It grabbed Elaine's arm. Elaine stomped her foot at it as you would at a bad dog. It growled low in its throat and leapt straight at her. She had time to put her arms up to protect her face and neck, but then it was on top of her. Teeth tore into her sleeve, worrying it like a dog with a bone. Elaine screamed.
There was a last tug at her sleeve, and the thing sat back. She could feel its weight shift as it settled on its haunches. The weight pinned her legs, but nothing else happened.
Elaine lay there, waiting for the teeth to tear into her flesh, but they didn't. Minutes passed with her lying on the frozen ground. Snow fell in soft, downy flakes, and that was all. Finally, she lowered her arms just enough to peek at the monster.
She found herself staring into a pair of black eyes. Those eyes looked at her not as a man but as an intelligent dog would. It was not the blank stare of the undead, or at least no sort of undead she knew of. She almost asked it what it wanted, as she had the woman, but there was no one behind those eyes to answer the question. At least, not in words.
But it wanted something or it would have killed her by now. The zombie that had killed Blaine had wanted her blood. What did this one want?
It crept off of her, slowly, moving down her legs hand over hand. It scuttled backward to Elaine's body, grabbed his tunic, and began to lift the corpse over its shoulder.
She sat up, hand reaching outward. "No."
It growled at her, low and deep. Lips curled back from teeth too sharp to be human.
Elaine froze, unsure what to do. It was warning her off. It wanted Elaine's body, but that it could not have. If she could find Silvanus, he could tell her how to raise Blaine to life. If she lost the body, Blaine was truly gone.
"You can't have him." She forced her voice to be gentle, soft, as if she talked to a wild animal. "Please, don't take him."
It gave a growling shout. The dead at the end of the street began shuffling toward them. Whatever power had held them at bay was gone. The creature had called them.
It flung Blaine over its shoulder in one quick movement. Elaine crawled forward, hand outstretched, not sure what she was reaching for, the body, or the monster.
"Please, don't."
It rose to a crouch. Elaine's hands trailed the ground, his hair a golden swash over the creature's back.
Elaine stood reaching for him. The creature sprang forward, moving in a series of leaps that carried it down the street in great bounds.
"Blaine, please, no." She ran after them, but couldn't catch up. A sound brought her whirling to face the street. The dead were a solid wall limping toward the her. They were only a few steps away from the door. If she was cut off from it, they would drink her blood. She didn't want to die, not like that.
Elaine ran for the door. The zombies hesitated, confused by the fact that she was running toward them, not away. She pushed open the portal, and the dead surged forward. They understood what a door meant.
Elaine slammed it in its frame, shoving the key in the lock. The handle turned. She leaned into the wood and turned the key. The lock shut home. The knob twisted frantically; the wood shuddered as the dead pushed against it, pounding on it.
Elaine leaned back, feeling the strength of the mob thrumming the wood behind her body. She slid down the length of the door to sit, huddled. Tears streaked her face. The first sob escaped her lips. She buried her face on her knees, arms over her head, hugging her body tight and tighter. The dead stormed outside the house, beating on the nailed shutters, trying to get in. Elaine gave herself over to her grief, letting it drowned the sounds of the dead outside., wishing it could drowned the emptiness within.
TWENTY-FIVE
Jonathan stood at the open window in Tereza's room. Dawn had come at last. It spread in a soft wash over the village. The sky was white and heavy with snow, and fresh white flakes had filled the street below, deep and thick with footprints. The dead had wandered the streets until perhaps an hour before dawn. Jonathan had listened to them squabbling in the dark. What did the dead have to quarrel over? Why did they stay here in a town prepared for them?
There were hundreds of zombies, a veritable army of the dead. They could move outward into the countryside and raid everything in their path. Here in Cortton the town hid in its upper stories, the livestock below. The livestock living inside had originally been protected against wolves. No wolves now came near Cortton. Even they feared the dead.
Who had done this? Why had they done it? No matter how evil the perpetrator, there had always been a plan-some logic, no matter how twisted. A great deal of magical energy had been used here, but for what purpose? Jonathan could find nothing that the zombies had gained for anyone.
The town had been a center of commerce, but no farmer would come near it now. Traveling merchants would not enter the main street. The meistersinger's reassurance of daylight safety hadn't helped. After what he had seen in the night, Jonathan could not blame anyone for avoiding the town.
A breeze had come with the dawn, an icy finger of wind that trailed down Jonathan's spine as if he stood bare before the window. He shivered, and could not seem to stop.
"Jonathan," Tereza's voice, hoarse, faint, but there. He turned with a smile. She held one hand out to him. The hand trembled, but the smile on her lips was firm.
He knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in both of his hands. He pressed her fingers to his lips. "How do you feel this fine morning, my wife?"
Her smile widened. "Better than last night."
He spoke with his lips against the back of her hand. "Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry?"
"Did Elaine or Elaine come back last night?"
It was the one question he did not want to answer, but he could not lie to her face. He'd never been able to lie to those dark eyes. "Mo, they did not."
She struggled to sit up but fell back against the pillows. "We must go after them. We must. . help them."
"Tereza, either they found shelter last night, or they do not need our help."
"No, Jonathan. I don't believe they are dead."
"Tereza, please…."
She tried to sit up again but fell back, gasping this time. Her skin paled, and a beading of sweat broke on her skin.
"Tereza, you are too hurt to go anywhere."
She turned her face to the wall, pulling her hand from his grasp. "No, Jonathan. 1 won't give up."
"There are hundreds of undead in the streets at night. Hundreds. I watched them from this window.
There is no survival out of doors in Cortton after dark."
She turned her head, tears glittering in her eyes. "Then find their bodies."
He looked down at the floor, unwilling to meet her eyes. He was a coward. He did not want to tell her there would be no bodies to find.
"What is it? What are you keeping from me?"
He looked up. Something like a smile twisted his lips, but there was no joy to it. "I could never lie to you, could I?"
"No, and don't start trying now. What is it?"
"The town council demanded to speak with me last night. They said all who died in Cortton rose to walk the night."
"Those that died of the plague," she said.
"No, my love, all who die in Cortton rise as undead." He watched the horror spread across her face, the realization of what that meant for their 'children.
"No, Jonathan, not that. I might be able to bear their being dead, but not that. Please, Jonathan, not that."
He held her good hand and cradled her head in his arms. He held her while she cried, but did not cry himself. He had insisted Elaine come. If she had been safely at home, Blaine would not have had to go in search of her. It was his fault, his doing. Jonathan would not let himself cry. He didn't deserve it.