Magical Midlife Invasion

by Breene, K. F.

Her eyes softened and she laid a palm on his chest, over his heart. The world paused for a moment as he stared into her beautiful honeycomb eyes. He’d never felt so helpless as he did with her, wanting to feel her touch, wanting to earn her smiles. He was in a bad way. He needed a break from her presence if he wanted to stay sane.

  First he had to see her safe.

  “You already helped,” she said, her voice velvety smooth. “You and Mr. Tom. I know what I need to do.” She blinked and looked down. “Though I’ll have to figure out how. If you can keep these people off me for long enough, I can tear their spells down, and Ivy House can take up the slack.”

  “No sweat,” he said, light as a feather. He was supposed to be the alpha in these parts, taking the command and leading his men and women, but with nothing more than a touch and a request, she’d just assumed the top dog role. His brother would be screaming with laughter right now.

  Earl rushed up to Jessie in his purple house sweats. “I’ve gathered everyone on the backyard grass. We’re waiting for you. The basajaun is almost there.”

  “I know. I feel him,” she said. “Get my mom and dad into the walls. I’ll ask Ivy House to lock them inside. Make sure they have snacks and a book or something.”

  “I am not going into any walls.” Her father marched down the stairs, battle-axe in hand, his features hard.

  Jess’s mother followed. “Pete, watch out with that axe. You might fall and cleave your own head in. That thing is dangerous!”

  “You got people coming to burn this place down?” Pete asked Jess. “Well, I’ve been in crime-riddled neighborhoods before. I’ve made it through riots. All you need to do is show you’re not the weak one and they’ll find somewhere else to be.”

  “Dad!” Jess pointed at the battle-axe. “Go put Jake back! You have no idea what you’re doing with it.”

  “Oh, don’t I?” He hefted it. “I can swing one of these as good as any bat. I was MVP of our softball club. I could—”

  “That was years ago, Pete,” Martha cut in.

  “You guys!” Jess put up her hands. “I don’t have time for this. Dad, you are staying in this house. You are not bringing a battle-axe to a magic fight.”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “What about a gun? You got a gun? The second they set foot on your property, they are fair game.”

  Jess hesitated. She glanced at Earl. “Do we have a rifle? He’s actually a really good shot.”

  “I’m better than he is,” Martha said indignantly.

  “Jessie, what’s the hold-up?” Niamh shouted as she walked up the hallway from the back. “They are setting up a battering ram, fer feck’s sakes. What do they think, we have a drawbridge or something? Bunch o’ maggots. They’re all lining up just outside the property. They’ve clearly heard the stories.”

  “They’ll have to cross the threshold to use that ram,” Jess murmured, looking at Earl.

  “We have a small arsenal, yes,” Earl said. “I keep it locked in my room so the Paddy doesn’t get it and terrorize the tourists with live ammo.”

  “Bollocks. I could get an unlicensed firearm without hassle,” Niamh said. “Jessie, let him handle that. Let’s go. Time’s a-wastin’.”

  Jess pointed to Earl. “Either get them in the walls or get them armed. Preferably the former.”

  Jess jogged down the hall, Austin right behind her. She turned the corner, down another hall, and then they were pushing outside. The gargoyles stood in a line in their gargoyle forms, their wings tucked in to give everyone room. Beside them, with a large space between, stood the shifters in animal form, three wolves, a rat, a bobcat, and a snow leopard standing out front with a dozen others, ready for battle.

  The basajaun broke through the trees. He didn’t even pause to sniff the flowers, something incredibly rare for him, instead jumping over them in one awesome leap and landing on the grass. He slowed as he neared, no human disguises on his hairy body.

  “They are amassing,” he said, lifting his hands, fingers splayed, indicating both sides of what Austin could only assume was the woods. “They are moving slowly but in perfect synchronization. Their master is very organized. Can you feel them?”

  A muscle pulsed in Jess’s jaw. “No. They all have the potion, clearly. It’s fine. We’ll handle it.”

  Jess stopped in front of the gathered crew and Austin took his place slightly behind—this was her territory, her authority. Only when she gave him the floor would he step in.

  “Hey, everyone, thanks for joining us.” Jess walked in front of the waiting line, and Niamh—still in human form—filed in at the edge of the gargoyles with Edgar. The basajaun filled in the gap between the shifters and gargoyle, making Logan, on the end, jump. He held his position, though. Good sign.

  “There are too many for me,” the basajaun said. “Sixty or so. I came to ask for my orders.”

  Jess blew out a breath. “Sixty.” She shook her head, about-facing and walking back down the line, thinking.

  The shifters looked from her to Austin. They weren’t used to lag time. Most alphas would have started barking orders by now, whether they were ready or not, to avoid showing any uncertainty in front of their underlings.

  The gargoyles stared straight ahead, wings fluttering and arms at their sides, waiting patiently. They were familiar with Jess. They knew that she liked to have all her ducks in a row before settling on a plan of action.

  Austin let the moment ride—the seconds ticked by, turning into a minute, and the only thing that happened was that Jess paced back the other way, muttering to herself, and bent and looked at the ground. He wouldn’t step in yet. They could spare a little more time. He needed to see if she would rise to the occasion on her own.

  Metal clattering on wood stole his focus for a moment, coming from the front of the house. A rhythmic beat. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

  “Edgar, go see what that is,” Jess barked, not looking in that direction. Instead, she peered out into the wood. “Basajaun, what are the positions of the back army?” she asked.

  “They are spreading out in a line. If I had not left my position, they would be herding me in toward the house. The image in my mind is like when someone goes lost in the wood and the townspeople go on the hunt. Sometimes they lock arms so that no area is missed. The enemy forces are not touching, but they’re within sight of one another.”

  “They want to herd everyone to Ivy House.” Jess turned to look off in the direction of the front of the house, her eyes distant.

  “It’s the enemy to the front,” Edgar said, loping back. “They are in a haphazard sort of mob, banging swords and weapons against their shields. They have a couple of magical creatures on chains, but nothing to worry about. I’ve had a lot of experience. There was a portion of time when my clan tried to kill me off by sending me after fearsome creatures. All you need to do is scale them from behind, dangle down in front, and rip out their throats. Nothing to it once you get the hang of it.”

  Jess pointed at Edgar. “Obviously that is your job. Not because I want to kill you off, but because you can save the lives of others while doing something you excel at.”

  “Yes, of course, I didn’t doubt that for a moment.” Edgar nodded.

  “You probably should’ve,” Niamh murmured.

  Jess pointed at her next. “Get into your horrible gremlin form. We have enough fliers. We need someone to skirt through the underbrush and start taking out the enemies in the back on the sly.”

  Niamh sighed, clearly not loving that form—one of two a puca could change into—but nevertheless she stepped away, shed her clothes, and changed.

  “Two different organizational setups can only confirm that these are two factions,” Austin said.

  “Let’s hope that means only one group has the potion. Regardless, end game is the same—we need to fight for our freedom.” Jess pointed at the shifters. “Austin, I don’t know what they excel at. You’ll work with them, obviously.” She glanced back at him to make sure the command landed, like
a natural, and he nodded once and stepped that way.

  “Gargoyles,” she said. Their wings fluttered harder in anticipation, but otherwise they didn’t move. “I’ll give you cover until nightfall. If you feel an updraft that doesn’t make sense, that’s me. Stay in the air, because I’m probably doing something with Ivy House. Otherwise, use the darkness to swoop in and grab whoever you can. We are hugely outnumbered, so we’re looking for swift kills. If you hear random screaming, it’s probably from my efforts with the defenses of this property. Just…pretend it doesn’t send a shiver down your spine.”

  “They’ll be good,” Austin said.

  She huffed out a laugh. “So you say. Basajaun, I’m going to need the people in the front to actually cross the threshold onto this property. Is that in your wheelhouse?”

  He scratched his hairy chest, watching her watch him. “I think I could get them pushing that way.”

  “If you can’t, head around to the back and work with Niamh to take out people on the sly, if you can.”

  “Why not both?” he asked.

  “Indeed.” She grinned, but anxiety edged into her expression for a moment. “Okay, everyone, stay safe. If the tide turns against us, retreat into the house. I can combat the intruders from there if I need to. Thank you for showing up, thank you for helping me, and let’s all get out of here in one piece, okay?” She snapped. “Oh, and if you see a bunch of dolls running around, don’t mind them. They’re on our side. Same goes for skeletons and dead bodies.”

  All eyes found her for one solid beat, most of them rounded.

  “You’ll see.” She put her hands into the sky. “Say goodbye to the sun.”

  The mistress of Ivy House was about to unleash her magic.

  Twenty-One

  “Pete, this can’t be right. It feels like we’re preparing for battle or something.” Martha lifted the bolt handle of the rifle and slid it back, checking to make sure it was loaded. “I mean, look what we’re doing. We are in second-story windows with deer rifles looking out on…derelicts, it looks like. That’s a battering ram, Pete. Why haven’t we called the police?”

  “You’ve never lived in the slums during a riot. Things can get crazy, Martha. Police would take too long with all their gear and shields. We need to defend our home. That weird butler showed you how to access the secret tunnels if you can’t handle it.”

  “See? That’s the other thing. All this time I thought the house was coming apart, but the doors to the tunnels just weren’t properly latched. That’s kind of a cool feature, though, secret tunnels. But we aren’t in a riot, Pete. And people don’t walk down the street with battering rams during a riot.”

  “Some do. These guys are just a little more prepared than most, that’s all.” He hunted through his pocket. “I wish I had my chew. This calls for a little chew. Go ahead, honey, put your foot on this property. Go ahead. Make my day.”

  Martha rolled her eyes. Pete was getting a little too into this. It was like he’d lost hold of his faculties.

  The muzzle of her rifle tapped the glass. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She put it down and opened the window, drawing the attention of a few people clad in black leather or dulled and scuffed metal mail, waiting for God knew what, tapping their swords against their battered shields like in some sort of gladiator movie. Back in her seat, she stuck the muzzle out of the window a little, and the people who’d noticed her shifted in place, probably nervous.

  She hoped they were nervous. She really was a good shot, and the law was definitely on their side. Plus, that lovely older lady with the fantastic skin had joked about unmarked graves. That might come in handy if all these people surged at once.

  What they were doing wasn’t normal, though, and neither were the people waiting to rush the property, with their spiked weapons, swords, shields, and what on earth were those dog-looking creatures that were as big as elephants? She’d never seen anything like that in a zoo before. It felt like she was dreaming, which was probably why she was going along with it.

  “Pete, Jessie said something about magic. Do you think it could be real? This would make more sense with magic. Anything makes sense if you just call it magic.”

  “Hogwash. Magic is about as real as flying pigs.”

  “Well, now, didn’t you say you saw some sort of flying creature the other day? Maybe not a pig, but…”

  “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? It’s all that”—he made bunny ears around his rifle—“‘sleep aid’ stuff you give me. You’re just looking for an excuse to ship me away like your friend Denise did to her husband.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Her husband had… I can’t think of the name. He needed medical help. He needed to be in a safe place for his condition.”

  “I know what the term is—tired of the ol’ ball and chain. Well, I’ve still got all my faculties, thank you very much. Aside from that sleep stuff you give me, I’m right as rain. We’ve seen animals like that a million times in the magazines.”

  She affixed her glasses to the end of her nose, squinting down on the animal in question. It had what looked like a dog snout, front legs longer than the back, and enormous teeth. It was literally the size of an elephant, but it lacked a trunk, so it wasn’t an uncommonly ugly elephant.

  “No, Pete. My vision isn’t great, but something is wrong with that animal. It looks like a drunk came up with it.”

  “That’s just because you don’t go to the circus.”

  “She didn’t just mention magic once. She keeps mentioning it…” The pitter-patter of feet made her freeze up, turning to look out the open door and into the hall beyond. A doll stopped as it passed by, looking at her with a sad little smile on its cherubic face. It waved, of all things, and kept going, the first time she’d actually seen one of them moving. “I think this house might actually be magical, Pete. I’m not kidding. I don’t think ghosts are this good at moving things.”

  Pete muttered something as the light suddenly dimmed, dark shadows unfurling from the sky.

  Martha turned back and looked out the window, same as Pete, ducking a little to glance upward.

  “What in the hell?” he said softly, a toothpick in his mouth and his gun at the ready. “Was there supposed to be an eclipse today?”

  “I don’t remember seeing anything like that in the paper.” She tsked. “Jessie doesn’t get the paper. It’s magic, I tell you. If we can have UFOs, we can have magic.” She let her words drift off for a moment.

  “UFOs aren’t real and neither is magic. There’s no magic out there. Mother Nature can be savage. And all those people are clearly trying to get in here and get the goods. There’s a lot of expensive stuff in this house. Even just those weapons in the attic. Those would go for a lotta money. Don’t worry”—he pulled the bolt hammer back, checked inside, and slid it into place—“they won’t get very far onto this property. They think they can take the goods, then they got another think comin’. You ready? They look like they’re getting antsy.”

  “Well, I guess.” Martha leaned forward. “I just think this is really outlandish. Magic is the only explanation.”

  Jessie had mentioned different rules for magic, like different laws, Martha guessed. This situation would make more sense if the magical rules were along the lines of barbarianism.

  Nearly convinced, she squinted through the sudden low light and prepared for the onslaught.

  Twenty-Two

  The gargoyles took to the sky, hiding in the darkness I’d magically created. Niamh scampered into the trees, immediately lost in the shadows. Austin changed, blessing the faux night with an enormous roar. A moment later, an answering roar sounded in the street behind the front enemy, the basajaun having run along the other side of the house, hopped a few fences, and worked his way behind them.

  I ran around to the front, my heart thumping. I just needed to make sure this group of attackers didn’t have the ability to conceal themselves from Ivy House, in which case, I’d leave this onslaught
to the house and help with the more dangerous crew around back.

  If they could hide themselves…

  I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

  The non-glowing crowd at the front of the house shifted and shuffled around, bumping into one another. The basajaun roared, and I could see his head topping the crowd, his great arms lifted high and waving maniacally.

  The crowd moved faster now, like a swarm of bees after a ball hit their nest. They turned toward him but back-pedaling, swords out, ramming into those standing too close to them. The people who’d been pushed staggered into the lines in front, finally making the first line edge onto the property. Their presences popped up in my mental radar. They hadn’t taken the potion to hide from Ivy House.

  A gunshot rang out and I ducked and covered my head, unable to help it. Wide-eyed, I spun to look at the shooter, only to see my mom and dad in a second-floor window, my dad sighting again through the barrel.

  “Oh—” Another shot rang out, blasting through darkness. Someone screamed and grabbed their leg, sinking to the ground. “Crap.” My word was like a wheeze of breath. I hadn’t thought he’d actually shoot! He was also not aiming to kill, which wasn’t ideal, given most magical people would heal quickly enough to head back into the fray.

  Unless I could stop them from healing.

  The basajaun grabbed someone and threw him at the crowd. He grabbed another man by the legs, bashed his head onto the ground, and then started pounding those around him with the body, gruesome as all hell.

  The crowd surged, their courage faltering.

  The basajaun pushed forward, manic, driving people toward the property. He flung the body, grabbed a wrist that held a sword, and ripped the whole thing clean off. He threw the arm at those backing away from him, crimson spraying, the sword flying free and stabbing someone in the back.

  “Holy crap.” I ignored my churning stomach.

  To avoid focusing on the carnage, I fixed my attention on the two people my dad had shot—only for another blast to ring out, dropping a third. Healing meant stitching things back together. So if I just focused on reversing that magic, it should…