Page 77 of Fragile Wicked Things
I rushed past him on the balcony. Below, a Vampyre stood watch, and as he turned my way, Rochester pulled me back out of sight. Holding my hand, he guided me towards a set of stairs that led down to the backyard, but halfway down, we heard a scuffle in the trees. The darkness obscured my vision, and I froze while Rochester let go of me and raced down. A man came flying out from the surrounding foliage, and when he hit the ground on his back, he accidentally dropped the stake he held, and it bounced on the grass. Clawed hands reached out from the foliage, pulling it apart to form an opening. Another Vampyre stepped out, looking down at the fearful man as he scrambled backwards, his hand outstretched, searching unsuccessfully for the stake that had landed somewhere on the ground.
Rochester stepped between the man on the ground and the Vampyre, thrusting his arm forward. The Vampyre grunted; Rochester had found the man's stake and used it. They stood in silence for a moment, staring at one another until Rochester thrust again. Under the moonlight, I could see the Vampyre's skin blacken and flake off bit by bit until he disappeared into ash. Rochester then turned to the man who, by then, was on his feet and handed him his stake.
"Get her out of here," Rochester said.
"We can't leave without Thomas," I said.
"Are you Jane?" the stranger asked me to which I nodded. He had a round, pudgy face, short brown hair and a scar running along the underside of his jaw. He then spun around, looking to the ground. "My satchel. I must have dropped it in the bushes." He lifted the underbrush, kicking the dirt until he hit something and picked up a bag. "Thomas is bait," he said over his shoulder. "The kid knows what he's doing. Sort of. We have an hour to sunrise. Unfortunately, I was caught earlier than planned."
"I don't understand," I said.
The man removed two wooden stakes from his satchel and tossed them to Rochester and me. Rochester grasped it in one swift move while my clumsy fingers hit the stake and knocked it to the ground. I retrieved it.
"Thomas would kill me for bringing you into this, but we misjudged the number of Blanche's men and could use the help. Name's Colonel," he said before moving past us to the house.
Colonel shimmied open a window and we climbed in, stepping into the kitchen. Voices carried from the drawing room, low at first, but grew louder above the music that played. The Colonel headed out, peered around a doorjamb, and, after a few seconds, indicated that we should follow. Down the hallway and along the staircase we tiptoed in the semi-dark with Colonel a few steps ahead of us. Rochester walked in front of me. It was unclear to me what the plan was, but as the Colonel walked towards the closed door of the drawing room, I prepared myself. I clenched the stake tighter, holding it in a striking position in front of me when Franklin stepped out from the darkness between us and the Colonel. With his back to Franklin, Colonel had no warning as a claw slashed into his back and he let out a scream. The alarm had been sounded.
Rochester jumped Franklin, pushing him to the ground and threw himself on top. They struggled, Rochester attempting to drive the stake into Franklin's chest, but Franklin was equal in strength and pushed back, gained the upper hand and threw Rochester off balance. He slammed him into the hallway table and it splintered in large pieces. With Rochester out of the way, Franklin came at me. The stake shook violently in my hand, and when he grabbed for it, I stabbed his hand. The pain was minimal compared to what he was capable of doing to me. I had angered him and he charged at me again, mouth wide and teeth bared when an arrow thrust through his heart. For a moment, he looked down at the arrow, pulled it out and crushed it. Again, he charged for me, then stopped to look at his hands, turning them over. His skin was turning, first grey, then charcoal, then black, until he was nothing more than ashes that withered away. I looked up in time to see a man with a crossbow race down the stairs towards us.
"Colonel," he said, pressing his fingers against the Colonel's wrist. "He's alive."
Blanche's laughter carried into the hallway, muffled by the closed door to the drawing room. Rochester stood, wiped the blood from his face, took determined steps to the drawing room and kicked the door off its hinges. Blanche stood, guarded by her men on either side of her, her unholy hands clasped around Thomas's neck.
"No." The tiny syllable escaped me.
From behind me, an arrow whizzed past and I could feel its vibration. It was followed by another and another in quick succession, hitting several of Blanche's men in the heart. Rochester charged into hand-to-hand combat with two others. He tore at them, ripping them to shreds and when he was done with those two, moved on to the others. Blood splattered on the walls, all over me, some even got into my mouth. An animal cry came from Rochester; there was an ease in his movement and his destruction. He was no longer Rochester, but the beast that did his bidding. He snapped necks and thrust the stake into empty hearts and shattered bones. Ashes consumed us.
Finally, Blanche's laughter subsided. She looked around at her imminent defeat, the ashes of her nest clung to her hair. "Oh my," she whispered.
Blanched then sunk her teeth into Thomas’s neck. This she did for me to watch, for me to suffer and as I stood before her, my hand poised to strike, my anguished cries spreading all around, I saw what she couldn't—a glint in Thomas’s eyes. As she buried her teeth deeper, Thomas’s hands trembled downwards then snatched a stake tucked into his pant leg. He took a deep breath and thrust the stake upwards, stabbing Blanche in the neck. The demon let out a horrific scream and struck Thomas, sending him across the room. She clutched at her neck to stop the blood from flowing, and wobbled forward, weakened, but not yet defeated. In moments, she was upon me, ripped the stake from my hands and when I turned to Rochester, I saw he was under attack by three more of Blanche's men. He tried to fight them off to get to me, but there were too many of them. In his eyes was the one thing he most likely didn't want me to see, and his face crumpled in defeat. He could not save me.
Supposedly, your life flashes before your eyes when death comes, but that's not what happened to me. Instead, everything that followed was in slow motion. Blanche dragged me along the floor to the front door, pulling me by my clothes, my hair, my arms and tossed me outside like a rag doll. Even wounded, she was by far stronger. I lay on the ground, hands splayed out, raking the gravel for a weapon of some sort and found nothing.
"Rochester! Edward!"
"He can't save you now."
She took a step toward me. Blood flowed from her wound, and she swayed. When she stopped to regain her balance, I scrambled to my feet and ran. Her laughter followed me into the maze.
"I love it when they run."
It was a decision under duress that could only lead to a terrible outcome: trapping myself in a maze with the Minotaur and being chased by a demon. Each corner I rounded appeared no different from the last, and often, I found myself at a dead end. My breath came in hard, my heart raced, and her laughter floated around me.
"I can hear your heart pounding." Her voice sounded as though she were next to me.
I dashed around another corner.
"I can smell you."
I stumbled onto the mossy ground, got back up, and sprinted.
"I can taste you."
Rounding another corner, I crashed into someone and screamed, but when I heard her laughter far away, I realized it was the Minotaur statue I had bumped into. What did Rochester tell me that night I first got lost there? From the Minotaur in the center, one left, followed by all rights.
I carried on, made a left, then a right. Sunlight was hitting the top of the hedge, and specks streamed through the brush. The sun was rising. It was darker in the maze and more dangerous the longer I remained, and when I saw the exit, I ran for it. Finally, I was free and stepped into the opening when hands were on me, holding me tight, drawing me in. I struggled against Blanche, pulling away from her blue eyes and jagged teeth. I could not release myself from her grasp. I could not run. The image of her horrid face would be my last on this earth.
Suddenly, Blanche was thrown to the ground, and Rochester stepped in between us. She screamed at the betrayal. Again, he picked her up and tossed her, so she landed on the driveway, away from me. Rochester moved towards her, a stake clasped in his hand and high in the air, ready to strike.
