Speak of the Devil - 05

by Tony Richards

  That was when I caught sight of a shock of crimson-dyed hair in the crowd down on the sidewalk. That might just be Bella, one of Cassie’s closest friends. She lived not far from here, I knew. I had her number on my cell – she had insisted that I keep it for emergencies. And so I started hunting for it.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Willets asked astonishedly.

  “The Eastlakes have been casting spells to rob you adepts of your powers, right? And so it probably applies to you, but not to other people.”

  At which point, Bella picked up. She sounded terribly surprised, and not in any good way, to hear that I was trapped up on the roof that she was looking at. But I managed to calm her down, then told her what I wanted.

  This had never once occurred to me before, in all the time that I’d been defending this town. When problems came and magic was required, I’d always turned immediately to the adepts. It was just the natural response.

  But almost everybody in the Landing practiced a little witchcraft. It was the way that our community had naturally evolved. There had to be at least a hundred people grouped together on the sidewalk, most of them with amulets, enchanted rings, and whatnot. And if they all worked together?

  “I’ll talk to the others,” Bella said.

  She said that very nervously, but what was the alternative? I watched as the townsfolk started bunching up, and hoped they weren’t going to take too long about this, because the air around me had begun to waver.

  They were obviously trying to come up with a plan. And then they broke apart and came running across the street, getting up as close to this building as they could and forming a stretched semicircle. Tiny bits of metal were now glinting in their palms.

  “We think we’re ready,” Bella’s voice informed me from my cell phone.

  “Think?”

  “None of us has ever tried anything as big as this before, Ross. Could you throw something down, to kind of test us?”

  I always carry a small pocketknife, and so I took it out and lobbed it at them.

  It hit the ground in little more than a straight second, clattering away with a sharp tinkle.

  “Uh-oh!” Bella gasped. “That shouldn’t have happened! Maybe this spell only works on people?”

  Aw, hell!

  I was still trying to figure out some other way of doing this, when flames came boiling out through the fire doors in one enormous surge and the roof around it started to collapse. And then the rest of it went tilting sideways, wider cracks appearing.

  So I went back several paces from the edge.

  Then hurled myself into thin air, throwing myself out as far as I could manage.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  There was a brief sensation of weightlessness, but that was just my own momentum. Then gravity took hold, and I was plummeting down like a ripe red apple searching for the skull of Isaac Newton.

  My insides lurched. The ground began to rush up at me really fast. My teeth slammed hard into each other, and my hands clawed at the air, but none of that did any good. A stark terror took hold of me. I think that I was yelling.

  I could make out Bella’s face down there. A strong and handsome face, with painted lips and thin red eyebrows. Her expression was a scared one, but she was holding herself steady. And she was mouthing a single word. I had no way of knowing what it was, but guessed it might be, “Please?”

  As though she were appealing to some higher force. But without any response. I wasn’t slowing down at all. The surface of the street was hurtling up to crush me.

  I folded both my arms across my face, and prayed this would be over quickly.

  Whack.

  So I had stopped dead. Journey’s end.

  But when I re-opened my eyes, I realized that my nose was hovering less than three inches above the asphalt.

  Bella came rushing across, her high heels clattering, her tone apologetic.

  “Er … that wasn’t the way it was supposed to work.”

  “It’ll do,” I said.

  Although I couldn’t help but notice that my voice had gone extremely hoarse. Talk about a leap of faith.

  That nosey, interfering creep Devries was being kept well and truly busy at the moment. And so were his dumb friends with their ineffectual white magic.

  Ryan Eastlake sensed that and grinned broadly. He was alone in the Deth House’s common room, sprawled out on a comfortable chaise longue with a glass of whisky in one hand. And it went against his nature, but his Pop had taught him this a good long while back.

  Patience … it was everything. Look how many years they’d had to wait to make this final play. And it applied to matters of the heart as well, even one as dark as his.

  Ryan knew exactly what he was, but didn’t care. He saw himself as a predator, like some wily jungle cat. And did a tiger listen while its prey explained their rules?

  He took what he wanted, and he wasn’t worried who got hurt. And now, the opportunity had presented itself. With the attention of the town diverted, he was going to bring Becky to him. Martha Howard-Brett might still be keeping a close eye on her, but she was no more than a third-rate adept.

  Ryan stood up sharply, putting his glass down. He held himself up very straight and crooked his arms in front of him, the hands raised and the fingers splayed. Tipped his head back. His eyes sparkled with far more than a reflection of the house’s lighting. Then he started to intone.

  One concise but well-directed spell – that ought to do it. The demonic words came churning out of his mouth in a rush. He shouted the last syllable, then bared his teeth. And pointed at a spot on the floor a bare yard in front of him.

  There was a flash, a puff of sulfurous smoke. But nothing else happened. Nobody appeared.

  And Becky Trayner ought to have. Damn, maybe that Howard-Brett bitch was considerably stronger than he’d thought.

  Ryan could see that there was nothing else for it. He would have to go to Becky’s house and do this for himself.

  So his form wavered. And a second later, there was no one at all standing there.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  He popped back into existence in her bedroom off in Garnerstown. Becky was there, but with her back to him, folding up some clothes and putting them away in a chest of drawers. And she was carrying out that simple task so carefully, so diligently, Ryan’s smile grew gentler for a second.

  But then something else was aroused inside him. She was so damned hot, especially from behind. The graceful way she dipped each time she put away a small item of clothing. The way the backs of her smooth, tapering legs tightened up when she did that. She’d changed out of her dungarees, obviously planning to head back into college later on this afternoon. Her long red hair was falling almost to the waistband of her skirt, and he felt a sudden urge to grab it.

  But then she realized somebody was there behind her, and she turned and shrieked.

  A croaking voice immediately sounded from her auntie’s room.

  “What’s going on?”

  Normally, Becky would have answered straight away. But this time, she took no notice of it.

  “Ryan? How did you get here?” A hand was hovering by her throat, and her eyes had grown considerably wider. “There were people round here earlier this morning, asking about you.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said.

  He had seen everything through his mind’s eye.

  “They’re claiming … Ryan, is it true? That you’ve been using the dark arts and hurting people?”

  “Do you have a boy in there?” came Alice’s voice through the wall. “You know I don’t allow that!”

  But again, she was ignored.

  “You know me, kid,” Ryan shrugged. “You’ve always understood that I’m no knight in shining armor.”

  “You’ve killed people?”

  “I’ve done what I had to do, to make a better life for us.”

  The blood had drained from Becky’s face.

  “But I don’t understand,” sh
e stuttered. “You’re already rich. How much better kind of a life do you want?”

  Ryan stepped forward and stretched out a hand.

  “The only thing you need to do is trust me, sweetcheeks. I’m thinking about both of us, not just myself. You get that, don’t you?”

  But when he moved a little closer, Becky shrank right back. Or at least, tried to. The backs of her legs bumped against the chest of drawers. He could hear the way her breathing had grown ragged. Both her hands came up in front of her, but spastically, the motion nerveless.

  She was so damned delicate. Like some rare orchid that had grown out of a garbage dump. He ought to have gotten her out of this place months ago. And nothing was going to stop him doing that thing now.

  “Take hold of my hand,” he said.

  “But Ryan, where’re we going?”

  “Let me worry about stuff like that.”

  She’d started edging sideways, trying to find a way around him. Ryan felt exasperated when he saw her do that.

  “I need to think about this,” she was saying.

  “There’s no time for that!”

  And there it was, the anger swelling in his voice. It always started in his voice, and then came echoing back in to fill his head, immersing it in blinding fury, so he couldn’t even think straight.

  His whole face clenched up like a vise.

  “Becky!”

  And she picked up on his changing mood, shrinking inward like some frightened mouse.

  He could hear a rhythmic hammering in his skull, now. There was so much going on and so much to be done. He couldn’t waste time hanging round here any more. So patience be damned! She either did as he said, or she’d be made to!

  He lunged out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward him. Ryan clasped an arm around her waist and pressed their bodies close together.

  See? He was back fully in control, and he really, honestly liked that. His anger rapidly subsided. Becky was struggling in his grasp, but only feebly. Ryan’s smile came back.

  He pressed his mouth against her ear and then began to whisper.

  “It’s okay, kitten. Heck, it’s better than okay. It’s gonna be plain sailing from now on. You’ll see.”

  And then he made then both dematerialize.

  Or at least, he thought he had.

  When he returned to the Deth House, he found he was no longer holding her, and Ryan lost his balance, stumbling for a second.

  Becky hadn’t come here with him. She’d remained behind, and that was not supposed to happen.

  His thoughts began whirling furiously. He turned around in a full circle, panting with astonished rage. What in the name of all the Dark Lords could have caused this? Maybe Martha Howard-Brett?

  Ryan let out a howl of frustration, and then kicked over a table with a big crystal decanter on it.

  Back in Becky Trayner’s room, Martha finally appeared. She’d been unable to enter any part of this small house while Ryan Eastlake had been present. But she’d spirited herself here as soon as he had left.

  A sobbing noise was coming from the corner of the little bedroom. Becky was down on the floor, curled up in a ball and crying her heart out. Martha went across and knelt beside her. Becky noticed she was there, and stared at her through hazel eyes that were completely blurred with tears.

  “You’re one of the adepts, aren’t you?” she managed to sniff. “And you saved me? Thank you! Thank you!”

  Martha patted the girl’s shoulder. But she felt as puzzled as she’d ever been. The plain fact was, she had done absolutely nothing.

  Which begged the question, if it wasn’t her who’d rescued this young woman … then who had?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Several fire trucks had finally shown up. Hoses had been unraveled, and a constant flow of water was now raining down upon the building we’d escaped from. But it looked mostly like a losing battle. More than half the place had already been consumed in flame. The only thing the crews could do was make sure that it didn’t spread.

  Bella was staying close to me, right up in my personal zone, and had an expectant smile on her face, understanding I was grateful that she’d helped. Willets, Lauren, and Emaline had each had easier landings than mine, so the townsfolk who had joined in must have adjusted their spell a little.

  “Cassie talks a lot about you,” Bella said.

  “You oughtn’t believe everything she says,” I answered, brushing some ash off my coat.

  “No,” she laughed, “it’s nothing bad. She really admires you, and I can see why. Pretty damned impressive, the way you jumped off that roof.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “And that’s a genuinely smart attitude, Ross. So, you’re single, right?”

  I would have tried to think up a response, except that Lauren walked across to us at that point, stared at the flamboyant redhead and then started nearly bristling. She cut such a hostile figure, in truth, Bella finally backed off.

  I glanced at the blond lieutenant and mouthed, “Thanks for that.”

  “So, what now?” Lauren asked.

  My gaze lifted to the sky. Maybe it was merely the smoke, but the low layer of cloud seemed to have gotten a few shades darker. It looked like it was practically evening, though I knew perfectly well it was still daytime.

  Regan Farrow had been burned alive, hadn’t she – the witch who had condemned this town to isolation? And was there a certain irony in what had almost happened to us, someone trying to make a point?

  I went across to Willets, who was still coughing, and asked him, “Didn’t you feel anybody coming into that building behind us?”

  The doc shook his head mournfully, spitting out a wad of phlegm.

  “I didn’t even know a fire had started till you shouted out.”

  Which was odd, but fitted in with everything else that we’d encountered so far. This really was a type of magic that you couldn’t get the measure of.

  “You mean, it might have started by itself?”

  “I guess.”

  “Can you tell what Eastlake’s doing at the moment? Eastlake senior, I mean.”

  The doc went as still as a big, hard rock. He let his eyelids drift down, and I got the strong impression that he was no longer with us. He was reaching out with his mind’s eye and letting his immortal spirit drift.

  But the time that he was taking started dragging out interminably. I glanced at my watch, then cleared my throat. At which, his eyes snapped straight back open. He looked awful peeved.

  “You know what I think?” he asked sharply. “What with Ms. Mallory out of the picture, you’ve taken up her duties when it comes to rudeness. I was trying to get a good, clear look at everything that’s going on. Including a survey of the Eastlake mansion.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I shrugged. “I didn’t know that. So, find anything?”

  “Unless I’m being duped again, there’s nothing pertaining to magic in the entire place. No crypts, no altars, and no mystic portals.”

  “And the man himself?”

  “Doesn’t seem to be there. In fact, I can’t see him anywhere inside the Landing.”

  And I felt my shoulders jolting.

  “Do you reckon he’s got past the curse?”

  “Why would he even bother staying here at all, if he could do that? No, I think that he’s concealing himself. I can tell you where he most probably is, however.”

  But if he couldn’t see the man, how was that even possible?

  “That butler of his … Donald? I can see that guy as clearly as your face. And he’s still on Sycamore Hill, but in the open air, outside a mausoleum.”

  Which got a dull “Whuh?” from me.

  “Davina Eastlake’s mausoleum, to be precise.”

  Which was the last thing that I’d been expecting.

  “And the door’s wide open,” Willets added. “So I’d say that Harker Eastlake has to be inside.”

  Most people in town get buried either out in G
reenlea Cemetery on the edge of East Meadow, or over in Vernon Valley, or else down in Greenwood. And each of those places has its own cluster of mausoleums, sure. But if you’re really, seriously rich, then you go to Salem Lawns. And if your husband gets rich later, then he moves your coffin there.

  Personally, I can’t see what slightest difference it makes. If there’s not an afterlife, that kind of luxury means nothing to you. And if there is one, then you’ve far better places in the Universe to be than stuck inside a great big block of stone, however fancy.

  Salem Lawns was halfway to the bottom of the sharply sloping western edge of Sycamore Hill, where it gives out onto Exeter Close. Storefront windows gleamed below us in the deepening gloom. They were mostly places that sold magic artifacts and books, and had largely been destroyed back when the Shadow Man was with us. But they’d been rebuilt to the very last. We’re like that movie where they put up a whole barn in half a day, except we don’t drive buggies or call anybody ‘English.’

  The clouds had gotten even lower, and had gone a color like dark sludge. And when I climbed out of my car again, I could see swift flashes way off through their formless mass. But no lighting was striking at the ground as yet. There was a storm brewing up there, but it was self-contained so far.

  The cemetery gates were partway open. Parked in front of them was a black Bentley with the legend HE 1 on the license plate.

  The other guys dropped in behind me as I went around it and pressed on. I now had three people watching my back. But Lauren was still relatively new here. Willets was unpredictable. And as for Emaline … let’s not go that route. The simple truth was, I was missing Cassie badly.

  The turf underfoot was so evenly trimmed it looked like an expanse of pale green carpet. There were big bunches of flowers everywhere, in pricey vases. Some of the mausoleums were as big as people’s homes. The statuary atop them could have gone on national monuments. Valkyries spurred their winged horses. Huge, muscular Titans stretched their arms toward the heavens. There were lions, tigers, eagles, everywhere I looked. I had never been in here before. Jesus Christ, but I’d had no idea that dead folks had such massive egos. But I couldn’t make out Donald.