Chapter 27. Jenny
Jenny
Alex’s spell was still burning on the wall. Within the triangle of green fire, a crack split the old limestone from floor to ceiling. Cold air belched out, making me shiver.
The thralls ignored me, and I did my best to ignore them, even as their mere presence made my stomach cramp and my blood burn.
Reconnecting with Artemis had strengthened my awareness of the unnatural.
Their stink filled my lungs. I heard every squelch of their limbs.
I even heard the flickering blinks of all those eyes.
“We can do this,” I whispered to the house. “You shift yourself around every day. You made a whole new bedroom when Ronnie got here. You built a room for a cat. This is nothing but blocks of old limestone.”
A shard of stone broke away and clattered to the floor. Not a promising start.
“You can’t stop it,” Alex said from the weight bench.
“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?” I double-checked to make sure his ropes were secure. I’d bound his legs at the ankles, knees, and thighs. His arm was tight against his side, tied at the wrist and elbow. Additional ropes held his torso flat on the bench. He wasn’t going anywhere.
I pointed to the two kids. “How do you control them?”
“I don’t. Not anymore. They serve R’gngyk, not me.” He grimaced. “Not that it matters. The more R’gngyk feeds, the stronger I become. I’m his champion and Hunter. I’ll be free soon enough.”
I was starting to regret not being able to punch him in the face.
“All this because you’d rather bring a world-devouring forgotten god to our doorstep than go to therapy.” I turned my back on him.
Heal the wound. Easy for Artemis to say.
I was EMT-certified and up to date on my training, but none of that training included the magical healing of a semi-sentient house.
But I’d worked on plenty of other nonhuman patients, and the basic rules were the same.
Before you could stitch up a wound, you had to clean it.
That meant removing Alex’s thralls. Without harming them in any way, thanks to the contract I’d accepted.
Or looking at them for more than a couple of seconds at a time, which was all my mind could handle.
“No problem.” I approached a bare patch of wall. Artemis said I could do this. I touched the stone. It was warm and damp and slick like seaweed. “Come on. Drop chunks of stone on them. Open a sinkhole in the floor. Take whatever strength you need from me. Just do something to fight back.”
Nothing.
“I know it hurts,” I said. “I know you’re weak. I know you’re scared for Temple. I am, too.”
The house’s response was so faint, I almost missed it. Amidst the foulness and the stench and the cold, I felt a feather touch of comfort: the familiarity and coziness and security of home.
“We need to get these two out of here.” No, we needed to move them up into the now-empty guest bedrooms. The wainscoting of Morgan’s and Sage’s rooms had been warded to block out Ringo and Alex. “Any chance you could help me carry these things upstairs?”
The house didn’t answer. Even if it was strong enough to install a magical cargo elevator, there was no way I’d be able to maneuver the thralls into the elevator car, then drag them to the guest rooms. I couldn’t even pry them off the wall.
“All right, forget bringing them upstairs. What about bringing those bedrooms down here?”
Dust shivered from the rafters, but nothing else happened.
Moving entire bedrooms was too much. The house was too exhausted and too hurt and too afraid.
“I’m here,” I assured it. “You can do this. We don’t need to bring the whole rooms. Just the wainscoting trim that has Temple’s spell.”
Excitement poked through the exhaustion. I felt . . . eagerness mixed with the fear, and beneath that, an unwavering trust.
The house reminded me of a child. A frightened, ridiculously powerful two-hundred-year-old child.
“Let me help you,” I said. “Like Temple does.”
I’d never actually seen the house work its magic before. It always happened when you weren’t looking: the closet was bigger when you woke up in the morning, or the fridge shifted your favorite snack to the front right before you opened the door. The house liked surprising people.
A four-inch-wide white board bulged through the ceiling and crawled down the wall.
Thin nails through the board moved like tiny legs.
It reached the floor. The wood softened and curved, encircling the thrall’s feet.
A second board followed, eight feet long.
This one clung vertically to the wall, touching the end of the first board.
“What’s happening?” asked Alex.
“We’re redecorating.” I spotted a problem. The two boards had the thrall more than half-enclosed already, but each thrall had an arm extended across the green fire. I didn’t know what would happen if Temple’s spell crossed the boundary of Alex’s summoning portal.
I approached the left thrall, squinted to blur my vision, and seized its arm just before the spot where it touched the fire. It was like I’d grabbed a four-inch-wide leech by the mouth. Needles pierced my palm and fingers as I tried to pull the limb from the wall.
I braced my right foot against the wall by its thigh and applied my full weight, straining every muscle in my body.
With a squeaking, flatulent sound, the arm tore free . . . and immediately coiled around my wrist. Pain shot up to my shoulder. Horror and revulsion filled me.
“Hurry, please,” I gasped.
A third piece of wainscoting skittered down the limestone. It crept along the edge of the portal, less than an inch from the fire. The bottom end touched the board on the floor. The three pieces grew together until any seams were invisible.
The instant the ring was completed, the pressure on my arm eased. The thrall slumped against the wall. The eyes drooped.
I used my other hand to peel the limb loose. It was like ripping Velcro hooks from the fibers of my muscles.
By the time I got free, I was in tears and gasping for breath.
My legs gave out. I landed on the floor hard enough to jolt my lower back.
I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been this exhausted.
It was more than fighting the thrall. The house had been using my reserves to rearrange Temple’s spellwork.
I felt like I’d run a marathon and then fought off an entire army.
“How did you do that?” asked Alex.
“Power of friendship. Don’t underestimate a dumpy, middle-aged Care Bear.” Let him stew on that non-answer.
Cold from the floor crept into my body, chilling me to the marrow. I also felt . . . relief. The house’s pain had eased. Instead of bleeding from two places, we were down to a single thrall siphoning our life to R’gngyk.
“Not bad.” I sat up. My head spun. I closed my eyes and concentrated on not throwing up. “Think we can do it one more time?”
I sensed worry and guilt. The house didn’t want to hurt me.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Take what you need. I’m tougher than I look.”
The process was slower this time: cautious and hesitant.
I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. That was probably a bad sign.
Fragments of information about hypothermia and frostbite flitted through my mind.
I clenched and relaxed different muscles to try to keep my blood flowing, but I wasn’t sure how long I could stay conscious.
Nor was I sure how much the house had left.
In medical terms, it was bleeding out. Too much of its power had been siphoned away. It was like Temple had warned: the house would wring me dry, and it wouldn’t be enough.
Maybe we’d get lucky. Maybe Ringo had weakened the house enough that when Temple pulled the trigger on that rocket launcher, the resulting destruction would only take out part of Salem.
“At this rate, our insurance agent is going to stop taking my calls.” Annette’s voice sounded far away. I thought I was hallucinating. “Oh, shit! Jenny!”
Strong hands helped me to sit up. When had I fallen over, and how long had I been lying on my side? Wait, what was Annette doing here? I tried to ask the question. “Whtdnhrm?”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
She vanished. Or maybe she’d never been there. Dying brain activity was erratic and not fully understood. What other memories and dreams would flicker through my consciousness? I’d love to see the Pacific again. Or relive that hot fudge sundae I had at Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco.
The stink of ammonia pierced my sinuses. I jolted back.
Annette pushed an open bottle of smelling salts at my face, but I slapped her hand away.
“That’s better.” She capped the bottle. “I didn’t know how well this stuff would work, given how putrid it already is down here.”
I fought to focus, to remember what was happening. “You were supposed to leave.”
“I’m disappointing everyone today, aren’t I?” She nodded to Alex. “Nice job taking down Captain Asshole.”
I blinked and squinted until my vision cleared enough to see the second thrall. It was half-enclosed by enchanted wainscoting. “Help me.”
“How?” Annette asked.
“The house responds to what its people need. We need it to finish bringing that binding spell down from the second floor.”
“It’s using you for fuel, isn’t it? That’s why you look like shit.”
“That and middle age.”
She sat beside me and took my left hand in her right. “What do we do, just visualize what we want?”
What I wanted was to send her away. In my younger days, I probably would have. I hated the thought of her dying with me. But she had the right to make her own choices, and I needed the help. “Talk to the house. Give it permission to use your strength.”
“Ten bucks says I last longer than you.”
I managed a weak smile. “No fair. I’m already half tapped out.”
“Only half? It’s cute that you believe that.” Annette looked around the basement. “I’m ready. Come and get it.”