Elaine slammed her palm on the wood. "There's a zombie in here. He locked me in."
The zombie in question said, "Who is this Blaine person?"
Elaine pressed her back to the door. "My brother."
The zombie smiled again, licking the blood as it flowed from his cracked lips. "He can listen to your screams while you die. How wonderfully awful."
"Biaine!"
The door shuddered as he beat on it with fists and sword hilt. "The door's too solid. I'll find another way in."
"There is no other way," the zombie said, "I've boarded up the windows, locked all the doors. He is trapped outside with the others, and you are trapped inside with me." He made a small movement with his hand, touching his chest.
There was a sound outside, as if a body had slid into the door. "Blaine, are you out there? Blaine?"
The zombie laughed. "The others will take care of your brother, Elaine Claim, have no fear."
Elaine pressed her back into the door. "Blaine! Blaine!"
Something heavy slithered along the door, shaking it in its frame. Something bigger than Blaine. The handle turned and rattled frantically.
"Blaine!"
"He's gone, Elaine Claim, gone before you." The deadman walked toward her slowly, pacing like a cat. "But don't worry. Your time is almost upon you."
He brought the candelabrum with him, carried in his gloved hand. The naked hand he held out before him. The fingers from which he'd licked blood now traced her cheek. The skin felt dry as parchment, not real at all.
He brought the candles down to waist level, his head bowing toward her as if he meant to kiss her. Elaine shoved her hand into the flame. The flame danced on her palm, as it did during a vision. It did not hurt; it did not burn; it only flickered and danced over her skin.
The zombie drew back, just a fraction. "What are you, Elaine? A wizard? I've never tasted wizard's blood before."
Elaine put the tiny flame in front of his face so he could see it better. She took a deep breath and blew the flame into his face. She willed it to catch, to burn, to grow-and it did.
The zombie shrieked, turning in the hallway, beating at his burning head with his hands. He dropped the candelabrum to the floor. One candle went out. Elaine grabbed the other and ran down the hall, shielding the flame with her free hand.
Just around the corner, stairs led upward. She hesitated. Should she go farther into the hall or up?
"I will kill you, Elaine Claim. I will suck the marrow from your bones."
Elaine ran up the stairs. The flame bobbled, shrinking down to a bluish dot. She stopped running, letting the flame revive. Being lost in utter blackness with a zombie was too horrible. The flame reared up, tracing a delicate bell of light around her. Something heavy slipped at the bottom of the stairs.
She looked down. The zombie's face was at the very edge of her circle of light. The rotting nose was gone. His face had burned down to pinkish ligaments stretched over bone. What had once been a handsome man was now a rotting skeleton, as if the fire had revealed his nature.
"I would have made it as pleasant as possible for you, Elaine, but not now. Now you will suffer as I suffer. And drinking your blood will heal me. Not even fire can harm me for long." He moved up a step, holding on to the banister with his gloved hand. He moved as if he hurt, no matter how brave his words.
Elaine backed up two steps. The zombie dropped to his knees and began to crawl up the stairs like a monkey, hand over foot, faster and faster. Elaine ran.
A hand grabbed her at the top of the stairs. The candle dropped from her shocked grasp and rolled along the floor and died. She screamed, slapping at the hands, struggling to break free. The hands dropped her to the floor. She lay in a darkness so perfect she could have touched her own eyes and not seen her fingers.
She could not see, but could hear. Feet and hands scrambled up the stairs, bumping and skittering. Whatever had grabbed her stood at the head of the stairs. It loomed over her but made no move to touch her or do anything else.
The zombie galloped to the head of the stairs. Its breathing filled the darkness. There was a sound like the very air had been sliced, then a soft meaty thunk. A sound like rain, and warm liquid fell onto Elaine's face. Something rolled, bouncing into the far wall.
Sparks flared into the dark like falling stars. A small lantern woke to life. Kneeling in that warm circle of light was Blaine.
She stared at him for a few moments, stared at his long, yellow hair, his white cloak spilling around him, absorbing the flame as if it were made of gold.
Tears burned her eyes, blurring the light. She wiped her fingers on the wetness on her face and knew it was blood. The zombie's head had rolled along the carpet. The headless body lay at the top of the stairs, leaking black black blood onto the floor.
Blaine knelt to kneel beside her. "Are you all right, Elaine?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She sat up and hugged him. They held each other, as if only the two of them existed. For that moment there was nothing but each other, nothing outside their circle of light.
Elaine raised her head to stare into his face. "How did you get in?"
"The attic window. It's covered by wooden slats for air to get through. I guess he thought if you couldn't see through it, you couldn't crawl through it."
"I doubt he thought anyone would be climbing roofs in the dead of winter."
Blaine grinned. "Maybe not."
The zombie twitched, a hand convulsing on the floor. Blaine helped her to her feet. "You think you can climb the roof in skirts?"
The deadman was trying to get his arms under his chest, trying to rise.
"Yes, I can climb."
Blaine led her down the hallway, lantern raised for light, and they approached a small door set in a shattered frame. "The door was locked when I came through, but wasn't nearly as well made as the front door."
The stairs were narrow and twisted. Cold air met them at the top, a swirl of snowflakes, and a cold patch of moonlight. That gaping window was one of the most wonderful things Elaine had ever seen.
Blaine knelt by his fallen backpack. He blew out the lantern, wrapping it carefully before stowing it in the pack. Elaine stood in the cold moonlight and strained to hear anything. There was no sound of pursuit, not yet.
Blaine gave her the pack. "Hand it out to me when I reach for it."
She clutched the pack to her chest and nodded. Blaine grabbed the windowsill and lifted himself. When he was even with the sill, he pushed upward with his arms, locking his elbows. He slid through the window headfirst; only his fingers showed, gripping the sill. One hand vanished, then his face appeared in the window.
He balanced his chest and one hand on the sill, and reached his other hand through. She passed the pack to him, and he slipped one strap over his shoulder, then reached back for her.
Elaine gripped his hand tightly. He flexed his arm, lifting her up. She could feel his wrist trembling with the strain, but he never hesitated. When she was even with the window, she grabbed the sill with one hand, helping him lift her to the window. With one hand, he pulled her through, the other hand tight on the sill.
He tucked her against him. Elaine looked down into emptiness. The roof went almost straight down to the street below. Snow fell, swirling into the blackness. Her boots scrambled at the icy roof. Only Blaine's arms kept her from falling.
"Can you climb up above the window?"
She tried to swallow her heart back into her throat. She couldn't breathe, staring down into the swirling darkness.
"Don't look down, Elaine," Blaine said. "Look at me."
She raised her gaze to his face. He was close enough that she could see the whites of his eyes, the pulse pounding in his throat. He wasn't much happier up here than she was. Due to an unfortunate incident involving a dragon, both twins were afraid of heights.