Serpent's Gate

by Jade Astor

  Leo carried one over to Justin, who slipped it over his head without comment. Leo, likewise, pulled one on, too. If circumstances had been different, Stephen might have chortled at the awkward fit of the coarse old material on Leo’s oversized chest and shoulders. His meaty wrists extended an inch or two past the gaping hems of the sleeves.

  “Celebrating Halloween early this year?” Stephen asked bitterly.

  “We have one for you, too.” Justin nodded to Leo, who lifted his arms in the air while Justin forced a third ugly robe over his head.

  “Better hold on tight this time,” he heard Justin caution Leo as the dark cloth momentarily blocked his vision. “Not like your last screw-up.”

  “She was stronger than I thought,” Leo muttered. They were referring to Ivy, Stephen knew. Had she bolted for the edge before they could force her into the ceremonial garment? She hadn’t been wearing one when she’d landed in the courtyard as a bloody, smashed heap. Maybe, in the dark, she hadn’t seen where she was running—or she thought plunging to her death would be preferable to what Justin and her brother had in mind. Tears stung Stephen’s eyes as he imagined the flash of terror Ivy must have experienced when her flailing body plummeted to the ground.

  Having no desire to meet the same gruesome fate, Stephen remained immobile as Justin and Leo dragged the robe down past his shoulders. At least he could see again. The gray slate tiles under his feet swam into focus as the heavy mist began to dissipate.

  At that point he noticed another odd feature of the Fairbourne House roof. The space around the base of the statue wasn’t smooth like the rest of the tiles. Instead, a series of strange markings, etched into the slate with a chisel or thick stylus, encircled the slab. Stephen recognized the markings at once—they were the same symbols that had filled the pages of the missing book.

  Justin noticed him trying to make sense of them. The truth sank in almost at the same moment Justin confirmed it.

  “I see you’ve made the connection, too, though it took me a bit longer. Remember when I told you I had been up here with my mother many years ago? She showed me this statue and those symbols. Only when I got hold of your special little book did I figure out their purpose.”

  “A code,” Stephen guessed.

  “Yes. I’m sorry I had to knock your silly uncle off his ladder—trust me when I say I never intended for him to end up in the hospital.” Justin flashed a frosty smile that made Stephen ill. So Justin really had meant to kill Uncle Vernon. He couldn’t deny it to himself any longer. “If only he’d gone off for lunch with you, everything might have turned out differently.”

  “I hate you,” Stephen spat. Justin ignored him.

  “It took me a while to translate the pages, but once I got the hang of it, it wasn’t so tough. I’m a lot smarter than you and Roark ever gave me credit for, you know. And with the demon alongside me, I’ll be much more powerful than he, my parents, and Malcolm ever expected.”

  “You’re insane. There’s no such thing as a demon slumbering at Fairbourne House. It was probably a story your ancestors made up to scare the villagers. Or even if they did believe it, so what? Some people back then had diseased minds—just like they do today.”

  Justin’s nostrils flared. “Your opinions on my mental state are of no concern to me. A few moments from now they won’t concern anyone at all. Not even you.”

  Another brief nod made Leo lunge forward and pin Stephen’s arms to his side. He found himself being pushed against the stone, Leo forcing his head into Istharios’s open mouth as he had feared. He saw now that the space below his wide, forked tongue had been hollowed out as if to allow rainwater to drip into his wrought-iron gullet. When Leo lowered the dagger toward Stephen’s throat, he realized it wasn’t rainwater they intended to fill it with. He struggled as Leo used the rough garden twine from his pocket to fasten his hands to metal rings driven into the slab.

  “A simple blood sacrifice,” Justin explained, waving his hand. “People wonder why Istharios has been dormant so long. He hasn’t abandoned our family—he’s simply been waiting for one of the Fairbournes to show him the proper deference. Roark and Malcolm are both as useless as grandfather Bartholomew proved to be, so it appears the task has fallen to me. I’m so glad you chose to stick around, Stephen—Ivy was a suitable candidate, but she wasn’t my first choice. I was a bit relieved when she took herself out of the running. I knew all along our backup offering was actually superior. Grandfather Silas had the right idea all along—it’s male blood Istharios wants, not that of a weak, servile female. Olive didn’t work out, either—and Lucas fled when he learned about the plan. Pathetic, all of them.”

  “So you took the clipping along with the book,” Stephen said.

  “Of course I did. Why shouldn’t I? You said it yourself—that library is mine. I have every right to do with its contents exactly what I chose. And right now I choose to get on with things.”

  From the folds of his robe, Justin produced the long-missing book and opened it with great solemnity. He began reading the encrypted language, turning the complex symbols into a strange, primitive cadence of sounds. The gist of the recitation seemed clear enough. Justin was calling on Istharios to accept their gift of warm human blood and appear to them in exchange for the nourishment.

  The pressure of Leo’s knife on his throat increased. Just as he prepared himself for a hard deep cut and hoped that dying wouldn’t hurt too much, the door to the roof banged open.

  Leo froze and spun around, the knife scratching Stephen’s neck as he struggled to see who it was. “Mom!”

  “Mrs. Mulgrave?” Justin lowered the book, staring. “What are you doing up here?”

  Relief washed over Stephen. No doubt Malcolm, and hopefully at least one police officer, were right behind her.

  The housekeeper’s expression seemed anything but shocked or horrified. In fact, she looked almost amused by the bizarre scene playing out in front of her.

  “Sorry I’m late. It took me a while to ditch Malcolm.” After pulling on another robe, Mrs. Mulgrave strolled over to stand beside her son. “You boys could at least have waited for me. Still, I’m here now, and that’s what matters. Go ahead, Leo…and Justin, proceed.”

  Chapter 19

  Leo eyed his mother with suspicion. “Where ya been, Ma? We waited as long as we could.”

  “I was stuck at the hospital much longer than I expected. Malcolm kept hovering around me—insufferable man insisted I needed his support. He couldn’t believe I wasn’t as devastated over Ivy as he thought I ought to be. Finally I told him I left my reading glasses in his car and I needed them to fill out the forms the nurse gave us. The fool gave me the keys so I could search for them, and I seized the opportunity to come straight back here. Thank you for leaving the gate open, dear.”

  “I figured you’d be back eventually,” Leo said hopefully.

  Mrs. Mulgrave smirked. “Most likely you just forgot, but in any case it worked out fine.”

  “What was the holdup?” Justin asked. “It’s not like Ivy’s body needed formal identification.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. She isn’t dead. Not yet, anyway.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Justin’s face fell. “Silly wench never could do anything right. Don’t know why I expected it to be different this time.”

  “You can hardly blame her for the mistakes the two of you made,” Mrs. Mulgrave retorted.

  Stephen gaped at her. “You knew these two were responsible for Ivy—your own daughter—falling off the roof? And you didn’t tell Malcolm? They should be arrested!”

  Mrs. Mulgrave reached for his shoulder. At first he thought she was trying to comfort him, but instead her clawlike nails caused pain to shoot down his arm.

  “Ivy made her own decision. She could have helped us bring Istharios back and shared in the spoils of our glory. She chose an ignoble death instead. The irony is that she may still get her wish.”

  Stephen fought back his revulsion. Kee
ping them talking might buy him time to discover a better way off the roof than Ivy had. They seemed to love talking endlessly about Istharios. Maybe he could use their obsession to his advantage. “But Mrs. Mulgrave, how did you get involved in all this? I mean—you’re responsible for this whole house. Roark Fairbourne depends on you, trusts you with his life. What would he think if he saw you now?”

  “I doubt he’d be all that surprised, actually. He isn’t blind, any more than his father was, and Owen Fairbourne knew me better than anyone else on this earth. Besides, I have a stake in Fairbourne House, and not just because I’m the housekeeper. My ties to this family are closer than you think.” Mrs. Mulgrave paused to smile at her son.

  “I’m doing my best, Ma,” Leo said, beaming back.

  “I know you are, sweetheart. All right, let’s get on with this. We don’t have forever. Eventually, Malcolm will realize I’ve left with his car. Justin, pick up where you left off with the incantation. Remember, timing is everything where these types of rituals are concerned. Leo, don’t use the knife until you sense the demon’s presence. Most likely he’ll send us a sign—a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning, or even a gust of strong wind. Sometimes there’s a strange odor—not always pleasant, I warn you. The trick is to be alert and open to whatever it turns out to be.”

  “Wait. How do you know all this, Mrs. Mulgrave?” Stephen asked, determined to stall them.

  “My great-great-grandmother was present at a summoning once, before Bartholomew Fairbourne let his cowardice get the better of him. Luckily for the rest of us, Grandmama kept a journal and recorded what she witnessed. Luckily it escaped Bartholomew’s bonfires when he decided to stop feeding Istharios.” She pursed her lips as though anticipating the demon’s foul smell. “Some people have no respect for tradition.”

  “Was she there when Olive Simmons disappeared a century ago?” Olive and Lucas had likely been dragged up the staircase he had, Stephen realized, maybe even imprisoned in the dusty room at the top while the others prepared for the ceremony. And Ivy as well. Perhaps Mrs. Mulgrave’s great-grandmother had even been present at her fellow servants’ murders.

  “Yes. She was the one who convinced the authorities Olive had most likely run off with a beau. I’m sorry, Stephen dear, but you’ll soon disappear, too. A shame, to be certain, but these things happen. You’re a nice young man, though a bit too forward, as my Grandmama would have said. Even a guest should know his place among his betters.” With that pronouncement, the last trace of humanity vanished from her cold, dark eyes. “And your place now is to be quiet. I’ve answered enough of your questions. I’ll have Leo gag you if this chatter continues.”

  Fearful of losing the ability to scream for help if the opportunity arose, Stephen fell silent. The ceremony resumed. Justin read from the book, his voice quavering in a few places when he stumbled over the foreign words. Stephen took smug satisfaction in Justin’s s blunders. Nonetheless, Justin forged on.

  When he finished, nothing happened.

  “Maybe you’re reading it too slow or too fast,” Leo suggested.

  Justin’s temper flared. “I’m reading it the same way I’d read anything else!”

  “That’s exactly my point! It shouldn’t sound like you’re reciting the sports page!”

  “Enough!” Mrs. Mulgrave cut their argument short. “I don’t think his tone of voice is the issue. I suspect the problem is more fundamental. Justin doesn’t have the power that normally runs through Fairbourne blood. He wasn’t fortunate enough to inherit it after all.”

  “But I do have it! I started the fire in my room, remember?”

  “With the help of a candle?” Leo smirked. “Not a lot of magic in that.”

  “Well…yes,” Justin admitted sheepishly. “I did have a candle there as part of the ceremony. But the flame ignited and spread on its own, I promise you.”

  The two Mulgraves exchanged frowns of blatant disbelief. “It is as we feared, Leo. Yet our efforts must not be in vain. You know what to do.”

  “Yes. I do—and I’m prepared, Mom.”

  Mrs. Mulgrave directed his next order at Justin. “Switch places with Leo,” she barked. “Now.”

  “No! I won’t!”

  “I think you will. We’ve already wasted enough time. Your pitiful attempts haven’t raised an eyebrow, much less a demon.”

  “Let me try again! I’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

  “There isn’t any point, Justin. Give Leo the book at once.”

  “No!”

  As the tension rose between them, Stephen took advantage of the distraction by straining at the twine binding his wrists. Rubbing it against the stone, he hoped would fray it enough that he could work at least one hand loose. Every movement made it bite into his skin painfully, but he couldn’t afford to worry about that. Far worse pain awaited him if he couldn’t twist free.

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Mulgrave snatched the knife from Leo’s hand so Leo could grab the book from Justin. Leo noticed Stephen’s shoulders rocking and tapped his mother on the shoulder.

  “We should tie him down tighter,” Leo suggested.

  “There’s no time,” Mrs. Mulgrave told him. “Besides, the fight for his life, along with his screams, will help rouse Istharios’s interest. That’s one reason I hesitated to gag him in the first place. Justin and I will control him. Go ahead, Leo. Read.”

  “He can’t read that book!” Justin argued. “I doubt he can even read normal writing.”

  Mrs. Mulgrave sniffed. “Of course he can. Thanks to Grandmama’s diary, I’ve been teaching him the Old Language since he was a child—just as I taught Ivy, who taught you. Or tried to, anyway. I see she made a hash of that, much like everything else she tried to do. But then, that wasn’t the plan in the beginning. She and Leo were supposed to make sure you didn’t walk away from that car wreck with the book in your hand. We all have to adapt at times.”

  Stephen was sure he saw Justin blink in astonished outrage. He quickly recovered himself, though, and grabbed for the book again. Leo, who was easily a foot taller, raised it out of reach. “But summoning Istharios is my birthright! I’m a Fairbourne—Leo isn’t.”

  Leo laughed and this time pulled the book protectively to his chest. “Sure. Just go right on thinking that, like you have for years.”

  ”Damn you, Leo! I’m the one who found it in the library! I spent hours learning to pronounce the spell!”

  “Thanks to my sister,” Leo retorted.

  “Well, you didn’t do a very good job,” Mrs. Mulgrave scolded. Privately, Stephen had to agree. “Then again, you never were much of a linguistics scholar. I remember doing your French homework for you all through high school. So now we’re going to give Leo a chance.” Mrs. Mulgrave gave her son a small, triumphant smile.

  “I can do this, Ma,” Leo promised. Justin, however, was in no mood to back down.

  “He has no right even to touch that book. He’s a servant!”

  “Nonsense. He’s the one who should have been standing in your place all along. Yes, he is your brother’s employee, to use a less antiquated term. He’s also the eldest son of Owen Fairbourne.”

  “What?” Justin paled.

  “It’s the truth. Leo’s known all his life, and I suspect Owen at least wondered over the years. Leo’s own father certainly knew—unfortunately for him.”

  “That’s why he never liked me. I didn’t care. Ma and Mr. Fairbourne loved me. That’s all that mattered.” Leo’s gaze strayed toward the rail on the left side of the house—presumably the place where Mr. Mulgrave had met his fate. No wonder his wife and supposed son didn’t mourn his death. Most likely they had lured him here and engineered it themselves. The entire household was made up of murderers, would-be warlocks, and even a housekeeper who moonlighted as a demonic priestess. All in an upscale home in the presumably civilized 21st century. Stephen could hardly believe he wasn’t dreaming. But the scrape of the twin against his wrists convinced him he wasn’t

&nb
sp; “You and Roark, it turns out, were irrelevant all along. But don’t worry,” Mrs. Mulgrave went on while Justin sputtered in fury. “Leo and I are more than capable of completing this ceremony. And years of practice in the kitchen has made my hand steady and quick with a knife.” She flicked the blade at Stephen’s throat, close enough that Stephen flinched. Close up, he saw that its ornate handle had been carved into the shape of an undulating serpent.

  “Soon Istharios will be brimming with the warmth of vibrant young life. He will come to us and bestow all the gifts we have earned by serving him these many years. Then my son will take his rightful place as master of this house.”

  “Him? Master of the house? But what about me?” Justin’s voice rose to a near-whine.

  “You’ll live.” Leo pulled back his lips in an expression that was half snarl and half smile. His mother beamed with approval. “If we decide to let you, anyway. The final decision rests with Istharios, of course.”

  “Don’t you mean with your mother?” Justin snapped. Again Stephen saw his determination waver. And over Justin’s shoulder, he noticed something else—a movement in the doorway of the tower. Tears of relief sprang to his eyes when a huddled figure discreetly motioned to him. Roark was crouching low, watching the bizarre scene unfold. No one else saw him, since Leo’s back was to the tower and Mrs. Mulgrave’s attention was currently focused on the blade against Stephen’s throat. Stephen vowed to make sure Justin kept looking at him, too.

  He decided to try a direct approach. “Let me up, Justin,” he urged. “They’ll kill both of us if we don’t fight back. Two against two, we have a chance. Worth a shot, don’t you think?”

  “Quiet,” Mrs. Mulgrave snapped.

  “They’ll take the house from you, Justin. Even Roark would give you a bigger share than they will. You just heard their plan for yourself. So did I.”