Dead Of Winter (The Beautiful Dead Book 2) Page 13

  Then the spider gathers some unseen strength, and without warning it launches up my body. Suddenly it’s managed to topple me over. On my back now staring at spider legs, huge pincer-teeth-things and thirty-hundred eyes, I’m screaming again—less out of fear and more out of a mad, wild-woman attempt to right myself and get this ugly thing off me—while it passionately tries to make a lunch out of my face. With my hands occupied in keeping its teeth far enough away so that it doesn’t actually eat my face, I have no spare hands with which to shunt it off.

  I hear a sudden thrum, a sound cuts through the air, and then there’s an arrow through the spider’s head.

  The thing ceases movement instantly. Partly proud and partly disgusted, I thrust the enormous dead spider carcass off of me like a dirty bed sheet I want nothing to do with, then awkwardly climb to my feet. When I look for my hero, I find Gunner standing atop a rock, sweaty and focused, crossbow hanging at his side.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  He nods slowly, though I can tell even he is horrified at what he just witnessed, then killed.

  “Evolution,” I explain unhelpfully, then stare down at the enormous spider, whose legs have very slowly curled up in just the same way a tiny spider’s might, with two of them missing … the two I rudely plucked off.

  “You okay?”

  I look up at Gunner to tell him I’m alright when I notice something else far, far in the distance. Half a woman, it looks like, somehow suspended in the air. She’s so far away my thumb could more than cover her.

  I just said half a woman. Half a woman suspended in the air. The sight inspires a silent scream from me. That is, a scream that I prepare my mouth for, but don’t actually let out. What am I looking at?

  WHAT. AM. I. LOOKING. AT?

  She’s staring at me too. I’m so confused about where her other half is until finally I notice the scorpion legs below her. I’m almost relieved until I realize … scorpion legs? SCORPION? LEGS?

  Suddenly, she scurries off. Even from this impossible distance, I hear the tiny shift of leaves and twigs beneath her enormous insect legs as she scuttles out of view.

  “Did you see that??” I exclaim.

  Gunner looks where I’m looking, screwing up his forehead and squinting. “No.”

  “A woman-spider-scorpion thing,” I explain, riled up. For as revolted and terrified as I am, I’m equal parts intrigued and curious as hell. I hurry forward in pursuit of the strange half-scorpion-half-lady thing, Gunner trailing me without question. Twice I nearly trip myself, but nowhere is she found. Even when the trees grow sparse and all I hear is Gunner’s heartbeat somewhere behind me, there’s no sign of her.

  “We can’t stay here,” Gunner says, firm yet quiet.

  Unsettled, I reply, “We should never have stopped.”

  When we return to the others, John, Megan, and Helena are already set to go. John studies me, clearly observing that I’ve suffered some kind of scuffle. “Where were you?”

  “Sightseeing,” I spit back.

  Gunner slings the crossbow over his shoulder. “Let’s head home. Can’t stay here. Things lurking.”

  “Things?” mutters John.

  “Lurking?” mutters Helena.

  “I will carry you if I have to,” I say, exasperated. “But we are not spending another second here.”

  A question or two more are asked, but I’m already marching ahead of everyone, ignoring everything except the clear path ahead of me, my feet determined not to stop until I’m crossing through those cold iron gates of Trenton.

  The men flank us as Helena and I walk together, Megan holding my hand. She’s clutching a tiny knife, her lips playing on it like a chew toy, and twice she asks how much longer it is until we’re back. John keeps his eyes peeled for anything edible as we walk, but we’re all plenty aware that there is literally nothing growing out here except doubt and despair. I know the Humans must be very hungry, considering we didn’t get our promised wagon of food. Benjamin had brought a backpack full of things when we set out, but seeing as he’s no longer in our company, I cannot make use of them. Even a source of water can’t be found in these parts.

  Soon, we break into the far edge of the Whispers, and I feel deep, unequivocal relief. We’re almost home.

  Longingly, I tilt my head toward Helena. “Aww, Hel,” I say, a smile finding my face. “This is where we met! When I was first Raised, long ago … you were sweet … I was screaming …”

  Helena gives a sneer. “It wasn’t that long ago.”

  “Feels like yesterday,” I murmur. Considering we Undead don’t sleep and our existence feels like one endless day, my remark carries a hint of humor.

  She misses it. “Longer ago than yesterday. But not long enough to inspire any sense of nostalgia, forgive me. Or don’t.” Helena huffs irritably. “We’re all doomed no matter, forgiven or not.”

  For a second, I want to disagree and encourage her with a hopeful word or two. Instead I say, “I know.”

  Megan’s grip on my hand is tighter. When we finally make it across the vast stretch of nothing that is the Whispers, I hear John and Gunner muttering something about how we went a different route and missed the old Human’s camp, but Megan hears it too and cuts them off with: “There’s nothing left there but ghosts.” That puts John and Gunner to silence.

  The Whispers give away to the familiar Dead Woods, and then to the wrought-iron gates of Trenton. When we attempt to open them, however, they’re bolted shut.

  Someone inside shouts: “No one’s permitted in!”

  I blink. Are they serious? “It’s Judge Helena, John, Megan, and Gunner!” I slap my hand against the gates, annoyed. “And me. Let us the hell in!”

  “By order of the Chief, no one’s permitted!”

  I’d love to know what idiot we’re talking to right now.

  Helena steps forward, her patience lost. “Great. And by order of the Judge, I command you to let us in!”

  “Sorry, Judge. Orders were strict: no one permitted! Not even the Judge.”

  Helena glares, nostrils flaring. I look back at John and Gunner, who appear equally as dumbfounded.

  It’s Megan who quietly suggests, “Why don’t we go in the way you snuck out, Winter?”

  Helena throws me a look. I pat Megan on the head, owning my little act of defiance that, until now, has gone unacknowledged, and whisper back: “Splendid idea.”

  With John muttering angrily about the arrogance of the Chief, we circumvent the city and come upon the Burned Quarter where not even walls protect Trenton. Really, if the Chief took such an effort as to secure the gates and prevent entrance, wouldn’t he have done something about our little “weak spot” in the city walls? I’m certain he’s aware of it.

  As we stumble over the blackened ruins of the homes Mad Malory destroyed, there’s a sudden movement ahead of us. Gunner’s whipped out his crossbow as if by reflex, but in a matter of seconds we are surrounded by many townsfolk emerging from rooftops and armed with bows.

  “What’s this about?” Helena—or should I say, Judge Helena—demands of them. “Put down your silly arms. Your arrows can’t hurt me anyway.”

  “They’re steel-tipped!” shouts one of the bowmen.

  “They’ll hurt you plenty!” another cries out.

  Helena rolls her eyes. “Again, they won’t. Steel is the weakness of the Deathless, not the Dead. Chief, come out here and explain this. I can hear your heart beating and we have pressing matters to discuss.”

  From the city proper, the Chief approaches with a band of two swordsmen. John’s come up to my side protectively and I’ve stepped in front of Megan just the same—though I’m not at all confident the steel-tipped arrows won’t, in fact, harm me anymore. Gunner doesn’t lower his weapon, eyeing the bowmen on the roof.

  Helena smirks, lifting two lazy eyes at him. “Thanks for gracing us with your presence, Chief. I am shivering with excitement to hear your explanation.”

  “I’ve heard word,
” the Chief brusquely begins, “that a certain Deathless who was so kindly spared during the Great Battle Of Trenton is now amassing an army of burning dead to invade us and steal all of our lives for his cause. Is this true?”

  How does he already know? “Exactly,” I blurt out, no matter. “That’s why we’ve hurried back. To warn the city and prepare. I saw and spoke with him—”

  “There was no deal with After’s Hold to begin with,” the Chief says, cutting me off. “Was there, Helena?”

  “Of course there was.” Helena’s voice is a poisonous combination of indignant and annoyed. “Our steel for a share of their food. As agreed.”

  “The more time we waste—” John starts to say.

  “How can I trust that my people are safe?” the Chief goes on. “You took our most valuable weapons from us, Judge Helena, at a time when we need them most. Sounds mighty convenient. I was smart enough to hide some of the steel. As you can see, we are not defenseless. But it is because of your brashness and because of that one’s folly—” That would be me. “—that we find my city in this position at all.”

  “Your people? Your city?” Helena squints, her face hard and dark as vengeance. “Our people, I think you mean. If you’re insinuating in any way that I don’t care about the citizens of Trenton—a far larger portion being Undead, by the way—then you must’ve lost all your wits, Chief. Or whatever your name is.”

  John steps forward now. I hold Megan close to me, making sure she doesn’t do anything rash. “Chief. We were blindsided by—”

  “No need to explain yourself, John,” states the Chief. “Nor you, Gunner. You both are blameless. Let them in. The little one, too.”

  Megan—being Megan—stamps forward and shouts, “Let Winter and Helena in, too! It’s because of them we’re all alive! You can’t do this, stupid Chief!”

  The Chief studies me, his eyes heavy and pensive. He is not all bull and horn—I see the contemplation in his eye. His gaze moves to Hel, then back to me, calculating.

  Finally he says, “If what you say is true, Helena, then you won’t object to my letting Winter in first to confirm a few things. This new army of Grimlock’s is somehow mind-controlled, after all. Who’s to say you haven’t been somehow … compromised?” He squints, looking smart. “I did my reading, my research. I know the Deathless.”

  “Grimsky,” I murmur quietly. Everyone turns to me. John and the concentrated fury that crushes his face. Megan and her little quivering Human eyes. Helena looks especially like she could hiss a stream of venom right about now. “His name is …” I shut up. What’s the use.

  “If he has the Warlock’s Eye, like I’m told,” the Chief goes on, “then perhaps ‘Grimlock’ is, in fact, a more suitable name. Helena stays for now. Winter will come, as she was the one in direct contact with this … Grim.”

  Helena huffs angrily, rolling her eyes. “So ridiculous. You do realize I could literally just walk in and there’s nothing you could do to stop me?”

  “My men will butcher you into sixty-three pieces before you stepped foot on these streets,” the Chief declares, “and then you’ll be quite incapable of anything, let alone walking. Come, John, Gunner, Winter. Time’s wasted out here, on this.” He marches into the city.

  I peer at Helena apologetically, prepared to say a thing or two, when she just waves her hand dismissively. “Go, go, go, Winter. You heard the fool.”

  “I’ll be back,” I promise her. She rolls her eyes in response.

  The four of us, without Hel, follow the Chief into the city. He leads us down eerily quieted streets to the Town Hall. Though there are currently people in the Square, I’m sure some directive to “stay home where it’s safe” was given. I pass a house where the inhabitants watch us, then draw their curtains closed quickly. So much for protecting the people’s peace.

  When we are in the spacious lobby of the Town Hall, the too-bored-to-exist clerk has her face mushed into her palm, playing with a pencil on the desk. To the side, there are two circles of chairs like a lounge where people can wait to speak with the Chief or Judge. Someone sits in the closest chair, facing away. When he turns, I see his face.

  Benjamin.

  He gets up in an instant. “Winter! John! Oh, Megan, you’re all alive, you’re all alive!” His face lights up like a bomb, his eyes flashing with joy and his hands rushing up to cover his mouth. He looks on the verge of explosive tears, were he capable.

  I come up to him and give him a little squeeze. “You made it out.” I pull away, giving him a look of surprise. “And you made it back quickly! Damn! What are those new legs of yours made of??”

  He laughs. “Luck, that’s what. Hey, John, can Winter be my death-sis? I’ve always wanted a death-sis.”

  Megan hops excitedly. “I want to be your death-sis too! And Winter’s! We can be a death-family!”

  John, too tensed by present circumstances to enjoy any form of fun, just gives a mild grunt of amusement. Gunner’s eyes are calmly focused on the Chief, and the Chief looks like a statue, feet planted firmly and face as taut as a wire.

  “To business,” states the Chief, not caring to bring us to the official meeting room. No one’s here but us and the bored desk clerk anyway, who’s started sticking pencils through her beehive hairdo. “Benjamin explained that he was able to get the story of what was going on from Grimlock’s burning men. A master of tongue and slick manipulation, Benjamin has proved to be. Got you out of the Necropolis, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I have a way with the Death—” Ben starts to say, then swallows his own words. Only he and I know why.

  “Yes,” the Chief agrees, unnoticing of Benjamin’s discomfort. “You have a way with those Deathless.” He addresses the rest of us. “Benjamin broke free from them, escaped the city and returned home. He explained what happened. I’ve sealed the gates and armed my people with everything we kept: steel arrows, steel blades … I still have a number of them for each of you. You will arm yourselves and keep watch.”

  “I’m armed,” states Gunner quietly, crossbow slung across his shoulder. “Steel-tipped, too.”

  “Me too.” This comes from Megan, who is still toying with the little knife.

  The Chief kneels down in front of her. “Megan. You are a strong, brave girl. But your parents have been very, very worried. You should not have run off like that. You need to go home now. This fight is not for children.”

  She starts to protest, so I jump in, figuring she might listen to me better. “Megan, my little death-sis. You, in fact, have a very important role. You’re too small to fight, but we need someone to make sure all the other kids are safe. The other adults, they’re all going to be dumb and yelling and fighting. They’ll forget all about the children, so it’s up to you to save their lives and keep them hidden with you somewhere, alright? Can you do that for us?”

  Megan isn’t stupid. She just smirks at me. “Sure,” she answers sarcastically, sounding too much like Helena. “Put me away someplace. I’ll be happy hiding in a cabinet while you guys have all the fun.”

  The Chief rises, his patience only stretching so far. “We won’t know when they are coming, but when they do, it will be quick and strong. Every city the Burning Army raids, their numbers multiply.”

  “Lock’s Eyes,” Megan grunts into my ear, impatient.

  Oh, of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “Megan has a point. We still have the Lock’s Eyes. They were vital to our victory when the Deathless invaded Trenton last time. They should protect us from Grim.”

  Benjamin bites his lip, uncertain. “But that was when we were facing a Warlock who could turn the Undead to dust, destroying them utterly. Grim is different. He can suck the life out of a Human and Raise them on the spot. And he can control those of us he Raises, apparently.”

  “He might be able to control more than just his own Raises,” I point out too. “He seems capable of controlling the—shall we say, colorful?—citizens of After’s Hold. He is far more powerful than mis
ter short metal-leg.” I smirk at the bitter memory of him. “We should utilize the stones as best as we can.”

  “We have two in our Treasury,” says the Chief, eyeing Gunner and John. “We need to think of the best use for them. Quickly.”

  Megan pulls on my sleeve. “What about yours?”

  “Yes, I have the third. It’s kept in my house.”

  “Bring it here,” the Chief orders. “We will sit down, all of us, and decide our best move. And if Helena—”

  “Yes, about Hel,” I interrupt, asserting myself a touch more into the politics of Trenton than I ever dreamed I would. “There’s actually a very simple method to test whether someone is, well, compromised,” I explain. “The Old Judge performed it on me, in fact, when I was exposed to the Deathless. It was on the day I met John.” I look at him, surprised to find a subtle smile in his lips.

  “What’s this method?” asks the Chief.

  “Strike a steel sword through me,” Helena answers.

  Everyone turns, surprised to find her standing in the doorway. She does not look amused.

  “Here’s the steel sword,” Helena goes on, bringing it to the Chief. “Even though my holding it ought to be evidence enough, I’ll let you have the pleasure of stabbing me, if it puts your sensitive squishy fleshy self at ease.” He accepts the sword she shoves into his hand. “Go on, then. I know you’ve been wanting to for quite some time.”

  He squints at her dubiously, sword hanging in his grasp. “You got past the—?”

  “I let myself in. No one butchered me into sixty-three pieces because unlike their Chief, they know better. Now stab me and get this over with, you buffoon.” She spreads her hands, letting him at her abdomen without resistance.

  The Chief studies her long and hard, then simply says, “You made your point, Judge. You are not compromised.”

  “No, I’m not. I’ll expect your apology later, but for now, we have preparations to make. What’ve I missed?”

  “Warlock stones,” I mutter.