The ache of absence drove her to it, even as Odette dreaded what lay ahead.
The doors rattled open. She found herself in a hallway, shadow-thick. Distorted faces leered and grinned. Pale hands trailed tattered sleeves, reaching towards her.
Odette caught her breath, forced herself onward.
They lunged at her.
She shrieked.
Sharp nails snatched at black lace. Grasping, tearing. They ripped her dress. From scratches, blood welled. She ran, clutching a phial of liquid to her chest, heart juddering, slippers slapping stone. The potion she had lied to a hedge-witch to steal.
Emerging to a hall of checkered stone, she slammed the door shut behind her.
From the stairwell, harsh laughter.
There he was, the man she loathed. Velvet cloak, ancient eyes.
“Return my sisters,” she demanded.
“They’re here.” He flicked his arm and the door she had come through burst open. The creatures from the hall emerged, sliding and crawling, lank hair and vacant eyes.
“No! It’s not them. What have you—”
His laughter screeched like fingernails on stone. “Join them.”
The sorcerer curled his hand inward, and Odette slid towards him, unable to step back.
She flung the phial. Glass shattered against his chest. Smoke wreathed. He screamed as he melted.
The spell broke. The shriveled creatures grew straighter, flesh pinker, eyes brightening. Relief flooded Odette’s chest. The house rumbled.
Taking her sisters’ hands she ran down the long dark hall as the walls rained plaster, through the great creaking doors to the sunlight beyond.
