They did their best to make as little noise as possible, but it was hard in a pitch-black castle with creaky floorboards everywhere. Charlotte was getting dizzy, and kept swaying on her feet and almost crashing into walls; Roger quickly had to move up to help support her. They took the hall into the kitchen and went into the banquet room, where the orange zombie was still lurching around. It didn’t seem to notice them, and they ducked behind a table.

“Is this the same thing you ran into?” Roger asked quietly.

“Uh, sort of?” Sue said. “They weren’t orange, and this one is moving differently. I think it’s a different kind of undead, or maybe the body is more decayed. Rigor mortis is actually a major problem for necromancers.”

He opened his mouth to ask why she knew this, but decided he didn’t really want to know. “I’ll distract it. You two run past and get to the courtyard. I’ll catch you up.”

“You just said we wouldn’t split up,” Charlotte said, then winced, rubbing her temple.

“He’ll be right behind us,” Sue said, “won’t you?”

Roger chewed his knuckle. Now that she mentioned it, if anything went wrong, they’d all be dead. “No, she’s right. We’ll stick together and find a way around.”

“We’re close to the courtyard,” Sue said, “and it’s not very switched on. We could just run for it.”

Roger was very conscious of the horror movie trope where a female character twists her ankle and is promptly caught by the monster. Neither girl was wearing heels, but Charlotte was only half-conscious: he could easily picture her fainting, and he didn’t think he’d be able to dodge the monsters while carrying her. “No need to risk it. Let’s go back.”

He helped Charlotte to her feet, and the three of them backtracked to the kitchen and into the first hallway.

“Do we have any friends we can call on, or any other aces up our sleeve?” he asked Sue. “Any tricks with the undead? Holy water, blood of a virgin?”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Sue muttered, then, “Nothing doing. Most necromancers add weaknesses or prohibitions on purpose as a sort of failsafe, so that their creations won’t do too much damage if they go rogue, but these weren’t deliberately reanimated, so there’s nothing like that in place. You’d have to tear them apart the old-fashioned way.”

Roger checked the map. “I whacked that one pretty hard earlier. Something happened, and it regenerated. I don’t think fighting them is really an option.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“It does indeed. You know, it looks like there’s a fairly short route to the catacombs. Why don’t we at least check it out? If there are more of them in there, we can double back again, but it could be safer than going through the middle of the grounds.”

“You’re in charge,” Sue said. “If you want to try that way, I’ll go with you.”

Roger didn’t feel particularly in charge, but neither girl offered anything, so he took a side passage that led up a flight of narrow stairs to a trapdoor and a sort of attic, although it was physically much lower than the top of the building. The ceiling sloped inward at the sides, as though there were a triangular roof, and beams crisscrossed the room. The floor was covered in playing cards. They didn’t stop to look around.

“Not the fun night out I’d been hoping for when I came,” he said.

“Tomorrow night, I’m staying home watching anime,” Sue said, nodding.

The pseudo-attic was shaped like an L, turning ninety degrees halfway along. They followed it and climbed down a trapdoor at the far end, into a room full of shattered ceramics.

“I remember this place,” Sue said, striding forward confidently. “I was here, with Jason, half an hour ago. The plum wine cellar is just through …”

She stopped short. In front of her was a door frame around a brick wall.

“… this was a staircase down to the catacombs when I was here. Someone’s bricked it up.”

Roger rapped on the wall, then spun and mule-kicked it. He bounced off and rolled his foot, swearing. “It’s not hollow and there’s no give. Whoever put that there, they did it properly.”

There was a shuffling sound from another doorway: a grey-skinned figure in a torn black shroud lurching toward them. It banged into either wall, its balance completely shot, but the crashes didn’t seem to bother it.

“Let’s go,” Roger said.

He and Sue each took one of Charlotte’s hands, and they ran for the only other doorway. It led to a room with a giant chessboard, then a pool room, then a pantry full of moths, and finally out to the inner courtyard. He looked around, thankful for the lanterns everywhere. Their flashlights couldn’t light up such a large area at once, and the stars weren’t bright enough. Statues, fountains, and terraces dotted the gardens, shadows playing around them as they and their flashlights moved.

“There it is,” Sue said, looking at the keep. “The warded chamber. We’ll be safe for now.”

“Is there any magic that might affect Jill?” Roger said, leaving Charlotte and walking up to her. “I assume that anti-undead magic won’t do anything about a flesh-and-blood girl with a sword and maybe an assault rifle.”

“I think we’re in the clear,” Sue said. “Remember what I said about the possessor spirit? I think it got her, and she killed the other three. Er, four. But if it did, then it wouldn’t be able to bring her through those wards; or if it leaves her, it won’t matter if she comes through.”

“Argh!” Charlotte cried out, clutching at her head and sinking to her knees. Roger and Sue rushed to her side.

“Do you know any first aid?” he asked her.

“I know that headaches shouldn’t be this bad,” she said. “What’s wrong, Lottie?”

“… Hurts …”

“Could she have a concussion or something? Any pre-existing conditions? Did she get bitten? I don’t think these are plague zombies, but …”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“No concussions or bites, I’ve been watching her, and no medical history.” He looked at the keep. “Could there be a way out through there? She needs a doctor.”

There came a clacking from behind them. They whirled. It was Jill, pulling a heavily laden hand truck; the wheels bounced whenever they hit the edge of a paving stone. She was still wearing coveralls over her nightie, the coveralls and her face spattered in blood, although she’d cleaned her glasses. She wore a contented smile.

“Good evening,” she said. “Are you thinking of going in there? I said it before, you don’t want to do that. It’s not safe in there.”

Sue took several steps back, but Roger took one forward, putting himself between Charlotte and Jill. He raised his fire poker defensively. “You,” he said. “Who are you really? Why are you doing this? Why did you kill everyone?”

“Everyone?” she repeated, nonplussed. “I’ve only killed one person so far tonight, not counting a couple of the monsters, and they don’t really die per se. The girl in black, I think her name’s something Blank or Blanks?”

“Her name’s Lucy,” he said, “and she was my friend. What about Aaron? Michelle? Jason?”

Jill shrugged, uninterested. “I assume that either it was one of the monsters, or whoever the villain is. Lucy Blank came at me with a sword, so maybe she was the villain this time, and she killed them?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Roger said. “She’d never do that. And what are you talking about, ‘the villain’ and ‘this time’?”

Jill shrugged again. “Oh well. In a minute, it won’t matter any more anyway.”

“What are you talking about? What are you doing here?”

Jill patted the hand truck. “Just wrapping up a problem that’s been bugging me – pun not intended – for a little while. It doesn’t concern you. So stand aside and let me pass.”

Sue sniffed. “You smell like fertiliser,” she said. “And the van’s fuel is gone. You weren’t just trapping us here, were you?”

“I didn’t trap you anywhere,” said Jill. “You could have run on foot. Although I don’t recommend it: I’m sure something will kill you if you try.”

“Then who cut up the drawbridge controls?” Roger asked. “Who bricked up the catacombs?”

“Oh? Go figure. It was probably the same person who outfitted the shrine, although I suppose it could have been your Lucy, or even the man in green.”

“Er, not the most pressing problem right now,” said Sue. “Fertiliser and fuel oil. That isn’t what I think it is, is it?”

Jill smiled wider. “Nice deduction. Yes. This is a bomb.”

Roger could finally make out what was on the hand truck: a huge plastic bag that was labelled fertiliser, but whose contents looked like styrofoam.

“What the heck are you doing with a bomb?!”

“I already told you,” said Jill, “dealing with something that doesn’t concern you. So stand aside.”

They stared.

“We’re almost out of time. Those zombies and the other things aren’t far away. It’d be best if I detonate this before then.”

“How do you know that?” Sue asked. “No, wrong question. You’re going to blow up the keep, aren’t you? Why would you do that, when it’s a safe place the undead can’t enter?”

“They don’t matter,” said Jill. “The only one who does … This is a waste of time. Let me past.”

“We have nowhere else to run or hide,” Roger said. “Besides, this place is already falling apart. You’ll probably collapse the entire castle with a bomb that size.”

Jill made a face. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try to stop me? Ugh. I’m not going to enjoy this.”

She let go of the hand truck and began walking toward him.

“Stay back,” he said, “I’m warning you …”

She didn’t break stride, so he brought the poker back like a baseball bat and swung. She moved like lightning: one moment she was directly in front of him, the next directly behind, with a knife in hand, its blade neatly wedged into the back of his neck between two vertebrae. He fell.

“Roger!” Sue cried out, frozen in place.

Jill looked down at Charlotte, who was on her knees, holding her head. “You know,” she said, “my idea was to break the pattern. It always happens inside the altar room, so won’t it be stopped if I blow it up? But now that I think about it, I’ve been overcomplicating things. If she wants to sacrifice you on the altar, I could take the altar out of the equation, but I could also …” She drew her sword, still covered in Lucy’s and the others’ blood, and brought it overhead.

“No!” Sue shouted. Jill ignored her and brought the sword down.

There was a flicker of silver-white light and a sound like a match being struck. Jill skidded backward along the ground, crashed into a statue of a nude satyr, and went still; her forearm fell to the ground a few metres away, still holding the sword.

This was finally enough to snap Sue out of it. She rushed forward, grabbed Charlotte by the arm, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her to the keep. She pushed through the oak door, then slammed it shut and barred it. She slumped to the ground.

“S-sue?” Charlotte whimpered. “What’s going on? Where’s Roger?”

“He’s … He wanted to protect you,” Sue said. “There’s, I don’t even know what that was. Some sort of poltergeist? I don’t know. Just, let’s rest here for a moment.”

Charlotte moaned and slumped. Sue sat back for a minute and caught her breath, then crawled over.

“Lottie. Lottie, can you hear me?”

There came a rap at the door. Sue looked up at it. She got up, removed the bar, and opened it.

In walked the honey-eyed girl from the coffin. She gave a massive yawn and pushed the door shut behind her.

“It’s about time,” she said.

“Hey, do you know what’s wrong with Lottie?” Sue asked.

The girl gave a slow blink. “We should put her on the altar,” she said.

“Right, good idea,” Sue agreed. “Are you strong enough to carry her legs?”

“Sure,” said the girl.

Sue took Charlotte’s arms and the girl her legs, and they lifted her and moved toward the altar.

The door crashed open. Sue started and dropped Charlotte; the girl caught her before her head hit the ground. In the doorway was Jill, one arm tied up with Roger’s shirt, which was already soaked with red. She had the hand truck in front of her, still laden with the fertiliser bomb. Her sword was back in its sheath.

“And then there’s this guy,” the winged girl said, annoyed.

“Think fast,” said Jill. She kicked the truck forward and pulled a remote from her coveralls, one with a single big red button.

A thick steel half-sphere shell appeared around the truck, so that it protected the winged girl but not Jill from the bomb. Jill’s thumb flinched away from the button, and she threw the remote away and went for her sword.

The winged girl made a swiping motion, plucked a duplicate remote from thin air, and pressed the button.

Jill sprinted forward and dived, angling herself to get behind the altar. She wasn’t fast enough. The bomb exploded while she was still in the air, sending a shockwave and a hail of ball bearings through the room, Sue, and Jill’s legs and hips. Sue was gone instantly. Jill crashed into the ground, stunned, unable to do more than lay there, panting with pain, trying to catch her breath.

The winged girl set Charlotte down on the ground, unharmed, then jumped up and sat on the altar, looking down at Jill.

“I have a question for you,” she said. “Why don’t you just give up? You’re never going to beat me.”

Jill took several ragged breaths. “Don’t underestimate me,” she said. “You’ve won this round, but sooner or later, I will finish you.”

“No, you won’t,” the girl said matter-of-factly. She yawned again. “It’ll take a lot more than mere persistence to beat me. And sooner or later, you’ll die before you make it here. Why not just skip to the end? Are you a masochist?”

“I’m not giving up.” Jill swallowed, and coughed blood. “What are you, beyond just a walking nightmare? I’ve never seen anything like you.”

“I’m not a nightmare,” the girl said quietly.

“Then what should I call you? What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one. Call me whatever you want. I am who I am.”

“That’s not megalomaniacal at all,” Jill said.

The girl gave her an impassive look. “Whatever. If you’re not going to surrender, we might as well finish up here.”

“Wait. Before you kill me. Can’t you at least give me a hint about what you’re really planning?”

The girl blinked dully. A guillotine blade appeared over Jill’s head, hung in space for a moment, and flashed down.

“No,” said the girl.