"Can you climb up onto the eaves?" His voice was calmer than his wide eyes.
She looked up. There was a little projection over the attic window, just big enough for her to sit on if she were very careful.
"Yes."
"Do it. I can't hold us both much longer." His voice was still calm, but there was an edge of strain to it.
Elaine reached for the eaves. The clay ties were so cold it hurt to touch them, but she was glad she had no gloves on. She needed every bit of gripping ability she had.
She let go of Blaine, putting both hands on the slick tile, trusting him to hold her legs, to not let her fall. If he lost his grip now, they were both dead.
She stiffly clutched the roof. "I need one leg free, but don't let go."
He loosened his hold on her legs. "I won't let go."
She put one foot on the windowsill. Now was the scary part. For her to put both feet on the sill, Blaine had to let go. She stood for a moment, hands digging into the tile, feet solid on the sill. She heard Blaine sigh when he had only his own weight to support.
Elaine stood on tiptoe, hands scrambling for a hold. When her fingers felt as secure as they were likely to, she braced her feet and crawled upward. She felt Blaine's hand shove her from behind, and she ended up straddling the eave's roof. There she sat, relearning how to breathe.
She heard Blaine begin to ascend behind her, and knew she'd have to move. There wasn't room for both of them. She looked up at the icy, snow-patched tiles and sighed. She had to move, but she wasn't going to enjoy it.
She crawled to her feet, hands gripping the tile, lifting her an inch at a time. She could see Blaine's fingers at the edge of the eaves. He gave a muffled yell, and one hand vanished. He hung by the other.
Elaine went to her knees, reaching for him. She couldn't hold him alone as he had held her. Even as she moved to do it, she knew they would both fall, and she was content with that, if the only other choice was to watch him go alone.
The headless zombie had seized Elaine's legs, and its body hung half out the window. Elaine lay flat on the eaves, giving her brother her arm. He didn't take it, trying to grab the roof again but failing.
"Take my arm, Elaine, please."
His eyes said everything. "No," was all he said aloud.
She clutched his sleeve and pulled. The zombie clawed up Elaine's body; the weight tipped. His fingers slid off the tiles. She dug her hands into his clothing, screaming, "Take my hand!"
The zombie fell out the window, still clinging to Elaine's legs. Elaine hung for a moment. She tightened her hold, flattening her body along the roof, fingers digging into the cloth.
Elaine fell, and the cloth ripped. As he dropped away into darkness, he mouthed her name, "Elaine."
"Elaine!" She lay on the roof, the cloth of his tunic tight-gripped in her hands. She watched the snow tumble into the darkness and strained to see him. But there was only black night and the fall of snow.
TWENTY-TWO
Tereza lay very still under the blankets. Her raven hair, rich and full as fur, spread out on the pillow. Her face seemed more lovely and less harsh in deep sleep, and this was a very deep sleep. Her left arm was bandaged tight to her chest. The wound had bled and bled until Jonathan began to fear it would take her life.
Averil had been so badly hurt that the doctor said she might die before morning. Her throat had been bitten by one of the dead.
The doctor had given Tereza an herbal drink to help her sleep, to keep her from going out into the night in search of the twins. Only rest, the doctor said, only rest and time would heal her.
Jonathan sat by the bed, her hand resting in his. Even in drugged sleep, she held lightly to him. The lamplight wavered, smearing in a wash of gold. The tears finally fell in silent streaks down his cheeks. Were the twins dead? Could they survive for hours in the night with the dead?
No. Jonathan knew the answer was no.
He bowed his head over Tereza's hand. He'd called Elaine corrupt, evil, and he still believed her supposed healing was evil, or at least unnatural. But he would have given a great deal not to have quarreled, not to have the last memory of her tainted. The thought that she had died thinking he hated her, perhaps hating him in return, was almost more than he could bear.
Tereza would live. The doctor would not promise that she would ever have full use of her arm again, though. Tereza didn't know yet. He wasn't going to tell her until he had to. He was a coward.
There was a soft knock at the door. Jonathan thought about not answering, pretending he was asleep. The knock came again. He sighed, then said, "What is it?"
The door opened slowly. Thordin stood half in the frame. His gaze went to Tereza's pale form. He looked at Jonathan.
"She's resting."
Thordin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The townsfolk are gathered. The town council wishes to speak to us tonight." He stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. He leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. "I didn't explain that Blaine and Elaine were more than helpers to the mage-finder. I … didn't know if you wanted them to know."
He shook his head. "No, our grief is our own. Blaine was of the brotherhood. He knew the risks. It is Elaine. …" His voice failed him, and he turned his head away so Thordin could not see the tears.
"It is no one's fault, Jonathan."
"Isn't it?" he said. He turned back to Thordin, anger and tears mixing in his eyes. Self-hatred threatened to choke him. "If I had left her behind with the wizard, let her learn her magic in peace, she would be alive."
"We don't know they are dead, Jonathan."
"Elaine was unarmed, Thordin."
"Blaine went to find her. He is a good fighter."
"We would all have been killed if Lukas had not opened the door. He saved us all."
"Someone else might have opened a door to the twins."
"Thordin, it is night, and the dead walk the streets. Mo one will risk himself for strangers."
"There are always good people, Jonathan, wherever we go," Thordin said.
Jonathan shook his head. "No, Thordin, no false hope. We must face the truth."
"You are burying them before they are dead, Jonathan. You are simply giving up," Thordin said. "It is not like you to give up without a fight."
"Perhaps I have learned that you can fight long and valiantly and still die a bad death."
"You speak of Calum Songmaster," Thordin said.
Jonathan nodded. "Elaine asked if Silvanus could heal Calum. It never occurred to me to ask for Calum's sake. She thought of it."
"Elaine has a good heart," Thordin said.
Jonathan nodded again. He scrubbed his free hand across his face, smearing the tear tracks more than hiding them. "You said something about the town council."
"They want to see you tonight. They are badly frightened and want the reassurance of the great mage-finder."
"We entered the town and lost four people in less than an hour. They still think I can help them?"
"Your reputation is strong, Jonathan. They believe in you."
"I am not some magical talisman that can chase away the evil just by being here," Jonathan said. His voice was harsh.
"They probably do expect something that easy, that dramatic, but even small hope from you will be enough tonight, if you're up to it."
Jonathan stared at him. He wanted to be angry that Thordin would even ask, but looking into his friend's blunt face, his anger faded. He was simply tired, so tired that all he wanted was to crawl in beside Tereza and sleep, sleep, cling to his wife as if just by touching her he could keep her safe.