Dance of Death (11 page)

Tobias's whole chest felt as if it were on fire. The air burned going in and out of his lungs. Justin is right, he thought in desperation. He is stronger than I am. I'm going to lose.

Justin pinned Tobias to the ground. I'm going to
die, Tobias thought. And Honoria is going to become the first victim of the soul-stealer.

I'm sorry, Honoria. I should have protected you. I should have seen the truth in time.

Justin leaned over Tobias, scalpel in his hand. “You dared to challenge me,” he panted. “And now you're going to suffer the consequences. Say your prayers quickly, Tobias. It's time for you to die.”

The silver scalpel glistened as Justin raised the weapon high.

“Noooo!” Honoria flung herself at Justin. He jerked back his arm—and the sharp blade of the scalpel sliced across her face.

Bright red blood spurted out over Tobias.

“Honoria,” Justin screamed. “What have you done?”

Chapter

19

J
ustin staggered across the drawing room. The dripping scalpel hung from his hand. His eyes were no longer filled with evil triumph. Now they were wild and desperate.

Something has happened that I don't understand, Tobias thought as he struggled to sit up. Something has gone wrong with Justin's plan.

“Honoria,” Justin screamed again. “What have you done? I wanted you to be perfect and beautiful. I wanted you to pass your beauty on to me. That way I could be young and handsome forever. Now you've ruined everything.”

Honoria swayed back and forth. Tobias could see her white cheekbone poking out through the bloody cut on her face.

She threw her head back and began to laugh and laugh. Blood ran from her cheek into her hair. It splashed onto her white satin wedding gown.

She doesn't even feel the pain yet, Tobias thought. She's hysterical. She's going into shock. I've got to get her out of here before it's too late.

He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward Honoria. Justin didn't pay any attention to him.

“Stop it,” Justin cried at Honoria.
“Stop laughing at me.”

“You said Tobias wasn't strong enough to defeat you,” Honoria taunted. “But I was, Justin. I was. Now you can never use me for your evil purposes. You've lost and I am free.”

Justin screamed in outrage. He ran toward her, swinging the scalpel in front of him.

Tobias summoned all his strength. He seized Honoria and thrust her through the drawing room door.

“Run, Honoria,” he shouted. “Run!”

He shoved her down the hallway and slammed the door behind her.

“Tobias!” Honoria screamed from the hall.
“Tobias be careful!”

“Tobias,” Justin roared behind him. He thrust the scalpel into the side of Tobias's neck. It burst through the front of his throat.

Tobias gagged and choked. Blood splattered against the drawing room door.

Blood! My blood! Too much of it. I'm going to die.

But not until I stop anyone else from performing
this evil. No one else must be able to do what Justin Fear has done.

I'll defeat you yet, Justin. I'll defeat you! Even if I die. I'll haunt you after death. I'll find a way to stop this evil.

Even if it takes until the end of time.

PART SEVEN

Madeline

Chapter

20

Shadowbrook, New York, 1873

“T
hank you all for coming here this evening,” Justin said to his guests. “As I'm sure you all have guessed by now, this is a very special night. And I want to share my joy with all of you.”

Justin gestured for Madeline to come and stand beside him. “Miss Madeline Simms has just consented to become my wife.”

A hush fell over Justin's elegant ballroom. Then all the guests began to talk at once.

Everyone looks so happy, Madeline thought. So happy for me. I'm so glad I came to Shadowbrook!

Not even the strange story Auntie told her several days before dimmed Madeline's enjoyment of this evening. Nothing could.

She didn't believe Justin was an evil soul-stealer.
She believed he was the most wonderful man in the world.

Justin signaled to the orchestra he hired for the party. Instantly, they began a slow and dreamy waltz. “Will you dance with me?” he asked. “Our first dance as an officially engaged couple?”

Madeline smiled her acceptance and Justin swept her into his arms. Dancing with Justin felt like nothing Madeline had ever experienced before. One of his arms held her waist tightly. The other grasped her hand. He guided her across the ballroom floor so skillfully that her feet hardly seemed to touch it.

Dancing with Justin is like dancing on air. I've never felt so alive in my life.

Madeline didn't want the wonderful waltz to be over. When it was, she would have to share Justin again. She stared up at him, trying to forget about all the other people in the crowded ballroom.

He looks different somehow, Madeline thought. She studied Justin's face. Tiny lines spread out from the corners of his eyes. Wrinkles crossed his forehead. And deep grooves ran from the base of his nose to the corners of his lips.

I don't remember his face being so lined. Justin's cheeks sunk in. Dark rings appeared under his eyes.

What is happening?

Madeline glanced around the ballroom. No one else appeared to notice anything unusual. People smiled and nodded at her and Justin as they waltzed past.

“Is anything wrong?” Justin asked.

Madeline returned her gaze to his face. He smiled at her—and she gasped. His teeth were black with rot. She could smell the decay.

“I'm fine,” Madeline managed to answer. “It is just a bit hot in here. I'm feeling faint.”

That's all it is, she told herself. Control yourself, Madeline. Remember Mama.

Madeline forced herself to smile up at Justin—and he appeared as handsome as ever. Young, with the face of an angel.

You see, she told herself, you imagined it all.

The music ended. Guests rushed up to congratulate them.

“I just need a breath of fresh air,” Madeline told Justin. “I'll be back in a moment.”

“Very well,” Justin said. He squeezed her hand. “Don't be too long, and don't go too far.”

Madeline excused herself and escaped out into the hall. The cool air in the dimly lit hallway felt pleasant after the warmth of the ballroom. Madeline fluttered her fan to cool herself down further. She could hear the musicians striking up another dance.

I'll go back in a moment, she thought. Right now, it's nice to be alone. Soon, this will be my house, too. I've never seen any of it until tonight.

She wandered over to the foot of Justin's sweeping staircase. The white marble glistened in the light of a crystal chandelier.

I shouldn't go up without Justin, Madeline thought. He asked me not to go too far. But what harm can there be in a little exploration?

Madeline set her foot upon the first stair. A cold tendril of icy air snaked down her back. She shivered and climbed a few steps more.

The smell of roses drifted toward her. Decayed roses, left too long in a vase. The cold air at her back increased, and she took a few steps.

It's almost as if the air is pushing me forward. Urging me to go upstairs.

I'm getting fanciful again, she thought. Letting my imagination run away with me. I cannot keep doing that. I'm going to stay in control.

Madeline turned back, determined to return to the ballroom.

The ghost stood at the bottom of the stairs.

His dark eyes burned like living fire. They seemed to make the air around him glow.

Madeline shrank back in terror. Then a powerful spurt of anger took hold of her.

I'm tired of being chased and frightened! I'm not going to let him do it anymore!

“I'm not afraid of you anymore,” Madeline said firmly. “I'm going to walk right down these stairs and go back into the ballroom. And you're going to let me by.”

The ghost threw his head back. His mouth opened, as if he were laughing at her ridiculous statement. Then he raised his arms.

For an instant, nothing happened. Then Madeline saw the fog.

It was ice cold, creeping up the staircase. It covered the first step. Then the second one. Ice began to form on the banister. The wood cracked and groaned.

Madeline felt her skin begin to tingle with cold. She snatched her hand off the banister. She yelped in pain as pieces of skin were left behind.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she panted. “Why are you tormenting me?”

The ghost just smiled. He started up the staircase toward her.

Back. Back. Back. Madeline stumbled up the staircase. Into the dark reaches of Justin's house.

The ghost followed. Surrounded by the deadly, ice-cold fog.

“Stay back! Don't come near me!”

Madeline dashed down the upstairs hall.

An icy wind slammed into her. It knocked Madeline to her knees. Tendrils of fog whipped past her. Ice formed on everything it touched.

Madeline could see a thin band of light ahead of her. Shining out from beneath a doorway at the very end of the hall.

I've got to reach that room. Maybe there I'll be safe.

Madeline pushed herself to her feet. Her hands were so cold, she could no longer feel them. Her feet were clumsy. Her toes felt like solid blocks of ice.

She tripped down the hall, crashing from side to side. The wind howled and screamed behind her. Madeline raised her hands and covered her ears against the sound.

I can make it.

Madeline reached the end of the hall. She grabbed the doorknob. Her hand slipped off it. Her fingers were too cold to open the door.

No! No!

A gust of wind pushed by her. The door of the room flew open with a crash. Madeline staggered across the threshold, gasping and panting. The icy wind blew around her and slammed the door shut.

Madeline leaned back against it, desperately trying to catch her breath. Then she stared around her.

Where am I?

She'd never seen such a strange room. Everywhere she looked she saw only black. Shiny black shutters
covered the windows. Long panels of black velvet hung from the ceiling. Black flocked wallpaper covered the walls. The scent of roses filled her nose and throat and lungs, so strong it nearly choked her.

It's like a tomb in here, Madeline thought.

She walked forward on thick black carpet. Her footsteps did not make any sound.

At the far end of the room hung four life-sized portraits. Beneath each portrait stood an ebony-wood table as black as the walls. On each table stood a flickering black candle in a silver holder and crystal vase filled with roses.

Four different colors of roses.

Four different portraits of young women in flowing white gowns.

 

Felicity Fear
1776–1793

Alexandra Fear
1796–1813

Hermione Fear
1816–1833