“He’s gathering power,” Ben said from behind us.
I wasn’t the only one who started at the sound of his voice.
“When he’s ready, he’ll trigger the spell,” Damon explained. “After that, everything depends on how well he constructed it, how powerful your aunt’s magic was, and how good the repairs are.”
The seconds ticked past, and I kept waiting for Mason to do something, but he just kept pulling up power.
“How much does he need?” Jen muttered, clearly feeling as edgy as I was.
“The spell that binds the gargoyles is strong,” Damon said most unhelpfully.
I looked at him. “But not stronger than Mason?”
“He doesn’t think so.”
“What happens if he’s wrong?” Nuclear annihilation? Everybody grows a tail? We all turn into hobbits? Bueller?
“Then I’ll step in to help,” came Damon’s quietly determined answer.
I wanted to ask if he was strong enough, but clearly he didn’t know. The only thing I knew for certain was that if something did go wrong, Damon wasn’t “stepping in” alone. I’d be going with him. I didn’t think about why.
Suddenly the jagged streamers of power shut off. Mason’s entire upper body glowed like radioactive waste in a Saturday morning cartoon. As we watched, the glow condensed, sliding down his arms to bundle around his hands before shrinking to the size of a bowling ball. He let go of the mass of power.
The magic ball floated like a soap bubble. When it landed in the nest of wire, crystal, green liquid, and blood, it went out like a blown candle. For a second, nothing happened. We watched, breathless. Mason backed away from his handiwork.
Light bloomed in the bowl. And heat. I was already warm, but I went to sweating to broiling in the oven in a couple of seconds. It was hard to catch my breath. I panted. So did Lorraine and Jen. Their fingers tightened on mine. I wanted to reassure them, but what could I say? It will be all right? The hell if I knew.
The magic burned white. Even with the blue of the shields, I could tell. Light sucked back into the bowl. The contents—now white as pearls—overflowed onto the sand and red marker patterns. The liquid traced along the writing. Where it touched, light gleamed like a stroke of sunshine.
When all the board was outlined and the bowl emptied, the light winked out again. Sort of. More like it evolved into black not-quite-light with a slight shine. I thought it was the volcanic sand and gold flecks, but those had been transformed into something else like molten glass. The rocks in the spell pattern started to burn. They turned orange like hot coals.
At some point, the outer edges of the spell pattern began to draw inward. Everything massed together and collected around the base of the bowl, then ran upward to pour inside it. Instead of filling the crystal, however, the power of the spell ran out along the strands of copper. When it reached the gargoyles, it spread, coating them in a thin layer of gold-specked black.
I held my breath, my hands tightening on Lorraine’s and Jen’s.
Nothing happened.
We waited.
Still nothing.
“How do you know it worked?” I whispered.
“They’ve been stuck in stone form for many years. It could take a while,” Damon said.
I had an urge to stomp my foot. My first big magic spell, and it was a big wait and see?
“Did you see that?” Jen asked.
“What?” Lorraine and I said at the same time.
“Check out their eyes.”
They glowed orange like the stones Mason had set into the pattern. Only these weren’t just inanimate rocks. I could feel the intelligence staring out at us. I shivered. The rage inside them was palpable.
A crack! shattered the heavy silence. The black spell skin of one of the beasts zigzagged with fissures, and then it shattered, falling to the patio with the clink of broken glass. The beast inside shuddered and shook itself. His penis retracted and disappeared so fast, I didn’t even see where it went.
He had looked big as a statue. Now he was enormous. He stood and spread his wings and suddenly became eight feet tall with muscles boiling inside his massive gray body. Then the whole bunch started moving as the spell shells all cracked apart.
They’d looked strange and ugly before with animal faces, tails, claws, and powerful legs and arms halfway between human and cat. They spoke to one another in oddly soft voices, stretching and flapping wings. One launched up into the sky and flew upward and streaked away. Who’d have thought a rock could fly? And so fast?
It didn’t take them long to look around for us. The first one who’d broken free seemed to be the leader. His face reminded me of an Egyptian jackal with a long, squared-off snout and tall, pointed ears. His gaze swept over us before settling on Mason.
He leaped forward, almost too fast to see. He hulked over Mason, his tail lashing as he bent over the slender man. He drew a deep breath and then growled.
“One of the families,” he said with pure disgust.
His hand shot out and wrapped Mason’s neck. Mason didn’t move a muscle.
“We want our mates back.”
“Mates?” I repeated, my stomach hollowing as I started leaping to the obvious conclusions.
“Oh, shit,” Ben said. “This is bad.”
“We invoke blood pact. Give us our mates now, or we will raze every stone of every house we guard. We will bury every member of the families. We will destroy you.”
I let go of Lorraine’s and Jen’s hands and strode out of the shielding. Behind me, Damon swore and followed hard on my heels. The girls and Ben weren’t far behind.
“Stop!” I called and came to stop by the angry gargoyle. He twisted his head to look at me. He had whiskers, which struck me as odd for a creature made of rock.
I looked up at him. “The bitch who imprisoned you did awful things to me too,” I said. “She’s dead. In fact, you’ll be glad to hear that one of you crushed her.”
“I know,” the gargoyle said, his hand or paw still wrapped around Mason’s neck. His fingers were long and surprisingly supple. His claws extended a good three inches past the fingertips.
His reply answered the question about whether the gargoyles knew what was going on around them when they were imprisoned. Which meant they probably knew who killed the Wicked Bitch. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. From their perches on the roof, they also would have been able to see my adventures on the rock wall and maybe the track. Plus a lot more than that. They’d witnessed my suffering and humiliation, just like I’d witnessed theirs every single time I looked at the roofline.
“What happened? How did the Wicked Bitch imprison you? Did she do something to your mates?”
I didn’t just want to know. I had to know. I needed to fix this. Put right something Aunty Mommy messed up. Heal a hurt. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have to regret my whole childhood. I’d have won something good out of it.
His lips and the top of his nose wrinkled into a snarl, exposing daggerlike black teeth. His tongue flicked out. It was oddly blue.
“She summoned us, every adult in our warren. She trapped us and took the females. She forced us to swear blood pact on this house and its land. If we did not, she would slaughter our mates. We could do nothing but agree. It wasn’t enough. It amused her to humiliate us. She forced our erections, and when we shifted to stone, she put a spell on us so that we could not shift back unless the place was attacked, and when we were done battling, we must return to stone.”
Behind me, Lorraine and Jen gasped. I didn’t. This was nothing new. It wasn’t even the worst thing Aunty Mommy had ever done.
“What did she do with your mates?”
“We do not know. She would not tell us.”
He turned back to Mason. “This one smells of her blood.”
“He’s her brother,” I said. “But until she died, he had no idea where she was or what harm she was doing. He performed the spell to free you. I wouldn’t have known how.”
&n
bsp; The gargoyle glared another long moment then slowly released Mason’s throat one finger at a time. He had seven and a thumb.
“Thank you,” Mason said, stepping back. “It means little, I know, but I apologize for my sister’s behavior. Had we known, we would have stopped her. We wish no enmity with the Halvard people. My family owes great reparation. But first, we must discover your mates. This cannot be allowed to stand.”
I could see the steel in Mason, the thing that made him a leader and made men such as Damon serve him. He carried a nobility around him, like a king. Ruling family, I reminded myself. I was seeing it in action.
“How do we find them?” Lorraine asked the question.
The big gargoyle looked at her and sniffed, taking in her scent. I wondered what he learned about her from it. His eyes flamed nearly red.
“We cannot sense them,” he said, answering her question.
“Oh, shit,” Ben said.
Damon muttered something. Abruptly he walked away, striding into the house. I wanted to follow, but I couldn’t leave Mason to deal with the gargoyles alone.
“What does it mean that they can’t sense them?” I asked.
Mason kept his eyes on the gargoyle leader. “So long as they are on the earth, they should be able to sense their existence, if not their location. Mated pairs always can. Often members of a warren can as well.
“And since they can’t?” I wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions.
“They may have been destroyed,” Ben said. He sounded as young as he really was. Young and lost.
“No. Aunty Mommy wouldn’t have done that.”
“How can you know that?” Mason asked, looking hopeful.
My smile was bitter. “Because she wouldn’t throw away leverage, and she wouldn’t lose the chance to make others suffer. They’re somewhere, they’re alive, and they need us to find them and rescue them.” I knew I was right.
“Where did Damon go?”
“Searching is my guess,” Mason said. “Looking for a lock that the key Adriane left me fits into. Maybe she left something to tell us where the female gargoyles are imprisoned.”
I ran into the house like my ass was on fire. Lorraine and Jen came with me.
“It’s probably disguised with magic.”
“So what should we look for?” Jen asked.
“No idea.” I stopped and turned around in a circle in the garden room. “But she has to have a hiding place somewhere. Her letter to Mason said it was the heart of her home.”
“Does that mean it has to be in the house? Or could it be somewhere else on the property?”
I looked at Lorraine. “I don’t know. Why?”
“It’s just—anybody who got inside here would go looking for her hidey hole. She had to know that they’d search with magic, and if it could be found that way, then it’s too easy. The Wicked Bitch was sly, and she would hide it so well, magic couldn’t find it.”
“That’s true,” Jen said, and I nodded.
“Maybe it’s not hidden with magic at all,” I said. “Maybe what makes it hard to find is that it’s so cleverly disguised.”
“So we just start pulling books off shelves and twisting sconces and hoping a fireplace spins around into another room or a secret door opens?” Lorraine said doubtfully. “I think that only happens in the movies.”
“They’ve got to get their ideas from somewhere,” Jen said.
“Let’s give it a shot,” I said. “What do we have to lose? Look for places where maybe the wall doesn’t go as far as it should, or the outside of the house extends farther than the inside.”
“Why don’t the two of you start at the top and work your way down. I’ll start in the basement,” I said, even as goose bumps prickled all over my skin. The last place I wanted to go was the basement. But even more, I didn’t want them down there. I didn’t want anybody down there. I’d rather just seal it up. Better yet, burn the whole place down and walk away.
“What about us?” Ben asked as he, Mason, and the gargoyle came in. The gargoyle’s bulk splintered the wood jamb of the French doors.
“Can you have your people start searching the grounds?” I said to him. “They’ll be faster since they can fly.”
His head snaked back and forth, eyeing the room, and then he nodded. “We will do it.” He retreated outside.
“Damon and I poked around this morning and found nothing,” Mason said.
“Then we look harder. Go upstairs. Help the girls search the upper floors,” I told him and Ben and then hustled away before anybody besides Ajax could join me.
I didn’t see Damon, and I was glad. I needed to do this next bit alone.
I went through the kitchen and library and out into the far wing. The basement had a number of entrances. One led down into the opulent wine cellar that had a wet bar and a grand entertaining space packed with couches and chairs. Another led down into a theater room that seated thirty people with an enormous screen. The entrance I was looking for was known only to Aunty Mommy and me. This was the place she liked to conduct punishments when she was more angry with me than usual.
For a torture chamber, it was remarkably well lit, with a high ceiling. Though I knew from experience just how dark it was when the lights went out. I closed the door as Ajax and I went inside. The entry was disguised as a bookshelf, just like in the movies, except once it opened, there were two more doors behind, one after the other. Aunty Mommy was more than a little paranoid.
Once inside, I stood at the top of the stairs as my heart shifted into high gear. Pavlovian response. But I was in control now, I told myself. The Wicked Bitch was dead.
I mustered up the courage to go down the stairs. Ajax stayed at my side, leaning into me as if sensing my distress. Under the stairway was a little cell. Only four feet by four feet, it was made of flat steel bars with a thick steel plate on the floor and another for the roof. There was nothing inside except a steel toilet in the corner. All the luxury my prison afforded.
In the middle of the wall opposite the stairs hung a giant hook about nine feet up. From it dangled two chains attached to a horizontal metal bar, about three feet wide. Manacles hung on the end. A drain on the floor beneath guaranteed a quick cleanup after the floor show.
I stared at the wall for a long minute, my breathing speeding as adrenaline flooded my system. I’d ended up here a lot as a kid. I was always talking back and breaking rules. When I got older, Aunty Mommy had moved me outside to the wall and the track and the pool. She still liked to bring me down here sometimes. She liked to remind me that no matter how strong I was, she could break me.
She always did.
I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to settle my pounding pulse. This place was just a room and nothing else. Memories couldn’t hurt me, no matter how awful. I relaxed my hands. I’d balled them into fists so hard, my nails were getting ready to cut through my skin. I stroked my fingers over Ajax’s head to soothe myself.
I knew in my heart that if the bitch had a hiding place in the house, this was where she’d hide it. Nobody but she and I ever came down here, and it was her favorite place. Like a small country where she ruled with absolute authority.
Against the left wall from the steps stood an oak cabinet, five feet tall and six feet wide. Tools filled it. The things she’d use on me. I made myself turn away from the cabinet and the chain wall and moved to my cell. Beyond it was a narrow space. It was the first place I’d thought to look for her hiding spot.
The niche was only six or seven feet deep and barely wide enough to walk down. It dead-ended into an empty wall, painted gray like everything else in the room. I ran my hands over it, searching for a crack or a keyhole—something to indicate it was more than a wall. I tapped, hoping to hear hollow sounds.
After five minutes, I stood back, wondering if I should break it down with magic to see what was on the other side. Instead I turned and examined the two walls on either side. Both searches proved fruitless.
&
nbsp; I retreated out of the niche and scanned the room. Nothing looked unusual. Nothing looked like it could be hiding a door. I opened the cabinet, pushing aside the tools of torture and pretending I wasn’t about to vomit. I couldn’t ignore the chills running through me and giving me goose bumps. Even so, I made a thorough search for hidden levers or buttons. Nada.
Frustrated, I ran my fingers through my hair, holding them on top of my head as I turned in a circle. What was I missing? Or was I just wrong about its being here?
“You got any ideas, Ajax?”
He looked up at me, perking up his ears. Clearly he didn’t. I dropped my hands with a sigh.
It had to be here. Everything I knew about the bitch who’d raised me convinced me that I was right. I just had to be smart enough to find it.
I examined each of the stair treads, thinking maybe one lifted up or had a spring lever hidden somewhere in it. I checked the railing and examined every square inch of the floors and walls.
Still nothing.
Even though it made no sense for the secret heart of the home to have anything to do with my cell, I checked it too, shuddering and sweating as I went inside. It was bolted to the floor, so moving it wasn’t possible.
Even more nothing.
I’d been in here for at least forty-five minutes, and I was just about to give up. I took one more look around, trying to see what I missed. My gaze hooked on the drain.
I crossed to it and squatted down. I put my fingers through the slots and lifted the cover off. Inside was a pipe leading off to the sewers. But about six inches down was a toggle switch. Time and the waste down the drain had turned it nearly black. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I never would have seen the switch. I put my hand down inside the pipe and flicked it. A momentary soft whirring sound and then silence.
I scowled as I twisted to look around. Something had changed. I was sure of it. Setting the drain cover back down, I began another search of the space. I gravitated quickly to the little hallway behind my cell. Bingo. The dull gray wall now contained a large keyhole, right in the middle. It looked like the kind to take the big skeleton key Aunty Mommy had sent to Mason.
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 26
