She Returns from War

She Returns from War - By Lee Collins

ONE



Their eyes appeared first, floating in the night like orbs of yellow flame. One minute, the Oxford countryside was cold and still beneath an early April moon; the next, canine shapes ran alongside a certain backwoods lane. Tongues black as ink lolled from phantom jaws. Though they rose to the height of small horses, their feet made no sound on the young spring grass. They might have seemed like illusions - playing at the edge of sight only to vanish when looked at directly - but for their eyes. Saucer-sized, they smoldered like pits opening into a blazing furnace, silent beacons lighting the road ahead.

Victoria Dawes pulled her scarf up over her chin. Beside her, her mother wore a look of exasperation. The motion of the carriage threw their shoulders together time and again, but the seat left the two women no room to move apart.

"Come now, my dear," came her father's voice from the driver's seat. He had given their usual driver the night off so he might enjoy the nighttime countryside with his wife and daughter. "It isn't as though we are asking you to marry a chimney sweep or stable boy. Roger is a fine young man."

"A fine young man, a fine huntsman, and heir to a fine estate," Victoria finished for him. "Fine hair, fine teeth, and fine smallclothes."

"Really, Victoria," her mother said, "no need to be crass. Your father and I simply want what's best for you. Roger Grey will take good care of you and your children."

"Assuming he could see us around that beak nose of his."

Her father glanced over his shoulder. "I hardly think a large nose is reason enough to decline a marriage offer, especially for a woman your age."

"You make it sound as though I've one foot in the grave already," Victoria said. Her scarf tickled her chin as she spoke, and she pushed it down. "I'm only just twentythree."

"And the last of your friends to be married," her mother reminded her.

Victoria folded her arms and looked away. They could say what they liked; she would not marry Roger Grey. Even if he had a proper nose, the man was still too simple by half. She didn't want her children to carry on his legacy of dull-witted comments and friendliness with hounds and hawks. Roger seemed to prefer the company of such animals to that of people, but she couldn't fathom why. Her own father's hounds held little interest for her, and although she had learned to ride at a young age, she'd never formed any special friendships with her horses. She had no pet cats or canaries. Animals were animals; dumb beasts bred to serve, not sit at table. Were she to wed Roger Grey, she would no doubt find herself breaking her fast with his favorite riding-horse each morning.

A flicker of light in the distance caught her eye. Leaning forward, she squinted into the darkness. A shadowy line of trees stood at attention across an open field, their crowns forming a jagged horizon against the night sky. The moon, just past the first quarter, flooded the field with silver-blue light. Despite the rumbling of the carriage beneath her, Victoria could still see well enough to make out an odd shape running over the grass. It looked as though it might have been a horse, but she couldn't make out a rider. The shape was also wrong, somehow, but she didn't know what else it could be. No other animal that size lived in this part of the country.

"Father, what is that?" she asked, pointing at the strange shape.

He glanced in the direction of her finger. "Just a fellow out for a ride, the same as us."

"No need to change the subject, Victoria." Her mother sat up as straight as she could. "I've half a mind to-"

The carriage swerved to one side, throwing Victoria against her mother. The older woman let out a grunt as they collided. Before they could disentangle themselves, the carriage veered again. Victoria's lungs emptied as her mother's elbow landed on her midriff. Struggling for breath, she tried to roll out from under the weight, but her mother clung to her in a panic. She was dimly aware of her father's surprised exclamations as he regained control of the horses.

After a few agonizing seconds, Victoria managed to climb out from beneath her mother and reclaim her seat. "What on earth was that?" she asked.

"I haven't a clue," her father replied. "The girls must have spooked at a fox, I suppose." He took a deep breath to steady himself.

Victoria reached down to help her mother up. Before their hands met, the team let out a chorus of frightened whinnies and broke into a gallop. Caught off guard, her father tumbled backward into the buggy, landing squarely on his wife. She cried out in pain and desperately tried to shove him off. The carriage shook and rattled as the horses picked up speed, and the motion kept knocking him off balance as he tried to gather himself. His struggles only provoked further cries from his wife, who started crying.

Climbing over her fallen parents, Victoria pulled herself into the driver's seat. The reins bounced along the floorboards, coming dangerously close to sliding out of the buggy completely. She made a grab for them and missed, nearly tumbling off her perch. Righting herself, she tried again. This time, a bump on the road shook the buggy's frame, knocking the reins into her outstretched hand. Clenching the leather strips in a white-knuckled fist, she pulled herself upright. Grunts and scraping sounds came from behind her as her parents struggled to regain their balance.

Without thinking, Victoria pulled on the reins with all her might. The heads of both horses snapped to the right. The rest of the frightened animals followed, pulling the buggy off the road and into the grass. Panicking, Victoria continued to fight with the reins, causing the buggy to swerve violently from side to side. Stealing glances ahead of them, she saw flashes of bright yellow light looming ahead in the darkness. She pulled the reins to the right again. The horses whinnied, fighting her. Looking right, she saw the reason for their terror, and a powerful shock of fear slammed into her stomach.

Beside the carriage, not three yards away, was a huge black animal. At first she thought it might have been another horse, but its gait gave it away: it was an enormous dog. Dumbstruck, she stared at it, the reins slack in her hands.

Before she could understand what she was seeing, the monster turned its head and looked at her. Eyes like tiny suns seared trails of liquid fire across her vision. Victoria jerked backward, instinctively pulling the reins to the left. The horses eagerly followed her lead, pulling the buggy headlong toward the waiting trees. The black creature slipped from view as they turned, bringing her a moment's respite. Turning her attention back to the team, she coaxed it into running at an angle toward the tree line. She could still feel those terrible eyes on her. The creature was chasing them now, she was sure of it. With any luck, she could turn the buggy in a slow circle, bringing them back to the road and a chance at escape.

Two more creatures charged out of the trees. Their eyes flashed in the shadows as they ran straight for the buggy. The terrified horses veered sharply to the left. The buggy's wheels skidded along the ground as it pulled through the turn, but it stayed upright. Victoria clung to the reins in desperation. She thought she could make out the road ahead of them. Just a few seconds and they would reach it.

"Victoria!" her father shouted from behind her. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," she called back. "Now hush!"

Victoria could feel the monsters behind them, but she forced the thought out of her mind. If she lost control now, she would kill herself and her parents. She had to focus on keeping the horses under control. In their present state, not even her father's driver would have had an easy time of it, and she had little experience with driving a buggy. Still, if she could take herself in hand and guide the animals in the right direction, they might just live through the night.

The road appeared ahead of them much sooner than she anticipated. As luck would have it, however, they were running along it at an angle. She gave the reins a short, sharp tug to the right as it passed beneath them. The horses responded, pulling the buggy out of the grass and back onto packed earth. Victoria looked to the right, expecting to see monstrous yellow eyes bearing down on them, but the field was deserted. She allowed herself a small smile of relief.

"Are you all right?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Yes, I think so. Your mother's fainted on us, I'm afraid," her father replied. She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Well done, my dear."

Victoria nodded her thanks. Ahead of them, she could see a bridge. The river it spanned was at least thirty feet across. She didn't know if the creatures chasing them could swim, but the bridge itself was narrow. If they could get across, they might be able to lose their pursuers. She clapped the reins across the team's back, but the animals needed no encouragement; the buggy thundered toward the river at a breakneck speed. Leaning forward, Victoria watched as the bridge loomed closer in the moonlight. Her fingers curled around the reins. They were going to make it.

A black shadow leaped up from the river. Fierce yellow eyes glowered at them as it landed on the road just before the bridge. Victoria slapped the reins again, urging the horses to charge through the creature. Instead, the animals panicked and veered to one side. Ahead of them, the surface of the water spread out like a vast pane of black glass. She pulled on the reins, desperate to steer the buggy away from disaster.

When they jumped the bank, Victoria found herself weightless. Horses, buggy, and passengers seemed suspended in midair, floating above the moonlit water like ghosts. She could see each white-tinted ripple and count every reflected star. The driver's seat drifted downward toward the river, but she remained aloft, sailing through the night. Looking down at her hands, she realized she had let go of the reins. Her father's voice reached her ears from a great distance. He was carrying on about something, but she couldn't make out what. Not that it mattered. She'd discovered she could fly. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head skyward and smiled, letting the cool air kiss her face.

The shock of icy water numbed her arms and legs as it closed in around her. She gasped at the impact, pulling a mouthful down into her lungs. Spasms shook her body. Her arms clawed frantically at the darkness, seeking a way out. The weight of her dress and coat pulled her downward, away from the surface and its life-giving air. She began kicking. Her shoes slipped off her feet and floated away. After a few more agonizing seconds, she felt her toes scrape against something solid, and she pushed against it with her remaining strength.

Frantic splashes filled Victoria's ears as her head broke the surface. She filled her lungs with night air and was rewarded with a violent coughing spell. Beating her arms against the water, she managed to keep herself afloat long enough to spot the closest bank. It wasn't far. She forced her legs into action and made for it.

Pulling herself up onto the riverbank, she collapsed as another coughing fit wracked her frame. Fire scorched her throat, making each breath a sweet agony. Her dress clung to her legs as she brought them up to her chest, but she barely noticed its cold, clammy touch. The world consisted of nothing beyond her aching lungs.

When the coughing fits finally subsided, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. The night was still and quiet around her. With a start, she remembered the shadowy creatures and the frantic chase, and an ocean of panic welled up inside her stomach. Victoria struggled to her feet, eyes sweeping up and down the river for the buggy or her parents. The water flowed past her, dark and placid. She wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver. Standing there, dripping wet, she suddenly felt very cold and very alone.

Upstream. If her parents were anywhere, they would be upstream. Victoria shook herself out of her stupor and began walking. It was slow going. The wet folds of her dress wrapped themselves around her legs with each step. She kicked them away as best she could. Her toes sank into the cool mud that lined the riverbank. As she walked, she kept her eyes on the river, searching for any sign of the ruined buggy.

A splash in the river behind her made her jump. Looking toward the sound, she saw a set of rings expanding outward across the surface. A fish, or maybe a frog. Not one of those dog creatures. The thought of them sent chills skittering across her body. She turned in a slow circle, watching for any telltale yellow eyes, but the fields around her were empty. Taking a deep breath, she continued the journey upstream. Her renewed fear added urgency to her steps. Every sound, real or imagined, turned her head and halted her progress. Unwelcome thoughts of the nightmare hounds kept forcing their way into her mind. She found herself imagining what their jet-black jaws would look like up close, the fetid smell of their breath, how their teeth would feel as they sank into her arm or leg.

A dark shape in the river caught her eye, and she froze.

Her breathing became shallow, soundless. Every muscle in her body tensed itself for flight if the shadow so much as twitched. Moments passed, punctuated by the thumping of her heart, but the shape didn't move. As the initial fear loosened its grip on her, she realized that she recognized the object in the water.

It was the buggy.

"Father!" she called, the shadow creatures forgotten. "Mother! Can you hear me?"

No reply came from the wreck. She began running along the bank, yelling her parents' names. Twice, her dress coiled around her legs and sent her sprawling in the mud, but she didn't stop. When she reached the point where the riverbank came closest to the buggy, she waded out into the water. The river rose to her waist, but she couldn't reach the wreck. This close, she could see the upturned rear wheels rising out of the water. The buggy had completely capsized, and there was no sign of the team. Anyone still inside would be trapped. Shivering, she called out again. Silence.

Helpless, Victoria waited, hoping for an answer or movement or any sign at all that her parents were still alive. The silence became ominous, sending waves of fear through her mind. As her panic grew, she pulled off her overcoat and tossed it behind her. Her fingers began tugging at the laces crisscrossing her back. She hesitated, wondering what a fool she would make of herself if she had to return home in only her wet smallclothes. If her parents were still alive, they would be too humiliated to show their faces in public after such a display. Any hope she had of finding a halfway-decent husband would be dashed.

She shook herself. What on earth was she thinking? Pulling the laces free, she peeled her dress away from her shoulders and down over her hips. The current played with the laces as she stepped out of it and rolled it into a lumpy ball. She tossed it toward the bank, where it landed with a soggy splash. Now free of the crippling weight, Victoria started toward the wreck.

The river swirled around her in dark eddies as she waded toward the drowned buggy. As the water rose to her shoulders, she realized she would have to swim to reach it. She'd never been a strong swimmer, and even this light current made her uneasy. Survival instinct had fueled her earlier push to shore; if the current swept her downstream, she wasn't sure she could make it to the riverbank a second time. Still, if her parents were trapped under the buggy, she had to help them.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed off with her toes and began swimming. The current picked her up immediately, pushing her away from the wreck. She fought against it, kicking upstream until she caught hold of a wheel. The buggy shifted slightly beneath her weight, but it didn't come loose. Hand over hand, she made her way toward where the opening should have been.

Swinging around to the side of the wreck, Victoria got her first good look at what remained of the upper half. The entire top had broken loose of the wheels and fallen forward. Most of the cab was submerged, anchored to the riverbed by its own weight. Victoria sucked in a breath and pulled herself along the frame, submerging her head. Keeping her eyes closed, she felt along the buggy's side. Her fingers found a metal edge, and she pulled herself toward it. The riverbed brushed up against her shoulder. The opening was barely wide enough to accommodate her arm, but she plunged it in anyway. Fingers spread out, she groped for an arm, a leg, anything that might be her mother or father.

Something bumped against her outstretched hand, and she clutched at it. Wet cloth slid between her fingers. It was an arm. She shook it, hoping to feel a twitch or flex in response. Nothing. Frantic, she began pulling it toward the opening. The arm came easily enough at first, but it stopped short before she could pull it through. No matter how she pulled, it refused to come any closer.

Her chest heaved. She needed air. A flurry of bubbles escaped her mouth as she released the arm and swam to the surface. Making a desperate grab for a wheel, she climbed on top of the ruined cab. Victoria beat on it with her fist twice, then paused to listen for a response. Nothing. She tried again. Only the quiet gurgling of the water around the submerged buggy answered her.

A fit of despair swept through her. Lifting her head, she screamed at the night sky. The echoes rolled back to her from the trees. She screamed again, pounding her fist against the metal husk that had become a coffin. The cold steel shifted beneath her as she rolled onto her back. Her third scream broke down into sobs. Warm tears trickled out from beneath her eyelids and traced new tracks of wetness across her face. If only she could have brought the horses under control. If only she'd learned how to drive and swim instead of spending her time reading those silly novels, her parents would still be alive. The knowledge that the evening drive came about as a result of her refusal to marry twisted her insides with guilt until she felt like vomiting.

She didn't know how long she lay on top of her parents' tomb. When at last the storm subsided, she shivered and lifted her head.

Yellow eyes peered at her from the riverbank.

Victoria's despair vanished beneath a white-hot flame of rage. The creature stood at the water's edge, lantern eyes fixed on her. It knew exactly what it and its kin had done to her. She pulled herself into a crouching position, waiting for the monster to leap across the water. It might kill her, too, but she refused to be easy prey.

"Come, you coward!" she called, beckoning to the shadow.

The hound made no reply. Its eyes glowed large and grotesque in its dark face. Beneath them, black jaws worked in silence. Victoria returned its gaze, hands curled into fists, ready for anything. Another shadow joined the first on the riverbank, but neither one made a move toward her.

"Filthy beasts!" She rose to her full height, balancing on the wreck. "I'm right here!"

The creatures turned their heads, their eyes looking downstream. Victoria glanced in the same direction but only saw the moonlit water. Turning back to the creatures, she beckoned to them again, but whatever they saw downriver held their attention. She yelled and waved her arms. They ignored her. After a few moments, they turned and ran into the night, vanishing into the shadows along the river.

Victoria watched them go, her defiant posture deflating. Exhaustion flooded her body, and she collapsed into a sitting position atop the wreck. Her parents were dead. Those creatures had driven their buggy into the river and drowned them. The realization left her numb, as cold and unfeeling as the river beneath her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized what a sight she must be, sitting on a ruined buggy in the middle of a river in naught but her wet underthings. It would certainly be the talk of Oxford if someone found her.

She put her hand against the cold metal, intending to push herself back on her feet. Her palm slipped, and she found herself lying on her side. A breath of wind made her shiver. She needed to get up, to go back into town for help, and she would. Just not yet.

"Hallo! Are you all right up there?"

Victoria's eyes snapped open. Where was she?

"Miss? Can you hear me?"

Maybe they were talking to her. It would be polite to answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but she could only produce a hoarse croak. Stiff with cold, her arms creaked in protest as she forced herself upright. Blinking away the haze of sleep, she looked around for the speaker.

There, on the riverbank: a shadow was holding a lantern in one hand. The yellow light sent a thrill of fear through her body, and her eyes snapped wide open. Her legs were under her in an instant, ready to fight, ready to run.

"You're awake," the shadow said. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Victoria swallowed. The monsters hadn't talked to her before. "Um..." she managed, her voice thin.

"I'm sorry?"

"There was an accident," she said.

"I can bloody well see that," the man said. "Are you all right?"

She felt along her own body, hands burning with the cold. "I think so. A bit chilly, though." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly remembering that she had left her dress on the riverbank.

"What's your name?"

"Victoria." Was that all of it? "Victoria Dawes."

"Henry's girl?" The shadow lifted its lantern higher, letting her see the outline of its face. "It's me, Edward Brown. Do you remember me?"

"I can't see you," she replied, "and anyway, my father's dead."

The lantern twitched to one side. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, he and my mother both," Victoria heard herself say the words, but she couldn't understand what they meant. "They drowned."

"Here?" The shadow named Edward pointed toward the half-sunken buggy. "Are they still inside?"

"Yes. I tried to pull them out, but I couldn't. I never was a very good swimmer, and it's so cold."

"Good heavens," Edward said. "Did this just happen?"

Victoria's forehead wrinkled. "Not too long ago. I've been here for a little while." Her voice sounded dull and leaden in her ears.

"Can you come down? You must be frozen half to death."

"I'll try." She stood up. The buggy shifted beneath her, and she nearly fell.

"For God's sake, do be careful," Edward said. "Here, let me help you." The shadow's feet splashed into the shallow water. It came on until the water rose to its waist, then held out a hand. "Climb on down, my dear. I'll help you back home."

"That would be nice," Victoria said, grabbing ahold of a wheel and lowering herself down. "I think I'd like to sit by the fire for a moment."

"You can do just that, I promise. We'll make one nice and big for you."

Victoria gasped as she lowered a leg into the water. The touch of the icy river jolted her out of her stupor. Sud denly, she could feel her parents' hands reaching out for her from inside the buggy. They needed her help, and she was just going to leave them behind.

"Oh my God! They're still in there!" She pounded on the side of the buggy and heard a knock in reply. "Did you hear that?"

"That was just the echo, love."

She stared at him. Had there been an echo before? She couldn't remember. But if there hadn't been one, her parents must really be dead. Now she was alone in the world: no parents, no husband, no siblings. Only a few family friends who certainly couldn't take her in. How would she make her way?

What strength she had left abandoned her, and her legs threatened to drop her down into the inky water. Maybe it would be better that way. She could join her parents in Heaven. The good Lord must have meant for them all to perish in the crash tonight, but somehow she had avoided that fate. It wasn't too late, though. All she had to do was drop into the river and let it carry her away. She felt halfdead from cold and damp already; the end wouldn't be long.

"Victoria," Edward's voice cut through her confusion, "take my hand. We'll see about sending someone for your parents when we get back to Oxford. Let's get you home, dear."

After a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her shaking fingers around his outstretched hand.

The lacy black veil offered little protection from the pastor's kind glances, nor could it block out the murmurings of the other mourners. Victoria could hear them whispering the same words her neighbors, friends, and own mind had been hammering into her for the past five days. If it had been proper, she would have stuffed black handkerchiefs into her ears to drown out their endless condolences and apologies. Most of them were strangers, acquaintances of her parents who came to pay their respects. Victoria suspected that some of the tears falling were not quite sincere, those shedding them secretly wishing to be elsewhere. She stole a glance over her shoulder. Near the rear of the chapel, she spied a cluster of men in expensive suits. Business associates of her father's, no doubt. Henry Dawes had had the sense to invest in electric power when it first came to England, and his business had quickly expanded into a small empire. Men such as these envied him his success even as they worked with him. Had they the choice, they would surely be toasting her father's death in their offices and studies. Still, etiquette demanded their presence in the cemetery chapel, bidding farewell to a man they had thought was beneath them.

Victoria herself felt only a great emptiness. At times, the void seemed cold and lifeless, a great dead thing lodged inside her ribs. She looked at the wooden boxes lying side by side on the bier and felt nothing. No wails tore themselves from her lungs; tears lingered in her eyes but did not fall. Had they seen her behavior, her parents surely would have found it improper. It wasn't the way a young woman grieved for her parents. They wouldn't expect her to carry on like a drunken wench in the gutter, but she ought to have the decency to weep. She could almost hear her mother's voice scolding her while her father looked on in his solemn way. Her blue eyes grew defiant behind her veil as she mouthed her rebuttal and watched their faces crease with frustration.

All at once, the hard lump in her chest became brittle as glass. Her breath caught in her throat, and she held it for a moment, afraid to breathe too loudly lest she shatter. A single tear trickled downward, tracing a line through the powder on her cheek. Clutching at the handkerchief in her hand, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the gathering storm. Even if it was proper, she wouldn't start blubbing like some infant. She was now Ms. Victoria Dawes of Oxford, heiress to her father's estate and mistress of her house. The young girl who had let her parents die because she could not save them had died in the river. A new woman had emerged from the wreck of the buggy.

"Now, let us commit the bodies of Henry and Abigail to their final resting places."

The pastor's words brought her back to her present surroundings as mourners began leaving the chapel. They would proceed to the Dawes family crypt, where the bodies of her parents would be laid to rest. Wood creaked softly as the pallbearers lifted their burdens for one last journey. Keeping her eyes lowered, Victoria followed her aunts outside.

The April air was chilly beneath grey clouds as the procession wound its way toward the crypt. Weathered headstones stood at attention to either side of them, their mossy crowns lifted in silent salute to the ones joining their ranks. Stone angels wept into crumbling hands, still grieving for men and women only they remembered. Victoria studied them with a detached fascination, wondering if angels really did weep for the passing of mortals. Were the lives of men so valued in the heavenly realms? It seemed absurd. Surely these statues, carved with such skill and care, represented nothing but the vanity of those buried beneath them.

When the procession reached the tomb, the crowd parted to make room for the pallbearers. Victoria watched them pass, uncles and cousins she didn't know, but they didn't meet her eyes. They carried her parents into the cold shadows of the mausoleum. The stone walls of the structure were milky-grey, matching the hue of the clouds overhead. Moss wormed its way along the stone in fluid shapes, but it lacked the venerable serenity of the neighboring crypts. Her father had it built when she was a young girl to house himself and his descendants, but he had been too ambitious in its size. The sons he had envisioned lying next to him in eternal repose never arrived. Victoria's only sibling, a younger sister who had died in infancy, was the sole occupant of the family crypt.

Until today.

Tradition dictated that she should wait outside with the other women while the men followed the dead for the final interment. Had it been an aunt and uncle in the coffins, she would have gladly complied, but these were her parents. It was her failing that had brought them to this place. She owed it to them to see their bodies to rest herself.

The air inside the crypt smelled musty, of stone and soil and water. Men holding lanterns had gone in ahead of the pallbearers and now stood by the corners of the waiting sarcophagi. Eerie shadows danced to the rhythm of the flickering light like fey spirits. The sound of dripping water echoed in the shadows.

Victoria drew in a sharp breath. Her vision swam as a long-forgotten fear welled up inside her. She suddenly felt as though she was trapped inside a nightmare from her childhood. In them, she would always find herself lost in a maze of dark alleyways. Rain-slick cobblestones were cold on her feet as she ran, terrified, always just a step ahead of some unseen terror. Bleary gas lamps floated in the haze around her, but their light gave no comfort. Instead, they only served to confuse her, drawing her ever deeper into the labyrinth. Sobs filled her throat, choking off her cries for help. And still she would run; she knew that stopping meant certain death.

A hand touched her shoulder. She whirled toward it, arms rising. The haze lifted from her eyes, and she saw the face of her father's brother looking down at her. Concern creased the skin around his eyes.

"Are you still with us?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Victoria felt a hot rush of blood burn her cheeks. She nodded, lowering her eyes to the dusty floor. Her hands trembled. She forced them to be still and turned back toward the lanterns. The shadows still frolicked in their mischievous dance, but they no longer hid the monsters that haunted her dreams.

The pallbearers lowered her father's coffin into the sarcophagus. Echoes filled the small space as they slid the stone lid into place. Two lions, standing on their hind legs and grasping a sword hilt between their forepaws, adorned the heavy slab. The Dawes family crest. It was supposed to be her heritage and her pride, but she'd never felt much like a lion. A fox, sometimes, when she had done something clever, but never a lion.

The crypt grew colder as the men paid their final respects and left one by one. Soon, Victoria stood alone before the beautiful stone boxes. The lantern-bearers stood in the doorway, throwing shadows and light across the relief carvings in the walls. Victoria laid a hand on each sarcophagus, feeling their chill through her thin black gloves. Letting herself return to that night and its harrowing memories, she called to mind an image of the black dogs. She willed herself to stare into their glowing eyes. Rage flowed through her like liquid fire, and she let it spread, filling every fiber of her being. Her eyes glittered like distant stars.

"Father." Her voice was dark and hard like the granite walls around her. "Mother." She drew herself to her full height. "I'm sorry I failed you. I know it can't help you now, but I vow to you that I will hunt down those beasts. I will hunt them to the ends of the earth and back, and I will kill them. I know I may not have been the daughter you wished for, but I will make you proud in this. No matter the cost, no matter the distance, I will give you justice."