Page 43 of Grave Expectations
He struck out. Long fingers circled my throat and squeezed. "Shut up!"
"Charlie!" Gus's shout was almost drowned out by the blood thudding between my ears.
I couldn't utter a sound. Not even a squeak. It felt like everything in my throat was closing under the pressure from Drinkwater's fingers. He was much stronger in death than life, and fearless too. Besides, he'd already killed once…why not again?
I thrashed at him, tried to shove him off and kick him, and when that failed, I scrabbled at his fingers, scratching and digging into his rotting flesh with my nails. I struck bone.
"Reggie! Stop!"
Drinkwater didn't stop. My lungs screamed for air. It felt like a ton of bricks pressed on my chest. Silent tears streaked from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks.
A gunshot deafened me. Drinkwater's body jerked, and his fingers loosened.
"I'm already dead. Foolish woman," he added with a mutter that could be barely heard over Gus's shouts and bangs against the closed door.
Drinkwater's weaker grip allowed me to draw in priceless air. I wasn't far enough away to speak all the words necessary to send him back, however. I needed a few feet between us at least or he'd catch me. I gasped in a few strong breaths then smashed my fist into his face. His head snapped back. He couldn't feel pain so stomping on his toe wouldn't do anything, nor would kneeing him in the nether regions. I had to use brute force to send him off balance. Unfortunately, with my size and his superior strength, brute force wasn't something I possessed.
Nevertheless, I threw myself at him, swinging my fists to distract him with my punches. It worked. He stumbled and swayed backward. Unfortunately, he also caught me and used me as an anchor.
"Damned girl." Ignoring my fists and kicks, his fingers closed around my throat again.
"Reggie, please! You can't kill her. She's done nothing wrong!"
"You've been a good wife to bring me back, my dear. Now don't spoil it with your foolish sympathies. Think of what I can achieve! I must finish my work. The girl's life is unimportant when you consider the greater good."
She nodded numbly, like a puppet on a string. I tried to speak, to implore her help, but no sound came out of my mouth, and she simply stood there, her stunned gaze on my face as she watched me die.
Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. I felt my life slipping away with every slowing pound of my heart. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I heard Gus's shouts and thumps, but he seemed so far away.
Another voice joined his, high pitched and feminine. I didn't recognize it, nor could I see who'd arrived.
Suddenly Drinkwater's hands were ripped from me. I fell to my knees and clasped my throat. I sucked in sweet, sweet air. Noise surrounded me—shouts from a number of different sources, and the slap of skin against skin, and the snap of…bones?
Mrs. Drinkwater knelt near me and peered into my face. She was shaking. "If you want to live, you have to get away. Now. Your friend is gallant but she is merely a woman."
I glanced up to see a woman dressed in a crimson and peacock blue dress fighting Drinkwater. She was smaller than him and her skirts hindered her kicks, but she was nimbler and the better fighter. Her punches struck true whereas his were wild and had little effect when they connected. I didn't need to see the pock marked face to know this woman was dead. Her strength alone was indication enough.
It took a moment for my addled, air-starved brain to put all the pieces together. The dead woman must beGordon.
She—he—thumped Drinkwater, over and over, with well-timed punches. There was nothing feminine about her movements, from the way she balanced herself with her feet apart, to the way she disregarded her breasts as she slammed into Drinkwater, driving him into the wall.
I got to my feet, eyeing Mrs. Drinkwater carefully, but she made no move to raise the pistol. She looked defeated, numb, and somewhat lost. The competent woman who'd presented herself at Lichfield Towers was gone.
"She's dead too?" she asked me in a small voice.
I nodded. "Release Gus." I scrambled far away from the two fighters, just as Gordon slammed into the wall.
Drinkwater hadn't touched him. Gordon hit the wall again and again, like a ragdoll thrown at full force. He was at the mercy of Drinkwater's powers. And so was I.
Drinkwater turned to me.
Just as I was at the mercy of his magic, he was at the mercy of mine.
"Return to your afterlife, Reginald Drinkwater." I spoke the words in a rush and hoped it was fast enough. "I release you."
He stumbled to his knees. His bloodless lips pulled back in a snarl. "No! No, I'm not finished!" His body slumped forward, smashing his face against the floor. The white mist drifted out and up toward the ceiling. He hovered a moment, in which he growled his fury at me, before disappearing altogether.
Gordon slumped against the wall. If he'd been alive, he would be drawing in great gasps of air, but he didn't need to breathe. He pushed his hair off his face and smiled. Most of the body's teeth were missing and those that were not were yellow.
