Captive (Demonic Games Book 3)

by Sara Clancy

  Mihail sat, bewildered and cold. Radu's from a town over. He's a complete stranger. And yet, he knows all of this about my family. Information that Mihail himself had to fight for. Pay for every scrap of information with blood, tears, and terror.

  “And how many times have ya seen smart people make stupid choices?”

  “Okay, I concede that point,” Radu said. “But here’s what still gets me. From all the stories I’ve heard, Draciana is a very proud woman. Leading in or not, why wouldn't she balk when the demon starts asking for her soul?”

  “If it were me, I would have introduced the idea using her first victims. Tell a scared, angry little girl that I'd take care of the person hurting her if she lets me keep the soul. Later on, it might have even been why she started the Coven. Each of them would have pledged their souls. By all accounts, the demon should have them by now. But she intervened. Now that I say it out loud, I'm thinking that's why she's so protective of them. They’re her trump card. A bargaining chip she can use to alter the terms of her deal.”

  “Wait,” Mihail cut in. “Is it possible to sell other people’s souls? Without their consent?”

  “Sort of. You’ve seen the first step. Sarina trapped in the mirror, and the Coven in that damn nesting doll. Collecting the soul is the hard part. It’s easier if they’re already a ghost. If not, ya have to be there at the moment of death, grab them before they have a chance to move on. After that, it's a simple matter of handing it over to the demon of your choosing.”

  “There are a few things in there that don't make sense to me,” Radu noted.

  “A group of trapped souls is referred to as a collection. You store a collection in an object. Draciana collected her Coven and put them into a nesting doll. We have one of them trapped in a mirror,” Abe rattled off.

  “Ah.”

  Mihail paused as something clicked within his brain. The thought alone was enough to choke him, crush him, and turn his blood to ice.

  “Abe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is there a limit to the size of an object used to hold a collection?”

  He frowned. “I guess, if you have too many you'll need something bigger. But no, not really.”

  “And you said that Draciana made the house.”

  Abe caught on to what he was asking. His jaw dropped and, for a long moment, they did little more than stare at each other.

  “Hold on,” Radu said. “Are you telling me that the entire Castle Vaduva is really just a holding cell for one giant collection?”

  “Yeah,” Abe said, his eyes widening as the implications dawned on him.

  “For those new to the table; if that's true, how big of a collection would we be talking about?”

  “Thousands,” Abe mumbled. “Maybe more.”

  “How could one woman kill thousands?” Radu asked.

  “It wouldn't be just her,” Mihail rushed on when Abe was set to protest. “I’m not defending her this time. It’s just that you've mentioned she would want the Coven to get out of her deal. And we can safely assume that they all thought like that because we’ve seen Tereza’s collections. The children. So where are all the others?”

  Abe’s breath left him in a rush. “If she killed the witches and stole their collection, she’s screwed that demon over a dozen times. It won’t stand for that. It’ll want its due.”

  “But it can’t take what’s not offered, right?” Mihail pressed.

  “Are there such things as demon locks?” Radu asked. “I mean, a way to keep it out?”

  “Yeah. There are spells and blessings that would do the trick.” Abe nodded. A breathy laugh escaped him. “But ya know what ya can’t keep out with those spells? A flesh and blood human.”

  Radu’s brow furrowed. “The doppelganger? Isn’t that a lot of trouble to go through when you could just break a lock?”

  “Break a lock and you’ve pissed off a witch,” Abe said. “Get power of attorney and ya can threaten to put her in a nursing home.”

  “I know those places suck, but–”

  “If she crosses the threshold she dies,” Mihail said. “And she can’t hurt the officers that come to evict her, because surely people would notice that.”

  “Yeah, that sort of thing could be a death sentence,” Radu said.

  Abe surged to his feet and snatched up his phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Radu asked.

  “My parents. Draciana’s been swindling the devil for years. If he collects now, thousands of innocent people are going to be joining her in hell.”

  Chapter 8

  Mihail’s tea had long since gone cold. The sides of the mug cooled his fingertips, but he couldn’t stop himself from restlessly touching it. As if turning the cup in endless circles would keep his mind from straying. He feared what would happen if he started to think. In that moment, the focus was on protecting his brain from the harsh truths, because he knew things weren't going well. It was just one bad omen after another.

  What bothered him the most was that after only a few sentences into the conversation with his parents, Abe had switched to Hebrew. It was a long-standing practice for the Claymonts. Something they did when they wanted privacy. Even with the change, it didn’t take long for Abe to grab his coat and head outside, motioning for Mihail and Radu to stay where they were.

  At first, Radu had tried to make light of it, drawing Mihail into a makeshift guessing game. The goal was to come up with increasingly ridiculous reasons why Abe would choose the frigid outside over merely going into another room. But their guesses soon turned macabre, and they lapsed into silence. The sunlight had grown dim; the already short winter day smothered under the thickening cloud cover. Snow was falling hard. The rising winds wailed and whistled through the cracks in the walls. Unattended, the fire had burned low, the dancing light casting ever-shifting shadows across the walls. Still, Abe refused to come inside. From the kitchen table, they watched the towering man pace back and forth in front of the living room window; the phone still pressed to his ear while his other hand clawed at the air in frustration. It was getting harder to keep track of him. That made Mihail nervous.

  He flinched as Radu suddenly swung his arm up and glanced at his watch. “He’s been out there for forty-five minutes. That’s not good, right? Is that how these things normally go?”

  “I’ve only done this a few times myself,” Mihail confessed. “There doesn’t seem to be a standard template.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like this.”

  “Maybe we should bring him some tea. It’s freezing out there.”

  Radu crossed his arms over his broad chest. “And here my suggestion was going to be to drag him inside. We think differently.”

  “Well, physical dominance isn’t exactly an option for me.”

  “Okay,” Radu chuckled. “Let’s try it your way. I’ll handle the drink, you restock the fire. We should get this place warm for his stubborn ass.”

  A weak smile crossed Mihail’s face as they went about their assigned tasks. It didn’t take long to nurse the flames. A fresh wave of heat wafted out through the house as the wind howled. As he warmed his hands, Mihail realized that it wouldn't matter if Abe had his jacket. He was going to be on the brink of hypothermia by the time he came back inside. Should probably get a change of clothes warmed up for the idiot, Mihail thought as he headed down the narrow hallway towards Abe's room.

  Opening the bedroom door was like stepping into a freezer. Mihail reeled back, the deep chill stealing his breath. Dense spirals of snow slipped in through the open window, coating the floor and bed with a fine dusting of powder. Already shivering, Mihail rushed across the room and slammed the window down. We should have checked the house, he thought as he surveyed the damage, trying to decide what would be the easiest way to clean it up.

  Mihail paused when he spotted the rag doll. Abe seemed to harbor a deep resentment for this particular kind of toy. So, it was odd to see one propped up against his pillows. For all the times
he had been in Abe’s room over the past few months, he couldn't recall ever noticing it before.

  “Hey, Mihail!” Radu called from the other side of the house. “Do you want a cup?”

  The moment he opened his mouth to respond, the voice of his boarding school headmaster played in the back of his head, sharply reminding him of his manners. So he crossed the room to stand in the doorway and craned his neck, hoping to see in the kitchen. Something shuffled behind him.

  Mihail turned, expecting to see a small rodent that had come in seeking shelter from the storm. He froze in place. The rag doll was now at the foot of the bed; it's little body rigid, instead of crumbling under its own weight. And it was staring at him.

  “Abe?” Mihail called on reflex, even as the rest of his brain told him it was just a doll.

  Someone whistled the first few notes of a soft, slow melody and Mihail hurled himself from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “Abe!”

  He barreled down the hallway, not stopping until he collided into Radu. Mihail was already pointing frantically back to the bedroom by the time the taller man asked what had happened.

  “Calm down,” Radu urged. “I can’t understand you!”

  “There’s a doll.”

  Radu arched an eyebrow. “A doll? Like a Barbie?”

  “Like a rag doll. It looked like it was made out of an old sack and had wool hair and stitched eyes and a little dress.”

  “Right.”

  Frustration added to Mihail’s panic, and he rapidly shook his head. “Never mind what it looks like. We need to get Abe.”

  “Because of a doll?”

  “A possessed doll! It moved on its own!”

  “Possessed or not; it’s a few ounces of fluff and rags. You’re an adult man.”

  Mihail clenched his jaw. “You’re new to this. Trust me. Get Abe.”

  “I think we can handle this one on our own,” Radu said. “Just go find a laundry basket and a heavy book. We can trap it in there until Abe’s done.”

  Mihail didn't stand a chance of keeping Radu back. The massive man simply brushed him to the side and headed down towards Abe's room. Pressed against the wall, Mihail gnawed on his lip and tried to think of what to do. Experience had told him that getting Abe was the smarter choice. Still, he felt like a coward as he left Radu behind.

  Not bothering with a coat, he yanked the front door open and stepped out into the blizzard. The world had reduced down to bruised light and a long shadow. Snow pelted against his face as he shoved himself out further, never daring to entirely leave behind the warmth of the house.

  “Abe!”

  The wind swallowed his cries. But soon enough, Abe lumbered towards him, emerging out of the downpour like an abominable snowman, somehow still talking to his parents. How they could hear each other was a mystery for another time, but Mihail already suspected it had more to do with blind determination than effective communication.

  Abe crossed the threshold then stilled. His alert eyes darted around the living room as if trying to pinpoint what had changed. Mihail struggled against the wind to close the door.

  “Your bedroom. Radu wouldn’t listen to me!”

  The moment the words left his mouth, a pained cry broke across the house. Abe sprinted to the back of the house, Mihail at his heels. The bedroom door was wide open and Radu staggered into it as they neared, clutching his forearm. Long droplets of blood seeped between his fingers, dropping onto the wood floor.

  “Ya alright?” Abe asked.

  “No, a damn doll just bit me. How could it even do that? It doesn’t have teeth.” His words hissed through his teeth, coming with both pain and anger. “I think it’s under the bed.”

  “Back out of the room,” Abe said, holding one hand up to keep Mihail from approaching.

  “You too?” Radu asked. “It’s a doll! I’m a six-foot adult. I track down criminals for a living, I can handle this.”

  “Radu!” Abe boomed the word, the sound echoing off the walls. “Get out. Now!”

  From his position at the end of the hall, Mihail could still catch the moment the first flickers of fear crossed Radu’s eyes. The very instant the colossal man realized that he might not possess the control he thought he did.

  “Right,” he said softly.

  Slowly, he inched back, the creak of the floorboards marking his every step. That's when the whistling started. A slow, lazy tune. Filling the house. In the same moment, all three men noticed that it wasn't coming from inside the room, but from behind Mihail.

  He whipped around. The whistle changed into a grotesque squeal. Mihail never saw what hit him, but he was thrown off his feet, the back of his head cracking against the floorboards hard enough that he saw stars. Before they cleared, something wrapped around his ankle and dragged him out into the living room.

  Chaos erupted. Shouts of his names, screams, manic laughter, and the wild fury of the storm. He kicked and clawed at the floor, but wasn't able to slow himself. The front door burst open. Icy wind engulfed him as snow ravaged the now exposed skin of his back. Twisting to the side, Mihail managed to grab the doorjamb as he passed. He couldn't see whatever had a hold of him. Still, it was strong enough to lift him clear off the ground. The wood splintered under his nails as his desperate grasp failed to keep him in place.

  Abe threw himself against the wall, using it to brace himself as he grabbed Mihail’s forearm. Radu did the same thing on the other side. Both men strained, their combined strength barely able to match whatever was trying to drag him out into the night.

  “Kitchen,” Abe snarled through clenched teeth. “Salt.”

  The tendons of Radu’s neck bulged against the skin as he nodded. He planted one foot against the wall and forced himself back. Mihail screamed as his arm threatened to pop from the joint. Painful tears filled his eyes, freezing as the wind whipped across his face. Radu counted down from three, slow and steady, his voice barely betraying his fear. He raced across the threshold, never releasing Mihail’s arm until he was sure that Abe had managed to grab hold.

  It was a smooth transition, but Abe still struggled to hold his ground alone. Mihail kicked out with his free foot and teeth sunk into the skin of his ankle. Pain exploded in the joints of his shoulder and hip. Sharp, sudden jerks drove them deeper into the night. Abe couldn't stand against it. They were swiftly losing ground. Radu returned, charging like a bull as he hurled handfuls of salt, but the battle wouldn't end.

  “The wind’s taking it,” Radu said to Abe.

  Stepping across the threshold, Radu looped an arm around Mihail's waist, helping to hold him in place as he hurled the salt again. All three of them tumbled back through the doorway to land in a heap. Mihail was up first. He lunged, grabbed the door handle, and hurled it closed. Instantly, the sounds of the storm eased, leaving them able to hear their own panted breaths. Every inch of his body throbbed as he lay down on the floor. Blood soaked the leg of his pants, a startlingly familiar sensation.

  “Why do ghosts always attack my ankle?” he puffed.

  Even as the question left his lips, his attention was already shifting to the bite mark on Radu's arm. It didn't take long for his blood to start pooling under him. Abe noticed, too. Immediately, his paramedic instincts kicked in, and he rolled up onto his knees, instructing Mihail where to find the nearest first-aid kit. The Claymonts always kept several at hand.

  Once he had brought it over, he did as Abe asked and began to pour trails of salt across every entrance. Even the slightest pressure against his injured foot was agony, reducing him to a hobble. Still, he ran around the house. His courage faltered when he reached Abe’s room, so instead of sealing the window, Mihail closed the door and salted that instead.

  “How the hell could a doll do that?” Radu was asking, as Mihail came back into the living room.

  They had moved in front of the fire, working to warm Abe and stop Radu’s bleeding.

  “Because it wasn't just a doll, ya dumbass,” Ab
e snapped sharply.

  There was a sudden jerk and Radu hissed. “Hey, a little care, huh?”

  “Oh, you’re talking to me about being careful?”

  Radu’s eyes narrowed. “You’re too old to sulk.”

  “Ya allowed a demon to run through my home. It almost took Mihail. Don’t think I’m above hitting ya.”

  “I’m not the one that let it in,” Radu protested.

  “It came through an open window,” Mihail said, as he passed them and headed into the kitchen.

  “Mihail?” Abe called after him.

  “I’m okay, tend to him first.”

  At the disruption of the conversation, Radu seemed to default back to his disbelief.

  “It’s stitched rags. How could it have that kind of upper body strength?”

  “Because it’s not just a doll!” Abe bellowed with rage. “That was a lesser demon! Do ya get that? Can ya wrap your mind around that?”

  Radu cringed slightly. “Yeah.”

  It wasn’t enough to calm him, but he did stop screaming. Mihail found him more terrifying when his voice lowered to a dark rumble.

  “I can’t believe ya dismissed what we were both telling ya. After everything we just discussed. Is that stupidity or insanity?”

  “Maybe a bit of both,” Radu said softly. “But it’s also a learning experience.”

  Abe’s eyes narrowed and Mihail hurried over, tray in hand, hoping to serve as a distraction; enough to defuse the situation. He had gathered the hot drinks Radu had been making, some cold water, and the forgotten bag of chips. Because Abe was always hungry. Setting them down on the coffee table, he smiled through the pain that sparked under his skin. The task was harder when he started to sink down. But the fire was at his back, a soothing pressure that worked on his abused muscles.

  Both men seemed somewhat chastised by his arrival.

  “Your ankle’s bleeding,” Abe said.

  Mihail looked down at it and winced. He had been leaving a trail of droplets around the house. “Sorry, I didn’t know, I’ll clean it up.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Abe said, his voice softening as he motioned to the first-aid kit with his chin. “Just put pressure on it for me and prop it up on the couch, okay? I’ll be with ya in a second.”