A New Estate - Crimson Peak

Chapter Forty Seven

The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, shocking me with just how much time had passed between initially leaving my bed and that exact moment.

The low light and bitter chill made the path we had to tread considerably more solemn, fittingly feeling like we were at the end of a funeral procession.

Time felt as thought it had stopped as we walked, the muddy path leading away from Allerdale Hall continuing on forever, the men in the distance never appearing to get any closer no matter how long we walked.

My steps were staggered and my energy was barely there, if I didn't force myself forward then I surely would have collapsed to the floor.

Truthfully, if I weren't for the hand still tightly grasping my own, I'd likely have stopped with the intention to gain energy, only to never continue walking that path.

Occasionally, I would feel a light tug on my arm, a silent encouragement to march on.

My other arm throbbed and my head continued to pound but still we carried on, for the others, for retribution, for Nathaniel.

From the distance came yells as the others called to one another, their words undecipherable but sounding rushed and panicked.

As we neared, the yelling mixed with the crackles of the fire they had lit inside a hastily dug pit and smoke rose into the sky, darkening what the sun was trying to illuminate.

"This does not seem good," Thomas said in a whisper.

I looked to him from the corner of my eye as his grip on my hand tightened significantly.

"I dread to ask," I said just as quietly.

The closer we got, the clearer the yelling became and the more suffocating the smell of the smoke was, burning my eyes, nose, throat and lungs.

The smoke rose high into the sky but somehow, it looked unnatural, instead of billowing away in the wind it swirled like a thick, blackened tornado above the pit.

"Where did she go?"

That sounded like Ben, his usually calm resolve broken for the first time since I had known him.

"I am uncertain, sir," was Jonathan's shaky reply.

"We burned the bitch," George said, looking around the empty landscape, "why ain't she dead?"

"Can you kill that which is already dead?" Alexander asked with a nervous crack in his voice.

"This is no time to be getting philosophical, Alex," Ben frowned.

All relief that I had felt about hearing their voices drained away in an instance when their words became clear.

Now I knew unequivocally that the thickness of the smoke and how it moved so unnaturally was all due to Lucille's influence.

Luckily, the smoke wasn't creating a blinding fog and didn't affect vision beyond irritating the eyes, so it was easy to make them out as we got close enough to visually understand what was happening.

They were all stood defensively in a circle a couple of feet from the edge the pit, some emptyhanded and some holding whatever tool they had been using at the time like a makeshift weapon.

Everyone was looking around them in a panic, faces either set in determination or fear as they watched the swirling smoke.

"I thought you said this would work," Hille said, shooting an accusatory look to Jonathan.

"Well, salting and burning always worked in the stories," he replied, flinching at a particularly loud crackle from the flames, "even Mam understood that."