And he’d go into literal hellfire to get her. He didn’t stop being terrified of the flames, but every time he started to go into flight mode, he thought of Cara, took a breath, and went on.
* * * *
Cara kept bumping into herself. Literally. She’d run down one corridor, evading the smoke and flames on her trail, only to hit a mirrored wall that appeared from nowhere, stopping her in her tracks and usually making her fall to the floor.
Worse, the mirrors were always distorted and discolored, making Cara’s reflection into a monster. She screamed at blobby creatures, at faces melting into Dali-like horrors, at long dangling arms and short stubby legs, only to realize they were all just her.
Eventually, her throat went raw and her eyes dried out. The screaming and crying stopped as her terror drained into exhaustion.
She hadn’t had a sip of water in days. Nor a clear breath.
She was dying.
She had to be dying.
Why else was she lost in this broken world, her vision fracturing and her memories fading? Cara’s feet keep circling through endless corridors and rooms, and her mind kept circling back to the floor of the parlor. Even within this nightmare, she dreamed of working, patiently assembling the wooden pieces and sanding and polishing the design until it was there, complete and shining and reflecting her face in the wood grain.
As if she put her whole soul into it, and there was nothing left for her body.
Cara knew she was slowing down, weakening. Sometimes she just stood at an intersection of the house, frozen, not knowing where to go. She’d pick a direction at random, but nothing ever changed. There was always fire crackling, ready to consume her if she stopped to rest.
She hung her head, her dirty hair falling in front of her face. What was she even fighting for? She had no reason to live. No one who cared about her. No one who would even try to get her out of this hell.
“Cara!”
Confused, she looked up.
And saw Mal.
Before Cara could take another ragged breath, she was in Mal’s arms, being lifted until her feet dangled above the burning floor.
“Madre de Dios, I found you,” he said, his voice rough. “No one knew where you were. We thought you took off. But then Marigold…”
Cara smiled at the little girl. “She dragged you along too?”
“To find you and bring you out of here, yeah. And we have to hurry. I don’t know how much time we’ve spent in this little hell pocket, but everyone is downstairs now, and we’ve got to get there before the wrong spell gets cast.”
“I’m not sure I can get out the way you came in,” Cara said. She winced as she felt something pulling on her, like a magnet, but for her very being.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can feel some sort of…connection, like a rope or a chain that’s yanking on me. I think it’s Morningside.”
“Undoubtedly,” Marigold said. “That’s why he tried to imprison you in the first place, to have you at hand tonight. He’s calling you back. Even though I was able to divert your path to here, the connection must be very strong.”
Mal looked grim. “Then we keep Cara way from him, whatever it takes.”
Ignoring Mal’s pronouncement, Marigold stepped to Cara, who knelt down to be on the same level as the ghost.
“Miss Cara, I once possessed you when my presence was summoned. This time, it is your presence that is being summoned. Will you let me possess you once more? It may be our only chance.”
“Do you think it will confuse Morningside’s spell?” Cara asked, puzzled.
“Allow me to merge with you, and all will become clear.”
“Ok,” Cara said. “Let’s try.”
“Say my name,” Marigold told her.
“Marigold Edith Egan,” Cara said formally, “I give you permission to possess me.”
The little girl’s form wavered, becoming much less substantial. She took a step forward, as if she intended to walk right into Cara.
And then she did walk right into Cara, their forms blending. Cara felt a shiver as Marigold’s spirit settled over her own.
“You ok?” Mal asked nervously.
Cara didn’t respond, too focused on the inward conversation with Marigold, a melding of minds.
And yes, everything became clear.
“Cara? Are you all right?” Mal put out his hands, helping her to her feet.
She nodded, feeling a new resolve. “Yes, I understand what needs to happen now.”
“Which is what? Let’s get out of this place and you can explain.”
Cara felt the pull again. She said, “Morningside is still trying to call me back to him. He’s at the point in his spell where he needs my presence, and my soul.”
Mal’s hands tightened around her shoulders. “It’s ok. Just resist it, and I’ll help you.”
She smiled at Mal, standing up on her toes to give him a kiss. “That’s the catch, Malachy Salem. I don’t want to resist.”
Chapter 29
Even while Mal had Cara literally in his hands, she seemed to fade, and then was pulled backward rapidly into…nothing. He grabbed for her but was too slow. Like his vision, but worse because it was real.
He stood alone in a hell of smoke and flickering red fire, and everything he tried to do right had gone wrong.
He had lost Cara.
Mal hated losing people he loved.
His howl echoed through more worlds than he knew about, but afterward he was still alone.
Cara was gone, Marigold was gone. It was just him.
“Morningside,” Mal growled.
Cara said the vampire was calling to her.
Which meant that she was going to join him.
Mal turned around, ready to race to the door that Marigold originally led him to. But that was ages ago, after a thousand twists and turns in this mirror world where nothing made sense.
If only he could just sidestep into the real world, like he…wait, what if he could?
Mal concentrated and slid into the amorphous in-between, the thin barrier that separated one world from the next. And this time he stayed there for a moment, searching.
He sensed the hellhole almost immediately. It was so powerful that it practically had its own gravitational pull, no matter which world you were in.
Mal moved toward the hellhole, reasoning that if he stepped out into the real world just at the boundary of it, he’d find the summoning circle Morningside was desperate to activate.
The hellhole seemed to rumble and glow as he approached it, like a volcano ready to erupt.
Then Mal felt something else, little lines pulling him toward other sparks of light. With a shock, he recognized the connections with his own brothers. And a little thinner, to Lily. A black metal chain to Behemoth, punctuated with locks.
And finally, new but blazing, to Cara.
Like a predator tracking prey, Mal stepped out into the real world.
Right next to the summoning circle.
He had no idea how long he’d been gone. Lex and Lily had been fighting the vampire Karl Egan, but now there was just ash near their feet, and both of them stood looking wiped out but still wary.
Lex’s eyes widened on seeing Mal emerge from nowhere, but he gestured for Mal to get out of the way. Good advice, since Dom and Morningside were engaged in some sort of mental battle. They stood on opposite sides of the marquetry floor, their attention locked on each other and no one else. Behemoth prowled the circumference of the circle, hissing and yowling.
Where is she? the cat demanded when Mal appeared.
“I don’t know! She got sucked out of wherever we were because she said Morning—”
Then Cara flickered into sight, exactly between the two casters.
“Cara!” Mal screamed.
She didn’t react to that, even to turn her head and look at him.
Mal tensed, ready to jump into the circle and grab her out of there.
Hold still.
>
Mal glared at the cat. “Cara needs help.”
You need to let her act as she wishes.
Before Mal could respond, the vampire raised its arms above its head. “There she is. My darling girl who’s going to put her heart and soul into this gate. Come here,” he ordered Cara.
She swiveled her head partway, giving a disdainful glance to Morningside. “If you’re going to break a girl’s heart and soul, you should at least know her name.”
“Cara Ann Michaels!” he shouted.
She laughed and shook her head.
Now, Behemoth ordered. Distract him.
Mal was moving before the cat finished. Morningside, focused on why Cara was eluding him, reacted a little too late when Mal attacked.
The two of them ended up in a tangle, wrestling for some advantage on the other. A candle was knocked over, then another. The flames suddenly brightened.
Mal pulled out the stake he’d stashed away, but Morningside anticipated that and knocked it away. The vampire was by far the toughest Mal had ever faced. Older, smarter, stronger.
Lex rushed up, throwing something toward them. A second later, Morningside let out an earsplitting shriek as holy water rained down, scorching the vampire’s flesh.
Mal took a breath during that moment of respite.
Cara still stood directly in the center of the ornate circle.
“Dominic Salem,” she said, her voice clear and remarkably stable. “You know what spell you need to cast. To close the portal requires a sacrifice, and I am that sacrifice. I was afraid before, but now I am willing to face my fate. Now I understand what my sacrifice means.”
Dom looked once at Mal, his expression haunted, then refocused on Cara. “I will. Be ready when the portal opens. If you hesitate, a lot of bad could come pouring out.”
“Have faith,” Cara said, pulling on a chain around her neck, then touching a silk cord bracelet on her wrist.
Mal wanted to stop her, convince her there was another way. This was supposed to be his big surprise, damn it.
Then Morningside sunk fangs into Mal’s arm and he nearly passed out.
He saw a streak of blackness rush toward him.
Behemoth.
The cat’s claws shredded half of the vampire’s face, and the fangs retracted.
Mal summoned every ounce of survival instinct and lashed out hard at Morningside, knocking the vampire to the floor, just outside the border of the circle.
Lily called out, and Mal caught what she threw to him—a silver cross. He pressed it into Morningside’s chest, and the creature’s flesh started smoking.
Dom was speaking, his voice unnaturally loud. Mal looked over in horror when the marked boundary of the circle erupted into a wall of thin green flames. Dom wasn’t inside it anymore, but Cara was.
No.
Mal tried to stand. He’d get to her, he’d pull her to safety.
The vampire dragged him down, still as tough as when this started. Mal struggled, even as his spine tingled and his skin prickled. Like a lightning storm was coming.
Dom’s ritual hit the crucial point, and even Mal felt the energy level spike as the long-suppressed gate was wrenched open with the magic of Dom’s spell.
Cara put her hands into the vortex that opened in the center of the circle.
And then she stepped into it.
Mal was sure his heart stopped.
Behemoth raced toward Dom, who spoke a final phrase just as the cat raked his claws across the border of the circle, disrupting the flow of magic. The green flames flickered and died as the energy dissipated into the atmosphere with a loud boom.
Lily screamed as the wax of several candles ignited at once, little supernovas all around the circle. Morningside also reacted to the presence of living, licking flames, letting go of Mal and looking around for a place to flee.
The vortex pulsed once, and Mal tensed, fearing what might come out of it.
He saw Cara, her red hair swirling around her head like a halo of fire. Her eyes were closed.
She returns, Behemoth called exultantly. Reach for her!
Mal reached out, taking hold of Cara, pulling her from the closing portal into the world where she should be.
They crashed backward onto the wooden surface of the parlor floor. Mal kept his arms around her to cushion the impact. “Cara, I’ve got you. It’s ok.”
He looked up and saw that where the portal had been, there was only a dwindling spot, like everlasting night being compressed to a pinprick…and then nothing.
“It’s over,” he said. “Cara, it’s ok.”
She lay there, unresponsive. Not even breathing.
“Cara!” Mal shoved aside the terror that wound up his spine and bent over Cara, ripping her shirt aside to expose her skin.
Mal’s physical training included CPR, and he knew that he needed to be her lungs and her heart, counting until her body caught the rhythm and could work on its own again.
Two breaths. A sharp hit to her chest, pushing down to jumpstart her system.
He waited. Nothing. Repeat. He’d do this forever, until he had no more breath to give.
Then Cara coughed, smoke curling past her lips as she took a rattling inhalation.
Relief flooded through Mal. “Cara, you’re breathing.”
He stared at her chest, now rising and falling. He saw that a faint bruise was spreading over the spot where he’d jammed his palms on her ribs.
She took a few more ragged, rough breaths, and none of them had any more smoke in them.
“Mal,” Cara whispered, her eyes fluttering open. “You’re supposed to ask before you kiss someone. You trilobite.”
Chapter 30
Egan House was burning again, and this time no one would be able to save it.
Cara’s impressions of those last few moments were hazy. Mal picked her up and got her out of the house, the others close behind.
Smoke nearly suffocated them by the time they reached the door and got out to the lawn.
“Back home,” Dom ordered, his face streaked with soot and his voice scratchy. “We need to get behind our wards. I think Morningside is still out there.”
Cara wanted to protest that she could walk, but by the time she got the words out, Mal was setting her down onto the green lawn, wet with cold dew. She lay back, soaking up the moisture from the ground and the starlight from the clear sky. She inhaled, so happy to have lungs. Lungs were great.
Soft fur brushed the side of her face. Mr. B nudged her insistently.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she told the cat. “Glad to see you.”
Vinny rushed out of the house, Piewicket and Pumpkin on her heels. “I called 911 when I saw the fire. What happened?” She launched herself at Dom, demanding to know if he was ok.
“We’re all ok. Ish. The gate is closed. We killed a couple vamps. Did anyone stake Morningside?” he asked, looking around.
Everyone exchanged glances and shook their heads. Mal asked, “Maybe he got torched?”
“He must have got away,” Dom said. “We have to assume he did.”
Lily raised a hand. “Also, did that dude seem unhealthily interested in Lex?”
“Ugh, yeah.” Lex shivered. “What a creeper. It’d be creepy even if he wasn’t a vampire, but now it’s extra creepy.”
“Even if he’s still around, he can’t get to you,” Dom said. “Not through our wards. And we’ll—”
The howl of sirens interrupted them. Two firetrucks raced up the hill, and an ambulance and cop car stopped in front of the Salem house.
“There’s no one alive up there!” Vinny shouted, delivering the most urgent fact to the EMT in the driver’s seat. “We all made it out.”
Cara looked the worst of them all, so the EMTs treated her first, cleaning a burn and wrapping up several scrapes she didn’t even remember getting.
Hallihan took a statement from Mal. She clearly did not believe one word of Mal’s story about some persons unknown starting a fire in
a haunted house on Halloween night, but let it go because, in her words, “What else can I do about this mess?”
“You could have a beer,” Mal said. “I know I need one.”
“I’m on duty, and you all look like you’re about to collapse in three minutes.” Hal looked to Cara. “You ok?”
Cara nodded. “Yeah. I think I finally am.”
The cop regarded her quizzically for a moment, then nodded. “All right then. Do me a solid and everyone stay out of trouble until at least New Year’s.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mal said with a grin.
The cops and the EMTs left. Cara sat on the lawn again, Pumpkin in her lap, mewing and pushing his fuzzy head into her belly. She watched the haunted house go up in flames. Mal sat right behind her and put his arms around her.
Lily sat down not far away, and Piewicket jumped in her lap. “We should get marshmallows,” she said.
“No roasting marshmallows over hellholes,” Dom said. “That’s the first rule of hellholes.”
“Yeah, but it’s closed now.”
Dom shook his head. “The gate Egan tried to build is closed. But the hellhole—the actual locus of power—is still there.”
“Sounds like we’ll have to stick around then,” Mal said with a yawn.
“I hope Marigold isn’t suffering.” Cara didn’t like that idea at all.
Mal tightened his arms around her. “If everything went right with Dom’s spell, she’s not. And I gave her a medal of St. Nicholas, one of the spelled ones. Who knows? It might help.”
She plucked at the few bracelets still on his wrist. “You had two?”
“What?”
Cara tapped one of the medals, hanging from a red cord. “St. Nick. Right here.”
“Oh. That means I actually gave her…” He flipped quickly through the remaining ones. “Gertrude. Huh.”
“Who’s Gertrude?”
“Patron saint of cats.”
“That should help a lot,” Lex noted dryly.
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