House of Chaos

by K. R. Alexander

  Didn’t mean anything. Another thirty seconds. There must be another thirty seconds, and a door.

  Something ran from the corridor beyond the china cabinet, a dash of claws, flash of motion.

  I spun to face the attack as the fox burst into the dining room at the same time we did. Ready for a lunge, a monster, with nothing left to give to defend myself but the light and my own hands. Gideon growled, also ready to fight.

  The fox skidded in among us, sliding on the dusty wood floor into the center of the circle from earlier, beside the incense and pair of shoes. I was the only one still holding a flashlight. I shined it into his eyes and he had to shut them for a moment.

  Deedle-dee, deedle-dee, deedle-dee, my phone alarm chirped incessantly in the moment of hush as we faced each other.

  The fox squinted up at me, crouching, tail lashing.

  Ready to attack? He wasn’t covered in blood, looking normal other than his fur being puffed out in fear or fury.

  His mouth was open, panting, ears back in his agitation.

  A second, two, flashed between us, then he sat up on his haunches like a begging dog. He looked inquiringly at his own little white paws. He looked at me. For a moment, our eyes locked. He dashed down the corridor.

  I ran after.

  “Ripley, no!” Gideon shouted. “It’s a trap!”

  “It’s not! It’s him!” Whatever he’d been through, he’d recovered himself. Vel was Vel again and, however many problems that might indicate even on a good day, maybe he hadn’t forgotten that I’d saved his life and he’d promised to help.

  They tore after me, even Fulco running now, maybe spurred on by the jingling timer reminding us of the end.

  Down the black corridor, through the kitchen, and the passage ran straight into the side door. I imagined Wade alive, my real parents cheering me on, and my own caterpillar light blazing around me. With a last explosive effort, I hit the weaker side door with everything I had. There was a crack, a flash of green light, and the door burst open.

  Vel tore outside with the rest of us right on his tail.

  We sprinted through the long field beyond, crashed into a thigh-high split-rail fence in the dark, tumbled over, and crashed to uncut grass and parched earth. Adam hadn’t seen the fence at all and spun over, dropping Wade with a thunk, himself flipping almost onto his head, setting him coughing and gasping again.

  I scrambled to Wade on my hands and knees, phone beeping, still gripping the flashlight. “Help him. Someone help him, please.” More praying aloud than expecting help, needing an ambulance, shaking so badly that even touching 911 was beyond me.

  Gideon stumbled to him beside me. He hit his knees, pressing an ear to Wade’s chest. He should be breathing now. We were out, free, and that jarring impact somehow also should have restarted … something. Instead, Wade looked even more dead lying on his back with his eyes open in the flashlight’s glare through scrub grass than he had in the house.

  Gideon pinched his thumb and forefinger on Wade’s nose, pressed his mouth over Wade’s, and blew hard. He did this a few times while I said Wade’s name and struggled with my phone, trying to get the alarm off and a call for help on. Two quick chest compressions and he blew again. Blew more, listened, another breath.

  I’d hardly managed to open the keypad on my phone, having dropped it twice, when Wade reflexively coughed.

  I jumped, fumbling with the light and looking up.

  Wade was blinking, coughing more, then sucking down shuddering breaths while Gideon patted his face. He shifted to rubbing Wade’s upper arms and chest with his palms, stimulating circulation, stirring up sensation as if for a limb that had gone to sleep.

  Wade made an indistinct noise, trying to speak.

  “Wade?” I leaned over him, pressing into Gideon to do it. “We’re here. We’re out.”

  “Ripley?” His voice slurred. “Couldn’t find you…”

  “I know. We’re okay now.” With my voice cracking, I kissed him, tears dripping onto his face. I leaned back to kiss Gideon, wrapping my arms around his neck—so weak it was all I could do not to burst into ugly cry and collapse. “Thank you,” I managed instead.

  Gideon was also breathless, probably in pain after that fall. No idea how badly he was hurt. He twisted his head around to kiss me, first on the cheek, then pulling back enough to kiss my salty lips.

  At Wade’s feet, Adam had pulled off his shirt. He tugged down his jeans and briefs in the dark, still fighting for every painful breath. The change took a minute of twisting and reshaping of skin and bone.

  I sat back on my knees, feeling over Wade’s hair, down his chest, making sure of him while his breaths started to even out. Vel crept into my lap, also shivering and panting, his little pink tongue curled up. I kissed the top of his head.

  “Have to get out of here,” Gideon mumbled, still dazed.

  I nodded. I didn’t feel like I could drive, but Wade was in no condition. Could Fulco drive my car? Now Adam needed a lift also—he’d brought his motorcycle. At least Vel no longer took up much space. As Mom would have said, everything works out.

  Adam shook himself and staggered.

  Wade found my hand and squeezed it.

  Gideon rubbed his own eyes. There was a trickle of blood down the side of his head where he’d cut himself smashing through the banister.

  I looked up to find Fulco, ask if he could drive, though I still wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He stood apart from us, the only one upright, still on the other side of the split-rail fence. He gazed back at the big house through darkness. Only it wasn’t so dark anymore. Although there was no active power running to the house these days, and I wasn’t even sure there were many functional lightbulbs in the place, every window glowed with a bright yellow light, as if that which had been sleeping was now wide awake.

  It was only then that I realized we hadn’t actually won, even if we had made it out in time. We didn’t have the book.

  16

  “The car,” I squeaked.

  Gideon grabbed Wade in a fireman’s lift and we ran for the Volvo sedan and two motorcycles. Ironically, this meant running toward the house, in a roundabout way, cutting for the front drive while we were out in the field at the side, facing house and lake.

  I tried not to think about this, weak legs carrying me forward, swinging the daypack off my shoulder to find keys in the front pouch.

  Adam loped ahead, Gideon staggered and limped but still ran with Wade. Vel tore along at my heels. I had no idea about Fulco. Newly spawned vampires were stronger and faster than human beings. So far, he hadn’t demonstrated skill in either direction, unless you counted kicking Gideon in the head hard enough to throw him down the stairs.

  I still hadn’t found the keys by the time I reached the car, leaping into the driver’s seat, now fighting through stuff in the main compartment of the bag, though I didn’t remember having dropped them in there. I flung Vel’s clothes into the passenger floor as he leapt across me and onto that seat.

  Behind me, Gideon was resting Wade into the seat while he coughed and tried to help himself with sketchy motor skills. Adam was trying to get in, running around the car, then pushing past Wade.

  Where the hell were my keys? Frantic, I turned the whole bag upside down over Vel and the passenger seat, shaking it violently. He dodged. There they were. I grabbed. Adam climbed over Wade’s lap, heaving his furry bulk into the back seats.

  I fumbled with the keys, looked into the rearview mirror, and screamed.

  I hurled myself clear of the car, dropping keys and tumbling across the gravel and weeds. Still, the thin, grinning face blazed clear and real through my brain. Gideon followed, grabbing my arm, telling me to go, that it wasn’t real.

  “Forget something?”

  We twisted to face the glowing house, lit up like a Christmas card without the snow. Standing in front of the open door, solid as flesh, clear as sunlight, a young, emaciated Confederate soldier stood with a leer on his face and a
leather-bound book in his hand, holding it up.

  He’d been feeding off of us the whole time we’d been in the house. Other than Fulco, with no life force to take, he’d been nibbling away every moment. Adam and I had been better protected, but I had willingly poured magic into the house with every door I’d unlocked, like a free offering. Gideon had been half crazed with the visions, while Vel must have been better able to resist, knowing the tricks. He’d drained Wade so dry, Wade had been cold, apparently lifeless, and still couldn’t stand up. We’d given him ourselves and he was showing off his victory of newfound power.

  “It appears someone lost the game.” Voice big and bright like the house—no more distant shout. “Good show, though. That’s the old fight. Now, how about honoring the terms?”

  “Game?” Gideon panted, glancing down at me.

  I scrambled to my feet, easing back to the car door. “He said we could go if we got ourselves and the book out in twenty minutes. We got out but…”

  “What’s the book?” Gideon shouted at him.

  “You’ll always wonder, won’t you? Fog of war, as they say. You do remember the terms you agreed to?”

  “We agreed to nothing,” I said, clutching the door before my knees could give way.

  “Details. The rules were spelled out. Now, time for the defending army to make the next move.” He lowered his voice, meeting my eyes, reaching out, then drawing in his empty hand. “Forward march.”

  As if that hand reached inside me, yanking me by the stomach, I lurched into the car door, stumbled around it, and hurried to the porch steps, fighting my own legs and almost falling.

  “Ripley!” Wade shouted.

  Gideon grabbed my arm.

  The figure on the porch whipped an 1860s’ pistol from his belt and aimed it at Gideon. Angels and demons, what would that do if fired into a living person?

  I gasped and shoved Gideon back. Also startled by the gun, he relented, hesitating. I heard paws as well. Fulco stood by the car, on the other side, and didn’t move.

  “We never agreed to your rules or your game,” I repeated as I found myself climbing the stairs toward him, leaned back yet tugged along, more horrified by the reality of him at each step.

  “On the contrary; you played. Played the game without question, and here we are, winners and losers. Should a man call heads and then be allowed to say he never agreed to a toss once the coin lands tails?” A sharp smile twisted his thin lips. His eyes were gray, disturbingly like mine, as if he couldn’t remember how to project his own anymore, yet containing a gleaming malice and infernal light that I sincerely hoped never appeared in my real eyes.

  Adam growled behind me, hurrying forward.

  The demon grabbed my arm the moment I was in reach and yanked me to him. It was not like being held by living flesh. The tug and force of it was real enough, but there was no imprint of the hand, no warmth, no pulse. Like being shoved and held by oversized chopsticks.

  Adam was at the steps. He also stopped when the gun was held to my head.

  “Want to find out what happens?” He grinned at them. “I’ve always wondered. Or, if you’d rather let the matter rest, we’ll proceed with the division of spoils. I won. You lost. You will feed my mansion. The girl is mine. The dead one can make like a passenger pigeon and disappear. It is no use here. The rest of you, welcome to your new home.”

  17

  The door slammed as I was hurled against the side of the bed.

  The guys had tried to follow below but, crossing the threshold into the fading light, they had at once begun to lose themselves. I’d seen Gideon’s expression glaze and Adam cast about for a scent as if he couldn’t tell where I’d gone, though I’d been pulled up the stairs right in front of them. Then yanked around the corner, down the hall, and I saw them no more.

  No one was coming to rescue this damsel in distress. We all needed rescuing. And, somehow, I didn’t think the vampire was going to stick his cold neck out for us even if there was anything he could do—though there probably was not.

  I scrambled away from the bed, only to be backhanded into it. The second time I’d been slapped tonight, and my jaw was already stinging. I fell sideways, catching the red bedspread and coughing on a cloud of dust.

  He was almost invisible now. The light was gone, aside from moonlight streaming through the many windows, including the turret. He was saving all his strength for me. Why had I challenged him before? Why argue about what I didn’t understand? I’d known demons could be dangerous enough to kill, known they were seriously messed up. I hadn’t known about power like this.

  He could be sent on even against his will, banished from here, expelled from haunting the realm of the living. With a lot of magic behind it and two casters working together and spells that I didn’t know. Not by one beat up, energy-drained witch who didn’t know how.

  I thought again of casting a circle, warding him out, any sort of blocking or magical protection I could cling to. Yet I had nothing left to give, so weak I could hardly even think.

  While I could barely see him, the demon kept talking. A humming, insidious sound in my ear like bees, localized and intense, needing less energy to project so he could keep it up. He seemed to be telling me a story. I couldn’t think why or who about. Some woman. The last time he’d had a woman in this room, or wanted one, or met one?

  Maybe I should be trying to pay attention, get to the heart of this evil, whatever the underlying trouble was to release the spirit from claims to this place and get him to willingly crossover. That was the thing to do. With a bit of recovery time, even I could do that if I experimented. Anyone willing to go would meet you halfway. You just opened a door.

  What was it about the proverbial snowball’s chances in hell of winning trust and soothing a tyrannical demon enough to willingly crossover?

  The book thudded onto the bench seat at the window, startling me since the voice remained in my ear. It had probably been there all along. Was it a tease, or was the book truly critical?

  I squinted at it as my eyes got used to the gloom. It had looked seriously old. Like maybe even the real deal from the 1860s. So was it his very own diary? Revealing all that had gone wrong? Giving us clues as to how to put it back and send him on his way? Or even out-think and out-maneuver him? I didn’t care how. Soothing or cunning, one way or another, if the guy was gone we’d have made the world a better place.

  Again, that pressure, shoving, touching, but not like a hand or living presence. A clumsy poking by someone struggling to experience a body. Two bodies, really, while he could hardly project one and never properly touch the other.

  This made me feel slightly better as I struggled to claim control of my own panic. He may be able to torture me, drive me mad, send me all sorts of wild images and ideas, but I’d already had a glimpse of that. Maybe I could fight back, block some of it—while knowing he couldn’t actually use thumbscrews or rape or skin anyone alive.

  All about the mind then. So think. We got out last night. We could do it again.

  “The first time we walked along the lakeshore, I swore my allegiance, begged for her favor. She gave it. She said she would wait, that she was mine.”

  “Who?” I swallowed, mouth dry and dusty, still tasting faintly of licorice.

  A blow slammed into my chest, knocking me onto my back on the bed.

  “What do you mean, who? Who we have been discussing!”

  I hadn’t said a word so we hadn’t been “discussing” anyone, but I didn’t point this out. Just be still and think.

  “Sorry. This girl you liked, when was it?”

  “The spring of the year. The apple trees budding and rhododendrons in bloom. It was a glorious spring which I will never forget. Unlike her.” His tone darkened, turning savage in an instant as he leaned over me so I felt the pressure, aware of vaguely human shape and size of him, weight pressing in and cold air rather than hot touching my cheek.

  “She didn’t remember you?”

 
“She tried. She would have. Until she turned on me. Until the battle here in her own hometown, on her doorstep, and I was murdered, and she later returned to her home with other refugees. Then he came. A Yankee officer next walked with her along the lakeshore.”

  “Age-old story, isn’t it? Winners and losers.”

  “Don’t patronize me! He was a fiend!”

  You should talk, pal.

  “He broke her innocence and shattered her virtue with his vile attack on her good character and affections and finally her body.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I muttered, glancing again toward the book. How did you knee a ghost in the balls? “I don’t want to be callus about it, but I’m sure both sides did terrible things. The Civil War was a horrible, horrible conflict and situation. It’s awful, but a case like hers was one of hundreds, if not thousands, in wartime. That doesn’t make it okay—quite the opposite. One more reason to end wars, isn’t it? But it was also a long time ago. This young woman’s soul will have crossed over more than a hundred years ago. She may be waiting for you right now, honoring her commitment. Yet you’ve never crossed to join her and find out. If you’re so upset about her, why don’t you just … go and see her?”

  I’d thought for a moment he was listening. But he was chuckling by the time I stopped. “You must think me exceptionally obtuse. Oh, why, glory me,” he put on a high, breathless voice. “Land sakes alive, if that don’t beat all, I’d never thought to reason quite like that before. God bless you, child. Now I know just how I’d better go about things from here on out. Would you do the honors? We’d be right proud if you’d oversee the blessing. Send us on our way, won’t you, honey?”

  The nice thing about this was that I was getting so pissed off, I felt a lot less scared by the time I snapped back, “Whatever. I don’t care if you stay here and rot in torment on this plain for the rest of eternity. In fact, I hope you do. I was just making the suggestion because it sounded like you had a problem and she had a problem, but I guess your real problem is being a humungous asshole and her problem is that she had to set eyes on your hideous mug in real life.”