to develop and now looked utterly dead. Kailyn was lifted out by a second ghoul, and the two of them dragged the three of us not back through the entrance as I had been expecting, but through a door around the back of the coffin room, which held a small, empty pool. The ghouls thrust us inside and we were all far too weak to even attempt to rise back up again as they left us and slammed the door behind them.
I was too far gone to think much about the last two visions that I’d experienced—visions that belonged to Lucas, not me—or how I had even managed to experience them. Neither could I wonder much about why the ghouls had placed us in this small pool, all alone, rather than returning us to where we belonged. It took a Herculean effort just to focus on a single thought for more than a few seconds. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sink… deeper, and deeper, down to the bottom of the pool…
Ben
Like after the first time I’d been tortured, I knew instinctively that I had to keep my eyes open no matter what. I had to keep myself conscious. I could not sink into the deathly lull that I was fated to. I had to fight, and I had to fight hard.
As the time passed in silence, I could see that Kailyn was resisting too. Even as her eyes drooped, her expression worn and ragged, she was fighting to keep the fire alive. Watching her fight the same battle I was fighting, I found myself drawing an unexpected sense of strength from her. Her eyes locked with mine and the two of us stared intensely at each other, both of us willing and urging the other to not give in.
Whatever those ghouls did to us during that torture, it was clearly a lot more than just blasting our minds with horrid visions. It was as though they drained our minds, our very souls.
I looked past Kailyn to my uncle. His eyes were already closed.
“No, Lucas,” I tried to shout, though it came out barely louder than a breath. “Wake up!”
Why I felt so panicked at the sight of him fading, and why I wanted to help him so badly, I wasn’t even sure. But he was my uncle—and a changed uncle at that—and I guessed that should be reason enough.
“Lucas,” I said again, managing to raise my voice louder this time.
He didn’t respond in the slightest. Oh, how I wished that I could shake him. I realized that my intense focus on my uncle, on willing him to return to consciousness was increasing my own strength. Increasing my determination to not fade away myself. I attempted to raise myself into an upright position. It felt like one of the hardest things that I’d ever done, which was ironic, considering that now I was a ghost, I didn’t even weigh anything. By sheer willpower alone, eventually I managed to sit up.
My show of strength seemed to rub off on Kailyn, and she too began striving to sit up. I instinctively reached my hand down to hers to help her, but of course she was on her own. She managed it, albeit in a longer time than I had taken, and now the two of us, sitting upright, set our focus on Lucas.
“Lucas,” I said, still louder. “Lucas!”
Oh, God. Could this really have been the fifth and final strike for my uncle? Or perhaps it had only been the fourth, but had been enough to finish off his weary soul.
“Come on, Lucas!”
“He needs to wake up,” Kailyn murmured, her voice thick and sluggish. I turned to see that a glimmer of life was slowly returning to her eyes, as I guessed was the case with mine, too.
I tilted my head slightly in question.
Kailyn blinked, clearly still struggling to stay awake, before explaining in a slow voice, “Marcilla told me that sometimes, after the ghouls torture ghosts, they bring them to a back room, to their own little pond, where they wait for a few hours… and if they haven’t fully recovered by then and made their own way back to their pool, they get shifted down to a lower level to join other demoted ghosts. She warned me that if I ever got taken to this pond, I should do whatever it takes to get back to the upper levels. I should act lively in the pool and not like a dead rock, even if that’s what I feel like. Because they come round to inspect whether you’re still attractive enough to belong in their highest, most prized ornamental waters.”
