She said nothing, but Devon could see she was considering his words.
He pressed on. “If you’re keeping Isobel prisoner somehow, perhaps in hopes that you’ll contain her power, you need to understand that she’s free. She’s found a way out.”
Mrs. Crandall closed her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Devon.”
“Don’t lie to me anymore!”
“I’m not lying to you!” She was angry now. “If you say we face a threat from Isobel the Apostate, I believe you.”
Edward Muir rejoined them. “Okay,” he said, clearly annoyed. “So there’s a skunk in a crate in the boy’s room. That doesn’t prove anything.”
Mrs. Crandall eyed him coldly. “Will you always forfeit responsibility, Edward? Will you never face up to what you must do?”
He was taken back by her change in tone. He said nothing in response.
Mrs. Crandall turned back to Devon. “I will take care of this. I assure you of that.”
“You always say that. What can you possibly do without powers?”
“Please, Devon. Trust me. Go stay with Cecily.”
Edward glared down at him. “Where’s Morgana?”
Devon smiled, only too glad to tell him. “Let’s see. Last time I saw her, she was with Rolfe Montaigne. In his arms, actually. Looking quite cozy.”
Edward looked as if he’d have a coronary. His face turned purple, the veins in his forehead popped out and pulsated wildly. “How dare he —?”
“Edward!” Mrs. Crandall took hold of her brother’s arm. “There’s no time for that. We need to go upstairs and check on Mother.”
What do they do up there? Devon wondered. Whenever there was a crisis, they ran to Mother—a senile, bedridden old lady. Every time Mrs. Crandall had vowed she’d take care of things, she headed up there to check on Mother. What did she really do? What went on in the old lady’s room?
Whatever it was, Devon put no faith in it. Mrs. Crandall’s efforts had done little against the Madman; Devon held out no hope for a better result this time.
I’ve got to go back to my original plan. I’ve got to confront Rolfe and Morgana.
This time, his transporting power worked just fine. No longer caring whether he interrupted a lovers’ nest, he popped into view right in front of them, as they sat together in each other’s arms in front of a blazing fireplace.
“Devon!” Rolfe shouted, clearly startled.
“We need to talk,” the boy told him.
“I’m—I’m busy right now.”
“Yeah.” Devon glared at him. “I can see that.” He moved his eyes over to Morgana, who peered up at him sheepishly from under her long lashes. “Hello, Morgana.”
“Hello, Devon,” she said quietly.
Rolfe stood and approached the boy. “You need to leave. I can’t have you just popping in here without any notice whenever you feel like it—”
“I needed to, Rolfe! Things are happening! I just caught Bjorn conjuring up some spell on Devil’s Rock. Tell me what you found out about him! ”
Rolfe’s eyes were empty. “It’s nothing important. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Doesn’t matter? We’re in the midst of a crisis here!”
Rolfe looked at him coldly. “You’ll have to deal with it on your own.”
His words nearly toppled Devon over. “On my own? Rolfe, what’s happened to you?”
Rolfe moved his eyes away from Devon, gazing back at Morgana. He was like all the others, Devon realized—like Devon himself—completely spellbound by her. This was not Devon’s mentor, the one person he’d come to rely on, the only hope he had for ever understanding his past. Devon felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He watched as Rolfe turned away from him and sat back down with Morgana, pulling her close.
He couldn’t bear to watch. He closed his eyes. When he opened them he was outside Rolfe’s house. The snow was heavier now and the wind whipped angrily up from the sea, slashing against his face. He felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t help shedding a couple of tears.
“It’s just the wind, that’s all,” he said, wiping his face.
He looked up to see Roxanne walking toward him. She seemed to emerge from the snowy air, wearing no coat.
“Hello, Devon March.”
“Roxanne.” He composed himself. “Listen, you can’t go inside right now.”
She smiled at him sadly. “I know what I would find. Rolfe with Morgana.”
“You know?”
Roxanne nodded.
“I don’t know what’s come over him,” Devon said, surprised by how thick with emotion his voice sounded. “He’s changed. He’s not himself. I think a strike by Isobel the Apostate is going to happen any minute, and Rolfe doesn’t seem to care.”
“No, he doesn’t care. You’re right, Devon. Something has come over him. Something that has made him cold and distant and consumed by only one thing.” Roxanne looked off toward the house, her golden eyes shining with emotion. “That’s what happens when one is seduced by a succubus.”
“A—a what?”
“A succubus. A demon in the form of a woman.” Roxanne sighed. “She comes in the night, seducing mortal men, taking control of them.”
Devon was stunned. “But it can’t be. Morgana—she’s no demon.”
Roxanne said nothing, just held his gaze.
He wouldn’t believe it. “Look, here’s what I think. She’s being manipulated by Isobel the Apostate—”
“She is a succubus, Devon.” Roxanne placed her hands on Devon’s shoulders. “And she’s very dangerous. She will get inside your mind, cloud your thoughts, your reason.” She looked with concern over toward the house. “As she has done with Rolfe.”
Devon tried to resist the idea, but it made sense. Everything suddenly made sense: Rolfe’s behavior, D.J.’s infatuation, his own erotic dreams…
“What are we going to do?” Devon asked. “We need to help Rolfe.”
“Yes. I have come to do what I can.” She frowned. “But she is powerful, Devon.”
“I’ll help you,” he promised.
Roxanne shook her head. “Your powers will not work against her. The hold she has over you is too great. Only those who find no allure in her sensual charms can defeat her.”
Devon realized she was right. “But Isobel the Apostate is going to try to make me open the Hell Hole. Today! I can feel it. I need Rolfe—I can’t have him here, trapped by some—some succubus.”
“Go back to Ravenscliff, then. I will do what I can here. But remember this, Devon March.” She looked at him intently. “Your fear will cripple your power. Be not afraid, and you will be strong.”
He tried keeping her words in his head, but they did little good: he remained frightened, so frightened that he couldn’t make his powers work, and he has to hitchhike a ride back into town and, from there, climb the steep cliffside staircase to Ravenscliff.
When he staggered inside, shivering from the cold, he was surprised to see Marcus and Natalie sitting in the parlor with Cecily.
“What’s going on?” he asked, hanging up his coat.
“I asked them to come over,” Cecily said. “I called D.J. too, but he hasn’t shown up yet. I was getting worried about you. Bjorn said you’d gone a little mad.”
“Bjorn’s the one who’s mad,” Devon said, walking into the parlor. “I found him trying to conjure up the spirit of Isobel the Apostate. I’m sure of it.”
Cecily embraced him quickly, then looked into his eyes. “Mother said you told her it was Morgana who turned Alexander into a skunk.”
Devon looked around. “Where’s your mother now? And Edward?”
“With Grandmama.”
He shook his head. “Still up there, huh? What do they do up there?”
“Devon,” Marcus asked, “why do you think it was Morgana who did that to Alexander?”
“I heard her call him a skunk this morni
ng.”
“That doesn’t mean she has any supernatural powers.”
Devon felt something twist down in his gut. He felt as if he was being disloyal to Morgana. He fought back the urge to protect her. “Well, she does,” he said. “I’ve just talked with Roxanne. Morgana’s got Rolfe under some kind of spell now. She’s a—” Devon could barely speak the word. “She’s a succubus.”
“A what?” Cecily asked.
“Nasty,” Natalie said. “Whatever it is, it sounds nasty.”
“It’s a demon in the form of a woman,” Devon said.
Cecily snorted. “And this is news? Maybe next time you’ll listen to me, Devon. I might not have powers or Voices in my head, but I know a few things.”
Marcus was nodding. “It made sense. Since our last go-round at the Hell Hole, I’ve been reading up on demonology at the library. A succubus takes the form of a woman. An incubus takes the shape of a man. That way they divide and conquer. But see, a succubus has no power over women. In fact, women can have an instinctive distrust.”
“That explains our feelings toward her,” Natalie said.
Marcus laughed. “Well, she didn’t count on one thing. See, I’ve been having these dreams about her, ever since I met her. Morgana slipped into my room at night and tried to seduce me in my dreams.”
“Yeah,” Devon admitted, not looking at Cecily. “Me, too.”
“But I’m gay,” Marcus said. “She didn’t know that, of course, so she was trying to get me under her spell just like she had you, D.J., Edward, and now Rolfe. But with me she failed.” Marcus seemed rather pleased with himself. “My lack of response was making her angry. Night after night, my dreams of her got worse. I started seeing her vent her frustration. I saw the evil behind those gentle eyes.”
The front doorbell chimed. They all jumped. Cecily peered through the window and announced D.J. had arrived. She opened the door and their pierced, wiry friend shambled into the foyer, looking as if he’d had no sleep for days.
Devon approached him. “You okay, buddy?”
“My butt’s still a little sore from where I came down hard in that snow,” he said.
They all headed into the parlor to sit in front of the fireplace and make some plans. No one had any great ideas, truth be told, and Devon was getting edgier by the minute. The heat and the pressure was building at a rapid rate now, and the Voice kept telling him over and over, like that dumb old Lost in Space robot, Danger! Danger! Danger!
“Okay,” Devon finally said, trying to get a grip on his fear, “here’s the situation we’re facing. Rolfe is out of commission. He can’t help us. Alexander has been turned into a skunk, and I’m not sure how we’re going to turn him back. Mrs. Crandall and her brother are upstairs with their mother, doing God knows what. I believe Bjorn is working in league with Isobel the Apostate. That leaves us here, by ourselves, to defend the Hell Hole.”
“I think I hear my mother calling,” Natalie said in a small voice.
Devon looked at her. “You should go now. All of you. There’s no reason for you all to be put in danger, not again.”
“We’re in this together, man,” Marcus told him. “Right, D.J.?”
D.J. hesitated, then nodded.
Cecily was near tears. “I’m so sorry my crazy family has such awful skeletons in its closet.”
“Look,” Devon said. “Before you all decide anything definite, I need to tell you about a vision I had. My father showed it to me when I used his ring.”
They all looked at Devon with wide eyes.
“In the vision, I opened the Hell Hole. I was forced into it somehow. And the demons took over this house, destroying it.” His voice cracked. “And they killed all of you.”
“All of us?” Natalie asked.
Devon nodded. “I saw you all. Dead.”
The friends were quiet. D.J. stood and walked over to the window, looking out onto the cliffs below. They could hear the surf from where they were, crashing and violent.
“I wouldn’t blame any of you for leaving,” Devon said.
Marcus looked at him intently, his eyes aglow. “I’m not leaving you, Devon.”
Natalie was trembling. Cecily put her arm around her.
D.J. turned to them. He was crying. Devon was stunned. D.J.—stoic, cynical D.J., shedding tears?
“I’m sorry,” D.J. said. “I didn’t want to do it. But she was inside my head. She made me do it.”
Devon stood, walking over to him. “Made you do what, D.J.? And who? Who are you talking about?”
“Dude, I’m so sorry.” D.J. grabbed ahold of Devon’s hands. “Please forgive me! I love all you guys. I’d never want to do anything to hurt you—”
“Tell me what you did, D.J.!” Devon shouted.
“I led them here! Led them here and now it’s too late!”
All at once the windows blew inward, raining shards of glass all over the room. The five friends dove for cover behind couches and chairs but none of them escaped some injury. The shattering of the glass was followed by a horrible screech, loud enough to topple the suit of armor standing in the corner.
But then the worst terror of all: an enormous black demon, with the head of a dragon and a wingspan of at least ten feet, flew into the room, its giant claws clutching for anything it can grasp.
“Remember!” Devon shouted to his friends. “You share my powers! Don’t be afraid! Fight as you’ve done before! Just trust your body to know what to do!”
The screeching demon was followed by dozens of ravens, tiny and insignificant compared to its monstrous size. But the dark-winged protectors of the great house were fearless, flying at the beast, their little beaks pecking at its hard, reptilian skin, even if most of them were swatted away like so many flies.
The demon landed on its back two feet, folding in its terrible wings. It twisted its hideous neck this way and that, its gigantic glassy eyes searching the room for prey.
And it spotted him.
“It’s me you want,” Devon shouted. “Not the others!”
The thing screeched.
“Come on, ugly,” Devon said. “I’ve taken on far worse than you. Come on!”
Just then the doors to the parlor swung open behind him. Natalie screamed. There stood two more demons, identical to each other, skeletal humanoids rubbing their rotting hands eagerly together.
“Fight!” Devon commanded.
And his friends obeyed. Marcus was first, springing at the winged demon as if he had rockets in his shoes, landing a hefty elbow punch right in the thing’s eye. The beast screamed, extending its wings, knocking dozens of books from the shelves and sending them scattering to the floor.
Devon meanwhile lunged at the two creatures behind him, landing a powerful double blow across both of their chins, sending them staggering backwards. Cecily quickly moved in to assist, disappearing and then rematerializing behind the demons, where she landed a swift roundhouse kick to the backbone of the first one. It fell to the ground but its mate, enraged, charged at her.
“Prepare to meet your doom,” the demon rasped, raising its arms.
Cecily smirked at the thing. “Excuse me a minute while I pat down my goosebumps, okay?” Then she lashed out with one—two—three—swift karate chops, leaving the demon in a clump on the floor.
“See?” she said. “I knew I’d be a natural at this Nightwing stuff.”
The winged demon, its eye gouged out and dripping red pus onto the floor, was emitting a horrible shrill call. Natalie crippled one of its legs with a cheerleading kick that suddenly took on superhuman force. The beast was furious, raging in pain around the room, knocking aside everything in its path.
One of the humanoids had recovered enough to come back at Devon. But it was knocked down before Devon even had a chance to defend himself—by D.J., leaping through the air and slamming both feet against the beast’s chest. The thing went down, sliding across the floor through the foyer to com
e to a crashing stop against the front doors.
“Thanks,” Devon told him.
“This is only the beginning,” D.J. said.” There are more, lots more. We’ve got to be strong.”
The wounded demon in the center of the room was still making that terrible sound. “It’s a distress call,” Devon realized. “Get ready!”
At that very moment, dozens of the beasts flew through the window—so many that it was hard to make them all out. The room reeked with their filthy odor. Bug-eyed flying things that looked like huge, hideous insects. Scaly snakelike things that came slithering over the broken glass of the window. Hairy pig-like creatures with mouths full of fangs. Lizards that walked like men. Humanoids with glassy eyes and bones sticking through their flesh.
“There are too many!” Natalie cried out.
Devon was in the foyer, fighting off some shrieking, furry thing, so he couldn’t see her. But he heard Natalie’s scream—a scream that was quickly silenced.
“She’s down!” he heard Marcus cry in panic. “Natalie is down!”
“That’s my best friend you just hit,” Cecily shouted. Devon watched as she leapt to Natalie’s defense toward some hulking, hairy thing. “You big brute! Haven’t you ever heard it’s not good form to hit a lady?”
“Cecily!” Devon called out. “Be careful!”
She landed a solid blow against the demon’s head, but now Devon felt tentacles wrap around him from behind, squeezing the breath out of him. He broke free, but his heart was pounding high in his chest.
Don’t be afraid, he told himself. Your fear is your downfall. You can’t be afraid.
But it’s my vision—it’s coming true. The destruction of the house, my friends being killed—
No! It can’t happen!
He saw D.J. bravely throw himself against a reptilian demon three times his size, only to be batted away, slammed against the wall.
“You see? It is happening.”
Devon spun around.
A cloaked and hooded figure stood behind him.
“Open the portal, Devon,” the figure told him in a whispered voice. “Open the portal or watch your friends die, one by one.”
Demon Witch (Book Two - The Ravenscliff Series) Page 18
