12. Velma Doomweaver #5
“Like a slave,” Gabriel finished, his euphoria evaporating. “Gods, am I—am I doing to it what Madaze did to me?”
“We don’t know,” Miles said. “It initially haunted you, then helped us clean. Those seemed like choices. Now it’s reshaping itself to your exact specifications without hesitation.”
Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the transformed room. “House? Are you—are you doing this because you want to?”
The walls rippled slightly but offered no clear response.
“What if it can’t refuse?” Gabriel whispered, horror spreading across his face.
He took a sharp step back, shaking his head.
His fingers trembled where they hovered near the wall, as if afraid to touch it.
“It opened the study door when I cursed at it, even when it was in haunt mode. No, no, no,” he muttered, voice tightening. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
“Or perhaps it simply wants to please its new master,” Miles suggested carefully. “Remember how it defended you against the assassins? That seemed voluntary.”
Gabriel paced, his movements jittery. “This is horrific. I’ve become Madaze. I’m compelling a thinking being to serve me.”
“We don’t know that,” Miles emphasized. “But we should find out.”
Just as quickly as the horror had descended, Gabriel’s eyes lit up again. “Wait—if I control this place, I can undo everything Madaze created. The basement, the cells, all of it! ”
“Gabriel—”
“House,” Gabriel commanded, “remove all traces of the underground level from your structure.”
The floor trembled beneath them. Distant crashes and rumbles echoed through the hallways.
Genna gasped, but Nikka’s eyes lit up, and she ran out of their sight into the ballroom. “It’s gone! The stairs down are gone! Incredible.”
“See?” Gabriel grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m freeing it from Madaze too.”
Miles sighed, recognizing the deflection. “Gabriel, please. We need to understand if the house has agency or if you’re overriding its will. There’s a significant ethical difference.”
Gabriel’s face contorted with conflicting emotions. “How do we even ask a house if it consents? It’s not as if it can speak.”
“But it communicates,” Miles pointed out. “It moved doors, changed temperatures. There must be a way to establish more nuanced communication.”
Miles took a deep breath and raised his hands to quiet Gabriel’s rapid-fire plans for renovation. He needed to establish some clarity before his lover tore through the entire people-eating mansion in his manic state.
“Let’s create a simple communication system,” Miles said, touching Gabriel’s arm gently. “House, can you hear me?”
The lights dimmed briefly throughout the room, then brightened again.
“Excellent,” Miles muttered, his mind racing through possibilities. “I propose a binary system. One blink of the lights for ‘yes,’ two blinks for ‘no.’ Would that work for you?”
The lights dimmed and brightened once. A clear yes.
“Gabriel,” Miles said, “why don’t you ask your questions?”
Gabriel hesitated, running his fingers along a newly transformed marble surface. “Am I compelling you to change? Are you being forced to obey me?”
The lights blinked twice. No.
Relief flooded Gabriel’s face. “Do you like the changes we’ve made?”
One blink. Yes.
Gabriel turned to Miles with a triumphant smile. “See? I’m not Madaze. It likes what we’re doing.”
Miles nodded, but something nagged at him. “May I ask a few questions as well? ”
“Of course,” Gabriel gestured grandly.
Miles cleared his throat. “House—Rookgate—can Gabriel compel you if he chooses to?”
The lights dimmed, remained dark for several seconds, then brightened once. A hesitant yes.
“Do you fear being compelled again?” Miles asked quietly.
One blink. Yes.
Gabriel’s smile faded. “I would never—”
“I know,” Miles reassured him quickly. Then he paused, a question forming that he was reluctant to ask.
It was selfish, perhaps even manipulative, but he had to know.
The thought had been growing in his mind since the house first responded to Gabriel—that this connection might mean their plans for Briarleigh would never come to pass, that their paths might diverge.
Miles swallowed hard before asking, “Do you want Gabriel to stay here? To make this his permanent home?”
One clear, bright blink. Yes.
Silence stretched between them.
Miles exhaled slowly.
Gabriel stood still.
Then—
Gabriel’s face as his expression crumbled into confusion. Miles’s own first internal reaction—a flash of relief at Gabriel’s dismay—filled him with immediate shame. Gabriel's shoulders slumped, his earlier manic energy evaporating.
“No,” Gabriel whispered, backing away from the wall he’d been stroking just moments before. “No, I can’t—I won’t stay here.”
Miles’s heart ached at the sudden shift. He’d seen Gabriel’s moods change rapidly before, but this collapse from euphoria to despair was particularly painful to witness.
“Listen,” Gabriel addressed the house, his voice taking on a desperate edge. “I can redesign you completely. We’ll make you beautiful. We’ll find you a wonderful new owner who’ll cherish you. Someone cultured who’ll throw fabulous parties and—”
The lights flashed twice—emphatically no—and the temperature in the room plummeted. Frost began forming on the windowpanes .
“You don’t understand,” Gabriel’s voice rose, cracking slightly. “I can’t live here! It doesn’t matter how different you look; it’s still the place where—”
He broke off, trembling now. Miles moved toward him as Gabriel’s knees seemed to give way. He clutched at Miles’s shirt, burying his face against Miles’s chest.
“I can’t, Miles.” His voice was muffled against Miles’s chest. “This is where it all happened. Every humiliation, every torture. I just can’t!”
Miles wrapped his arms around Gabriel, holding him steady. “Shh, it’s alright. We don’t have to decide anything tonight.” He stroked Gabriel’s hair, feeling the tremors running through his lover’s body. “Let’s go back to the Mourning Lark for now. Get some distance.”
Miles began guiding Gabriel toward the entry hall, but as they reached the corridor, the grand double doors at the end between them and the ladies slammed shut. Gabriel flinched violently at the sound.
“Open,” Gabriel commanded, his voice raw with emotion.
The doors remained closed. The floorboards rattled beneath their feet, and Miles wondered again where it had put those bodies and what it would take for them to join them.
“I said open!” Gabriel shouted, a note of panic edging into his voice.
The house responded with a low rumble that shook the floor beneath them. Then the door swung open briefly and slammed shut again.
Technical compliance with underlying defiance.
Perhaps Gabriel would need to flex some mental muscles he wasn’t familiar with using as a non-practitioner to truly enforce his will.
How dangerous could this house be to them until Gabriel learned control?
And then again, even if Gabriel could, Miles was deeply dubious that he should.
“Gabriel isn’t well,” Miles called out, addressing the house directly. “He needs space to think clearly. This is too overwhelming right now.”
The wall sconces flickered uncertainly.
“You’ve been alone and afraid for months,” Miles continued. His heart was pounding but he kept his voice gentle but firm. “I understand you don’t want to be abandoned again. But forcing him to stay will only make him resent you.”
A lesson he may have to learn to embrace himself.
The temperature in the hallway gradually began to warm .
“If you care for him—truly care—you must give him time,” Miles said, still supporting Gabriel, who had gone unnervingly quiet against his shoulder.
Slowly, reluctantly, the doors creaked open, revealing the entry room beyond.
Nikka and Genna stood awkwardly in the entry hall, both pointedly pretending they hadn’t overheard the emotional scene. Nikka adjusted her spectacles unnecessarily while Genna suddenly found great interest in the marble floor.
“Is he...” Genna began, then seemed to think better of finishing the question.
Miles kept one arm firmly around Gabriel, who remained still against him. His face was hidden, but Miles could feel dampness through his shirt where Gabriel pressed against him.
“We need to return to the inn,” Miles said. “Gabriel needs some time away from here.”
The wall sconces dimmed, and a chill draft swirled around the entryway.
“Now, now,” Miles addressed the house, keeping his voice steady. “We’ve only just discovered your nature. You can’t expect Gabriel to process everything at once.”
A low, creaking groan reverberated through the building’s structure.
“What if we make an arrangement?” Miles continued, his mind working quickly. “Genna and Nikka could keep you company until tonight, and Gabriel and I will return tomorrow.”
He turned to Genna, raising his eyebrows in question.
Genna sighed but nodded. “I suppose I could spare a few more hours. Someone needs to keep an eye on this... situation. Maybe I’ll take another crack at the attic now that we can talk to Rookgate.”
“Genna!” Miles said. “You can’t be serious. Just keep it company. We will get to the attics later, together.”
Genna scowled. “I’m not going to try to force my way in. I’ll just… see if I can explain.”
Miles sighed. “Genna, this house already bit you once, and I suspect that it was being polite. It just swallowed six bodies and a basement. We don’t understand the boundaries of what it can and cannot do on its own accord.
If you get yourself eaten, I’m not going to beg the house to cough you up for a proper funeral, and I’m telling Bria it was all your fault. ”
Genna scowled but nodded. “Fine. ”
“I’d be happy to stay here!” Nikka practically bounced with enthusiasm. “I need to know where the waste goes! Does it incinerate? Does it compost? Is there a pocket dimension made entirely of refuse? I need to take samples—”