“It seems to me you aren’t qualified to say who is and isn’t mad,” I said, my hoarse voice managing a touch of sarcasm.
Camellia ignored me and kept talking, her hands fisted at her sides. “Things were fine before you came. We were making things work, but you came and filled Charles’ head with lies.”
“What lies?”
Her eyes grew large in the darkness, the whites around her irises visible. “You told him I may not be safe around the baby.”
So she had overheard my conversation with Charles in his study. Charles had assured me at the time that Camellia would never hurt Hazel. “If you heard that, then surely you heard that Charles had no worries at all. He trusts you with Hazel more than anyone.”
“Not more than Catherine,” she said, her head turning bitterly towards the trees. I followed her gaze and realized I could see the top of the house from here. It was distant, but visible.
Something like relief flooded my chest, though it was mingled with doubts and apprehension.
Yes, I knew which direction to run now, but that did not change the fact that I could hardly stand as it was. My legs felt numb, my knee was injured, and I didn’t have the endurance to outrun Camellia in my current state.
Still, it was a glimmer of hope in what had otherwise been a situation dark as pitch.
“Catherine is Hazel’s mother,” I said gently. “Of course, Charles trusts her.”
Camellia turned back to me with a vengeance, her teeth bared like she was a large cat, wild and starving. “Being a mother doesn’t make you deserving. Giving birth to someone doesn’t mean you won’t hurt them.”
“Catherine has never hurt Hazel, though.”
“Hasn’t she? Hazel nearly died.”
“During childbirth,” I said with a start. “Catherine nearly died, too. It was an accident, but they both survived.”
Camellia was halfway around the bog now, her steps growing larger as she advanced on me. I could see the intention in her eyes. She’d hoped to kill me without me knowing, but my consciousness wouldn’t stop her now. She would carry out her plan to the bitter, deadly end.
“Hazel thrived at my breast,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “She first smiled at me. When she cried in the night, I could comfort her. She wants me.”
All at once, I understood everything.
“You tried to kill Catherine.”
Catherine hadn’t seen who’d struck her in the back of the head, and she’d been found half in a bog. Had she crawled out just as I had, but without the energy to make it all the way?
Camellia didn’t try to hide her smile. She shrugged. “I nearly did. I would have if those Wilds sisters hadn’t found her. Charles wanted to come and look for her, but I assured him she would be back soon. I waited long enough that she should have slipped into the water and drowned. When we did finally go looking, it would appear to be a horrible accident. Something no one could have stopped. But then, we heard the shouts of those elderly witches next door. How two old women could carry a grown woman’s body, I’ll never know.”
Her eyes were glazed, distant as she considered the failings of her first plan. Then, she smiled and turned back to me. “They saved your sister, but no one is coming to save you.”
I took another step backward and my back hit a tree. There was nowhere else to go unless I wanted to start running through the trees, and I still didn’t feel capable of that. Feeling was slowly leaking back into my feet, but my joints were stiff with chill and my skirt and blouse were crisp and partially frozen around me. It wouldn’t take more than a few steps for Camellia to outpace me.
“Think of your own little Grace.” I said the words before I could consider their impact, but when I saw Camellia’s steps slow, I kept going. “And your husband. What would they think of this, Camellia? What would they say about what you are doing?”
She blinked, dazed like I’d hit her over the head, and then shook her head. “They aren’t here.”
“Yes, they are,” I insisted, pointing to her. “They are with you all the time. You carry them in your heart, and I know they wouldn’t want you to hurt anyone. Because hurting me won’t change anything. It won’t change the fact that Grace is gone. Killing me won’t make Hazel your daughter.”
Pain contorted Camellia’s face into a mask I didn’t recognize, and then, before I could think, she was charging at me, hands extended into claws.
My hesitation cost me precious seconds, but I pushed away from the tree and fumbled towards the trail head.
For a moment, I wondered whether I could make it. The path was clear, and if I kept my head and continued moving, maybe I could make it back to the house. I could call out and get someone’s attention, and they could save me. It wouldn’t have to end this way.
Then, Camellia’s hands clamped down on my shoulder.
Her weight crashed into my back, and I screamed, throwing my head back, hurling the sound as far as I could before we slammed into the ground and the breath was knocked from my lungs.
I rolled to one side, tossing Camellia off of me long enough to inhale, but then her weight slammed into me again, shoving my face into the dirt.
I kicked my limbs trying to connect with her, but it felt like fighting a ghost. No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to get a hold on her. But during my fighting, I felt a sharp point in my thigh. That was when I remembered the blade strapped to my leg.
I didn’t know how it hadn’t fallen off while I was in the water, but it had stayed in place, and
