Something Strange and Deadly

  “We did it, El! Look! We did it!” He leaped into the hole.

  I looked down and saw the skeleton twitch. Its whole frame rattled.

  I recoiled. “How do you know the spell worked?”

  “Because the body moves!” Elijah scurried to the coffin. “I must get Father free. Help me push the lid off.”

  “Father?” I asked. My eyes ran over the skull, searching for something familiar. All I saw were empty sockets and wisps of brittle hair.

  A knocking sounded from inside the coffin. The skeleton was trying to get out.

  Elijah tugged at the mahogany lid, glee shining on his face and sparkling in his eyes. “Help me, El! Father’s here!”

  I shook my head and backed away. “No Elijah. This is wrong. That’s not … I don’t think it’s Father.”

  Elijah paused, and his face snapped to me. Our father’s skeleton was wrestling inside the coffin now, and the clatter of bone fingers against the wood sounded like thousands of tiny, scuttling feet.

  Then the skeleton’s toothy mouth started chomping.

  Elijah’s eyes bulged and he staggered back. He hit the soil wall of the hole. The lid flipped off and slammed against the dirt.

  “Get out!” I shrieked. I surged for the shovel and hoisted it, grunting from the weight.

  Elijah climbed from the grave and pitched toward me. “The grimoire! I need it—where is it?”

  “I don’t know! You took it from me!”

  The skeleton lurched at Elijah.

  With a howl, I flew at it and swung the shovel. It connected with the skull, and painful waves writhed up my arms. The skeleton toppled sideways, but in moments it was up again.

  I reared back to attack once more, but its yellow teeth zoomed at my face. I toppled over, dropping the shovel. The skeleton was on me, and I couldn’t keep its biting jaws away.

  “Eleanor! No!” Elijah charged. He tackled it away from me, Latin bellowing from his mouth. He and the corpse fought in a mass of scratching and biting and shouting.

  I rolled to my feet.

  “Dormi!” Elijah roared, his fists and forearms keeping the vicious jaws from his neck.

  I vaulted at the shovel. A scream ripped through the air—Elijah!

  I twisted back to find the skeleton’s teeth locked on my brother’s throat.

  “Dormi,” Elijah struggled to say. “Dormi.”

  The skeleton collapsed, a heap of bone and suit. I bolted to it. Beneath the monster, blood streamed from my brother’s neck. I shoved the corpse off him. On Elijah’s throat was a torn, fleshy hole that shot blood out in pulses.

  Elijah’s eyes were closed, and his chest barely moved. My brother was dying.

  “Elijah—oh God, Elijah.” I brushed a hand through his auburn hair. “Wake up. Please!”

  His eyes fluttered open. I could tell he wanted to speak.

  “Shhh. Stay calm, quiet.” Tears swelled in my chest, and my breathing picked up. “Shhh, shhh, Elijah.”

  More blood spurted. It ran down his neck in rivulets and sank into the soil.

  “No.” My words trembled. “Don’t go—please. Hold on.” I fumbled for his hand and clasped it in mine.

  This was my mission: Elijah’s death. I had known it would come to this, and yet now that it was happening, I didn’t want it to. I could never want him to die.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  Elijah gurgled and shook. “C-cowards die many times before their … before their deaths.” His eyes rolled back in his head. One more heartbeat of blood oozed from his neck. Then his body went limp.

  The sobs came, and I wailed my mourning to the sky. I hunched over him and draped my arms around his body. Blood smeared onto my clothes, mixing with my own.

  My brother—my best friend—was dead. In the end he’d given it all up. He had tackled the Hungry off me.

  If he had stayed a murderous monster, then maybe his death wouldn’t hurt so much....

  I shivered and hugged my arms to my stomach. The air felt frigid and frozen, biting with its chill.

  His last words—oh God, they were from Shakespeare. Our shared love and childhood joy.

  “Cowards die many times before their deaths,” I whispered, tugging at my sleeves. “The valiant never taste of death but once.”

  Then suddenly, the cold vanished.

  Elijah twitched. Then he choked, and blood sputtered from his mouth.

  My stomach heaved. “Elijah!” I slid my left hand beneath his neck. His chest moved. The blood started dribbling again, and it was sticky and slick on my fingers.

  “You’re alive. Oh, thank God. Can you hear me? Elijah?”

  A lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “Y-es. Alive.”

  His eyes whipped open. I sucked in. The irises weren’t blue—they were a bright, catlike yellow.

  “Bonjour, Mamzèi,” he said. The voice was the same timbre as my brother’s, but the words were strange and lilting.

  I ripped my hand away. It wasn’t Elijah. I scuttled back. “What are you?”

  “I am alive. That is what I am.” He rose gracefully, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. He took a step toward me. Then another, as if testing the body’s muscles.

  I dove for the shovel. Whatever had taken hold of my brother’s body, I’d be damned if I’d let it stay alive. That was Elijah’s skin—not some container for a filthy …

  Spirit.

  The cold from moments before. It was the spirit, and it had filled my brother’s corpse. It was the only explanation.

  I heaved the shovel up and turned back to Elijah. He was grinning.

  “That’s a bad idea.” He clucked his tongue and wagged a single finger. “Drop the shovel or I’ll kill you.”

  “No.” I foisted the shovel high. “E-even if you wear my brother’s body, I’ll beat your skull in.”

  He chuckled and opened his hands. “I very much doubt that, Mamzèi.” In a flurry of movement too fast for me to react, my brother’s corpse slithered to me and slung the shovel from my hand. His speed was incredible, and I tripped backward.

  He gripped my shirt before I could fall, and with no effort, he dragged me to the base of the marble tombstone. He slammed me against it and pinned me there.

  I kicked and punched, but it was like beating a statue. It hurt me more than him.

  He brought his face close to mine, his yellow eyes glowing. Blood sputtered from his neck and sprayed my face. It was as frozen as his touch.

  “Where is Joseph?” he demanded.

  I stopped struggling. “Joseph?”

  “Wi. Joseph.” He spoke the name so fiercely that spittle flew like shards of ice and stabbed into my skin. “He and I have unfinished business, and I intend to settle it.”

  I gasped. “You’re Marcus. From New Orleans.”

  “Wi,” Marcus purred in my ear. His breath was damp and frosty. “Joseph stopped me then, but he could not stop me forever. Death only made me stronger, chéri. Aware. Joseph and his ridiculous Spirit-Hunters don’t stand a chance.”

  I swallowed back my revulsion. He stank, like blood and sweat and grave dirt, like corruption and decay.

  “Joseph will kill you,” I croaked. “You’ve taken my brother’s body, and I swear I will take it back. We will send you to the hottest flames in hell to rot for eternity—”

  He slapped me hard, and my head snapped to the side. Blinding stars swam through my vision.

  “Somehow,” I rasped, blinking back unbidden tears, “you will die and never see daylight—”

  He grasped my neck with both hands, squeezing and cutting off my words.

  The world blurred, and no air came into my lungs. I strained to reach his neck, to claw at his gaping wound, but he merely straightened his arms—his reach was longer than mine.

  I couldn’t breathe. I needed air.

  I grabbed his left pinkie and yanked it back as far as it would go. I felt the snap of his knuckle, and then I heard Elijah—no, Marcus—shriek.

  Hi
s grip released and air slid down my throat. Before he could choke me again, I thrust out my leg and connected with the side of his knee. He howled again, and his face twisted with rage.

  I scrambled away from him, but he clutched at my hair and yanked me back. Salty tears burned my eyes.

  Then an explosion cracked through the morning air.

  Marcus spun toward the sound, hauling me with him. It had come from the river. “So Joseph is that way. Perfect.”

  Marcus tugged me close, his cold breath rolling over me. “The Hungry come, and I think I will leave you as bait … a distraction, if you will. But first I will take the grimoire.” He shoved his hands into my pockets, but they were empty.

  He gave a strangled cry. “Where is it?” he growled. He glanced in the river’s direction, and I followed his gaze. Someone was running, and just behind was a pack of rabid Dead.

  “I don’t have it.” I breathed a weak laugh. “It’s gone.”

  “Liar. Your brother had it just before his death—I saw it! If you don’t tell me where—”

  I spat in his face, satisfied to see it dribble down his cheek.

  His fist connected with my chin. The world flashed with black. I tottered backward. Marcus shoved me, and I fell into the open grave.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I lay on my back on the lid of my father’s coffin, the glowing sky above me. The ground shook, dirt rattling beside me. Pain welled from my jaw and cheeks, and my vision swirled with spots and clouds.

  My death was approaching. The corpses were coming in a great stampede to kill me. Despite the dizziness, I pushed myself up and drew my legs in to stand. I could hear the clamor of their rancid feet, but I wasn’t ready to die. I supposed I never would be.

  A body hit the coffin lid. Daniel—it was Daniel. He threw himself on me and shoved me down.

  “Don’t move,” he said, draping his arms around me.

  My ears filled with the roar of dynamite, and the earth quaked. Gray flesh and maggots and soil rained around me, though not on me. Daniel kept me safe.

  Then came silence, but it was the thick silence that follows pandemonium. The air still vibrated from the explosion.

  Daniel moved back. “Empress—oh God.” His hands came to my face, and he wiped at my eyes. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “You’re cut all over … is anything broken? Can you stand? Eleanor, look at me.”

  “I think.” My voice cracked, but with the movement of my vocal cords, some of my dizziness dispersed. “Yes, I can stand.”

  Daniel slid his hand to the small of my back and helped me rise. His face was smeared with mud and blood and sweat, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. “Where’d your brother go?”

  “It’s not Elijah anymore. He’s dead. The spirit—it took his body, Daniel. I-it was waiting all this time, and it’s Marcus—the necromancer Joseph knew.”

  Daniel’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not sure I follow, but now’s not the time to figure it out.”

  He shot up tall and peeped around like a prairie dog. Then he slouched back to my side. “We’re outta time. Joseph and Jie are luring the Hungry away.”

  An explosion from the south made the ground around us crumble.

  I gripped Daniel’s shirt and forced him to look at me. “I sent the Dead to you like we planned—Elijah sent the army to the river. Why didn’t Joseph stop them? Why are you here?”

  “I … I got separated from them.” He shook his head. “And I said I’d follow you, didn’t I? I meant it.”

  “But that wasn’t the plan.”

  “Damn the plan, Eleanor! You were right. On the bridge when you said I’d do the same, you were right. I would. I am. Now come on.” He scrambled out of the grave and towed me out with him.

  “Look,” I said. “It’s the grimoire. Marcus wanted it.” It was half buried in the soil at my feet. I swooped it up and passed it to Daniel, who shoved it into his pocket. Then he darted to a familiar sack nearby. It was the pulse bombs.

  He slung the bag up. “We’re gonna run now, you got it? When the Dead get close, I’ll light one of these, but I’ve only got two left. The rest are with Joseph and Jie. We’ve gotta get to the river.” He pointed toward the Schuylkill, and I scanned the horizon. There were endless tombs and endless bodies between us and the river. And charging around those tombs and corpses were the Dead. Directly in our path.

  Daniel and I launched into a gallop. The sun had completely risen behind us, and the blazing light sent our shadows shooting far ahead. The Dead were approaching fast.

  We reached a gray granite monument, and Daniel heaved me down before it. He slipped a pulse bomb in my hand and whipped out a match. With a flash and crackle, the dynamite’s fuse flared to life.

  “Throw it,” I said. The Dead were so close now I could hear their gnashing jaws.

  Daniel didn’t budge, and the fuse blazed on. Now I could hear the thud of each footfall as the earth soaked it up. The Dead would be on us in a moment.

  “Daniel! Throw the damn—”

  His arm reeled back and then snapped. The bomb sailed over the monument. He pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around me.

  The explosion was deafening. It covered all sounds and echoed in my brain. Debris flew and fluttered around us. Then Daniel yanked me to my feet and we pressed on through the smoke and dusty haze. Limp bodies were scattered among the wreckage of blasted tombstones.

  Thank God his inventions actually work.

  We raced past the coffin on which the Union soldier had impaled himself. I spared a glimpse, but the body wasn’t there. Nor was the splintered wood.

  Next we came to the main carriageway, and I could see the forest fringe. Beyond those trees was the Schuylkill River. We were close, and we had one bomb left.

  Another explosion blasted, but it was far off. I hoped Joseph and Jie had enough pulse bombs. The war wasn’t finished yet.

  We reached the edge of the cemetery’s woods. Daniel grabbed my left arm, and we bounded into the trees. The ground sloped down, and we ran faster now. We were in trouble. The Dead had surrounded us, and I could see their faces in the foliage.

  I didn’t hear the crack of the match, but I saw the flame and I watched the fuse catch. As before, Daniel lobbed it away and hugged me to his chest.

  Something hit us at full speed, knocking us sideways. I landed on my right shoulder. Then the monster was at my throat.

  I clawed at its face, but my nails just shredded decomposed skin.

  Boom! The shadows of the forest disappeared in a flash of light.

  The corpse crumpled onto me. Branches, rocks, and unrecognizable body parts crashed around, but I couldn’t hear any of it. The explosion had been too close, and it had blackened my hearing.

  Daniel appeared, pushing the corpse to the side. Then he drew me to my feet, and we stumbled onward.

  We reached the rocky edge that dropped to the river. It was far too steep to descend. The sun sparkled on the lazy water, but I couldn’t see our boat. Daniel pointed north, and I nodded. As we clambered along the bluff, my hearing returned, and with it came the sounds of struggle.

  The forest was filled with crashing and beating footsteps.

  “How many Dead are there?” I shrieked.

  “Too many!” Daniel seized my hand. “We need to get to the water. Now.” He shoved me ahead of him, and we bolted down the hill.

  Another explosion rang out from the forest while we were tumbling down the jagged hill. Joseph and Jie were heading toward the water too.

  We hit the riverbank. So did the Dead. They landed in heaps of flesh and cloth. Busted knees and broken elbows didn’t matter to them—nor did the angle at which they hit the ground. They always bounced back to their feet.

  The rowboat was only paces from us. Daniel shouted, “Get in!”

  But then dazzling pain blasted through my brain. Red, white, black shards that stabbed everything.

  I screamed. One of the corpses had locked its mouth onto my right
hand. Teeth shredded through the skin and grated against my bones. A long strip of splintered wood protruded from its chest and sliced at my legs.

  It was the Union soldier.

  I hit and gouged and bucked, all the while screaming my pain and trying to avoid the swinging coffin wood.

  An oar swung through the air—Daniel. It connected with the corpse’s head, and the teeth tore free, taking my flesh and sinew with it. The oar hit the soldier again, and this time the head crunched and flopped to the side. It flailed at Daniel, head hanging and teeth still chomping.

  Another explosion ripped through the morning. The Dead toppled, and I toppled too. I felt weak and distant, and I knew my hand was bleeding something fierce.

  Daniel’s arms scooped under me. He hefted me up and trudged toward the boat. Joseph was on the shore beside it—he must have detonated the last pulse bomb. Ragged gashes bled across his face and through his shirt.

  “You don’t look good,” I said.

  “Don’t talk.” Daniel set me on my feet, and Joseph slid his arm beneath me. Then Daniel whirled around. “Jie! Come on!”

  Joseph and I sloshed into the river. My hand throbbed with every footstep. It was so mangled—all pulpy muscles and exposed bone. The water was calm as always, but over its lapping flow I heard more Dead on the way.

  “Joseph,” I said, trying to ignore the pain in my arm. “Marcus is here.”

  He turned his face toward me, his eyes enormous and bloodshot. “What?”

  In as few words as possible, I explained what had happened.

  “Marcus used your brother’s spell to connect souls to bodies,” Joseph said, his face a mask of horror. “And he used it against him.... But you say he is gone now?”

  “I don’t know. He ran off and left me as food for the Hungry.” I glanced up the hill. Jie barreled down the slope, the Dead behind her. She held her sword in one hand and a gleaming copper bomb in the other.

  She hit the shore screaming, “Matches! I need fire!” Daniel and Joseph lurched for her. The corpses were at her heels.

  But suddenly, the Dead stopped moving. With no warning at all and in no time, every single corpse froze its frantic hunt. They straightened like sentries and waited.