9. The Second Trial

Chapter 9

The Second Trial

" D id you get it out of your system?" Thaddeus asked from the living room. "I cannot say you are the first one to take a swing at me, but you are the first to dislocate my jaw."

Hugo stood at the front door, focused on the ornate diamond shaped knob. He breathed deeply, in and out. His icy blue eyes fixated on the knob. His right fist clenched into a ball.

"Normally, I would have taught you a lesson, but the rider broke things up," Thaddeus said. "Tell you what, you help me get out of this place, and we will call it square. If you can survive your next trial."

The smell of cinnamon, pine, and oranges filled Hugo's senses. The all too familiar smell of Christmas. Those smells weren't present before they stepped outside. Something had changed. The house reset itself. Hugo gulped. He knew it was time for the second trial.

He turned and the hallway was filled with all the trimmings of Alice's Christmas decorations. The console tables stuffed with garland and pine cones. Candles lit in the black candelabras as their flames danced off the walls in the darkened hallway.

Hugo glanced into the living room. Mistletoe hung from the entryway in the middle of an arched pine garland. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the crackling of the fire. The light of the fire danced off the walls, combating against the shadows trying to overrun the room.

Hugo narrowed his eyes and steeled his resolve, ready to prepare him for what was next. He exhaled, taking a step into the living room to meet his test head on.

Thaddeus sat in Alice's favorite black, high-back chair. His feet once again propped up on the coffee table. The fire crackled off to his side.

"A lot of vegetation and smells. Intriguing. I cannot wait to see it unfold," Thaddeus said. "I hope you are strong enough this time. I am pulling for you. I really am. Despite our little tussle."

The living room exploded with Christmas. Every square inch of the room was covered in some sort of decorative object. The bookshelves filled to the brim. Candles on the fireplace mantle dripped their gnarled fingers like melted wax toward the floor below. The smells of Christmas permeated through the air. It was as Hugo remembered—last Christmas when he and Alice shared their first Christmas together.

Hugo's eyes caught what would be his second test. Their Christmas tree stood in the back corner of the room. A woman dressed in all black sat on the floor with her back to them. Her unmistakable purple hair. It was Alice, or at least, another twisted image imitating his beloved fiancée.

Hugo approached with caution, one foot in front of the other, in slow, methodical steps. His feet stayed light to avoid making a noise on the hardwood floor. Thaddeus remained silent, a wide grin on his face.

Hugo remained alert, taking shallow breaths to stay vigilant. He licked his dry, cracked lips. The sensation of a racing heart coursed through his body.

"Why did you leave me?" Alice asked.

Hugo didn't respond. In his heart of hearts, he knew this was a trick. He scoured the room, his eyes shifting between shelves and objects for any details on how to prevent his death mask from continuing to manifest. Any small item from Alice's vast collection that could assist in defeating the scene playing out before him. His mind, so conflicting of thoughts and emotions, failed to contain the phantom. He took smaller steps, still approaching the image before him.

"Why did you have to leave me?" Alice asked.

The question tore through Hugo's soul. The same question he had asked after Elizabeth passed. He was alone, lost, and afraid. All of those sensations rushed back into his mind. The loneliness, the isolation, the hurt, the pain. All rushed back. His body shook. His lips trembled. Tears formed in his eyes.

"You left me, Hugo," Alice said. "You left me as Elizabeth left you."

Hugo shook his head. "No," he replied. "I didn't leave you. I'm still here."

"You left me, Hugo. Why did you have to die? It should have been me."

The tears welled and crested down his cheeks. "No. It was the only way to save you."

"You left me, Hugo. The Savinos won. I wasn't able to stop them without you."

"What are you talking about?" Hugo begged.

"You left me, and now I'm dead too."

Alice rose from the floor and turned to face Hugo. Her eyes were a black ichor. Her head tilted to the side and revealed two bite marks, similar to the ones Sylvia gave him. Dried blood streaked down her neck. She moved toward Hugo.

She continued, "They killed me, Hugo. Because you left me."

Hugo backed up, shaking his head. A burning pain coursed through his face. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. The white of the death mask burned its way through. His mouth dropped open. Hugo's face was now a pale, ghostly image with dark circles around his eyes.

Alice marched toward Hugo, slow and taunting. "They killed Max, Hugo. The Raskins too. Blood flowed through the streets of Newbury Grove. They're all dead. Everyone died because you died. This is your fault, Hugo Dodds."

Hugo backed away, never taking his eyes off the ghastly image before him. "Liar. You stopped them." His breathing intensified. "You did stop them, right?"

"They're all dead. The Savinos won. They're all coming to join you. Why did you have to do it, Hugo? Why did you get yourself turned into a vampire?" She reached out her arms, beckoning for him. "Why did you have to die?"

Hugo stumbled over the coffee table and fell to the floor with a thud. The ghastly image of Alice stood over Hugo. The black ichor poured down her face like tears. It dripped onto Hugo's shirt. He tried to back away, but he was immobilized by fear and the pain coursing through his face. He let out an agonizing screech.

"Accept it, Hugo. It's the only way to save them. Join me. Join us. We can save them all. Together."

The weight of the mask held him to the ground. Pain ripped through him like fire. The black ichor splashed only inches from his face. Hugo turned his head to the side, trying to avoid it. He knew if the ichor touched his face, he might not be able to hold off the full transformation, and he would become a ghoulish creature.

"You aren't real," Hugo shouted. "This isn't happening. You're a phantom of my mind. Alice didn't die. She's too strong. Too powerful."

"Are you certain?" Alice's image asked. "Then why isn't she rescuing you?"

What if she had failed? What if she gave in? What if his death drove her to handing the spell over to the Savinos, and they killed her? All because of him. All because he was impulsive. Reckless. One night in Sylvia's Bistro set everything into motion, and this was the ultimate consequence for his action.

Emptiness overtook Hugo. They failed. He failed. He failed them all. There was nothing left. No hope. No one was coming. It was all over. All because of him. It finally made sense. Hugo wasn't called because he was special. No. He was called because he left his friends, his family, his town in despair. Most importantly, he left his fiancée to wallow in sadness, and the vampires took it all. They won. They had to win. All because of his actions.

"So you were not strong enough after all," Thaddeus said. "A pity. For what it is worth, I was pulling for you."

The pain in his face subsided as the death mask took its form. His face was now covered in white, the visage of a skull. A tear rolled down his face and splashed onto the floor.

"It's okay, Max," Alice said.

Thaddeus shot out of his chair. "Who the hell is she?"

Hugo turned his head to see the ghostly, pulsating feet of someone sitting on the red velvet couch.

Alice's image screeched an ear-piercing wail. It backed away, contorting its face. Hugo sat up, the weight of the death mask no longer holding him down. He snapped his attention to the couch.

It was Alice. She was still alive and was searching for him.

"Alice!" Hugo yelled with glee. "Alice, I'm here."

Alice sat on the couch, but she didn't acknowledge Hugo's call. A ghostly form. A phantom. An image of her from the mortal realm, very much alive and well. She was scratching something. Hugo couldn't see his good buddy, but he knew she was there. They were both very much alive. Alice clutched one of his hockey sticks. The same hockey stick he had buried in the mattress. She found it. Alice knew he was here.

Hugo smiled as he sprung to his feet. "Alice," he shouted once more. "Alice, can't you hear me?"

"Next time. We'll find Hugo next time."

Find Hugo? They were searching for him. Alice was coming for him. She was going to rescue him. The contorted image of Alice—the one who tried to turn Hugo—screeched and wailed, then disappeared into the black nothingness of the shadows.

"Alice. Alice, I'm here," he shouted as he moved toward her, his arm out to take her hand. It passed through.

He was unable to touch her.

"No!" Hugo shouted. "No. We're so close. No. Alice, can you hear me? I'm here." His voice was frantic.

After a moment, Alice stood and placed the hockey stick on the coffee table. Her phantom image disappeared.

Hugo shook his head. His heart sunk. He was so close. She was right there. He was alone once again. He curled his fingers and stared blankly at where Alice had once sat.

"That has never happened before," Thaddeus said. "Who is she?"

Hugo turned to face Thaddeus. "She is the great witch of Newbury Grove, and she's on her way to rescue me. And I'm going to greet her when she gets here."

Hugo bolted through the living room and opened the front door.

"Wait!" Thaddeus yelled. "Don't leave."

Hugo disappeared out the front door.