(Skeleton Key) Princess of the Damned (4 page)

She shoved that memory away and gnawed on her lip, wondering what to write. How to start, even.
Dear Boy I do not know
? That didn't sound very friendly.
Dear Boy
? That…just sounded strange. And what to include?
I'm going to stop the screaming
just sounded frightening.
I've been worried sick over you, but I'm forced to leave the mirror, and don't know when I'll be back. Also, I think I'm in love with your soul and I would sell my own to hear your voice.

Umm. Yes, probably not.

I will return. Please wait for me.

There. Very eloquent.

The sheer panic in the screaming increased, and fearing Elizabeth had gotten her claws into their newest princess, Eiress picked up her skirts and ran.

It wasn't often that she left her chambers during the day, or at all, actually, except when she was forced to attend the nightly ball. The weak sun cast more shadows than it dispelled over the faces immortalized in their horror, carved into the molding as they were. It brought them to life, until their screams joined with the princess's. Eiress dropped her skirts and covered her ears, slippered feet slapping horrifically against the black wood floors. She would have squeezed her eyes shut tight, too, if she hadn't been afraid of running into a wall.

Her breaths came in short, terrified pants by the time she'd fled down from her tower, through the entryway of the castle, and up into the opposite tower. Thankfully, she couldn't be heard over the screaming.

And of course, as always, there were the chains.

She hardly noticed them anymore, She'd worn them for so long, but when running, they held her wrists back, like they knew she was trying to do good, and were desperately trying to stop her. They rattled and tore at skin and tangled in her long skirts, but she jerked free and ran harder, up and up and up the winding staircase until she finally skidded to a stop outside the thick, black door.

This one had bars over the windows and a heavy lock on the handle. Eiress's did not.

She jerked on the door, pulling for all she was worth, but that stupid lock wouldn't budge.

I need a key. I need a key. I need a KEY!

No key magically appeared, but the door in front of her burst open, tearing from the bottom hinge, hanging awkwardly and smoking.

She froze.

On the other side of the door, the screaming faltered.

Thank goodness for that, at least.

She shoved the remains of the door open, expecting blood-spattered walls and torn, broken bodies. She'd seen worse in her years with Elizabeth.

But there was nothing except a girl, younger than herself, standing at the window.

Eiress frowned, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, thinking half-crazily that she might want to strangle this new princess. The girl's soul swirled in viciousness, with barely any light at all, and terror nearly overwhelmed the girl's heart completely. Eiress, for the life of her, could not figure out what there was to be so frightened of.

And then she remembered.

The castle. The Damned. Mary. Elizabeth. This life.

And then she realized more—the new princess was staring out the window at the nightmares.

"Hello," Eiress said, holding her position at the door.

She turned, eyes wide and face pale, but not as pale as Eiress. "Who are you?"

Eiress sighed. "I'm the Princess of the Damned."

A
PALE HAND FLASHED ACROSS HIS
face. "We have to help her. Please help her."

Landon didn't remember screaming, but apparently he had been panicked enough to drive the voice and the cold away and bring both his parents running.

"Landon! Landon!"

He whirled in a circle, searching for the voice, the hand he'd seen, anything, but he was alone in the hallway, spinning like a maniac. He heard his parents, could see them in front of him, felt them grab at him and let them pull him close, but it was all from a distance.

"He wasn't feeling well earlier…"

"He was fine at dinner!"

"He doesn't have a fever."

"Landon? Honey?"

When he'd first told them he saw Eiress in the mirror, all those years ago, they'd been terrified. They thought he was seeing things, hallucinating. They'd taken him to a psychologist. They'd made him draw pictures of her and theorized what his lapses in sanity meant. The medications they'd put him on had nasty side effects. He'd finally learned to play along, to pretend she was an imaginary friend.

So, of course, he couldn't tell them now that he was also being stalked by what seemed to be a ghost.

"It is awfully cold in here. Maybe turn the heat up?"

They could feel it, too. It wasn't just him.

"I thought—I thought I saw a spider," he finally had the sense to mumble.

They both froze in their worried examinations of him to stare. "A spider?" his dad asked.

"But—but you killed that one for me yesterday." His mom frowned. "And it was huge."

Landon had always been a horrible liar, but he tried his best. "I—I know. It dropped down right in front of me, but then I lost it, and I was looking for it…"

His voice trailed off while they both scoured the walls and floor, looking for the made-up spider. "I don't see anything," his mom said.

"Maybe it ran into the vent." His dad nodded, laughing uncomfortably. "Just got a week's worth of cardio because you saw a spider."

His mom wasn't convinced. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" She squinted at him, and despite the fact that he towered over her by almost a foot, he felt like a little kid, lying about a broken window.

He nodded mutely.

"Let's just get you into bed, then." She led him down the hall by the elbow, and tucked him under his covers like she hadn't done in about ten years. Kissing him on the forehead, she backed away, still watching him with worried eyes. "Should I leave the hall light on?"

He felt like the world's biggest coward when he nodded. "Sure."

She turned reluctantly and ducked out, forehead creased. He heard her, in the hall, talking to his dad. "Something's wrong. He hasn't kept the light on since that little imaginary friend he used to have."

"Maybe he caught a scary movie with his friends. He'll be fine."

Yeah. That had to be it. Something scary he'd watched was now attacking his subconscious. He was not losing his mind and/or hearing ghosts cry for help.

"
Please."

He swore, jerking upright, covers tumbling to the floor. "That's
it.
Who are you?" He kept his voice low, but tried to put all the force of a bellow into it. "Stop freaking me the hell out."

The mirror sparked.

Panic gripped him. He leaped out of bed, tripped over the blankets, nearly broke his neck, and ran to the mirror. "Eiress?" he half-shrieked.

Like a little girl.

She wasn't there. Kaida, who was waiting at the door, lifted his silvery head and hissed.

"I can help you help her."

The voice came from behind him, even as the mirror swirled and sparked again.

He spun. "Who are you?"

Finally,
finally
, she shimmered to life in front of him.

Or…non-life, as it were.

A woman, maybe his mom's age, wafted two feet above the ground between him and the safety of the doorway. His mouth opened—to cry out or shriek again—he wasn't sure. But his voice failed him completely.

"Help her. Please."

She raised a hand and pointed to the mirror. It seemed to take an inhuman amount of energy, and the air around them shook.

"Eiress?" he asked, moving closer to the ghost, wondering where
that
little bit of courage came from. Eiress. Even the mere thought of her drove him to insanity. "You want me to help Eiress?"

She nodded, a silvery tear snaking its way down her cheek.

"I will. Anything. Just tell me how." He would have grabbed her hand to hold her to him if it were possible. His fear was gone—anything that could help him help Eiress was not something to be feared.

He hoped.

"I am…her mother…"

Landon swore again. Of course. It all made sense now.

She reached past him, touched the mirror again, and Landon turned to see it swirl away from Eiress's empty chambers to an altogether different scene. A woman—the ghost in front of him—but still alive, knelt over the lifeless body of a young girl, maybe twelve years old. Her neck was torn, the ground around her soaked in blood. The woman sobbed as paramedics came, as cops came, as strangers with cameras came. A baby boy screamed on the floor next to her. They asked her questions. They asked her what had happened, and she couldn't answer them. They asked her where her other little girl was. Her sweet little girl.

Eiress.

Where had Eiress gone?

The mirror swirled, time seemed to pass, and the woman sank into despair as she searched for her lost little girl. The funeral, the questions, the constant, never ending search. Someone came and took the baby away.

And then the swirling stopped. In the flashback, the woman stared at the mirror, sobbing, in the darkness.

Eiress appeared in front of her.

Landon recognized her. This was when he'd started seeing her, or soon after.

"Mama, please, I can't stay long." Eiress looked over her shoulder. "Please, stop looking. Please. Where I am—you can't—you can't save me. Please move on, Mama. I love you." Eiress put her hand to the mirror.

The woman cried harder, raised her hand, reaching for Eiress—but Eiress screamed once and then was gone.

"I can't save her. I can't save her. I can't…" The woman raised her head, eyes terrified, yet full of determination. "I can't save her while I'm alive. But I can…" The next image was the woman, standing next to her own dead body.

She'd taken her own life.

The mirror shifted.

Landon, much younger, played at the antique shop while his mother worked. He was drawing faces in the dust of a mirror on his own reflection. The ghost of the woman stood behind him, watching. She reached out, and in horror little Landon started to scream, but her hand passed him and touched the mirror. "Help her."

In the mirror, Eiress's chambers—and little Eiress—swirled to life.

"You! You're the reason I can see her!" Landon gasped, jerking toward her.

She nodded, silver tears soaking her cheeks.
"Help her."

"I will. I will. Just tell me how."

Again, she touched the mirror. A sign, painted wood—
Welcome to West Haven—
and then a cemetery. It zoomed in on a grave with the statue of an angel watching over it.

"Get the key."
Eiress's mother whispered, pointing.
"Get the key, and call Mary…with the ruby. It will protect you."
She was losing substance, as if the energy required to talk to him was quickly dissolving her away. "
You won't see me again. But I am here. Always here. Too tired. Too hard to come…"

That was when Landon understood. She'd appeared to him once, and it had taken her all these years to gather the energy to appear to him again.

Before she was gone completely, he turned back to her. "I'll save her. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll save her."

She smiled, broken and yet the most hopeful thing Landon had ever seen.
"Thank you."

"
W
HAT DO YOU MEAN
, I have to go to a ball? I'm not leaving this room. This place is horrible. My daddy will figure out how to get me out."

Her name was Brittan. Her soul was black and spoiled. Eiress could see it under the heavy makeup and trendy clothes. She was not a kind soul. Eiress tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but after Brittan's initial fear had faded, she'd become demanding and rude.

Eiress clenched her teeth. "You have to go to the ball. We usher the damned through the gates. If you don't make an appearance, Mary will let Elizabeth come after you. And she doesn't care if you don't make it past Elizabeth's claws or not."