by Simone Pond
Aunt Ruthie and Marlo walked to the door that led to the library. “Just stay out of trouble,” she said before closing the door.
“Where’s that bread and cheese?” I asked Eli.
He laughed. “We’re finally alone and you want cheese?”
He struck a match. The sharp sulfur hit my nose. Candlelight flickered over his face and shimmered in his pale blue eyes. He scooted one of the chairs across the room, then moved a couple other things. My heart thrummed. The room cocooned around us. He reached for my hand and guided me away from the shelf I was pressed against.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We have forty-five minutes, and I plan on enjoying every last one of them.” He sat me down on a pillow and handed me a glass, then poured some red wine into it.
“Do you think it’s smart to drink on an empty stomach?” I probably sounded like the most unromantic girl he’d ever known.
“Excellent point.” He took away my glass and set it off to the side.
He leaned closer to me, cupping my chin and bringing my face toward his until our lips touched. The jolt of electricity made both of us jump back a few inches. Laughing, he pulled me in, wrapping me up in his arms and smothering me with his mouth. Gently, he leaned me back until we were on the floor, where we made out like a twisting hurricane, blending into one another. We intertwined and pressed against each other. Our moans echoed off the old wood walls. Eli’s hands were all over my skin, stroking my arms, my waist, my thighs … His fingers were licks of fire lifting the skirt of my dress. But was this the right time?
“No,” I whispered. “Not here. Not in this manor.”
He pulled back, panting.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
He smiled, smoothing back his hair. “No, you’re right. Not here.”
I sat up, breathing deeply to pull back the pieces of me that had just exploded all over the room. Composure. Settle down.
“Where’s that wine?” I asked.
He laughed. “Here you go. Wine and cheese.”
We sat on the floor in our private fort, sipping the spicy bouquet of pinot and spreading creamy camembert onto chewy French bread. We savored each minute leading up the event. I gorged myself on the rich cheese, filling my stomach to keep from getting light-headed from the wine. We didn’t need to give Whitmore any extra assistance in the mind control department. Eli remained a perfect gentleman as we whispered by candlelight.
Around five o’clock, Whitmore’s security guards entered the library, marching and stomping all over the place. Eli blew out the candle and jiggled the door handle to make sure it was still locked. Footsteps approached the area right outside the door, causing my heart to lurch forward. I grabbed Eli instinctively.
“We can go out the back door if we need to make a quick getaway,” he whispered in my ear.
The person on the other side joggled the knob back and forth in a violent manner. An intense sniffing came from the other side as though the guard was pressed up against the door, inhaling our scent.
“Ratchet, get over here. Help me open this door!” his rough voice called out.
“Uh, we better go,” I whispered.
The guard continued shouting, “I’m pickin’ up somethin’. Just get over here, you putz.”
We hadn’t factored in their dog shifter sense of smell. Big mistake.
While the guard yelled at his buddy, Eli shoved something heavy in front of the door. He quietly opened the back door, took my hand and led us into the hallway. Behind us came a loud cracking noise, then a heavy thump. Eli pulled me down the hall. The clapping of our shoes echoed like a succession of gunshots. We turned down another hallway. And another. Footsteps buckled down after us. We kept running. Then Eli stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Dead end,” he said.
The footsteps grew louder as the guards raced toward us. They’d surely “remove” us, leaving Marlo to fend for herself. Pressing deep into one of the alcoves, Eli squeezed my hand. Then someone else grabbed my other one.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Vago
As I approached the clearing in the woods to meet up with my pack, I saw they were in regular clothes; jeans, t-shirts, flannels, even a few suits. Their ages varied from high school boys to men in their late thirties. I recognized some faces. Nick from the bank. Joe from the real estate office. Some of the boys who skate in the park outside city hall. All residents of Coastview.
Moving through the crowd like he was parting the Red Sea, a large man sporting coaching apparel strutted forward. Sandy Walsh, the owner of the sports shop where Sibyl bought her baseballs. His brown pompadour was still shellacked in place, and he still looked like he could rip apart a human.
He gave me a warm smile, extending his hand. “Good to see you, Bruno.”
I grinned. “That’s not my real name.”
“No shit.” He belted out a laugh and slapped me on the back. “I know who you are, Vago. Esther and I were close. It’s a real shame what happened to her. A real shame. We dated for a little while. You probably don’t remember. You were just a young pup.” He laughed again and rubbed my hair the way Sibyl does, messing up my waves.
“So, I’m pretty sure you already know what happened,” I said in a low voice.
He nodded, patting me on the shoulder. “Not your fault, kid. These things happen. Also, not the first time something’s gone awry on these sacred grounds.”
I felt a pang of relief. Like I wasn’t the only babysitter who lost the kid in the shopping mall. “They’ve gotten to the rock before?”
“Oh, no. This is the first time that’s happened,” he said.
Punch to the gut. “Dude, I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t. Now come on, let me introduce you to your brothers.”
Sandy walked me over to the group and made introductions. Lots of handshakes and curt nods. Some acknowledgement for the job well done at city hall last month, which I’m sure was to make me feel better about the Holy Rock slip-up. As I made the rounds with Sandy, a strong wind picked up around the clearing. Esther was on her way. While my brothers might’ve been more understanding, I was sure Esther would be disappointed.
Leaves blew in circles as the air shifted to chilling degrees. Light dappled through the trees and sparkled like jewels. Then the wind slowed down to a subtle breeze carrying Esther’s familiar scent. Her voice whispered from everywhere.
“Hello, darlings,” she said.
Nobody spoke up. We stood there watching the orb of white light radiating from the center of our circle. Sandy nudged me. I stepped forward, clenching my fists and wishing I could get a full breath in.
“Hey, Esther,” I said in a meager voice.
“Vago,” she said.
“I’m sure you’ve heard … about the rock … I’m sorry. I know it was my responsibility and I totally failed you and the pack.”
“Shhh, Vago, dear. It’s quite all right,” she whispered as a warm breeze wrapped around my shoulders.
“Huh?”
“Yes, it was meant to be. As all things are,” she replied.
Her casualness was astonishing and shocking. After all, wasn’t the Holy Rock the conduit for the lost and wandering spirits to find their way back home? What were they supposed to do? Hang around until every last evil Spirit Handler plucked them off?
“I’m not sure I follow,” I said. “We’re talking about the same Holy Rock, right?”
Sandy Walsh cleared his throat and addressed the twinkling orb floating above. “Esther, we’re gonna need you to be a little more specific. Our kind has been protecting that rock for centuries and now it’s gone. Where does that leave us?”
A sprinkling of light flickered over all of us. “The physical manifestation of the rock is the only thing that was sacrificed on this day. It needed to happen in order for the next intercessor to take over,” she explained, though I had no clue what she meant.
Sandy folded his b
ulging arms across his sturdy chest. “And that’s supposed to make sense?”
I leaned over and said, “She loves that florid language …”
“Your new assignment is to protect the one who stands on the rock.”
The breeze picked up, whirling all around the clearing, signaling her departure.
“Wait,” I called out. “Before you go—”
“You’re on the right path,” she said.
And in a burst of light, her presence vanished.
“Great,” I mumbled, picking some leaves out of my hair.
Sandy grinned ruefully. “Aww, don’t be so discouraged, kid. It’ll make sense eventually. Esther’s words are like fine wine; they take time to ferment.”
Everyone laughed at Sandy’s joke, and it was a wonderful bonding moment. A moment that didn’t last very long because a flash of panic rippled down my back. Sibyl was in trouble. I glanced around to the group, which was now quiet and still—listening to the call. Without another word, we began stripping out of our street clothes and shifting from our human forms into our dog versions. Some of the younger ones didn’t bother removing their clothes, they just tore through them during the shifting process.
Sandy stood before his pack of chocolate labs, his snout sniffing the air. He released a howl that resonated deep in my bones. The others joined in, our chorus rising above the trees and reaching across the sky. Then we ran through the forest, sloshing through quagmires, splashing through creeks and muddy ponds. The distance to Rosestone Manor was a trek. Hopefully, our answer to Sibyl’s call wouldn’t come too late.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Sibyl
Mr. Chambers, the groundskeeper, grabbed my hand and yanked me and Eli backward through a trapdoor in the alcove into another hidden area of the manor. His sea foam green spirit lit up like phosphor on waves and his breathing came in short gasps. He was probably too old to be running from evil dog shifter security guards through secret passageways.
“Shh,” Mr. Chambers whispered.
We stayed quiet so Whitmore’s guards wouldn’t hear us through the walls. I was worried they’d be able to sniff us out, but didn’t want to say anything that might alarm Mr. Chambers. He didn’t need to know the supernatural details. Best to keep those particulars under wraps with the normies.
When the hallways returned to their stillness, Mr. Chambers let out a huge sigh.
“Heard a commotion out there, had a feelin’ it’d be you,” he said.
“Is he looking at me?” I asked Eli.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chambers,” I said.
“Seriously,” Eli said. “You saved us.”
“Where are we?” I whispered.
“A secret room only a few people know ’bout,” he said.
“It’s a great room,” Eli said with admiration lilting his words.
“These are the treasures nobody cares ’bout no more. Found ’em a proper home. I come here to admire ’em from time ta time,” he said.
I wondered if this was the room he showed me when I was a kid, when I was too impatient to walk around and view the boring rooms with my parents. I longed to see the pieces he’d collected over the years. I watched Eli’s eyes widen as he marveled at the items.
Just to be triple sure, I pressed my ear against the wall, listening for footsteps or any signs of life outside in the hallway. Only the hum of the old manor buzzed against my cheek.
“They’re gone,” Chambers said.
“How do you know?”
“He’s got monitors,” Eli told me.
“So you can see everything?”
“Bird’s eye view. Gotta keep a watch on folks. You’d be surprised what some of ’em do when they thinks nobody’s watchin’. Even rich folks comin’ in here stealin’ priceless pieces for their own collections. Despicable.”
I wanted to tell Mr. Chambers they didn’t mean it; they were being controlled by evil Spirit Handlers, or something much worse. But I kept quiet. Because again, details. Also, maybe some of those people were just plain bad. They had a choice between good and evil. Didn’t they? I thought about Whitmore and if he had a choice. In my vision, he was spawned from the belly of Abaddon, so probably not much of a choice for him. But humans did have a choice. That I knew for sure. I’d seen it happen before my blind eyes. When they became vulnerable—either because of fear or anger or whatever—they welcomed those evil Spirit Handlers. But they had a choice in getting them to leave. It just took work. And that was the hard part.
“You still with us?” Eli asked, stroking my arm.
“Sorry, what’d you say?”
“The event has officially started, and Mr. Chambers has generously offered to let us hang out in here and watch. Or rather … listen.”
“Have a seat,” Mr. Chambers said. “I’ll get some hot tea and cookies. Should be an interestin’ one tonight.”
I wasn’t sure if he was being facetious or was genuinely interested in Whitmore’s book signing. I got my answer about ten minutes into the production when Chambers almost choked on his white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, laughing over some nonsensical babble. Also, it didn’t fall on a blind eye that these were the exact same cookies Aunt Ruthie bought for me.
“He’s ridiculous, right?” I said.
“Loves the sound of his own voice. Only he ain’t sayin’ nothin’ except a bunch of malarkey. And he’s got all these women fooled. Look at ’em.”
“You’ll have to describe it to me,” I reminded him.
“Aww, they’re just gawkin’ and dopey eyed,” Chambers said.
“Anything unusual?” I asked Eli.
“Nah, they’re just listening attentively, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Are Marlo and my aunt okay? Can you see them?”
Chambers patted my hand with his. “They’re in the back. Far away from Mr. Influential. Don’t you worry.”
The way he said that made me wonder if he knew more than he let on. Maybe he had some sort of hedge of protection around the two of them or something. Then he let out another barrel of laughter over something Whitmore said about Socrates’s death, which he got totally wrong, by the way.
The speech dragged on and on. It was like trying to get the last drops of honey out of the jar. Finally, he read an excerpt from his newest book, and when he finished, everyone lined up to get their copies signed. That was our cue to make our way to the garden.
***
Outside in the garden, the onshore breeze whipped at us. The peasant dress might’ve been stylish, but it wasn’t doing much to shield me from the icy wind. Waves crashed up against the rocks like they were angry. I held Eli’s hand as we waited for Marlo to show up with Whitmore. We waited and waited, but nothing happened. Thirty minutes passed and she still hadn’t shown up. Something was wrong. Or maybe the freezing air was making waiting more painful.
“Should we go back inside?” I asked.
“No, what if she comes outside with Whitmore while we’re inside checking for her? Stick to the plan,” he said.
“I’m worried. Why is it taking so long?”
“There was a long line of women waiting to get their books signed. And they’re probably talking and flirting with him. But I’ll text her,” he said.
A few minutes later, I asked, “Anything?”
“Not yet. Just relax, Sib. Like you tell everyone else: you’ve got this.”
While we waited, I caught a scent of something in the air. Metallic and rusty. Eli must’ve sensed it too, because he started looking over his shoulders.
“You hear something?” he asked.
“It’s the dogs,” I said.
“Quick, back to the manor. There are too many of them to hold off.” He grabbed my hand and we ran across the grass toward the manor.
“Can we get there before they get to us?” I yelled.
His silence answered my question.
“How many?” I asked.
“A lot.
A whole freaking lot.”
He stopped running.
“What?”
“Forget the manor,” he shouted. “Head toward the peninsula!”
“Why?”
“There are more coming from the manor. We’ll go out by the water. Maybe I can do something with my lightning. Make a storm? I don’t know. Might as well try.”
Eli jerked me off to the side and we darted toward the sound of crashing waves. The ground became rocky and jagged. He halted, stopping me before we reached the edge. Then he lifted his hands high above and shouted to the skies. I stared into the darkness to the hundreds of glowing crimson eyes. I hurled one of my baseballs like a comet, taking out a few of the dogs in a blaze. High above the sky cracked and a burst of lightning shot down toward the ground. More of the dogs went down, whimpering. The growling grew louder as they charged forward. I winged another super-charged ball, and a flame shot across into a few more dogs. When I went to get another ball, there was only one remaining. I threw it as Eli called more lightning down.
“I’m out,” I yelled.
“There are rocks by your feet. Just don’t go too far, or you’ll fall over the side,” he shouted.
I carefully bent down and gathered a pile of rocks in the skirt of my dress. More thunderous booms overhead and flashes streaked across the sky. The rocks were even more powerful than the baseballs. Like molten pellets of lava, scorching into the beasts. Yet they kept coming. How many of these things were out there?!
They were so close now, I could smell their stale metallic breath. I got closer to Eli and continued pelting rocks at the line of crimson eyes glaring in our direction. One of the beasts separated from the pack and charged ahead. I wound up my pitch and winged the rock as hard as I could straight for its head. He smoldered out of existence. More dogs began charging at faster speeds. Eli called down more lightning, but not fast enough to stop them all. My deluge of rocks stopped a good portion of the pack, but more kept coming.
Then I was out of rocks. There weren’t any more down by my feet, and I couldn’t wander around or I’d risk falling off the side and onto the rocks below. I looked at Eli who was bent forward, breathing heavily—he had depleted all of his resources.
