Ravenous

Chapter 28

The Flanders house was no longer dead. Holly stood at the gate as she had days before, her hand on the gatepost, Alessandro's coat brushing against her side. The house glowered from under its gables, its porch wrapped around like folded arms. That was the same.

But not everything was. A streamer of crime-scene tape dangled from the pear tree. The lawn was churned to mud where dozens of heavy boots had tromped to and fro. And her fantasies about Alessandro had become real. Be careful what you wish for.

Venom prickled through her veins, a low, constant urge. She was hungry for his touch. Famished. Being near him was barely enough to control the ache. Sheer stubbornness was the only thing forcing Holly to concentrate. That and wariness of the house.

There were no whispers, no voices, but she could feel its dislike. No, it was no longer dead. Something—someone—had revived it.

The flare of orange light from the upstairs windows was the first clue.

The terrified scream and sound of splintering wood was the next.

Alessandro bounded over the gate, drawing his sword as he ran. Holly followed on his heels, leaping up the porch steps in two bounds.

"Door's locked!" said Alessandro.

"Stand back," Holly said.

Now that she knew energy lay beneath the house, it was easy to tap into it with her newly unblocked power. Just a drop. Just a quick snatch and twist with the spell, and… the door blew off its hinges, startling Alessandro into a quick flight backward.

Okay, save that one for special occasions.

He threw her a wide-eyed look as he sprang through the smoking hole in the wall. Holly followed a fraction slower, opening her senses, scanning the house's consciousness. The blast had hurt it, driving its sense of self deep into the foundations. When it recovered, its fury would be profound.

A faint voice drifted into her mind, the barest rustle from the stony, crumbling foundations. You again?

You don't have the strength of a demon helping you this time, Demolition Sale.

No, the house replied. It sounded morose. This one doesn't share power.

This one? Holly wondered with alarm.

Alessandro was already mounting the stairs, sword in hand. The orange light from above was swelling, the glow painting a stark shadow of the staircase on the wall. There, the light was yet brighter, sliding off the length of Alessandro's blade and turning his hair to a corona of gold.

She remembered all too strongly the last time they had gone up these steps. They had found Ben's backpack just there. Over there was the room where the black slime had nearly killed her. The drop cloth still sat on the landing, except now every crease and fold was picked out in that oily orange glow.

The light came from one of the small back bedrooms, pulsing like a satanic disco. On the floor lay the remains of something that looked like melting tomato aspic.

"Oh, Goddess," Holly gasped, covering her nose. The smell made her tear up. "Was that what screamed?"

"A changeling," Alessandro muttered, lifting his sword and inching down the hall in a smooth, deadly glide. "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate this house?"

Nausea sucked at Holly's gut as she stepped around the mess.

The bedroom doorway was narrow. Alessandro's bulk filled it, blocking Holly's view. He slipped sideways to get sword and shoulders past the jamb. Holly followed. She had just enough time to see that the light came from the corner of the room before brightness blinded her, shrouding the features of the man standing in front of the light. The man opening the portal.

Like Alessandro, he carried a broadsword.

"Holly, get back!"

Pure instinct made her drop and roll out of the way as the man swung his sword in a scything arc. Holly smacked into the corner of the door, bouncing the tender part of her elbow off the door's sharp edge. Frantic tingling numbed her hand, leaving her to make a three-limbed crawl for the safety of the hallway.

A clash of steel raised the hair on Holly's arms. That was the sound of invasion, of brute strength conquering without cause or pity. It was the sound of final death.

She scrambled into an empty bedroom.

The floor vibrated with the weight of the opponents as they pounced and slid on the gritty hardwood. Holly crouched, peering around the door frame of her bedroom toward the fight. She heard a whistling slice and a thunk as one of the swords crashed into the woodwork, splintering it to pieces. That's what we heard from outside.

She could see them, or a sliver of them, as they moved back and forth in front of the bedroom doorway. This was a two-handed, slashing fight. No points for elegance. Brute male force. Bunching muscles. Snarling teeth.

The other man was as big as Alessandro, bare-armed and tattooed with intricate blue spirals. Black hair hung to his hips in one long braid, swinging like a serpent as he moved. He wore a bronze breastplate over rags of scarlet silk, his skin haggard and his eyes pits of madness. He was shouting in a language she didn't know, Who is this guy?

The swords connected again with a crash and a hiss of scraping metal. Reflexively Holly fell back, covering her ears against the noise. She had been able to fight during the skirmish in the cemetery, but this was far trickier. How do I get a clear shot? They're too close together.

Holly nearly had her chance when their attacker stumbled backward out of the bedroom, one massive hand clutching what looked like a huge tome. But as he slammed into the wall, Alessandro was on him, sword raised for a killing stroke.

Alessandro was a beat too late.

His opponent rebounded into a somersault, landing outside the path of the blade. As soon as his feet touched the floor, he sprang into a run, charging for the stairs. Holly ducked out of the way, feeling the rush of air as he raced past.

Alessandro slid to a halt beside her. "I have to catch him. He said he's a Castle guardsman."

"Is that what he was saying?"

"Yes, and he has the book."

"The Book of Lies?"

Alessandro looked startled that she knew the name of it. "Yes. Call Perry; he's minutes away. Get him to escort you to Omara."

"No!" The venom in her system erupted, making her frantic that he was leaving her side. "Don't do this! Don't go!" She covered her face with her hands, mortified.

He said nothing.

"I'm sorry." She looked up. "Venom talking. Of course you have to."

He looked crushed, but at the same time impatient. "Go outside and wait. Stay out of sight. You've got your magic. You'll be safe, but stay out of there." He pointed to the bedroom. "Get away from the portal."

With that Alessandro rushed toward the stairway. Holly caught her breath as he leaped, spread his arms, and sailed over the banister rail, his long coat floating out behind him. He hung in midair for the barest second. Then he was gone, swooping down the stairwell.

Emotions muddy with frustration, Holly stared at the spot where Alessandro had hovered a moment before plunging after his quarry. They had found the book. That was great, but now she was alone.

She could feel the venom itching along her nerves with doubled intensity. It was so much easier to cope with when Alessandro was nearby. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, doing her best to pretend the gnawing sensation was happening to somebody else.

Her call to Perry went to voice mail. She left a message. The cell reception was bad, probably the fault of the portal.

Alessandro had said to leave the house. He had ordered her to go. Her feet turned, driven by his command—but being told not to do something was the biggest incentive to do it. Automatically she looked at the forbidden bedroom. I want to see the portal.

Now that the guardsman had gone, there was only a trickle of orange light. The spell had not been complete, and now it was collapsing. Watching that might teach her something useful, like how to close a portal herself.

But Alessandro's command had been clear, and she bore his mark. Her feet began to take her toward the stairs. The compulsion felt like a sticky web dragging her forward.

Get off me!

She tried to yank herself free of the clinging energy, but it stuck fast, winding her tighter in its hold. Anger, frantic and hot, shredded her focus, miring her deeper in the web.

Get. Off. Me. She was caught tighter than ever.

So she froze, giving the trap no more energy. She panted, short, sharp gulps, stilling her wheeling brain. I can't be like this. I can't. I can't.

Rage. Despair. It was all useless. Instead she found the ghost of her will, the flickering shadow the mark had left behind. I'm strong enough. Of course I am. I rode the ley lines. I blew off the door.

Disobedience was harder.

Never mind. With the pool of energy under this house, I can still use my magic.

Forming the image of a knife in her mind, she reached down beneath the house, accessing the wild earth energy. It roiled under her touch, brazen with vitality. It was the stuff of nature, the soul of the ground beneath her. Riotous. Feral. Untamed. Free.

She poured power into her will, shaping it, refining it. She imagined the silver-bladed knife on her dresser at home, one she had reclaimed from the box under her bed. She was through hiding her tools, through bowing to the will of other people, even those she loved.

Let the winds of the East give me wings.

Let the fires of the South give me passion.

Let the seas of the West give me life.

Let the stones of the North give me strength.

Goddess and God, let this prayer set me free.

The short, sharp blade was bright as starlight. The pleasure of its familiar form, worn to the shape of her hand, restored a sense of balance to her mind.

She knew this knife. She knew how to use it. It was hers.

A new equilibrium hushed the clamor of the venom. Stilled the cloying pull of the mark.

The knife was straight.

Graceful.

Honed sharp and true.

In her mind Holly took it in her hand and used that knife, her will, to cut herself free. The web of the mark fell limply into nothing, dissolving to pale light before it smeared to a wisp.

Oh, Goddess. Stomach unwinding, shoulders easing, Holly drew her first deep breath since Mac had shown up on her porch. Tears surprised her aching eyelids, and she trembled with grief and release. Now she could move where she wanted to go. Her will was her own.

She slumped against the wall, trembling with relief. Thank you.

Time to act. Slowly Holly entered the bedroom, trying to look everywhere at once. All that was left of the portal was a swirling, pumpkin-hued glob about the size of a manhole cover. It drooled ectoplasm down the wall with the enthusiasm of a Newfoundland dog. The room smelled like burned toast.

She heard the scrape of a shoe behind her.

Holly whirled, searching the shadows. In the back of her mind the house chuckled. Nerves and irritation jittered down Holly's spine. Cursing the failing light, she let her gaze flit from corner to corner.

"Hello, Holly."

The words, the voice, were too familiar. She spun around, terror jamming in her chest. She'd heard those words too often, whispered sweetly in the dark.

Ben in the doorway, with a gun.

Her throat closed until she could barely breathe out her words. "What in Hades are you doing here?"

"Keeping very quiet and hoping the monsters won't find me. But look, you're here."

"Talk." Her patience ripped like wet paper. "Because I'll blow your face off if you don't."

Ben looked at her stubbornly. "I have a gun. Silver bullets."

Holly raised her hand, wiggling her fingers. "I've already got my weapon out."

"Witch." His mouth curled in disgust.

"Why are you here, Ben? This place nearly killed you."

"I'm here because the guardsmen turned on me. Took my book. It's not fair. I paid a lot of money for it."

"The Book of Lies'? You bought it?" Holly's voice rose with incredulity. Of course, his family had that kind of money.

"Yeah, and the guards have been after it—and me—since the demon came through." He looked at the gun in his hand. "I was going to force the guardsman to give it back, but I…"

He didn't have to finish. Holly knew Ben had never been physically brave. He would never have confronted the guard.

He sighed. "I tried to hide here. The house knows me. I've bargained with it before."

"Bargained? What would you have that the house wants?"

Ben said nothing, letting the gun drift to his side. His expression was odd, pinched.

Then she knew. Ben was one of the fraternity sponsors who bought the Flanders house from Raglan. The house needs lives.

"The fraternity? You led them to this place? You… Why the…" Holly choked, suddenly at a loss for air. "Why?" She stopped, breathing hard. "What are you doing, Ben?"

"What I have to."

"But why?" Holly's mind raced, clicking facts into place. The ooze, against all odds, hadn't hurt him. Her books on demonology were missing. "How long have you been at this?"

"Years. I did some reading. I mean real reading, real research. There are plenty of prohuman groups willing to lend a hand if they think you're looking for an answer to the supernatural problem. People with money and connections."

Fear and suspicion had drawn ugly lines around his mouth, but she'd never noticed them before. He fooled me all along. He's a consummate actor.

He returned her gaze, shaking his head as if she were a slow student. "Don't you get it? The Castle was the answer. Humanity had the same problem long ago and built a prison to take care of the others. It was already there, with guardsmen in place to keep the monsters inside. If I summoned something through a portal to earth, the guardsmen would come to get it back. Along the way they'd take everything nonhuman back with them into their prison. Nothing but humans would be left behind. Simple as calling for a garbage pickup."

"But I don't get it," Holly said, bewildered.

Impatient, Ben slapped the flat of his hand on the door frame. "How could the humans clean up Fairview? We don't have the power to do it ourselves. We've lost. Someone had to arrange a way to get help, so I did."

"There were murders," Holly retorted. "Blood rituals. Human girls were killed."

"Price of doing business. The changelings were happy to help with that part." Ben looked away. "Though I should have done it myself. One or two of those creatures were manageable, but they called their friends. That's when things started to get out of hand."

"What do you mean?"

"The changelings have a ravenous taste for murder. An addiction. They should never have come out of the Castle."

"And you worked with them? You?"

Ben started forward, but Holly used a small push of magic to knock him back. His eyes grew wide, as if he'd just truly realized that she might be dangerous.

The gun came up again, but she didn't care anymore. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He lifted his head, as if telling himself to be brave. "They were eager, more than happy to help call up a demon. Best of all, I knew that once we did the summoning, I just had to sit back and wait for the guardsmen to mop them up along with the rest of the spooks."

He gave an ugly curl of his lip. "And the changelings did it all for a handful of those tokens. Like they're so precious. I bought them online for a song." He snorted. "Or maybe it was just the chance to murder humans again."

Holly gulped air, sick and appalled. "Do you know what you've done? The demon is already taking souls!" She gave him another little push. "You screwed up. The demon is loose. It's all spiraling out of control, and that was the first guardsman I've seen. Where's the cavalry, Ben? When are they going to save you?"

Ben raised his hands, gun and all, but it wasn't a gesture of surrender. He was trying to placate her. "I didn't know. I didn't realize. The guardsmen… there are too few. They haven't come like I thought they would. I thought it was going to be a lot less… complicated."

"Like you thought you and I would be?"

Ben's expression grew condescending. "I'm sorry. I really am. You'd said once that your magic didn't really work. I thought that meant you were as good as human."

"And then at the Flanders house you saw what I could do." Holly didn't really need confirmation. This part she had guessed already.

"I saw you were one of them. There was no way I could save you after that. Not when it was clear you'd never use your magic for our side."

"Save me?" She shot a bolt of energy that smacked inches from his foot. "I was trying to save you from the house you'd apparently already fed Bill Gamble, your best friend. What were you doing there, anyway?"

Ben stared at the floor, where a wisp of smoke curled from a charred spot on the wood. "The idiots murdered that girl right inside the house, left her lying there for anyone to find. My prints were all over the place. I needed to be sure I was counted as just another victim."

"Just another victim. So you hid in the slime. No wonder you wouldn't go to the hospital. A thorough checkup would have shown that you'd never been attacked. Well, you were right. It fooled everybody. We never guessed you were the killer."

Ben looked affronted. "Oh, I just resourced the operation. I was the organizer. I never killed anyone. I certainly never got involved in the magic. I hired the guy who sold me the book to do all that. He'd do anything for a dollar. He does all the spell casting I need."

Holly struggled for words, overwhelmed. "Goddess, I hate you."

A shudder ran through the house, the sideways shuffle of an earthquake. Ben raised a hand, pointing at the wall behind Holly. His eyes went round. "The portal is opening up again."

Holly stepped sideways, needing to look behind her but reluctant to turn her back on Ben. He was correct. The portal was swirling wider, new light brightening the room with the garish orange of a jack-o'-lantern. She touched the portal with her power, barely a brush.

It gave enough information to swamp her with terror. "It never completely closed. Something on the inside is giving the door a shove." Would that be the changeling army?

Holly snapped her thoughts into line, refusing to drown in the panic that lapped at her senses. "We're getting out of here."

Fixated on Ben, she had stopped monitoring the house. Now she probed it with her thoughts. It was still weak from her assault on the front door, but the portal was using the house like a straw, sucking ley-line power from beneath the foundations. Some of that power was bleeding off into the structure. Waking it up. Things were about to turn nasty.

"Stairs!" she yelled, diving for the door.

Holly moved so fast, her feet barely found purchase. She flew into the hallway, half-blind with the need to flee. When Ben grabbed her from behind, the sudden jerk flung her into the wall.

"What is that? Holly, what is that?"

Holly clutched her head, wishing it would stop ringing. "What? We don't have time—"

"That!"

She squinted. A large, ballooning shape of white poofed over the upstairs landing like a giant jellyfish. For a moment surprise overcame her urge to run. "I think it's the drop cloth."

"Why is it doing that?"

"On a wild guess, I'd say it was possessed."

"Oh, shit!"

"It'll probably smother us if we try to escape." She squeezed Ben's arm and gave him a sweet smile. "Would you like me to take care of that for you? Somewhere in between saving your ungrateful ass again and figuring out how to save Fairview from being eaten alive?"

"Just do something. Please!"

"Then give me the gun."

After a moment's pause, he did.

Holly shoved Ben aside, her attention fully on the drop cloth. How the blazes was she going to manage this? Blazes.

Well, I signed the burn order, didn't I?

It was just like lighting a huge candle, a trick she had done a hundred times with the snap of her fingers. The drop cloth had been the first to go. Then the stairway carpet. Stray newspapers. With all the paints and solvents Raglan had left inside, the rest was a foregone conclusion.

Holly worked most of her magic from the blasted front lawn, where the house couldn't reach her. Power flowed, liquid and graceful. The hardest part was shutting off her mind to the house's screams. Mad and evil though it was, it was still conscious.

Sadly, fire was the only sure way to disrupt the half-opened portal. Fire disturbed the flow of energy. It also had the potential to attract a lot of attention. Holly conjured a glamour to hide the fact that a house was burning in plain view. At the same time she set wards to keep the blaze contained. The only evidence of the fire was a faint smoky smell she couldn't seem to banish. The neighbors would wake up to a vacant lot and a pile of ash.

Ben stood quietly by, as if he had lost the will to move. He just stared. Then she realized he was staring at something specific down the street, his face washing an interesting shade of white.

Holly turned. Werewolves.

They poured down the street in a silent, furry river, shadows punctuated by the flare of hunters' eyes. Muscled haunches worked as they ran, their flowing lope eating ground with the speed of nightmares. The wolves were big but lean, their legs almost delicate. Their thick coats were mostly gray, but there were black wolves and tawny ones, chocolate brown and white. All were red-tongued and brush-tailed; all had fierce ivory teeth. When they reached Holly and Ben they stopped of one accord, eerie and noiseless.

Only the huffing of their breath made them seem more than a dream.

One came to Holly, its nails clicking on the pavement. A gray one. Male. Not the largest, but clearly the one in command. It sat, ears forward.

"We have a prisoner," said Holly.

With a lupine grin, Perry scanned Ben's face with feral yellow eyes.