Out of breath, Lucy turned the last corner, but instead of the front door she was staring down another hallway. She had been positive this was the way. Lucy retraced her steps to the study—or to where the study should have been.
“It was right here.” Lucy spun in circles, confused at how she could have lost the study.
She was running out of time, Marcus would come looking for her soon. Lucy picked a direction and ran. The hallways seemed to be never-ending. She tried several doors, but they were all locked. How could there be so many locked doors in one house? Lucy began to think she was running in circles and that somehow the house was keeping her from escaping.
Magic.
It had to be spell of some kind. A spell that kept people trapped in Marcus’ house—no, Marcus’ lair. That’s what Morgan called it and that’s exactly what it was. Lucy decided she should look for a phone. If she couldn’t get out, then she should call for help. If she couldn’t reach the police she would call Morgan—he always came when she called.
Lucy blamed the drugs for not thinking of a phone sooner. Okay, the study, she knew there was a phone in the study. Lucy moved fast, but stopped running because she needed to be more deliberate in her search. She tried every door she passed and almost cried when one of them finally opened.
Lucy stumbled through the door—and into the ballroom.
No.
Lucy turned to run the way she’d come, but the doorway no longer led to a hallway, it was the powder room. A muffled cry got Lucy’s attention. She turned toward the noise because it almost sounded like . . .
Her dad.
Jason, her mom and her dad were gagged and tied to chairs in the middle of the ballroom. Lucy couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, she was in a nightmare and she wanted to wake up.
“I told you to hurry,” said Marcus. “As you can see, our last three guests have arrived.”
The handsome, well-groomed Marcus had disappeared. In his place was a scowling, wild-eyed madman.
He said, “I believed that more than one of your family members would be like you, but alas, only you truly are special. A natural-born Paragon, so very rare and precious.”
The other cult members were lined up on either side of Lucy’s family. They were swaying in place like the nut-jobs they were, their faces turned to Marcus with looks of love and devotion. Marcus grinned at Lucy and picked up a really long, ceremonial-looking knife. She could see it was one of a pair that sat on a table.
Altar.
It was an altar, Lucy screamed inside her head.
Her family was in front of a stone altar.
Marcus moved closer to the captives and in a fluid, almost beautiful motion he cut her dad’s throat.
Lucy screamed.
CHAPTER 18
Elyse stepped toward the big cat that was Mrs. Kelly. And Mr. Kelly let out a warning hiss, moving forward to intercept Elyse.
But Elyse wouldn’t be deterred. “Mom,” Elyse said again, stretching her hand out to touch Mrs. Kelly.
I assumed Mr. Kelly perceived us as a threat. I would have in his position, so I couldn’t totally blame him when he tried to stop Elyse by swiping at her with his paw.
But I couldn’t have my girlfriend—his daughter—being swiped at like that. I kicked my shifter speed into high and stepped in, with a growl knocking Mr. Kelly’s paw away. Mr. Kelly dropped into a crouch, ready to pounce. Mrs. Kelly, who had been hesitant in her response because of Elyse’s reaction, shifted to human form.
“Mom!” Elyse shouted, flying into her mother’s arms.
Mrs. Kelly caught Elyse and waved her husband back, which was a good thing because he and I were about to tumble. Mr. Kelly also shifted to human form, coming to a protective stance behind his wife. His eyes never left mine.
“Um, I know we’re kind of in a secluded area and all, but a crowd of naked and semi-naked people is probably going to draw some unwanted attention,” Wyatt pointed out.
Maddie did a thing with her hands. “We’re good for a few minutes. Nobody will pay attention to us.”
“When did you learn that?” Wyatt asked.
“Cynthia thought it might come in handy.”
“Well, yeah,” said Wyatt impressed.
Elyse was sobbing into Mrs. Kelly’s shoulder, clinging to her mom like she might vanish if she let her go. Mr. Kelly and Mrs. Kelly shared a look. It was a straight-up concerned mom and dad thing and I was reminded why I liked them so much.
“Elyse,” I said gently, trying to get her attention.
What could I say? My girlfriend had just been reunited with her dead mom. I wasn’t about to tell her to get over it—that the woman she was hugging was just part of a memory construct.
Mrs. Kelly pulled back a bit and wiped the tears from Elyse’s cheeks, getting a better look at her daughter. I watched Mrs. Kelly’s face, saw it soften, and she pulled Elyse back into a motherly embrace. “Richard, she looks just like your mother,” said Mrs. Kelly.
Mr. Kelly sighed. “Who are you people?”
I’d been here before with eighties Cynthia and that situation had gone south fast. So I didn’t hold out much hope that, when I explained we were all having this conversation inside Lucy’s head, that Mr. Kelly would react well.
I was right.
Mr. Kelly didn’t immediately attack, at least he had more patience than Cynthia. Of course, there was a girl crying on his wife’s shoulder and calling her Mom, so that probably bought us some leeway.
“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. “We know who we are, and we’re real, not imaginary.”
It’s the magic,” said Maddie. “It makes it all so very real.”
“And what, this girl is supposed to be our daughter from the future? It’s just not possible.”
“It’s not time-travel,” I said. “The year is 2018, but this particular memory, it just happens to be a memory of 1988. Why would we make up such a ridiculous lie? What would we gain?”
“Oh, I can think of many reasons why you would pull a stunt like this.” Mr. Kelly gestured to his wife, who was still holding Elyse and stroking her hair in a way only a mother can. “But let’s pretend for a minute that you four are from the future.”
“It’s not the future,” Wyatt insisted.
Mr. Kelly gave the kid a stare down that would have sent anyone else running for their life. Wyatt just tightened his grip on his battle-baton.
“As I was saying,” Mr. Kelly continued. “Let’s pretend I believe you. Why are you and your friends here at this house tonight?”
“Our friend, the one who’s unconscious mind has constructed all of this,” I nodded to the surrounding neighborhood. “She’s inside the house and we need to get to her, to help her escape from this memory.”
“Now, that is a problem,” said Mr. Kelly. “You said the Society sent you here. Then you must know how the Society deals with those who practice blood-magic?”
I nodded.
Mr. Kelly said, “Well, we have mounting evidence that the owner of the house is a blood-mage who has somehow been able to hide in plain sight for decades. But tonight he made a mistake. He has assembled his entire coven here. They have all been marked for termination.”
“Termination?” I was stunned. I knew the Society took their enforcement seriously, but to wipe out an entire house full of people? That was heavy-duty.
“That’s why we’re here,” Mr. Kelly nodded toward Mrs. Kelly. “To make sure nobody else goes in or out. If your friend is in there, then she’s already lost.”
“Look, Mr. Kelly.”
He flinched when I used his name.
Oops.
Mr. Kelly stepped back a pace, placing a warning hand on his wife’s shoulder. “How do you know my name?”
“We know everything about you,” I said, my patience almost gone. “Your name is Richard Kelly, your wife is Katherine, but all her friends call her Katie. You’re over three hundred years old and you once told me that you w
ere present at the Second Continental Congress.”
“Huh,” said Mrs. Kelly. “Richard, I can’t explain what is happening, but these young people, I don’t sense falsehood in their words.”
“Everyone, please remain where you are,” a familiar voice called from the shadows. I had no idea how she had managed to sneak up on four shifters, but eighties Cynthia was here. She said, “I can assure you that this time you are fully surrounded by several Society battle-mages, so please don’t test me. Richard, Katherine these four people are wanted for questioning in the Hollywood incident. Specifically, the big one.”
“I told you my name is Orson, and we’re here to help.”
“Yes, to help a blood-mage escape,” said Cynthia. “Let me guess, they’ve been telling you a tale about the future and memory constructs?”
Mr. Kelly grunted.
“It is pure nonsense,” said Cynthia. “While the theory behind memory constructs is valid, something this detailed would require a mage of incredible power.”
“Yeah, her name is Lucy,” said Wyatt. “And she’s stuck inside that house with a bunch whack-job magic-users.”
“Silence!” Cynthia snapped. “The four of you will be transferred to Society headquarters for further questioning.”
A distant shriek shut Cynthia right up. All of us turned in the direction of the noise. I had been expecting it, but it was still disheartening when out of the darkness Lucy’s memory monsters began to materialize. And Lucy’s brain must have been in overdrive, because a small army of the nasty buggers was trotting boldly up the middle of the street. This time the demon-dogs weren’t alone. I could also see half-a-dozen ogres—all spitting images of the ones Lucy and I fought at the In-N-Out on the way to Stanford. And the monster creature-feature didn’t end there. As I watched in disbelief a horde of limping, lurching, oozing, zombies appeared.
“Oh, come on,” said Wyatt. “Did she have to throw in zombies? Lucy hates The Walking Dead.”
“I don’t understand,” said Cynthia. “Where are they coming from?”
“I told you, Lucy’s mind will defend itself,” I shouted as the motley troop of monsters shrieked, roared and moaned their way toward us.
* * * *
Her dad was dead.
Her mom was crying.
Jason was crying.
Marcus had killed her father.
Lucy tried to run to her family to hold her mom and Jason, to cry with them, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her eyes snapped to Marcus. He had a hand pointed at her, his face a mask of concentration. Lucy could feel an invisible force pushing against her body. She strained against it, but it was too strong and she began to slide backward along the floor. Lucy struggled, trying desperately to slip sideways away from the magic driving her back. Then she felt the energy twist, wrapping itself around her body like a vice. It was no use, she was trapped. Lucy’s body slammed against one of the carved wooden pillars of the ballroom, Marcus’ spell pinning her to the wood as effectively as if he had chained her in place.
On a signal from Marcus the other crazies in the room descended on Lucy’s dad, dipping their fingers in his blood. Lucy watched in horror as they began to draw symbols on their arms and faces. A few of them even ripped their shirts off so that they could mark their chests with the blood.
Lucy realized she was witnessing a blood-magic ritual and, as if on cue, Lucy started to feel what could only be the magic in the room increase in strength. It was the same tingling sensation she’d had during the ritual bath, only a million times more intense.
Marcus and his merry band of psychotics were using her dad’s blood to fuel their magic. They were monsters and Lucy had wanted to be like them. Her throat constricted and her stomach convulsed, but having already relieved herself of the wine Lucy had nothing in her system to throw-up and instead dry-heaved until sour-tasting drool spilled from her lips.
Lucy closed her eyes and tried to withdraw from the reality around her, to pull inside herself, to hide from the horrible place she had led her family. Her eyes fluttered and her head felt light. Could a person will herself into unconsciousness? Lucy thought the answer was yes—didn’t survivors of traumatic abuse suppress nightmare memories? That’s what Lucy would do. She would close her eyes and suppress all of this, push it all down into a tiny little locked box somewhere deep in her mind.
If she couldn’t remember it, then it never happened.
A flash of color dazzled the inside of her eyelids. What was that? Lucy opened her eyes just a little and saw another flash—and another, and another. Lucy opened her eyes wide, sure she must be seeing things, that watching her dad die had sent her over the edge into crazy-town. But no, there were bolts of color shooting around the room. Lucy watched as the ribbons of color flashed in and out of Marcus and the other blood-soaked people. Lucy concentrated on just one of the colors, following it as it streaked from the ceiling, down around the walls, and directly into the head of a guy standing next to her family.
In a blinding flash the entire room erupted into light around Lucy. It was both terrifying and beautiful. Everything in the room was glowing with an intense, internal light. Lucy looked at her mom and Jason. The light coming from them was the brightest. She forced herself to look at her dad’s limp form—he wasn’t emitting any light at all.
Life force.
It was the only thing that made sense to Lucy. She was able to see the life force, the energy, of the things around her. But what about the streaks of color, what were they? Lucy glanced around and realized the bands of color were long, flowing streamers of energy—magic.
It had to be, it was the only explanation. Lucy could see the magic flowing around her and it was alive. A natural force like electricity. Morgan would know how to describe it better and Lucy hoped to get a chance to tell him about it and listen to every crazy theory he came up with. But she needed to concentrate. Find out if seeing the magic meant that maybe she could use it.
A pulse of energy rippled from Marcus. It shimmered through the air as if carried on a gust of wind and Lucy felt it wash over her. It also disrupted the bands of magic energy flowing through the room. The multi-colored ribbons became saturated by a deep, dark red. This sent Marcus’ followers into a frenzy. They ripped at their clothes and gnashed their teeth. Lucy watched with a sick fascination as their eyes turned solid black.
One of the women turned toward Lucy and smiled. Her teeth were sharp, jagged things that had no place inside the mouth of a human being. The woman had shredded her shirt and it hung off her in tatters revealing a blue, lacey bra. She still had on a black pencil skirt, but it was twisted around backwards and starting to slip. Every inch of the woman’s bare skin was marked with blood symbols and Lucy saw the marks glowed a dull red.
The woman giggled—at least that’s what Lucy thought the horrible tittering sound the woman made was supposed to be, and then the woman sprinted full speed at Lucy, who braced for an impact that never came.
“No!” shouted Marcus, flicking his hand. The result was immediate as the black-eyed, blood-covered crazy woman was flung through the air across the entire ballroom. Lucy was surprised when the woman landed on her feet—then felt her skin crawl when the woman let out an inhuman keening yowl.
“Not yet, dear one. Lucy is the main course and we haven’t finished the other appetizers yet,” Marcus scolded.
The other appetizers.
“No!” Lucy screamed, struggling against the magic holding her. “Marcus, please!”
Marcus casually picked up the second knife from the stone altar. “We need to make sure we keep both blades properly bloodied, that is just good knife maintenance,” he said, moving behind Lucy’s mom.
“Mommy,” Lucy whimpered. “I love you, I’m so sorry, Mommy . . .”
Lucy’s mom nodded and tried to answer through her gag. Even though Lucy couldn’t hear the words she could see it in her mom’s eyes—the unconditional love of a mother for her child. And Lucy remembered all the hugs,
all the kisses, all the times her mom cuddled with her under the covers when she’d had a bad dream. All of it flashed across Lucy’s mind in a split second.
And then, with a smile, Marcus slid the knife across her mom’s throat.
At that instant, Lucy felt something break inside of her. It was like a part of her soul had been damned up behind a wall her entire life. Now that wall had been shattered and Lucy could feel power surging into her body. She took one last loving look at her mother and then turned her focus on the bands of magic—and wasn’t surprised to see the energy had shifted direction and was now pouring into her, filling Lucy with power.
It was like Marcus had explained in Vegas. She was special, she was some kind of witch or wizard or something, and that meant the magic responded to her.
And now she would use it to kill Marcus and all those who followed him. Of course Lucy didn’t know how to control the magic properly, so she had no idea how she would exactly accomplish that.
But she would destroy Marcus.
The first thing she needed to do was free herself from the magic keeping her frozen in place. Lucy focused on the force immobilizing her, all the places she could feel it pressing against her body, and sure enough she could discern a pattern of energy, a sort of latticework of magic binding her to the column. Lucy thought about what she wanted, letting every other thing go, clearing her mind entirely—even of the images of her parents corpses, the sound of Jason’s heart-wrenching whimpers, and her own grief—she pushed it all away.
Free.
I want to be free.
The magic binding her loosened, just a bit, it was going to work. Lucy took a deep breath, preparing to redouble her focus, but her concentration was broken by what sounded like a war erupting outside. Marcus and his bastard friends also paused in their frenzied blood-lust, looking toward the unexpected noise.
Lucy: A Paragon Society Novel (Book 3) Page 18
