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“Hello, darlings,” she hisses. “Time for the sacrifice.”
The others begin to break free—a fist here, a hoof there. Their whispers tumble into a spine-chilling chorus: “It is time for the sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice…”
The room brightens till my eyes ache. Inside the lamps the flames expand. They press against the glass and lick the walls. With a great roar, the lamps explode, sending a shower of glass raining down on us. The girls awaken with screams. The naked flames flicker angrily along the walls, making us seem like apparitions in a magic-lantern show. But what I see coming off the column is no illusion. The creatures are no longer imprisoned there. They take shape in the room, hissing and laughing.
“Our sacrifice…”
“Mrs. Nightwing!” two small girls scream as a satyr reaches for them, narrowly missing.
“Run! Run to me!” Nightwing shouts over the din, and the girls make haste for her.
“Bloody ’ell!” Fowlson says in awe as a hideous winged beast swoops about the room.
“Hugo! The children!” Miss McCleethy barks, and immediately, Fowlson grabs the two girls nearest him and shoves them toward the great room’s massive doors and away from the column. Kartik clutches my hand and pulls me away just as the nymph makes a grab for me. I reach for the fireplace poker and use it as a sword to fend her off. Brigid prays her rosary loudly as she pushes the younger girls out into the relative safety of the hall.
“Gemma! Come on!” Felicity and Ann beckon from the hall. Kartik and I have the expanse of the room to travel. Kartik has his knife at the ready, and I’ve got the fireplace poker.
“Gemma, your right!” he shouts.
I turn to my left, and the winged beast clutches at my hair with its claws.
“Ahhh,” I screech. Turning quickly, I jab it with the poker. Injured, it pulls back, and Kartik drags me toward the doors, which we shut behind us with the full weight of our bodies. Ann grabs an umbrella from a stand and shoves it through the handles. I place the poker through the other side.
“I…said…your right,” Kartik pants.
“Mary, Mother of God,” Brigid mumbles. Several of the little ones cling to her skirts. They cry and whimper, say they don’t like this game anymore.
“There, there,” Brigid says, trying to give comfort where there is none.
Cecily, Martha, and Elizabeth cower together, their screams uniting into one long howl.
“Gemma! Use your magic! Gift us to fight them!” Felicity pleads.
“No!” Mother Elena yells. “She mustn’t. It cannot be trusted now. There is no balance to the dark. No balance.” She pricks her finger and uses her blood to mark the door. “It will not hold long but it will give us time.”
“What do we do now?” Ann asks.
Kartik answers. “We stay together and we stay alive.”
The hall is dark. Every lamp has been extinguished. Mrs. Nightwing and Miss McCleethy light two lanterns. They cast long shadows that dance devilishly on the walls.
“The chapel. We should be safe there,” Mrs. Nightwing says, casting an uncertain glance toward the doors. I’ve never heard her so afraid.
“We shouldn’t go out there,” Kartik says. “That’s what they want. They could be waiting.”
The girls tremble and whimper, huddling together for protection. “What is happening?” Cecily asks through tears.
Mrs. Nightwing responds in the voice that tells us we should wear our coats and eat our turnips. “It is part of our pixies game,” she says.
“I don’t wish to play anymore,” Elizabeth cries.
“There, there. You must be a brave girl. It’s only a game and whoever proves bravest shall have a prize,” our headmistress says. Mrs. Nightwing isn’t a good liar, but sometimes a bad lie is better than having nothing at all to hold. The frightened girls want to believe her. I can see it in their quick nods.
The creatures inside the great room begin to break through the doors, and the girls scream anew. Sharp teeth show themselves in the wood; they get to work, biting a section into splinters.
“We can’t stay here with those things,” I say to Kartik and Nightwing.
“Follow me to the chapel, girls!” Miss McCleethy says, taking the lead.
