House of Chaos
Page 9
“Yeah, I really am.” I squeezed his shoulder, managing a smile. “But we’re not done with that place. The demon, Xaphan, he calls himself, has murdered at least three people—maybe more. I think he meant well originally—in his own way. Something horrible happened to the woman he loved and he haunted the house, finally killing the man who hurt her, but it didn’t stop there. He’s the monster now. We have to banish him—soon. I have some ideas about how it works, and I got the book, his diary, so maybe that will give us more insights about him. Once we read it, and if we’re lucky, we might be able to talk him down instead of having to banish.”
“Sounds like pleasant bedtime reading.” Wade stroked the backs of his fingers along the left, red-highlighted side of my hair, as if needing to make sure of me.
I startled myself by hugging him, tentative, only to have him return it, holding on tight. We didn’t say anything, just close for a minute, while I felt worse and better, safe and vulnerable—like smiling and crying. I didn’t want him to let go, yet I had to get away.
I stood quickly, brisk, brushing off my jeans—covered in sweat and plaster dust and dotted in Gideon’s blood.
“Come on.” I offered him both hands. “We can find you something more comfortable than a drop cloth.”
Wade looked taken aback but didn’t say anything about my abruptly moving on.
23
Wade was so groggy, hardly able to keep his eyes open, needing my help just to walk to the back family room and lie on the couch, I didn’t ask him to read through that diary with me. I also felt like I’d been up all night—or several—though we had a lot of it left.
I returned to the kitchen, apprehensive about Gideon, while Vel dashed past me in the hall with the entire bunch of bananas clutched in his jaws. They must have been a third of his own body weight. Upon reaching the scene of the crime, I discovered it had been the last article plucked from the fruit bowl. No way he’d eaten all that.
Real foxes—or “total” foxes, they would say—liked to hoard food for later. Remembering the cardboard boxes in the barn, I wondered where he was caching our fruit bowl.
The bowl didn’t take much of my attention because the kitchen wasn’t empty. Gideon had managed to transform, though he still didn’t look great. He lay flat on the cat-hair-laden floor like a seal, his forepaws splayed out to each side, his chin stretched on the boards. His ribs puffed, though he couldn’t pant with his head down. There was blood in his fur, pale forelimbs oozing and streaked so his coat was pink. He lifted his head as I entered the room, meaning to get up, but thought better of it.
Adam returned from throwing the bloody towels and shirt into the washing machine. They were totally at ease about their own bodies, Adam just as relaxed as if he’d been on all fours. He went to the sink to wash blood off his hands, putting the island between us. More than from grabbing the clothes, his hands were crimson. What had he had to do to help Gideon?
Neither seemed upset with the other—either holding grudges or traumatized by guilt.
“Get your breath back,” I told Gideon as he started to bring his paws together. “We’re all worn out. How about an ice cream sandwich?”
He thumped his tail on the floor.
I threw Adam a clean towel, then pulled out three chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches and a Tropicália—which the wolf guys apparently didn’t like.
“He needs to change again, right?” I slid a package along the counter to Adam and popped open the beer. “Can he?”
“Yep, he’ll be fine. Got that smashed-on-the-side-of-the-road feeling, that’s all.”
“Me too.” I unwrapped a sandwich for Gideon and held it out in my fingertips.
He sniffed delicately.
“Hello? It’s ice cream. What’s wrong?”
“No chocolate in that, Gid,” Adam scoffed. “More like some beans dragged through.”
“You guys can’t eat chocolate?”
“Sure we can. It can upset a wolf, that’s all. Not too much. Not giving him a box of truffles, are you? He’s just paranoid. Sings ‘blizzard’ each time he sniffs two flakes.”
“If you don’t want it—” I started to pull it back.
Gideon snatched it. He wagged his tail again.
“You’re welcome.” I opened my own.
Gideon held the ice cream sandwich in his forepaws, each one bigger than the treat, and nibbled off a chunk. I so wanted a picture of that for Instagram. Like so, so bad. But what was I going to say? “Meet my colleague…”?
Adam opened his wrapper and leaned a hand against the island. His right hand, while he ate with the left. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed this; like when Adam and I had played backgammon yesterday and when Gideon had touched me. Were they both left-handed?
I told them about the diary. Not all Xaphan had explained, but the gist, and that we had to get rid of him. His intentions might have started out good, protecting who he loved, but many decades of hate had turned out a demon nonetheless.
“We’ve got to read this and come up with an answer. Getting him to go willingly if at all possible. So it doesn’t come to banishing.” Which no one here has ever done. I took a bite. “I wish we could go back tonight. I don’t have anything left and Wade can’t even stand…”
Adam gave me a sideways glance, licking off his fingers. “You’re counting on the albino being help later on?”
“Well … yeah, I hope so.”
He looked at Gideon, who returned it, then back to me. “Ain’t noticed he’s not inclined to do much?”
“He doesn’t know what to do. We’ll work on that.”
“Sure … sure.” Adam wiped his hands on the dish towel, fastidious all of a sudden. “Well, you’ll let us know how to help? It puts a wolf’s fur on end not being able to get a bite on something—frustrating as hornets.”
“Can you help me read through this and brainstorm?”
Something flew into my face and I jumped. Vel landed on the island. Heart pounding, I swore but gave him my last inch of sandwich, setting it down in the empty fruit bowl. Vel nipped off the cookie part with his incisors. I poured in some beer to make him a tiny ice cream float and he lapped at that, tail twitching.
I washed and dried my hands, cool water in the hot kitchen, before finally picking up the book. Adam stood beside me to see it while I frowned, working to be just as uninterested in his lack of attire as he was.
Remembering what Fulco had said about this house, I thought to ward the book, trying to block out malevolent forces. It was all I could do even to remember such spells. No energy left to perform one, but I tried.
The moment I opened the slender journal I knew we had a problem. No evil eye looking back at me, and yes, it was filled in, with short and occasionally long entries taking up most of the brittle pages. The trouble was, I couldn’t read it. Not like cursive writing that you have to ponder out. Rather, some of the words looked like straight lines with a slight undulation. That was how bad it was. I couldn’t even tell if it was English. Couldn’t make out more than two or three cursive letters on a page. Letters, not two or three words.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered as I turned pages.
Adam shook his head. “Looks like a chicken scratched it out.”
“Know anyone who’s a Victorian handwriting expert?”
“Could you put a spell on it? Make it unravel mysteries?”
“Not that I know of. Maybe some form of scrying? I’ll ask Wade about it if he’s still awake.” I started away. Adam was moving with me. “Uh… Do you want to … wear something?”
Adam glanced down, apparently surprised. “Gear in the back room.”
“Great. And what about him?”
“He’ll be needing to change back. Be peachy after that.”
“Don’t you dare.” I pointed at Vel, who’d been licking Tropicália off his whiskers and eyeing my back, contemplating making the leap from the island to my shoulders. Another claw gash was just what I needed.
24
Wade roused himself enough to look at the book while I sat by him on the edge of the couch. He made a lot more of the text than I did, able to pick out dates and confirm it was in English.
When I asked if he thought we could somehow scry meaning from it, his eyes widened and he asked for his phone, which was in my car.
Adam and I brought in his and Vel’s things, then Wade found an app that would scan and convert cursive handwriting to text. I was dubious. Writing like that?
I left it with him to try, going up for a shower while the wolf guys got themselves sorted out and Vel made himself comfortable in the middle of my bed—sending Olive running. Vel had slept pretty much all day, so I found this irking also.
No matter about being safer here, knowing about the wards, I felt creeped out in the shower—being alone, exposed, watched. As bad as I’d needed them around last night, I was even more grateful for company tonight.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, pulling on cotton shorts and a T-shirt, with a towel around my shoulders for dripping hair, then rushing downstairs to the three in the family room.
Gideon had recovered. I could see marks on his arms, fresh and pink, but now he only seemed tired like the rest of us.
I dreaded having to keep going, yet a pulse-quickening sense of urgency hunted me. Yes, we were compromised, but so was he. If there was anything at all we could do or learn right now…
Then I felt so relieved to be back among them, just returning to the family room went a long way to soothing those nerves. Wade, despite valiant efforts with phone and book, had fallen asleep. Somehow … it seemed like permission.
I lifted the diary off Wade’s chest and set it on the coffee table, joined by his phone, then turned off the lamp.
“Bed, I guess? I hate to start over with that thing but I don’t have any better solution,” I admitted as the wolves followed to the stairs. “It might take us days just to figure out the diary.”
“He was already making progress,” Gideon said.
“Was he?”
“Reading a little and the app helped a bit. I reckon he’ll be able to get it worked out.”
“That’d be great. I don’t know how—”
“Are we curling up with you?” Adam asked. We had reached the top of the stairs. They’d hardly been up here.
“Oh…”
“There’s a futon,” Gideon reminded him. Then, “You’re not worried about the demon being able to come here, are you?”
“Not now. This house is better protected than I realized. We should be fine…” Struggling to convince myself while they watched me, frowning a little.
“Don’t sound too certain,” Adam said.
“Is there anything we can do for added protection?” Gideon asked.
I turned away, disconcerted that they’d seemed to pick up that I was scared when I’d thought I was doing a damn good job of not being scared. “We’re fine here.”
“Okay…” Gideon said uncertainly. “We’ll be right down the hall.”
Which reminded me that there was a fox on my bed, and he wasn’t the sort of company I wanted to feel safe and secure. I kept going.
It sounded like someone was shoved behind me. “Trot along. You’ll let Gideon stay, won’t you?” Adam asked. “Don’t take up much space.” Chuckling.
“Uh… I guess,” I glanced around, feeling flushed, but also like I’d finally hit a wall. More zombie than witch. “I’m just … really, really tired. You can go wherever.” I went on to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Adam took the futon in the office. To my huge relief, Gideon joined me.
Vel yawned at me from the middle of my bed when I turned on the light. Then he spotted Gideon reaching the doorway and froze, his pupils dilating. He laid back his orange ears, opened his mouth wide, and hissed at Gideon—who ignored him.
“You should get out.” With a yawn, I plugged in my phone.
Vel growled back in his throat. A cat growl, not like a dog, a hidden sound with a sing-song, yowling quality.
I’d always been more interested in cats than dogs, as well as pursuing underrepresented topics in biology. So much we needed to learn while we still had these fading species—still had a chance to save them. I could think of worse ways to spend my time than working with canines, though. With these guys in my life, maybe I should consider a canine focus once I could think of going to school again.
Yet … why was I thinking they would be a part of my life at such a time? Not sure where that even came from.
I’d thrown back the quilt and sheet, and Gideon was moving into the room, before Vel made a dash. I caught him by the tail just as he was diving under the bed. He screamed, squalled, and whipped around.
“Not under the beds! That’s the only place the cats can get away from you. Go downstairs and have an armchair to yourself.”
At the last second, he thought better than to bite me. I let go. He dodged past Gideon’s feet and away. Gideon was smiling.
I flopped into bed and moved over.
It didn’t really feel awkward. Not after the blood and motorcycle, the last two nights and day and everything. I was so tired, I couldn’t think, feeling almost pinned to the mattress, limbs and eyelids leaden.
Lying on his back, Gideon sighed, rubbing his eyes. He felt it too. Not a sexy sort of bed-sharing for either, despite previous, unsatisfied run-ins between us.
He switched out the light and I thought of the demon in that chaotic house—watching us, following, playing games. Then alone with him on the bed, pressure of him, that voice going on and on to his captive audience.
I shivered, no matter the heat, as I saw that poor woman and all she’d suffered from man and ghost alike. With the adrenaline of the moment over, it was like hearing the words for the first time—horrors and torment. Where had her family been? What happened to her father, the mayor? Why was she trapped?
“You okay?” Gideon asked, turning his head in the dark.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry we let you down in there. No account sort of pack letting another get dragged off.”
“Nothing you could have done. Don’t worry about it. I’m okay and we’ll figure out what to do next … somehow.”
“Just know you should be able to except better hunters in your pack than that.”
“You’re a good hunter, Gideon. Both of you. I’m the one who should know enough about this that we didn’t end up in all the trouble we did. You were all nearly killed. That wouldn’t have happened if you’d gone in there with my parents.”
“Rather be with you.”
I looked at him, unable to see his eyes in the dark, then upward again. I didn’t know how to answer other than to say he wouldn’t feel that way if he had any common sense or the least hint of self-preservation.
“None of this is going how it was supposed to,” I said out of nowhere, throat tight. I continued while that weight of failure pressed me, unable to stop. “I messed up. We haven’t cleared a single house. We struck a truce with one and royally pissed off another. We shouldn’t have gone in there tonight. I don’t know why Fulco took us, but I could have said no. And then you apologize like you did something wrong—” I gulped a huge, anguished breath.
Gideon watched me, then also turned his face toward the dark ceiling. “Just living. How life goes—never sure if we’ve made the best choices. Extra danger in what we’re doing than a typical day, but we all wanted to be here. And you skipped the good stuff. Getting to know each other, seeing new places, routing vampires out of the county, and looking out for each other. We’re proud to be here with you, proud to do something about any truce-breakers, taking the clear skies with the storms.”
We just lay there for a long time,
looking up as if gazing at the stars.
I moved over to him, pressing my face into his bare shoulder.
Gideon turned toward me, wrapping an arm gently around my back. The last thing I remembered thinking before drifting off was that, maybe, I didn’t mind being referred to as part of a pack.
25
Pinned on my back in the dark, crushed by weight larger than life, solid and painful—couldn’t scream. A gag in my mouth, chains on my wrists, real skin this time, no clothes, no way out. Fighting and not moving, calling magic and finding nothing, throat convulsing, tears running into my hair. Pain and shame—and this wasn’t possible because I could fight and think of a way out. Yet I couldn’t.
I sprang back, thrashing with all four limbs, a magic light blazing into my hands, screaming as if falling, throat tearing apart. Smack of my head into something hard, grabbing the quilt, and whoosh! Soft cotton burst into flames. Rush of open air, then I hit the floor on my hip, yelling again in pain, still trying to get away, scrambling across boards.
Flames frisked along the quilt like so many bunches of newspapers. I hit the wall under the window, cowering there, still fighting, hands glowing, needing more and more energy and strength to figure a way out.
The fire vanished while smells of smoke filled the room. Sounds of running steps and Gideon’s voice. Even no longer screaming, I could hardly hear, couldn’t make the words into sense.
Instead, I heard something else. She was pinned to this bed, day after day and night after night. I pressed tingling palms over my ears and couldn’t block it out. Huddled against the wall in my underwear and T-shirt, I still felt the weight, still heard the voice. Not like a memory. Heard it. Felt it. Now.
He couldn’t be here. Not tonight when he was worn out. And what about the protection? So this couldn’t be happening.
Deep breath and know it was a dream. You have magic and friends, Ripley, come on. You have a pack now, right? Something to smile about, and still being alive, and looking out for each other. It’s like a family again. There you go, Ripley, calm down, it’s not … not … not even…