She and David dashed from the room. They’d almost reached the first room when Nicole felt the pressure building, signaling the near arrival of the hounds.
“You’d better run fast, dearie,” one of the women said when Nicole reached the door. “Regardless of where you go, they will find you.”
Nicole whirled, staring at the women and David. “Will you please help me? Stop them somehow?”
The three women grinned, looking at each other and then at David, their excitement almost palpable. “We will do our best,” the same woman said.
A howling started up toward the back of the museum, distant, but growing louder. Nicole held the torch and burlap bag in one hand and flung open the door, startling when she almost ran through Neville on the other side. Without waiting to see what he would do, Nicole stepped around him and started up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time.
Her muscles began burning about halfway up. Her knees and joints ached, and her legs felt like mush. Still, she pushed herself onward, refusing to think of the run back to the car she had ahead of her.
The stone staircase groaned and shuddered, nearly making her fall backward. The hounds cried out, and she swore she could hear the women cackling. What was going on down there? In order for the hounds not to chase her, they would have to be stopped physically. If not, they would simply travel through the nearest corner and stop her in the manor above.
Nicole put on a burst of speed, fear and adrenaline giving her more energy, realizing that the ghosts might be outnumbered. Who knew how many hounds were back there?
She reached the top of the staircase and flew through the manor and out the front door. The cobblestone beneath her feet was uneven and treacherous. The moon was bright, though, helping her see where to place her feet as she ran.
Thank goodness Alexander had told her to wear good walking shoes.
Nicole tossed the still-burning torch on the cobblestone road where it wouldn’t light the grass on fire. She fingered the keys in her pocket, hoping, wishing she’d get the chance to use them—that she’d make it to the car before the hounds caught up with her.
She burst through the manor gates, almost pausing to shut them before realizing that would be a waste of her time. The hounds would just shift into human form and open them, and she’d risk losing the precious head start she had.
Nicole raced down the cobblestone road, passing the deserted cottages. She startled when Neville appeared next to her, floating. He gave her a small wave and a smile, then disappeared.
The moon was about to set and the east sky was tinged with pink when she reached the fence where she and Conor had cut the hole.
She pried the flap to the side and was just stepping through when she heard howling behind her.
Nicole raced through the forest, following the faint road, her lungs burning, the stitch in her side so painful that her vision wavered. Before she knew what was happening, she puked, turning to the side just in time.
How much farther did she have to go? Nicole pulled the car keys from her pocket and pushed the unlock button, hoping the headlights would blink.
Nothing happened. She wasn’t close enough.
Her stomach cramped again, but nothing came up when she vomited. Her legs were completely numb, her lungs on fire. She stumbled a couple of times, barely catching herself in time to prevent a fall onto the ground She jumped over logs, ran under thick branches, and pushed through brambles and briars. The trail was faint underfoot, and several times, she almost lost her way.
Nicole pushed the button on the fob again and gasped in delight when the headlights flickered. She wasn’t far now. She put on a burst of speed, not knowing where she was pulling the energy from. Her reserves were depleted, her ability to continue completely gone.
The hounds must’ve seen the highlights too because howls erupted behind her. They weren’t far away—she could hear their feet hitting the trail. Would she make it?
Nicole held the fob tightly in her left hand, her right eager and ready to pull the door open the moment she arrived. She whimpered when she thought about driving on the wrong side of the road—she’d need to get into the wrong side of the car too. Good thing she remembered.
She pushed the button on the fob again, unlocking the doors. Only a few yards now.
Nicole reached the car just as the hounds reached her. She jumped inside, slamming the door shut as a very large hound lunged toward her, its jaws gaping. Nicole struggled to lock the door, unable to find the button in the unfamiliar car. Remembering the fob, she pushed the lock button just as the dog shifted into a man.
It was Conor.
He glared at her through the window, panting heavily, and looking like he was ready to tear her apart. Instead of trying to open the door, he jumped across the hood of the car and stood in front of it, holding his hands up, motioning at her to get out. He yelled something at her—Nicole couldn’t understand what. She didn’t hesitate as she started the car, shifted into gear, and pounded her foot on the gas, slamming into Conor.
His body flew several feet, crashing into a large tree about five yards away. Nicole didn’t wait to see if he got up. She put the car into reverse and backed up wide, using the front bumper to hit another hound. As she shifted into forward again and stepped on the gas, she saw that there was only one hound left. It chased her, racing alongside her door, barking and howling at her.
Nicole sped down the old country road, barely paying attention to the scenery that flew past, mostly focusing her attention on staying on the road and watching the hound. She saw a little bridge up ahead and had an idea.
She looked at the hound through the window and held up her hands in a gesture of peace, using her knee to keep the car on the road. Then she began slowing down. The hound grinned at her through the window, completely distracted, obviously feeling victorious.
Just as she reached the bridge, Nicole turned the steering wheel to the left, slamming into the hound and pushing him into the bridge’s support post. Through the rearview mirror, she saw him fall into the ravine below.
Nicole whimpered, tears filling her eyes. She’d made it. They hadn’t devoured her. Oh, she’d made it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Staying in control of her body was a struggle. Her legs, arms—everything—wanted to shut down. But she had a great amount of distance to cover and had only injured three hounds. There was no way just three of them had come after her. How many had been stopped in the museum?
She glanced at the burlap sack and her backpack on the passenger seat next to her. She needed to find a place that could ship the sack home, and fast.
Nicole sped as much as she dared, struggling to adjust to driving on the opposite side of the road. The countryside zipped past her—pretty little forests and beautiful meadows and quaint cottages. The sun had just risen, warming everything with a tinge of gold that made her almost forget the horrors she’d experienced since coming to England.
She drove straight to Norwich, reaching it after only forty minutes. She was surprised that she hadn’t gotten pulled over. Thank goodness she hadn’t. The moment she entered the city, she began looking around frantically for a place to ship. She didn’t expect to find a UPS anywhere—wasn’t UPS only an American company? She didn’t know. What about FedEx? Were they international?
According to the clock on the radio, it was nearly seven in the morning. She drove along the busier roads, looking for someone who could help her. Finally, she spotted a man sitting outside of a small barbershop. She pulled over and rolled down the window, asking for directions to somewhere where she could ship a box to the States. The man gave her directions, and Nicole drove there, discreetly packing the burlap bag in a box and stuffing it full of bubble wrap to protect it.
She put her house as the shipping address and the Marriott as the return one. The woman behind the counter didn’t hesitate. When she asked if there was anything hazardous or perishable in the box, Nicole was able to answer truthfully that there wasn’
t. She figured the effigy had been in the museum for at least one hundred years—no way would it perish during the time it took to get from England to Dallas. Shipping was pretty expensive, especially since Nicole paid to have it overnighted.
She bought breakfast from a McDonald’s drive-through, then ate while driving to the airport, her eyes peeled, looking for any sign of the hounds.
According to Alexander, as long as she stayed in her car or hung out near other people, the hounds wouldn’t be able to approach her—at least not through corners. She relied heavily on that now.
Lamenting the fact that she’d had to leave her things at the Marriott, Nicole left the car in long-term parking with the key in the ignition, and walked to the airport. She felt bad about not returning the car to the rental agency until she remembered that it would reflect on Conor and his credit. That was just fine with her. Thank goodness her name hadn’t been attached to the rental in any way.
Nicole headed to the ticket counter and purchased a seat on a one-way flight to Dallas, using some of the cash she’d borrowed from her dad. She briefly considered buying several flights that went all over the place in an attempt to confuse the hounds, but realized that Conor knew where she lived. He’d know she’d get there eventually. For now, the best thing she could do was go home, get in the sunroom with the effigy, and sleep as much as she could.
Oh, sleep . . . how she missed it.
Nicole had to wait three hours before her flight departed. She found the busiest terminal in the airport, bought more food—she’d gone without too much recently—and spent the time struggling to stay awake. She didn’t worry that the hounds would try to fly home with her—why would they, when they could just get to her house ahead of her by traveling through corners?
Finally, it was time to board. Nicole did up her seatbelt, bought a pair of headphones, and plugged them in, falling into a near coma almost immediately. She’d forked over the extra cash for first class. That had been a good decision.
The flight landed in Dallas around nine a.m. Nicole hurried through security, took a cab home, and stumbled into the sunroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. After a cursory glance to make sure the room was indeed empty and that the music box was still there, she slumped onto the couch and fell asleep.
Nicole was awakened when the doorbell rang. Jumping to her feet, she glanced out the windows of the sunroom but didn’t see anything in the kitchen or the hallway leading to the front door. The sun was already well along its way toward the western horizon. How long had she slept?
She sprinted to the front door, swinging it wide, ready for anything. A UPS truck was just driving away, and the box she’d shipped from England the day before was on the porch. Nicole grabbed it and dashed back to the sunroom, locking herself in again. She sat on the couch, hugging the box to her chest, not caring that what was inside was utterly disgusting, just grateful that she had a way to save her best friend’s life and that it arrived without a problem. The same tape she’d put on it was still there, intact and untouched. Thank goodness.
Nicole dozed off again, still unable to keep her eyes open. A couple of hours later, after the sun had set and the room was brightened by the kitchen lights, the doorbell rang yet again. This time, she didn’t leave the sunroom. She watched as Tiffany left Dad’s study and walked toward the door, out of sight.
Moments later, Tiffany walked down the hall and motioned for Nicole to come. Watching again for signs of any hounds, Nicole got to her feet, setting the box on the couch, and exited the sunroom, locking the door behind her. Was it Conor? Or someone completely unrelated to her current situation?
She was relieved to see Alexander standing on the porch. She invited him into the library where they’d have more privacy. The walls were lined with shelves of books and had a desk in the corner her father frequently used—sometimes more than his own office, depending on the project he was working on.
She turned to Alexander and barely stopped herself from throwing her arms around him. “How did you get out of Mount Koven?”
Alexander lowered himself onto a large overstuffed leather chair, his face showing his exhaustion. “The other hounds—the good Cerberi—found my body for me. They brought it to me and guarded the threshold until I was able to reenter it.”
Nicole sat on another armchair. She noticed for the first time that Alexander had a backpack stuffed full of who knew what.
Alexander noticed Nicole looking at the backpack, and he swung it off his shoulders and opened it, pulling out several containers and a vial.
“These are to carry the biological samples from your best friend,” he said, motioning to the containers. Then he pointed at the vial. “This is the drug you’ll need to use on Lizzie.”
“I have to drug her? Why? That’s horrible. She’s my best friend.”
Alexander nodded. “I know. It’s necessary, though. She absolutely cannot suspect anything—she can’t even know why you’re visiting her. If she does, the spell used on the effigy will not work.”
“Why not?”
“The magic involved is powerful, but easily distracted. If it senses the object of the spell has been tainted with knowledge, it won’t work.”
“That’s stupid,” she said. “But okay, fine. How do I get the drug in her?”
“Put it in a drink. Something thick—a shake or smoothie. The drug has a distinct flavor, so the beverage should also have a distinct flavor. Something with chocolate and perhaps raspberries would do the trick.”
Nicole half smiled. Like most girls, Lizzie loved chocolate. That made things easier.
“Once you’ve got everything, meet me here. We’re flying to Germany tonight at one a.m. I’ve already arranged for private planes and landing strips.”
Nicole checked the time on her phone. It was nine in the evening—she’d slept longer than she’d thought. “Doesn’t give me much time. I hope she’s okay with me coming over.”
“You’re her best friend,” he said. “She misses you. I’m sure she’ll be willing to ‘hang out.’”
Nicole smiled. He was right, and she knew it. “What samples do I need from her?”
“Fingernail clippings from all ten fingers, clippings from all ten toes, a large lock of hair, and dead skin.”
Nicole cringed. Gross. Could she possibly get all that off Lizzie without her noticing when she woke up? “How long will the drug keep her asleep?”
“Six to eight hours.”
“How am I supposed to explain why a chunk of her hair is missing? Especially without her suspecting I did something horrible?”
Alexander shrugged. “I don’t see how it would be a big deal. When she wakes up, she won’t remember anything leading up to being drugged. Get her to drink the drug as soon as possible after you arrive, and she won’t even remember seeing you there.” He noticed the unhappy expression on Nicole’s face and continued. “You could always leave her a note and make up some sort of excuse for why a chunk of her hair is missing.”
Nicole nodded. “How much hair are we talking about?”
“It needs to be at least five inches long. And about half an inch thick.”
Nicole blinked. That was a lot of hair. “Man, she’s really going to hate this.”
“She will hate getting murdered even more, I assure you. And about the skin—you don’t have to hurt her or cut her or anything. Just get something she’s worn recently. Our guy will be able to pull the skin cells from the article of clothing.”
“Good. That was my next question. And who is ‘our guy’?”
“I can’t say here—you never know who’s listening.”
Nicole understood that, though they’d been talking about a lot of things she thought the hounds probably shouldn’t hear. But Alexander knew best. Literally. “Will I need my passport to get into Germany?” Nicole asked. She had no idea what strings Alexander had pulled to find them a private flight that wouldn’t care if they brought dismembered human organs into the country. Reg
ardless of how he answered, she’d probably bring it just in case they got separated and she needed to book it back to America.
“No—not where we’re going.”
Alexander froze, then growled. “Get out of here, Nicole.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nicole also froze, unable to sense what Alexander felt. No magic pulsed near them that she could tell. She stood, planning on running as he’d commanded. But when she turned, Conor was blocking the doorway. He looked deadly and attractive and like he was holding a grudge against her for what she’d done in England. Nicole didn’t blame him.
He closed his eyes, purposefully relaxing his stance and leaning against the doorframe. He folded his arms. “Debriefing Nicole on your betrayal of your brothers and sisters?”
Alexander laughed. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Betrayal? Pray tell, friend, who betrayed whom first?”
With a snarl, Conor shifted into a hound and lunged across the room. Nicole shrieked, hopping to the side before the huge dog barreled into her on his way to Alexander.
Alexander dropped to a crouch, then tossed Conor across the room, but not before one of Conor’s fangs sliced his forearm. Alexander winced in pain, then shifted into a dog and leaped at Conor.
It didn’t take much time before Nicole couldn’t tell which dog was which. The fight was intense, teeth flashing in both the yellow overhead lights and the blue-tinted moonlight pouring through the big windows, their hairless bodies writhing and tumbling, crashing into the furniture.
For several moments, Nicole watched the fight, unsure what to do. When it became clear that one of the dogs was ahead, she began fearing it was Conor and that Alexander would be slain. Only hounds could kill hounds—she couldn’t allow that to happen!
Nicole began fumbling through the shelves nearest her, pulling books down, trying to stay out of the way. Her father kept a gun in most rooms of the house. Where was the one in here?
A dog got thrown into the desk in the corner of the room, and Nicole felt like slapping her forehead. The Bersa Thunder CC was there.
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