Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(86)

I looked down and saw the skeleton twitch. Its whole frame rattled.

I recoiled. “How do you know the spell worked?”

“Because the body moves!” Elijah scurried to the coffin. “I must get Father free. Help me push the lid off.”

“Father?” I asked. My eyes ran over the skull, searching for something familiar. All I saw were empty sockets and wisps of brittle hair.

A knocking sounded from inside the coffin. The skeleton was trying to get out.

Elijah tugged at the mahogany lid, glee shining on his face and sparkling in his eyes. “Help me, El! Father’s here!”

I shook my head and backed away. “No Elijah. This is wrong. That’s not... I don’t think it’s Father.”

Elijah paused, and his face snapped to me. Our father’s skeleton was wrestling inside the coffin now, and the clatter of bone fingers against the wood sounded like thousands of tiny, scuttling feet.

Then the skeleton’s toothy mouth started chomping.

Elijah’s eyes bulged and he staggered back. He hit the soil wall of the hole. The lid flipped off and slammed against the dirt.

“Get out!” I shrieked. I surged for the shovel and hoisted it, grunting from the weight.

Elijah climbed from the grave and pitched toward me. “The grimoire! I need it to stop it—where is it?”

“I don’t know! You took it from me!”

The skeleton lurched at Elijah.

With a howl, I flew at it and swung the shovel. It connected with the skull, and painful waves writhed up my arms. The skeleton toppled sideways, but in moments it was up again.

I reared back to attack once more, but its yellow teeth zoomed at my face. I toppled over, dropping the shovel. The skeleton was on me, and I couldn’t keep its biting jaws away.

“Eleanor! No!” Elijah charged. He tackled it away from me, Latin bellowing from his mouth. He and the corpse fought in a mass of scratching and biting and shouting.

I rolled to my feet.

“Dormi!” Elijah roared, his fists and forearms keeping the vicious jaws from his neck.

I vaulted at the shovel. A scream ripped through the air—Elijah!

I twisted back to find the skeleton’s teeth locked on my brother’s throat.

“Dormi,” Elijah struggled to say. “Dormi.”

The skeleton collapsed, a heap of bone and suit. I bolted to it. Beneath the monster, blood streamed from my brother’s neck. I shoved the corpse off him. On Elijah’s throat was a torn, fleshy hole that shot blood out in pulses.

Elijah’s eyes were closed, and his chest barely moved. My brother was dying.

“Elijah—oh God, Elijah.” I brushed a hand through his auburn hair. “Wake up. Please!”

His eyes fluttered open. I could tell he wanted to speak.

“Shhh. Stay calm, quiet.” Tears swelled in my chest, and my breathing picked up. “Shhh, shhh, Elijah.”

More blood spurted. It ran down his neck in rivulets and sank into the soil.

“No.” My words trembled. “Don’t go—please. Hold on.” I fumbled for his hand and clasped it in mine.

This was my mission: Elijah’s death. I had known it would come to this, and yet now that it was happening, I didn’t want it to. I could never want him to die.

“Please,” I whispered.

Elijah gurgled and shook. “C-cowards die many times before their... before their deaths.” His eyes rolled back in his head. One more heartbeat of blood oozed from his neck. Then his body went limp.

The sobs came, and I wailed my mourning to the sky. I hunched over him and draped my arms around his body. Blood smeared onto my clothes, mixing with my own.

My brother—my best friend—was dead. In the end he’d given it all up. He had tackled the Hungry off me.

If he had stayed a murderous monster, then maybe his death wouldn’t hurt so much....

I shivered and hugged my arms to my stomach. The air felt frigid and frozen, biting with its chill.

His last words—oh God, they were from Shakespeare. Our shared love and childhood joy.

“Cowards die many times before their deaths,” I whispered, tugging at my sleeves. “The valiant never taste of death but once.”

Then suddenly, the cold vanished.

Elijah twitched. Then he choked, and blood sputtered from his mouth.

My stomach heaved. “Elijah!” I slid my left hand beneath his neck. His chest moved. The blood started dribbling again, and it was sticky and slick on my fingers.

“You’re alive. Oh, thank God. Can you hear me? Elijah?”

A lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “Y-es. Alive.”

His eyes whipped open. I sucked in. The irises weren’t blue—they were a bright, catlike yellow.

“Bonjour, Mamzèi,” he said. The voice was the same timbre as my brother’s, but the words were strange and lilting.

I ripped my hand away. It wasn’t Elijah. I scuttled back. “What are you?”

“I am alive. That is what I am.” He rose gracefully, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. He took a step toward me. Then another, as if testing the body’s muscles.

I dove for the shovel. Whatever had taken hold of my brother’s body, I’d be damned if I’d let it stay alive. That was Elijah’s skin—not some container for a filthy...