Undone: The Complete Duology, page 19
Not anymore.
“I’m fine,” I croaked. “Just need a second…”
I focused on taking slow, deep breaths. It wasn’t until my senses returned that I realized Mac was holding me upright, my head against his chest.
I eased away from him then stumbled over to the back of the jeep. Mac hovered around me, his uncertainty and fear nearly tangible.
I pulled the shovel from the back then shuffled forward, scoping out the area. She was around here somewhere. We’d even marked the grave, as if the freshly turned dirt wouldn’t have been enough of an indicator.
In the rain and the cold and the dark, with Bobby dying a slow death in his inadequate accommodations, and my body and face throbbing with pain, and the enormity of everything crashing down on me, I could no longer be sure I had made the right choice; that I had ever made any.
Maybe I should have just apologized.
I jabbed the wet ground with the tip of the shovel. “Mac…did we lose a dead body?”
From a few feet behind me, he said, “I think we did.”
He strode past me, brushing against my arm as he went, then took the lead. I could barely see him through the rain and darkness.
No wonder we couldn’t find the grave.
I fumbled in my pockets for my phone, but it was long gone. Mac probably didn’t have his either, and if we’d had a flashlight at some point, it was lost too.
We were barely holding this situation together, but all we had to do was survive a little longer. Just get the last two elements and keep Bobby alive, and once the full moon appeared, I would be able to cast my spell.
What happened then was still a bit unclear, but I trusted it would be better than everything else so far.
“Found it!”
Mac’s voice echoed through the forest, and I cringed. If Bobby heard him, he might feel reinvigorated to try to escape and find help.
I hurried as fast as my sore legs would allow in the direction of the sounds of the shovel. I found Mac at Gladys’ grave already shoveling dirt with more energy that I possessed.
As he dug, I removed the stones that served as markers. Thankfully, she wasn’t too far down, and before long her arms appeared, then her legs. I squatted and brushed dirt from her face as Mac moved the last few shovelfuls.
He dropped the shovel and without hesitation, scooped her up, mud and bugs and all, and headed towards the jeep. I dragged the shovel beside me as I trailed him through the dark.
At the jeep, I put the shovel and the circular saw into the back to make room for her. We didn’t bother with a tarp this time.
I understood the blankness on Mac’s face. He was tuning it all out, had lost his moral compass as he focused entirely on getting through to the end.
We drove in silence back to my house. I pulled around to the back.
“I’ll get set up,” I said, stepping out of the jeep. I left the engine running, the headlights cutting through the storm as I unwrapped the cord from the circular saw and plugged in at the outside outlet.
Mac dutifully removed Miss Gladys from the backseat and laid her out on the ground next to my house. I steeled myself, lifting the saw.
“I’ll do it,” Mac said.
He took the saw from my grip, and I let him, sliding away into the emptiness in my chest. I watched, barely blinking. When he lowered the saw to her wrist, everything became surreal; when her hand laid separate from her arm, it was like reality had broken.
Mac turned off the saw and rested it on the ground before standing next to me. “It’s done, at least.”
He sounded unwell.
“Kind of.” I squatted to pick up the hand by the pointer finger and held it up as I stood. “I need the bone.”
Panic welled in Mac’s face. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how to get the…meat…off.”
“Acid.” His answer came quick, clipped.
I frowned at the hand, not quite looking at it. I refused to take in any details. It was strange enough that I had held this hand from the time I could walk, and now here it was, separate and not at all where it belonged.
“What kind of acid? Where would I get acid? Won’t that damage the bones? I can’t risk damaging the bones. What if—”
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay, stop.”
I dropped my shoulders. This task was hitting me harder than it should have.
It was Miss Gladys, though.
“Sorry,” I said, “it’s just—”
“I know. You don’t cook meat.”
His words weren’t even out before our gazes met filled with mirrored horror.
We entered through the back door, and I placed the hand on the counter while I sorted through the disaster of my ransacked house for the slow cooker. I set it up on the counter and plugged it in.
Mac grimaced as I poured in a cup of water. “This is pretty gross.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m enjoying this either.”
I set the cup in the sink then stared at the hand. I’d touched it already, but now I couldn’t bring myself to do it again. To put it into the slow cooker.
“You don’t have a pressure cooker? It would go much faster,” Mac, the cooking expert, said.
“Just a slow cooker. It was my dad’s.”
That last bit added nothing to the conversation. I just couldn’t believe what I was about to do.
“Okay.”
Blanking my mind, I darted forward, grabbed the hand by the thumb, and flung it into the slow cooker like it might bite. I slammed the lid on top and cranked the dial to high. Leaning over the cooker, hands firmly on the lid, I panted hard.
“This is going to smell terribly,” Mac said. “We should probably use the time to return Gladys to her grave before anyone notices she is missing. We’re…we’re not going to want to be in here.”
I didn’t move, wasn’t sure I could. Instead, I stared at the backsplash.
“Everything I did, it was because they deserved it,” I said, not looking at Mac. “Everything I’m going to do, it’s because they have it coming. I didn’t hurt anyone. I never would have.”
I wasn’t sure he heard me, and if he had, I wasn’t sure he believed me.
Without looking at him, I headed out the back door to the jeep that waited with the headlights still on.
We drove into town in silence with Miss Gladys—or most of her—in the backseat. At her grave, Mac sort of plopped her into the water that had collected halfway up the open coffin lid. We left her as she was, floating on her side in the murky water, and drove back out of the cemetery.
Down the street, a red car was parked on the curb. I cut the engine and stared at the vehicle, trying to discern it through the rain.
The headlights flipped on as the vehicle rolled away from us. They hadn’t seemed to notice we were here.
If we trailed it in the jeep, they would, but on foot, we could move under the darkness of the storm. It wasn’t like the car could go far in the tiny town.
I motioned for Mac to follow. We dropped out of the jeep, leaving the doors open not to alert of our presence, and followed behind the car as it crawled down the street. We fell behind but kept the vehicle in our sights.
When it turned the corner, we picked up our pace and scurried around the buildings until we found the car parked outside a house. The driver, cloaked head to toe, stepped out. Ducking against the rain, the driver raced up the steps to the front door.
“Who lives there?” Mac whispered in my ear.
I shuddered and leaned closer to his heat. “Mayor Bixby.”
Everything was changing. First Bobby, then Mac, and now this person. I recalled the woman with the red curls I’d seen at the bakery. She didn’t belong here in Thorn Tree, yet she had grinned at me like she knew who I was.
Now she was at the mayor’s house. The mayor, the sheriff, Mrs. Woolworth, they all fed intel to the Reverend. They all helped keep Thorn Tree under his rule.
This woman, whoever she was, had been brought here for a purpose. The Reverend knew I was preparing to take a stand against Thorn Tree, and he had placed his final pieces on the board.
25
GRACE
Back at the house, I flew from the jeep and began sifting through the shed out back. The rain pelted down, but I was already past the point of being soaked.
Mac came up behind me, footsteps squelching on the wet ground. “Gracie, what are you doing?”
I shoved the weed eater out of the way and grabbed the handle of a gasoline can. I sloshed it a little—it was nearly full—and turned to Mac. Water dribbled down my face as I blinked up at him, trying to clear my vision.
“The last element,” I said, breathless. “I need to go get the last element.”
He stood a little straighter, despite the storm. “Tell me what we need to do.”
I shook my head. “You’re staying here. I have to do this one myself.”
“Stay here?” His expression slacked. “Stay here—with that?”
He gestured towards my house, where the hand simmered in a slow cooker.
God, what had I done?
“You just can’t come this time.” I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I will be back.”
I hoped.
He stared down into my eyes, wet hair in his face. “We’re in this together. You know that.”
“I do. That’s why I need you to wait here. Because we’re in this together.”
Before he could respond, I pressed a kiss to his lips, hoping I could convey everything that I would never be able to explain to him. Who I was. What I was. Why I was.
The heat of the kiss rushed through me, pushing away the darkness and the cold. Then it was over.
I tore my gaze from his before I could reconsider my choices—all of them—and grabbed the gas can. At the jeep, I hesitated. If what I intended to do went horribly wrong, and it very well might, Mac would need every option to save himself. That included my jeep.
Instead, I grabbed a torch lighter from the glove box and set my sights toward town.
I could feel Mac’s eyes on me as the storm whipped up around us.
Hunkering forward, I trudged in the direction of the hill. The church.
The wind beat harder as I met with the incline, as if trying to prevent me from what I was about to do.
Ashes of God.
That was the last element. It never specified which god.
My fingers ached from my grip on the can, and my shoulder felt pulled and sore. My soles slid on the wet grass as I ducked against the storm and pushed through, step by step, refusing to be held back. This was it. The last element, then I would have everything I needed for my spell.
I had hoped Thorn Tree wouldn’t know what hit them, but as it turned out, they were preparing.
No, they were already prepared.
I had no time to sit idle. I wasn’t sure what would happen between collecting the last element and the night of the full moon, but I could only focus on the task at hand.
Thighs straining, back throbbing, I reached the top of the hill. I stood in front of the church that loomed in the darkness, casting a shadow over the town.
It always had.
Nothing moved beyond the windows.
I uncapped the gas can and began pouring it along one side, working towards the back of the church. Overhead, lightning flashed with wicked streaks that lit up the night.
As I rounded the corner of the building, something on the roof scurried towards me. I gasped, looking up. A shadow demon launched itself off the roof, claws bared, maw wide. I screamed, dropping the can. It tipped on its side, gasoline spreading out across the wet ground.
The shadow demon slammed straight into me, knocking me onto my back. It bared its teeth and lunged its face into mine. I grabbed at its head, found a hold.
This was the first time I had ever touched one. I had known they were there, had seen them in the shadows, but they had been little more than mist.
The demon swiped at my face, catching its claws across my cheek and nose. Fiery pain filled my head.
Behind him, more demons dropped from the roof. They lumbered towards me.
I tried to conjure magic but nothing came. I slammed my fist into his side, willing myself to dispel him.
He reared back with a snarl, then swatted me again. I cried out, gripping at his shoulders, trying to wrestle him away.
At my head, another demon leaned over me. It reached down, grabbing me by the hair, and yanked me up from under the other demon. Pain spread out across my scalp as he held me up in front of him, the soles of my feet skimming the ground.
Growling, I brought my knee up and slammed my foot into his chest. He stumbled back, releasing his hold. I crumbled to the ground, next to the gas can. I shoved the can towards the church then upended it, dumping the rest of the gasoline at the base of the back wall.
As I dug in my pocket for the lighter, a demon launched into my back. I slammed face first into the church. More demons piled onto us, shoving me against the wall until I couldn’t breathe.
One of the demons cupped my chin with a deadly claw and yanked my head back. His red eyes flared as he stared down into my face.
“Fuck. You.” The words came out breathless as I struggled to breathe. I dropped hard, my knees taking the impact, then scrambled on hands and knees across the ground. One of the demons grabbed the back of my shirt, attempting to haul me up. I twisted around and slugged him in the gut, the arm, and when he leaned down, right in the face.
He released me and I scurried back on my ass a few feet. Another demon caught my arm, claw sinking into my flesh down to the bone. I heaved as pain washed through me, then wrenched my arm free, tearing through skin and muscle.
I gagged and forced myself not to look, not to feel the gaping wounds.
My mind screamed for the lighter, for the fire. I just had to light this place up.
But the demons surrounded me in a half circle, corralling me away from the church and forcing me back down the hill.
They weren’t attacking me. They were protecting the church.
I dug in my shoes in the mud, then started to push to my feet. The demon in the front barreled into me, slamming my back against the ground. He clawed at my arm, reaching for the lighter. I stretched my arm up over my head, just out of his reach. His knee sank into my stomach as he crawled up over me. I did a stomach crunch and twisted, dropping him to the side. My soles slid in the mud as I scrambled for traction. Just as I shoved upright, another demon backhanded me across the face hard enough to send me into the front stairs. My head bounced off the concrete steps. Darkness seeped in the sides of my vision.
At my head, the door to the church glided open. I tipped my head back, peering into the darkness inside. Fire welled up, filling the interior, drowning out the pews and the tables and the stage. Among the billowing flames stood the Reverend. His jaw unhinged like a snake and fire roared deep within his gullet.
The vision disappeared, replaced by darkness.
On three sides of me, demons closed in. On the roof, more peered down like gargoyles, watching, waiting for my next move.
The world tipped as blood loss and exhaustion coalesced into final moments.
I turned my head to the side, struggling against losing consciousness.
A trickle of gasoline rolled from along the side wall, past the front. Just a few feet away. I squeezed the lighter to verify I still held it in my hand. I couldn’t quite feel all my fingers.
With a shuddering breath, I braced myself, blanked my mind—and lunged, lighter out. A demon dropped onto my back, smashing my face into the mud. I pressed the lighter and swung back and forth blindly across the ground. Heat singed my fingers as, despite the storm, the fire came to life. In a woosh, it shot down the line of gasoline and hit the church.
The demon grabbed me by the head and swung me out from under him, slinging me across the ground down the hill. I hit the incline and skidded, turning halfway. I flailed for purchase. My fingernails broke on tree roots before I slammed into a gathering of rocks halfway down. My ribs took the fall, and pain wrapped my abdomen.
Shoving myself upright, I tried to shake off the dizziness, the nausea. Above me, fire crackled against the storm. With shaky arms and legs, I pushed to my feet and started back up the hill.
At the top, the demons collected to stare down at me.
“You can’t stop me,” I said, my words tinged with blood. “You can never stop me.”
The one in front jutted forward with a roar that overtook the sounds of the storm. My soles slipped, and I plummeted forward, breaking my fall with my hands. I started back up again.
Near the top, I found a foothold with a tree root, and halted a few yards from the demons.
“You had us fooled. I believed once. I thought we were safe here, but we never were. So many bad things happened, but it got shut down, again and again, for the greater good.” I scoffed. “Greater good. It’s an illusion, all of it. This is our hell, and you make sure we can never leave.”
Behind them, the flames overtook the church. It consumed the walls, climbing higher to claim the roof, and at last, slithered up the steeple.
“It’s over. I’m not going to let you keep doing this. I thought Thorn Tree had destroyed me, but they didn’t. They set me free.”
The demon in front lowered its head with a snarl, otherworldly red eyes flaring.
“I will never back down.”
With that, I charged at them. Their claws snagged at me, shredding my clothes, ripping apart my skin, pulling out my hair. I twisted and wrenched, putting aside any feeling as I forced my way through their midst.
The burning church was so close. I was almost there.
A claw caught around my throat, clamping down, pulling me to a halt. I grabbed at the demon arm, tugging and scratching.
The demon lifted me by the throat. I kicked but couldn’t make contact. Smoke billowed off its beastly form.
With a growl, he threw me at the church. My head hit the doorframe before I slammed into the ground and slid on my back down the aisle between the pews. I curled up just as my shoulders rammed into the stage.
