There were rubies and emeralds dotting each flower, along with small sequins for the smaller leaves and flowers. The weight was unexpected, and as it slid over my form, it felt more like a prison than anything else I’d ever worn. It was tight enough that the deep breath I’d taken a few moments before would soon become a distant memory.
One of them began to brush my hair, and I was honestly worried that the thing’s wrist was going to break off or something. I also struggled not to gag at the thought of their dying bodies touching me, let alone possibly leaving pieces in my hair. The whole thing was too much, and I held my hand out for the brush as I turned away from them.
They looked at me as though skeptical to give me something that could be used against them, so I just said, “I don’t like other people touching my hair, and I can put it up myself.” That last part was somewhat of a lie, but they didn’t need to know that. About the best I could do was a bun or a fishtail braid.
Without wasting any time, I let my fingers take over from muscle memory, and once the braid was in, one of them swirled it around on the back of my head in a low bun, pinning it in place. I had to fight not to flinch and pull away, but I managed it.
“Come,” one of them said, and it sounded like they were mostly just wheezing and putting some sounds into it. I couldn’t have been more shocked that their vocal cords still worked.
Two of them shuffled out of the room, and the other gestured for me to follow before bringing up the rear. We wound through the tunnels and then went up some stairs. The air lost that wet, mildewy smell that caves always had and became clearer, not exactly pleasant smelling, but better. Soon we were up and out of what had appeared to be a basement and into the main hallway.
My mind scrambled as I tried to figure out where we were. The rooms were similar to those found in a hospital but smaller, danker, more menacing. We passed by a large room that had tables and couches as well as what could only be a nurse’s office and a few other rooms, but they all had their doors closed, and with no windows, I could only guess at what was inside.
Finally, we reached what had to be the other end of the building and stopped in front of two double doors. “Here. Go in,” said one of the zombies, because I didn’t know what else to call them.
As though the zombie’s voice had commanded the doors, they swung open and revealed a room that was almost an auditorium, except it was flat, no tiered seating, and at the other end of the room was a raised platform that ran the length of the room. The room was dark except for the stage, which was lit up with red and white candles everywhere, the wax dripping and pooling around the bases, the glassy finish only reflecting the light even more. When I took this in, combined with the people groveling on the floor, the metallic tang of blood in the air, and the throne sitting at the center of the stage, it set a very macabre scene.
A prod in the back had me walking down the center of the room to the platform. My stomach twisted the whole time, as I saw lifeless forms decorating the floor. If someone needed killing, I was all for it, but I had no idea who these people were. They could have been completely innocent for all I knew.
“Mary, glad you could join us. Come and kneel for your king.” The voice that spoke rang in my head more than it did aloud, which was unsettling to say the least. As I got closer, I realized why. The Headless Horseman was sitting on the throne, I just hadn’t been able to see him before because of the bad lighting and the fact that he didn’t have a head. How the fuck was I going to get out of this?
4
Ellis
I slammed my phone down on the kitchen table, and Alastair jumped, his gaze finally darting from his laptop screen. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The scruff of beard that had begun to grow on his face