Dime Store Magic

Chapter 47

MOVING BEHIND THE TREES, I CIRCLED THE HOUSE. THE side door stood open. I scampered across the yard and in the open door.

When I stepped into the house, the first thing I saw was the necromancer Shaw's body. She lay crumpled at the foot of a narrow set of stairs. I checked each way before stepping through the door. Overhead I heard one, maybe two, steps of footsteps. I crept to Shaw's body. From the angle of her head, I guessed she'd fallen down the stairs and broken her neck.

What had happened here? It hadn't been more than an hour or so since Friesen had loaded me into the van. Now Shaw was dead, Nast was standing around outside, and Sandford was searching, with great reluctance, for Savannah. From what Sandford said, I gathered Savannah was at the root of all this. But how? Whatever the reason, I needed to find her before anyone else did.

As I moved past Shaw, the look on her face made me stop in my tracks. Her eyes were open so wide the whites showed all around the irises. Her lips were curled back over her teeth. And the expression… stark terror. Perhaps at the moment of her dying, an image flashed through her mind, that of some other necromancer sucking her soul from eternity and plunking it back into her broken corpse. Fitting, really.

I stepped over her and began ascending the stairs. They were enclosed on both sides and the passage was so narrow it was a wonder Shaw had fallen down them at all, and not become wedged in halfway. These must have been back steps, a secondary set probably leading from behind the kitchen.

The stairs exited through an open door on the second floor. When I had climbed high enough to see past the door, I paused for a better look. The door was at the end of the upstairs hallway. At the opposite end were the main stairs, the ones I'd been using when I was here. Of the six bedroom doors, one was wide open, two were partially open, and the other three were closed.

"Savannah?" someone called.

I jumped, then recognized the voice. Sandford.

"Savannah… come on, sweetie. No one's going to hurt you. You can come on out now. Your dad's not mad."

Oh, yeah, like that was a big concern. How old did he think Savannah was? Five? Hiding in a corner, cowering in fear of a spanking?

I listened for any return noise, but none came. Except for Sandford's voice and the creak of his shoes, the house was silent.

As I eased into the hall, something rustled overhead. Sandford's shoes squeaked as he stopped, as if pausing to listen. Footsteps sounded above me. I closed my eyes to follow them, then shook my head. They were too heavy to be Savannah. I guessed Anton or one of the witches was searching the attic for Savannah.

Sandford's shadow advanced out an open doorway near the end of the hall. I ducked into the other open room and slid behind the door while he passed. Another door opened, then shut. Footsteps receded.

I glanced around, finding myself in the bedroom I'd seen Greta and Olivia using. The dresser top was bare, the closet open and empty except for a sweater that had fallen on the floor and been forgotten. It looked as if the two witches had left in a hurry. Had they fled when they realized Nast suspected their motives in killing the boy? Or had something else scared them off?

I looked around again, then returned to the hall and pulled the bedroom door half shut behind me, as it had been when I found it.

Hands grabbed me, one going over my mouth. Then an exclamation of disgust and the hand shoved me aside.

"You don't give up, do you?" Sandford said. "I'm almost impressed."

"What happened?" I asked. "What's Savannah done?"

Sandford only snorted. He turned away and headed for the next closed door.

"Hey," I said, jogging after him. "Tell me what's going on. I can help."

"I don't need a witch's help. Just stay out of my way."

He flicked his fingers, sending me flying into the far wall. As his hand closed on the door handle, I cast a lock spell.

"Either I help you or I hinder you," I said, getting to my feet. "Now which-"

The door flew open. For a second, I thought he'd broken the lock spell. Then a man walked through, stepping off the bottom riser of the attic stairs.

"Anton," Sandford said. "You're okay. Good."

Anton turned, fixing Sandford with bright green eyes, a brighter green than I remembered.

"Did you call me?" he asked. His voice was nothing short of beautiful, a melodious tenor that reverberated through the hall.

Sandford frowned, as if confused by the voice, and shook his head sharply. "I'm guessing you haven't found the girl, have you? Come on, then. We'll head downstairs."

"I asked you a question, sorcerer," Anton said, stepping eye-to-eye with Sandford. "Did you call me?"

"No, but I can use you now. We'll-"

Anton turned to face me. In the dim light, his skin seemed to give off a glow of its own.

"Ignore her," Sandford said. "We need-"

"Did you call me, witch?"

As Anton stepped toward me, I instinctively backed up, hitting the wall. His hand reached out, as if for my throat, but instead cupped my chin and tilted my face up to his. At the touch of his hand, I jumped. The skin was hot.

"Did you summon me?'

Even if I knew how to answer, his hand held my jaw too tightly to speak. His grip was iron-hard, strong but not painful. His eyes searched mine, as if looking for his answer there.

"The girl?" he murmured. "A mistake. Yes, clearly a mistake. A forgivable one, I suppose. This time."

I knew then, instinctively, what had taken control of Anton's body. A demon, a high-ranking one, the kind that should never-and usually could never-be summoned.

I dropped my gaze. The demon loosened his grip on my chin and stroked my cheek with his forefinger.

"Smart witch," he murmured. "Don't worry. It was a mistake."

Behind us, Sandford's lips moved in an incantation. Though no sound reached my ears, the demon swung around, letting me go and turning on Sandford.

"What are you doing?" the demon said.

Sandford's lips kept moving, but he shrunk back as the demon bore down on him.

"What do you think I am?" the demon thundered, bringing his face to Sandford's. "You dare try to send me back? With a spell to dispel some mewling spirit?"

Sandford's voice rose, words spilling from his mouth.

"Show some respect, sorcerer!"

The demon grabbed Sandford by the shoulders. Sandford squeezed his eyes tight and kept casting.

"Fool! Disrespectful fool!"

With a roar, the demon pulled back his hand and slammed it into Sandford's chest. Slammed it into his chest, fingers disappearing inside Sandford's torso. The muscles on the demon's arm tightened, as if squeezing. Sandford's mouth opened in a silent scream. The demon withdrew his hand, bloodless, and let Sandford's body fall to the floor. Then he turned to me.

A protective spell flew to my lips, but I swallowed it back and forced myself to stand up straight, meeting his gaze, firm but not defiant.

He strode back to me and his hand cupped my chin again, lifting my face to his. His eyes searched mine. I fought the urge to look away. For a long minute, he just stared at me… into me. Then his lips curved in a smile and he released my chin.

He stood there, watching me for a moment, then turned and headed down the hall. After a few steps, he lifted his hands and Anton's body dropped to the floor. A sharp wind, as hot as a furnace blast, encircled me, then was gone.

I wrapped my arms around me, shaking despite the heat. Looking down at Sandford, I saw his shirt was neither torn nor bloodied, as if I'd only imagined what I'd seen. Shivering, I stepped over his lifeless body.

Anton's corpse lay several feet away, also blocking the hall. He was on his stomach, face turned toward the wall, eyes closed. As I lifted my foot to step over him, his body convulsed. I jerked back, stumbling into Sandford. Anton's body shook and twisted, bucking off the floor. Then it went still.

I fought to control my racing heart, then lifted my foot slowly. Dime-store magic, I told myself. Yet that mantra no longer worked, no longer held true. There were things here that could hurt me, things my brain could barely fathom.

As my foot passed over Anton's head, his eyes opened and I fell back with a shriek. Anton's head rose and jerked from side to side. Then it turned nearly full around, bones snapping. His eyes met mine. The bright green irises were gone, replaced by dull yellowish disks with huge pupils. Those reptilian eyes fixed on mine, wide and unblinking. The mouth opened and a stream of high-pitched gibberish flew out. Then the thing that had been Anton rose up onto its fingertips and toes, lifting itself just inches from the floor and skittered into the next open room. From within the room came more gibbering, then the scratching of nails moving fast against the wooden floor.

I dove past the open door and ran for the front stairs, taking them two at a time. Halfway down, the step beneath me split in two. I stumbled and grabbed the railing. The next step cracked, then the next and the next, pieces dropping into the empty hole below. I raced back up the stairs, hearing the steps crackle and splinter in my wake.

I dashed for the back stairs, gaze trained on the doorway ahead. Something hissed in my path and I stopped short. Anton-or what had been Anton-was now back in the hall, crouched over Sandford's corpse. The creature hissed and snuffled at my approach, but kept its face against Sandford's torso, as if sniffing it.

I looked back at the front steps, now a twelve-foot sheer drop. Then I glanced at the creature. It still hadn't lifted its head, didn't even seem to know I was there. If I could just step over-oh, God, you must be kidding! I bit back my horror and steeled myself. A short run, a jump, and I'd be at the back stairs. I just couldn't think about what I was jumping over.

As I prepared to sprint, I changed my mind. I'd flunked track-and-field in elementary school, being unable to clear even the lowest hurdle. If I ran and jumped, I risked kicking the creature and pissing it off. Instead I tiptoed across the hall, then pressed myself against the wall and began slowly sidestepping toward Sandford's body. His arm was stretched over his head. Carefully I stepped over it, then continued inching sideways, past his head and along his upper chest. The creature was still crouched over Sandford's stomach, with its feet braced against the wall.

I lifted my foot to step over. Its head shot up and twisted full around, yellow eyes meeting mine. Strings of Sandford's flesh hung from its mouth and teeth. It hissed, spraying me with gore. I screamed then, screamed as loud as I could and wheeled, instinctively heading back to the front steps. I only got as far as Sandford's outstretched arm, tripped over it, and sailed to the floor. Something moved across my legs and I reared up, kicking and screaming. I couldn't stop screaming. Even knowing I was wasting energy-and possibly attracting more horrors-I couldn't stop.

The thing that had been Anton squirmed over me, pinning me to the floor. As hard as I punched, I couldn't even make it flinch. It moved up my chest until its face was over mine, dribbling bits of bloodied flesh onto my mouth and cheeks.

I shut my mouth then. Shut it fast. In my head, though, I was still screaming, unable to focus or think, seeing only those yellow eyes boring into mine. The thing opened its mouth and gibbered, a high pitched stream of noise that stabbed through my skull.

It lowered its face to mine. I squeezed my hands between its shoulders and mine, and pushed with everything I had. It bared its teeth and hissed louder, spraying me with saliva and blood, but I kept pushing and finally managed to wriggle from under it.

I scrambled to my feet and kicked it in the head. It shrieked and gibbered. I turned to run, but a woman blocked my path. I recognized her as the shaman cook.

"Look out!" I shouted. "Run!"

She only bent and waved her hands at the creature, as if shooing a cat. It hissed and snarled. As I glanced back at the thing, it lifted itself onto its fingers and toes and skittered through another open door.

"Oh, God, thank you," I said. "Now let's get-"

The woman grabbed my arm as I turned to run for the back steps.

"He was here," she said.

"Yes, a lot of things are here. Now let's-"

The woman stepped in front of me, blocking my path again. I looked her full in the face for the first time. Her eyes were white-pure white, devoid of irises and pupils. I wheeled to run the other way, but she grabbed my arm with a viselike grip and pulled me to her.

"He was here," she said, her voice a breathless whisper. "I can smell him. Can you smell him?"

I struggled to get free. She didn't even seem to notice my efforts. She licked her lips.

"Yes, yes, I smell him. One of the masters. Here. Here!"

She moved her face down to mine, nostrils flaring.

"I smell him on you." Her voice and body quivered with excitement. "He spoke to you. He touched you. Oh, you have been blessed! Blessed!"

Her tongue shot out and licked my cheek. I yelped and dove past her. She grabbed for me, but I kept running.

I tore down the hall and back steps, vaulting over Sandford, then Shaw without so much as a stumble. At the bottom of the stairs, I didn't pause to look around. I dove through the first open door and slammed it behind me, then leaned against it, gulping air. I was shaking so badly the door itself quavered under me. Then I realized it wasn't me making the door shake. The whole house was quaking.

Beneath my feet, the floor rattled and groaned. I looked around wildly. The floorboards buckled, then gave way, splinters spraying upward as a wave of spirits flew through, formless rays of light, like the ones in the cemetery. The force of them hurled me into the air. As I rocketed across the room, a huge gaping maw appeared before me. Before I had time to scream, I sailed through the apparition and hit the floor.

All around me, spirits jetted into the air, moving so fast that I could feel their passing. The very fabric of the house moaned and shifted, threatening to blow apart. I fought to move, but the force of the passing spirits was like a gale-force wind, holding me still and snatching the breath from my lungs.

It stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The spirits had broken through the ceiling and were gone.

I took a minute to breathe, just breathe, then looked around. Between me and the door, the floor was gone, leaving a gaping hole into the basement. I glanced at the window, but it was barely eighteen inches square. My hips definitely weren't less than eighteen inches, round or square.

After a few more deep breaths, I approached the hole in the floor. Then, from below, I caught a sound that made my heart leap. Savannah's voice. She was in the basement, chanting an incantation.

I dropped to my knees, grabbed the edge of the hole, and leaned into it.

"Savannah?" I called. "It's me, hon. It's Paige."

She continued chanting, her voice a distant whisper. I cleared my throat.

"Savannah?" I said, louder. "Can you-"

The house rocked suddenly, like a boat cut from its moorings. I flew, face-first, through the hole and somersaulted, landing hard on the dirt floor beneath. For a moment, I couldn't move. The commands wouldn't travel from my brain to my muscles. Panic washed through me. Then as if in a delayed reaction, all my limbs convulsed, throwing me awkwardly into a sprawl. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain that slammed through me.

From somewhere beyond came Savannah's faint voice. I looked around, seeing I was in an empty cold-cellar. I moved to the only door and opened it. Savannah's voice became clear. I caught a few words of Greek, enough to tell me, if I hadn't already guessed, that she was conjuring. Conjuring what, though, I couldn't tell. I hurried toward her before I found out.