by Anne Bishop
Her sapphire eyes blazed with anger, but it was the icy slash of temper swirling deep in the abyss, almost to the level of the Black, that told him he was in serious trouble.
Sweet Darkness, she was pissed at him.
“Do you know where this village is located?” she asked, handing the invitation back to him.
He nodded.
“Then get a Coach ready. Something big enough to accommodate several people. I need to gather a few supplies.” She headed for the door leading to the corridor.
“Jaenelle…”
“Now, Prince.”
Her voice made his heart race as the sound sizzled down his spine like cold lightning. There were caverns and sepulchres—and a whisper of madness—in that voice.
Midnight whispered in that voice.
Witch, not Jaenelle, had just issued that command. And the Lady wasn’t pleased.
Since there was nothing he could do about her anger, he went downstairs to prepare the Coach so they could ride the Winds to the landen village where that damn spooky house was located.
“That’s not a fresh kill,” Rainier said, holding a hand over his nose and mouth.
Surreal stared at the body in the closet. “Nope. Been here long enough to start to smell. But someone wearing the illusion of that face let us into this house and passed me just a minute before he went through the door at the end of the hallway.” The shields had kept the smell to a minimum until she opened the door. Now there was no doubt they were looking at carrion.
“What door?” Rainier asked.
She looked at the end of the hallway. “The door that’s no longer there.”
“Hell’s fire,” Rainier muttered. “What’s going on here? And where are Jaenelle and Marian?”
She shook her head, then took a step closer to the body. Was that…? Yes. There was a folded piece of paper tucked between the dead caretaker’s thigh and hand. Naturally it was between the body parts farthest from the door.
She reached in, pulled the paper free, shook off a couple of maggots, and then stepped back, closing the door to cut down on the smell.
“It’s getting dark outside—and even darker in here,” Rainier said. “Let’s go into the sitting room and light a couple of lamps before we have to deal with frightened children.”
“We’re going to be dealing with frightened children whether we light lamps or not,” Surreal replied.
“I just don’t understand what Jaenelle and Marian were thinking.”
Surreal waggled the paper. “Since I think I found the first clue, let’s light the lamps and find out.”
The moment they walked back into the sitting room, Dayle said, “Where is the spooky stuff? This place is boring.” Then she poked her lower lip out in a pout.
Maybe landen adults thought pouting was cute. As far as Surreal was concerned, if you were old enough to stand up by yourself, you were too old to pout and have it look cute.
«Don’t even consider it,» Rainier said.
«I wasn’t considering anything.»
«You were going to tell her to open the door under the stairs.»
Of course she was. «If she doesn’t stop pouting, I’m going to put maggots in her hair.»
A hesitation. Just long enough to tell her he was picturing the possibility—and enjoying it.
Since that cheered her up, she waited while Rainier used Craft to light two of the oil lamps in the room.
Somewhere in the house, a gong sounded twice.
Rainier held one lamp while she opened the paper.
THERE ARE THIRTY EXITS FROM THE SPOOKY HOUSE, BUT YOU WILL NEED TO LOOK CAREFULLY TO FIND THEM, FOR THEY ARE WRAPPED IN DANGER. EVERY TIME CRAFT IS USED, AN EXIT IS SEALED, AND THAT WAY OUT IS LOST. WHEN THE LAST EXIT IS SEALED, YOU WILL BECOME PART OF THE HOUSE—AND STAY WITH US FOREVER.
“What in the name of Hell…?” Rainier said, following Surreal as she moved away from the children.
“The gong,” she whispered once they were standing near the door. “It sounded twice when you created the tongues of witchfire and lit the lamps. I heard it when I made the witchlight.” Which was still floating in the hallway.
“When I checked the time, I called in and vanished the pocket watch,” Rainier whispered back.
“So that’s five times we’ve used Craft since we went through that gate in the fence.”
“Five times that we remember.”
He had a point. The Blood—especially darker-Jeweled Blood—were so accustomed to using Craft as a way to siphon off the power that flowed within them, they weren’t even aware of using it half the time.
“The gong must be a signal that Craft was used,” Surreal said, glancing at the children to make sure she and Rainier were still out of hearing.
“Or a signal that one of those exits closed because Craft was used.” Then Rainier added on a psychic thread, «But communicating like this doesn’t appear to trigger…whatever this is.»
They waited, but no gong sounded.
She read the note again and considered the implications.
«Rainier…I couldn’t have been the only one to receive an invitation.»
«An invitation to a trap, from the looks of it.»
«Yeah.» She gave him a moment to consider that. «The others haven’t shown up yet, and we don’t know how many invitations were sent.»
«Fair bet invitations were sent to Yaslana and Sadi. And the caretaker, or whoever he is, did say there were twelve visitors per tour.»
«Doesn’t mean twelve of us were expected.» She studied the note. «Every time Craft is used, an exit is sealed, and there are thirty exits. That sounds like the total number of times Craft can be used between all of the Blood in the house. Which means the more Blood in this place, the less chance we have of finding a way out while there still is a way out.»
«Agreed,» Rainier said. «What are you suggesting?»
She handed the note to him. «That we not play the game and try a direct approach for getting out of here.»
Returning to the hall, she opened the front door. Still had solid brick behind it. But brick was no match for a punch of Gray power.
Turning inward, she made a fast descent in the abyss until she reached her inner web and the full power of her Gray Jewels. Then she turned and rose like an arrow of psychic power released from a bow.
She raised her right hand, aiming it at the bricks framed by the doorway. The Gray Jewel in her ring flashed as she unleashed a punch of power that would blow out the whole damn wall.
Or should have.
She stared at the undamaged bricks. Then she heard an odd crackle. A sizzle.
“Surreal!”
No time to reply. Some kind of webbing suddenly wrapped around her head and torso. She couldn’t see it. Her fingers couldn’t feel it. But it felt like a web made out of lightning and wire that passed through her skin and tightened until it squeezed her lungs, closed her throat.
Her heart thundered in her ears as she fought to breathe, fought to stay alive.
“Surreal!”
Rainier’s arms around her.
She heard him snarl in frustrated rage. Heard a door slam. Or maybe that was her heart.
Then she heard the gong.
Suddenly the webbing was gone and she could breathe again.
“Mother Night,” she gasped.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
No. “Not sure.” Shit shit shit. That hurt.
“What happened?”
She was on the floor. Didn’t remember going down. Since Rainier was being so obliging about propping her up, she leaned against him.
“Backlash,” she said, wincing when she swallowed. “There must be spells that have formed a cage around this place. I punched them when I tried to open the wall. They punched back.”
She tried to get up—and wasn’t happy that she needed Rainier’s help.
«If Sadi and Yaslana were invited, then this cage was designed to hold the Black and Ebon-gray,»
Rainier said.
«Yeah.» And that wasn’t good news for her or Rainier.
“Come back into the sitting room,” he said, leading her to the room. “You should sit down.”
“I’m all right.” Had to be. “I don’t need to sit down.” More to the point, she didn’t want to find out she was too shaky to get up by herself if she did sit down.
«Looks like we’re going to play the game,» Rainier said. «The only way out is to find one of those exits.»
Surreal nodded. «But first, we have to find a way to warn the others before they walk into this place. Then we get us and the children out of here.»
«Without using Craft.»
«Without using Craft.»
Rainier hesitated. «Do you think Jaenelle and Marian did this?»
«Doesn’t matter at this point, does it?»
Everything has a price. That was a common saying among the Blood. Everything has a price.
And the price for trying to leave his game by cheating was pain.
The caging spell had worked exactly as he’d been told it would, using the witch’s power against herself to inflict a great deal of pain.
But not enough physical damage to take Surreal out of the game.
Unfortunately, the caging spell wasn’t as effective if it was challenged a second time, but that was why the pain was so vicious—to discourage anyone from trying to break through the spell a second time.
Why were Surreal and Rainier just standing there? Why weren’t they doing anything? They had the first clue. Had the only clue.
He’d debated giving them even that much, but it seemed necessary. If his character Landry Langston was going to get ensnared by a house that would tighten the trap every time he used his newly learned Craft skills, he had to have a chance to escape the danger—and readers had to be aware of the danger.
Besides, having the gong sound every time one of them used Craft meant none of them could deny using it—and, by using it, taking away another chance for all of them to escape.
But why…?
Damn! They were using those psychic threads to talk to each other! He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t done anything to penalize them for doing that. How was he supposed to make notes for dialogue if he couldn’t hear what they were saying?
No matter. He was betting the Surreal bitch and her stud would have plenty to say once they started seeing his little surprises.
Surreal turned to the children and held out one hand with her fingers slightly curved. “We need to find something about this size—a whatnot or rock or, Hell’s fire, even a loose brick. Start looking.”
Trout and Sage immediately headed for the crowded tables, but Kester asked with a sneer, “Why? Will we finally see something spooky if we look?”
“If you don’t look, you’ll see me kicking your ass hard enough to bounce you off the ceiling.” Right now, she’d end up on the floor if she didn’t keep both feet planted, but no one but Rainier realized that. “Do as you’re told, boyo. We’ve got trouble here.”
“I don’t like this place,” Dayle whined. “I want to go home.”
Surreal looked at Rainier.
«They didn’t notice the cobweb feeling,» he said.
This place was a trap for the Blood. Maybe the children would be allowed to leave.
She looked at Dayle. “Sure. Go ahead. Go home.” She stepped away from the door, giving the girl a clear path to the hallway.
“This is a stupid house,” Trist said as he and the two younger boys followed Dayle and Ginger into the hallway.
Sauntering out of the sitting room, Kester paused in the doorway and gave her a look that would have earned him bruises from the adult males in a Blood village. Lucky for Kester, Rainier hadn’t caught that look. Under the circumstances, she didn’t think her Warlord Prince escort would have much tolerance for any kind of cock wagging from a boy old enough to use his brains instead of showing off his balls.
She gave a moment’s thought to shoving the little prick-ass in the closet under the stairs to see how he liked spending time with a corpse, but she was still too wobbly to take him on without using Craft, so she dismissed the idea. Besides, once all the children were out of the house, it would make things easier for her and Rainier.
Finally the only child lingering in the room was Sage.
The girl looked up at her, genuine concern in those young eyes. “You fell down before. I saw it. Are you hurt?”
She almost dismissed the concern, almost offered a lie in order to reassure. Then she thought of what she would have said to a Blood female that same age.
Glancing at Rainier to make sure he was out of hearing, she leaned toward Sage and said quietly, “Yes, I’m hurt. But right now, that can’t matter.” She tipped her head to indicate the door. “Go on. Join the others. You need to get out of here if you can.”
Moments after Sage left the room, Dayle said in a loud, whiny voice, “Where’s the door?”
Shit shit shit.
“You go,” Surreal said to Rainier. “I’ll look for what we need.”
On a table in the farthest corner of the room, she found a hefty glass paperweight. In the center of the glass was a slightly squashed baby mouse.
She decided not to wonder why anyone would find that appealing.
Rainier’s expression was grim when he came back into the room followed by all seven children.
“Couldn’t get past the bricks blocking the doorway?” she asked, holding the paperweight just behind her hip to avoid upsetting the children.
“No doorway,” he replied. “No door. And nothing to indicate there ever was one.”
Great. Wonderful. “All right. Let’s wrap up our package and figure out a way to deliver it. Do you have a handkerchief?”
“A hankie?” Henn said. “Does it have boogers on it?”
Trist stared at Rainier as if he were part of the entertainment. “Do the Blood make boogers?”
“Some things that are tolerated when said among males are never tolerated when said in the presence of a Lady,” Rainier said too softly.
«They’re landens, not Blood,» Surreal reminded him.
«They’re males,» he snapped.
Shit. If Rainier was going to divide acceptable behavior by the criterion of penis or breasts, they were all in trouble.
Hoping to shift his mood, she said with blatantly false cheerfulness, «We could just kill them now. It would make everything so much easier.»
«Don’t tempt me,» Rainier replied as he took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket.
Hell’s fire. He might be serious. About the boys anyway. A Warlord Prince didn’t put up with much of anything from a male who didn’t outrank him.
But that caste of male was also primed to defend and protect. If she could get Rainier focused on duty, that would turn his temper toward the problem of getting out of the damn house.
«We invited them to join us, Rainier.»
«I invited them, you mean.» He took a deep breath—and puffed it out in a sigh as he nodded acceptance of the reminder.
Nothing more needed to be said, so Surreal looked at the double strand of blue ribbon Ginger was using as a hair band. “I need those ribbons.”
“I don’t have to give them to you. I don’t have to do anything you say.” Ginger fisted her hands on her hips. “You make the door open so we can go home.”
Surreal caught the quick look Ginger gave Kester. Oh, yeah. Impress the dominant cock by playing the bitch. Or keep the cock impressed by squaring off against a witch. Since she’d seen plenty of variations of that theme when she lived in Terreille, she knew one thing for certain: Ginger was going to be a pain in the ass she didn’t need.
“Give me the ribbons,” Surreal said calmly. “If you don’t, I will rip them off your head—and rip most of your hair off with them.”
Ginger’s face paled, then flushed with embarrassment.
Lesson one, bitch. Don’t start a pissing contest with someone w
ho has the strength and temper to hurt you.
Ginger pulled off the ribbons and threw them on the floor. “You’re bad! You’re just like my mother says you are!”
“Well, sugar, that’s something you should have remembered before trying to act like the dominant bitch around someone like me,” Surreal said softly. She took a step toward the girl—and felt a tapping against her fingers. No, that wasn’t quite right, but…
She brought her hand around to look at the paperweight and felt a jolt of revulsion followed by a sick tickle in the belly.
No longer solid glass. Now it was a glass dome over a solid base. Now the baby mouse, still looking slightly squashed, was on its hind legs, its front paws pounding on the glass as it squeaked for help.
Her hand shook, but she didn’t drop it. It was the only thing she’d found that would serve her purpose, so she didn’t drop it, didn’t throw it against the fireplace.
“Ew,” Dayle said, her eyes wide and excited. “That’s creepy.”
«My apologies, Lady Surreal,» Rainier said. «I shouldn’t have discouraged you from showing them the closet. They’d probably find a dead body and maggots entertaining.»
“What was it before the illusion spell started?” Rainier asked out loud.
“A dead mouse in a glass paperweight.” She hesitated but had to ask because there was something about the skewed nature of the illusion that made her uneasy. «When you were a boy, would you have found this entertaining?»
«The mouse? Hell’s fire, no.»
«Would boys in general find this entertaining?»
Rainier studied her but must have sensed she didn’t want to share the reason for her questions. «Maybe. Our companions seem to, at any rate.»
Mother Night.
She started to bend down to pick up the ribbons, but Sage scooped them up and handed them to her. Thanking the girl, she perched on the arm of the overstuffed sofa, unwilling to sit on the cushions in case the mouse’s relatives were still in residence.
The paper with the warning about the nature of the spooky house was wrapped around the paperweight. The handkerchief was wrapped over the paper. Everything was tied securely with the ribbons.
“Now what?” Rainier asked.
“See if that window is still a window.”
She watched him pull aside the lace curtains—and then jump back, swearing viciously, when black, beetlelike things fell from the curtains as they shredded.
