10. The Curse of The Sinclairs

Chapter 10

The Curse of The Sinclairs

W ith a hand on the porch railing, Hugo leaped over the side. He landed on the ground and never broke his stride. He bolted forward, his body pulsating, as he swiftly rounded the corner of the eerie, dilapidated purple house. Glancing over his shoulder, the rider took off down the street.

"Wait!" Thaddeus shouted from the porch. "This is madness. Do not do this."

With no fences, Hugo weaved in and out between the rows of mismatched houses. He scanned the area for the rider, but he couldn't find him. He ran and ran, avoiding the shambling ghouls roaming the landscape. Their faces sunken like rotting corpses, covered in white with black rings around their eyes. They turned their attention to the sprinting vampire darting through the landscape.

They wailed and screamed as Hugo passed by, as if to warn the others. Some attempted to grab at Hugo. Their skeletal like fingers clawed away at his clothes. Hugo smacked their hands away as he zipped in and around the houses. A few attempted to block his path. Hugo lowered his shoulder and hip-checked them as he exploded past. A shambling ghoul tumbled to the ground.

Even though he was dead, the sprinting still winded Hugo. His lungs burned, and his heart pounded with every stride. His head throbbed. Hugo fought through it all, fighting to survive. To escape. He breathed deeply and focused on his target—finding a way out.

He doubled back a few times, hoping to lose the rider. He scanned the scene. The cloaked figure and black horse were nowhere to be seen. It appeared he wasn't being followed.

Hugo took a moment to duck behind a house—something plucked from the 1960s. A small house, but serviceable for Hugo to hide behind and catch his breath. He bent over, hands on his knees. His lungs labored as air rushed in to fill every inch. At least, he thought air was rushing in. He couldn't tell. There was a hole where his heart should have been located, penetrated by the wooden stake. He shouldn't be out of breath or have a racing heart, yet he did.

He placed a finger in his chest. His internal organs were stiff and unmoving, yet the sensation of a beating heart coursed through his chest. Even the touch of his finger tingled his body as he poked and prodded inside his chest cavity.

"What the hell is this place?" Hugo muttered under his breath. He took a few more breaths. "Keep moving."

The three knocks rang out throughout the land. Hugo didn't know what was causing it and decided to avoid it at all costs. He took off in the opposite direction.

The sky roiled and thunder crashed. The dark gray clouds never parted. It was always an eerie twilight where the sun was about to set, but it never did. The land was bathed in darkness, yet things were still visible.

There were no streetlights. No porch lights. The occasional light spilled out from the festering, sickly homes. There were souls inside, those who had not yet turned. The wailing and crashing against windows of those trying to escape. The occasional face popped up into view. Their faces covered in the banshee's death mask. Cheeks emaciated. Their eyes sunken. The conversion process took hold.

Hugo turned away from the window and focused on the path ahead. Only good thoughts right now. He couldn't dwell on the impossibility of his escape. He had to focus on the positive. Alice was alive, and she was coming for him.

He doubled back and weaved in and out of the houses until he lost track of where he was. The landscape was a labyrinth of houses, a maze to confuse those held within. The dark, menacing clouds roiled overhead as they crashed into the towering rock cliff. The lone visible landmark vanished into the abyss of the sky. If there was any hope of escape, the rock cliff would provide it. Hugo ran toward hope. Toward salvation.

There were no signs of the rider or anyone else coming for him. Was it all a ploy to keep him in the house? A ghost story to tell the captives so they never left? Hugo couldn't let his mind wander. He had to focus on three things: avoiding the rider, avoiding the ghouls, and getting the hell out of there.

Hugo broke through a line of houses to an open area of dirty and decaying grass. The cobblestone path led to a dock and lagoon. The lagoon led out into the mouth of a cave entering into the rock face. The rock cliff vanished into the sky, the clifftop shrouded in the roiling gray clouds. This was it. This was Hugo's chance to escape. He sprinted for the dock.

Hugo came to a stop at the end of the dock, taking a moment to catch his breath. The wooden dock was empty. No signs of the ghouls. No hearse. No rider. No boat. He placed his hands on his hips. His chest rose and fell after running his marathon.

"Come on," Hugo muttered through his breaths. "There's got to be something here."

He scanned the shoreline. There was nothing. No boat. No rescue. Nothing. He was still trapped.

Hugo peeked over the side of the dock. Small ripples rolled over the water and crashed into the shoreline. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water below. The black and white death mask had taken form on his face. It didn't reverse after Alice's appearance. He touched his fingers to his face. It wasn't so much painted as it was now a part of him. If he didn't escape, then it would overtake him.

The brackish water didn't give up its secrets. No hints of the rocks or plants or creatures lurking below the surface. If he were to escape, then he had to swim for it. He took two quick breaths to ready his nerves. He twiddled his fingers and flopped his arms to warm them up. His foot twitched. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck. He backed up a few steps and readied himself to leap into the water.

"I wouldn't jump if I were you," a woman's voice exclaimed. He recognized the voice, but it wasn't the woman he had hoped to hear.

Hugo turned. Madeline Sinclair stood at the end of the dock, holding her black parasol over her shoulder.

"I'm getting out of here," Hugo shouted. "I'm leaving your prison."

"If you leap off the dock, I guarantee you'll never escape," Madeline said. "You might make it out a few feet before they drag you under."

"Why should I believe you?"

"The river is filled with the souls who tried to escape. No one ever escapes. The tormented souls will drag you down, and you'll drown in sorrow, becoming one of them."

Hugo turned back to the blackish water. "I don't believe you."

"Then jump. Jump and swim. I'll stand here and watch them drag your soul under. I'll be hopeless, as the best chance for both of us to leave this accursed place is pulled under and eviscerated and destroyed."

Hugo took a deep breath and glared at his reflection in the rippling water. A ghostly image of a hand appeared below the surface and disappeared into the depths. Hugo closed his eyes and bowed his head. He let out a barbaric yawp, all his frustrations built up and exploding to the surface.

"You probably think I'm a monster," Madeline said as she moved down the dock, her Edwardian boot rapping against the wooden boards. "But I assure you, the best chance for all of us to leave here is if you do exactly what I say."

Hugo turned to face Madeline. Her face was covered in the same death mask as his. Her brown hair pulled back into a Gibson Girl knot. She stood tall and confident, with her shoulders pulled back. The black mourning dress didn't touch the ground. A smile formed on her face. She twirled the parasol on her shoulder.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Follow me," she said, turning back to her awaiting carriage.

The headless driver atop the black carriage held the reins of the pale horses. The Rider and his black festering horse stood by the carriage's side. The faceless hood of the cloaked figure focused on Hugo, monitoring his every step.

The door of the carriage opened as Madeline approached. She closed her parasol, tucked it under her arm, and entered the carriage. "Are you coming?" she called back to Hugo.

Hugo glanced once more at the water and back at the death coach awaiting him. A fleeting thought of jumping into the water crossed his mind. She could be lying. This could be another test he failed. All he had to do was swim.

Dark spirits moved under the water; only their shadows were visible. It wasn't worth the risk. He was out of options. Hugo had to make the right move.

His hope clung to the flickering belief that Alice would find a way to get to him before his soul submitted to the third trial. The game wasn't over yet, but he was down a few goals, and the third period was about to start. The odds were stacked against him.

Still, knowing Alice was trying to reach him was enough hope for him. He had to believe . . . Be patient and fight back against the despair of being trapped here forever. Clawing back into the game one goal at a time. She was coming. It wasn't over yet. He turned and approached the carriage.

Three knocks rang out into the sky.

"I knew you would make the right choice," Madeline said as Hugo entered. "Welcome aboard the Cóiste Bodhar. The death coach."

Hugo focused on the plush and posh interior. The seats were made of black leather, supple and soft. The walls were covered in black velvet. Two benches faced each other. With Madeline on one side, Hugo took the opposite seat.

"Driver," Madeline said. "You may proceed."

The door to the carriage closed on its own, and it took off. It jostled with every turn of the wheels on the cobblestone pathway. Hugo braced himself with his hands placed on the seat to prevent himself from being tossed around. Madeline sat poised, her legs crossed beneath her black mourning dress and hands placed on her knees.

"So, you're Madeline Sinclair?" Hugo asked.

"You know of me?" she asked.

"You're the founder of Newbury Grove?"

"The one and only. It's not every day I get a visitor from my town. It makes you special. Well . . . one other thing too."

"What thing?"

"You drank from the spell, did you not?"

"The spell?" Hugo narrowed his eyes. He knew what spell she was referring to, but he held his poker face to hide his secrets.

" The Lovers' Kiss . You're a fortunate man. Very few have drank the spell." She leaned forward and smiled. "So, did it work?"

Hugo didn't respond. His face remained as stoic as possible.

Her smile grew as she leaned back. "It did work."

She paused, turning to her side and biting her lower lip. After a moment, she faced Hugo once more.

Madeline said, "We were close to possessing it once. We tracked it down out west. It was my father, myself, and some vampires. Never trust a vampire."

"I know," Hugo said, showing his fangs.

"We never had a vampire here before. Always a first."

"Everyone wants this stupid spell. I wish I could destroy it." Hugo paused. "It's brought nothing but pain and suffering. Where is the love?"

"The Lovers' Kiss has been fought over because there is such a misconception of what it can do."

"And you're the expert?" Hugo asked.

"There are those like the vampires who sought it for immortality," Madeline said.

"Funny," Hugo said as he pressed his tongue into his left fang. "I knew a pair of vampires who wanted it for immortality."

"You knew the Savinos?" Madeline asked as a slight smile broke her stoic gaze. "A lovely bunch, aren't they?"

Hugo opened his mouth and elongated his vampiric fangs. "They definitely left a mark."

"They certainly do. I wanted it for other purposes. Noble purposes." She leaned closer. "Let me ask you. What did it do? Please indulge me. Give me its secrets."

Hugo shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "It brought my fiancée back to life. She's a witch who was burned by an amulet. She was lifeless. Together, we drank from the spell, and it brought her back to life."

Madeline grinned. "Thank you for confirming my . . . hope. I wanted to use it for similar purposes. Not immortality. When we lost track of the spell, I—I turned to other means. I didn't set out for this. This wasn't a grandiose plan of mine. I'm a victim of circumstance."

"This." Hugo pointed outside. "You're in control of this and call yourself a victim."

The smile faded, and her face turned solemn. She leaned closer, almost nose to nose with Hugo. "The Sinclairs are cursed. I am the victim of a sin I never committed, and yet . . . I faced the full punishment. Many generations ago, my ancestors wanted wealth and power and a strong bloodline. They consulted with many powerful people. None would grant their wish."

Madeline leaned back, never taking her eyes off Hugo.

She said, "They found one who would. He granted everything they wanted. Wealth. Power. A strong bloodline to carry on the family legacy. But it came at a price. My ancestors were so consumed with their desires, they didn't care about the cost. Everything was given to them, but when the male heir was born, their spouse would die. A life for a life."

Madeline focused on the object beside her. A book sat on the seat next to her. Her fingers, one by one, rapped against the black, leather binding.

"My father sought to break the curse. He found a powerful witch who agreed to help him. They ultimately fell in love, as was promised generations ago. They tried . . . Oh, they tried. She even used her magick, so she had a daughter instead of a male heir."

Madeline's voice grew quiet and filled with a tempered rage. She muttered, "They thought by not having a son, thus breaking the strong bloodline of male heirs, it would also break the curse."

Madeline turned back to Hugo, her fingers flat against the book. "I was born, and my mother still died."

Hugo said, "I'm sorry for your loss. I truly am. I know your pain. Your sorrow. But why should everyone else suffer?"

Madeline's face remained stoic and unchanged. "It came my turn to inherit the family sin. I fell in love with a powerful wizard. His name was Callum. My sweet, sweet Callum."

She paused for a moment; her lips curled inward.

Madeline said, "We knew what fate laid out before us. So, we decided to change the narrative. We sought the spell, hoping it would bring him back to life if . . . when he died. Once the spell slipped away, we became desperate. And then, as the curse dictated, I became pregnant."

She patted the book next to her. "I used a spell to lock him away. I banished him to another realm to save him. We hoped if he was gone, even momentarily, he wouldn't suffer the same fate and thus, we would break the curse."

Madeline paused. Her eyes focused off into the distance through the carriage windows. They glazed over as if holding back tears. Her lips quivered.

She said, "However, the curse of the Sinclairs was wrong. It demanded a death. It didn't matter who. Since my lover was not there, I lost the child. I lost my son and my lover. I couldn't call to Callum. I couldn't find him. Wherever he was banished to, he was gone. I lost both of them."

Madeline paused for a moment, clearing her throat, before turning toward Hugo.

She continued, "I sought a way to the underworld in hopes of finding him, but he wasn't here. I was tricked by the king of the fairies. And now I'm trapped for eternity. The only way out is to pay the ferryman. He only accepts gold to return souls to the land of the living, and the dead cannot pay him."

Hugo leaned back, crossing his arms. "I'm sorry for your losses. I truly am, but what does this have to do with me?"

"You drank from the spell. The spell is now a part of your essence. Maybe we can harness it to get us out of here."

He leaned forward. "Then why can't I leave?"

The black, leather book vibrated and pulsed before coming to a rest. "My book is calling out to its two other copies," Madeline said, patting the book once more. "It yearns to be reunited with them. If only I could use it to get us out of here . . . But the book alone isn't powerful enough to break through."

Madeline glared into his eyes. "You must become a part of our army. It's the only way we'll be strong enough to break through. With the spell coursing through your soul, it will then course through all of ours. We may be able to break through. But only if you submit to the banshee's wail willingly. The trials are meant to help you see you have no choice but to submit."

Hugo's heart skipped a beat, and his stomach sank. His chin quivered, betraying his stoic poker face. His only means of escape was to submit himself to become a ghoul like those wailing around this wretched place. He would give up who he was to join her legion of minions. Hugo gulped.

The carriage came to a halt; the door flung open. Hugo was back at the purple house, the fake image of his once happy home. Hugo stood and exited the carriage.

"I understand what this means, Hugo," Madeline said. "But it is the only way. We must be powerful to break through, but we can only do it together. Trust me."

He never turned back to acknowledge her. Hugo shambled up the pathway in half steps toward the purple house. He climbed the gray porch steps, each footstep heavier than the last. He focused on the black door. If he went inside, he was sealing his fate. If he turned, he faced oblivion. Hugo moved to the door and placed his hand on the ornate diamond knob.

He gave a thought to Alice. She was searching for him. She was coming. He had hope in the face of despair. He turned and opened the door, entering the house.

"I see they let you live," Thaddeus said as Hugo returned.

Hugo didn't acknowledge him. He shut the door behind him. He glanced into the living room and then up the stairs.

Alice is coming. I know she is. I have to hope. I have to believe.

"Take your time," Thaddeus shouted. "We're not going anywhere."

Hugo remained silent; only the echoes of his steps responded. He entered his bedroom and shut the door behind him. The black canopy bed where his hockey stick resided beneath the mattress. The message he left for Alice. The one she hopefully received.

Hope.

Hugo entered the bathroom, turned on the lights, and shut the door. He was alone. Only his reflection stared back at him. His black-eyed reflection. Hugo sighed, hoping her reflection would be waiting for him. He moved toward the mirror.

He placed his hands on the white porcelain sink. He leaned closer to the mirror. She wasn't there, but he didn't care. He needed someone to talk to, even if it was himself.

"I don't know if you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. I need you. I really need you right now. I'm lost. I'm scared. I'm trapped. You're the only one who can help. Please. Please hear me."

There was no response.

He placed his forehead on the mirror and whispered, "Madeline Sinclair is a banshee, and she's building an army of ghouls. She's trying to turn me into one, and you're the only person who can help."