by R. L. King
Ethan tried not to look nervous as he led the three of them down the back hallways toward the kitchen. The sounds of the band and the low hubbub of people’s conversations filtered in from not far off, and every time he turned a corner he expected to run into a knot of partygoers—or worse, Stone, who would probably see right through The Three’s blending spell. Guilt racked him, and indecision. He still wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing.
Too late to turn back now…
They reached the kitchen without incident; a couple individuals returning from the bathrooms passed them, but those people just went by with a nod to Ethan and no indication that they thought anything was odd.
“Be careful here,” Ethan whispered to Trin. “The kitchen’s busy tonight.”
“Just keep going.”
He led them through and down the hall toward the basement door. He lingered there for a moment until he was sure nobody was watching, then quickly opened it and waved them through. He slipped in behind them and closed the door.
Trin immediately summoned a light spell. “Ugh, no lights?”
“No, they don’t work.”
Oliver dug in his leather bag and came up with a flashlight. “How far is it?”
“Just follow me,” Ethan said.
He’d only been down here a couple of times, but following his and Stone’s footprints in the dust on the floor, he was able to navigate them down the hallways and through the big room full of stacked furniture. “Holy shit,” Miguel breathed. “This old bat must be loaded. Look at the size of this place.”
“Be careful,” Ethan told them as he turned the corner to the narrow passage leading to the summoning room door. “That stuff’s stacked pretty high. Don’t bump anything.”
Oliver looked up, nervous. “This shit isn’t gonna fall on us, is it?”
“Hasn’t yet,” Ethan told him, picking his way over the corpse of the player piano. “But like I said, be careful.” He pulled on the bookcase and it slid open. “In here.”
They all crowded inside, with Ethan coming in last. He let the bookcase return to its closed position. “This is it.”
His statement was unnecessary. They all stood there, taking in the huge circle set into the floor, the bookcases and tables, and the armoire at the end of the room.
Oliver pointed at the ornate piece of furniture. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
“Can’t you tell?” Trin asked. She took a few steps closer, seemingly fascinated by the sight. She smiled, but it didn’t come close to her eyes. “Sit tight,” she told the thing in the armoire. “We’re here to let you out, just like you wanted.”
Behind her, Miguel smirked.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this circle set up. Ethan, you said you had something for us?”
“Oh, right.” He’d almost forgotten about the stuff in his backpack. He hurried over to it, dug out the books and papers he’d shoved into it, and offered them to her. “I haven’t looked at them yet, but I hope they’re what you wanted.”
She took them, motioning for Oliver and Miguel to get to work setting up the circle. “Only one way to find out,” she said. She took them over to one of the candles Miguel had lit along the wall and began examining them.
Ethan, unsure of what to do, just loitered near the circle and watched the two other guys work. They were setting up candles, incense burners, and small items that looked uncomfortably like dried body parts, every once in a while pausing to consult a sheaf of papers.
“It’s great that this permanent circle is here,” Miguel said. “It makes things a lot faster. Otherwise this would take us at least an hour to set up.”
As it was, it only took about twenty minutes before they finished. There was a wide-open spot in the middle of the circle—the two of them cleared some books and papers off one of the tables, hefted it, and placed it there, parallel to the armoire.
“What’s that for?” Ethan asked. He’d been amusing himself watching the room with his magical senses; the thing in the armoire seemed to be waking up and taking an interest in its surroundings now. The light coming out of the crack pulsed in anticipation.
“Just for putting some of the stuff we need for the ritual,” Oliver told him. He moved over behind Ethan, toward the door. “Hey, Stone isn’t going to show up down here, is he?”
“He’s busy,” Ethan said. “I don’t think he’ll be down for a while.”
“We should be done by then. You getting anything out of that stuff, Trin?” Miguel asked. “We’re about ready here.”
She shook her head. “Nah, nothing. This is good stuff—I want to try some of these summonings later. But nothing about what we’re doing here.”
“Ah, well. Plan B, then,” Miguel said. He didn’t sound upset about it.
“What’s Plan B?” Ethan asked. And then he noticed something else. “Hey, why are there only three spots in the ritual circle? I thought you said you needed—”
Oliver grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms behind his back.
“What the hell?” he yelled, struggling. “What are you guys doing?”
Miguel smiled. “Don’t worry, kid—you’re about to find out exactly what Plan B is.” He reached into Oliver’s leather bag and pulled out the rope and the knife.
Ethan struggled harder, his eyes wild, but Oliver was much stronger than he was. “Trin!” he yelled, his terrified gaze locking on her. “What’s going on? Why are they doing this? Tell them to stop!”
She smiled. It wasn’t the beautiful, twinkle-eyed smile that had so captivated Ethan’s lust, but a snakelike grin more at home on Miguel’s face. “Sorry, kiddo,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess you picked the wrong side. But don’t worry—you’re going to be a big help for what we’re doing tonight. A really big help. And hey, cheer up—before too long, you’ll get to see your mommy again.”
Ethan screamed, but now the other two were there. Oliver clamped a hand over his mouth and they hustled him forward, toward the prepared circle.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Upstairs, Stone glanced at his watch. 8:45. The party was in full swing now, with people dancing, standing in little groups chatting, getting tipsy, and generally having a good time. Truth be told, he felt a bit out of place among all these elderly revelers. Megan had convinced him to dance with her a couple of times, but even she was looking like she’d rather be somewhere else.
“What time is this over?” she asked him. “Isn’t it getting close to bedtime for some of these folks?”
“No such luck,” he said ruefully. “Adelaide told me that the auction doesn’t even start until ten, and things don’t wind down until after midnight.” He glanced around. “Have you seen Ethan lately?”
She thought about it. “Not for a while,” she admitted. “Though I haven’t exactly been looking for him. What did you tell him to do?”
“Just to circulate and keep his eyes open.” He sighed. “I should probably go check on him and make sure he’s all right. Mind being on your own for a while?”
“Not a problem. I’ll go see what they’ve got for the auction. Maybe I can get us a nice weekend in the Wine Country or something. Or dance with some guy old enough to be my grandfather.”
Stone headed off. He had no idea where Ethan had gotten to, nor even where to start looking. He made a quick circuit around the ballroom, then checked the dining room. No sign of him. He looked outside where a small group of men and a couple of women were smoking cigarettes on the porch, but he wasn’t there either. He’s probably in the bathroom or something, he thought, though part of him wondered if the boy had just decided he couldn’t handle the party anymore and taken off, possibly having left word with someone who hadn’t made it back to Stone yet.
He went back inside and was moving back toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms when he saw Langley coming out. “Hey,” Langley greeted. “Having fun? No spooks yet, I hope.”
“No, no spooks. Have you seen Ethan recently
?”
He shook his head. “No, but I’m not too surprised. There’s a lot of people here.”
“So he didn’t tell you he was leaving or anything?”
“Nope.” He tilted his head. “Why the concern? You think something’s up with him?”
“His mother died a couple of days ago. He’s rather distraught about it. I told him he didn’t have to come, but he insisted. I want to make sure he’s all right.” A thought occurred to Stone. “Hmm...”
“What?”
“I wonder if he’s gone down to the basement.”
“Why would he do that?” Langley asked, perplexed. “There’s nothing down there but spiders and—oh, shit,” he added, eyes growing fearful as light dawned. “That’s where it is, isn’t it? The spook.”
Stone nodded. “Yes. And he knows it. Perhaps he went down to check on it.”
“Wait a minute,” Langley began. “He’s a—” he waggled his fingers, “—too?”
“He’s my apprentice, yes.” He paused, taking another look around. “I should go check on him, I suppose. I was planning to go down there to check on things at some point—this is as good a time as any.”
“I’ll go with you,” Langley said.
“Tommy—”
“Hey, don’t argue. I kinda want to see this spook anyway. And besides, no offense to Aunt Adelaide, but this party is a major snooze if you’re under sixty. I could use the diversion.”
Stone shrugged. “Sure, come along, then. But be careful. It’s quite dark down there. Don’t trip over anything.”
He summoned a light spell (making Langley gape in awe) and headed down the stairs. When they got to the end of the first hallway, Langley asked, “How big is it down here, anyway? I’ve never actually been here. I took Aunt Adelaide’s word for the spiders.”
“It’s big. Just stay close.”
Langley did as he was told, sticking so close behind Stone and his light source that it wasn’t long before it got annoying. “Back off a little, Tommy,” he grumbled. “I keep thinking you’re going to grab my arse.”
“I told you I don’t put out on the first date,” he protested, but he did move back just a bit.
Before long they were standing in front of the bookcase. Stone motioned Langley back. “It’s here?” he asked. “What is this, some kind of secret door?”
In answer, Stone slid it open and waved Langley in. Wide-eyed, he entered. “Holy shit...” he breathed.
Stone, thinking Langley was just referring to the room in general, squeezed in behind him. He froze as he took in the scene before them.
The Three were arrayed evenly around the big summoning circle, all focused on the armoire at the end of the room, where the thin crack had increased to nearly a foot wide. A roiling cloud of glowing energy swirled around the opening, probing outward. The Three were too far apart to clasp hands, but their arms were stretched out toward one another. With his magical sight, Stone saw shifting, reddish energy flowing around the outside of the circle, moving between them.
It was what was in the center that drew most of his attention, though. Lying spread-eagled, tied to a table that had been dragged into the circle, his chest bared, was Ethan. Blood shone on his side from a wound there, but he was still alive because he was writhing in pain. His eyes were clamped shut. The lines of pulsing reddish energy that ran between The Three also extended from each of them and into the center, where it converged on Ethan like eldritch wheel spokes, dancing around him as if looking for a way in.
The Three were all chanting something in the same unintelligible language and ignored the newcomers.
“Holy shit,” Langley said again. “We have to help him!” He stepped toward the circle, but Stone grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
“No!” he snapped. “Don’t break that circle, Tommy. If you do, you’ll kill everyone inside it, and probably yourself as well.”
“What do we do, then?” Langley’s voice began to take on an edge of panic. “It looks like they’re gonna—sacrifice him or something! And why aren’t they noticing us?”
“They’re focused,” Stone muttered, thinking hard. His gaze fell on the books open on the table—books he hadn’t seen before. “Stay here. Just—don’t do anything for a minute. I need to think.”
“But—”
“Stay here, Tommy,” he ordered. He ran across the room and snatched the open book on the table, skimming over the information on the page, and then riffling through other pages near it. Every few seconds, he glanced up at the circle. The reddish energy was growing more distinct, the lines clearer and thicker. Stone was very much afraid he knew what was going to happen next. They had already opened the thing’s prison—it was coming through. Their next step would be to try to bring it into the circle and control it. That was where Ethan came in. Stone berated himself for not seeing it before: it was the only other way that might allow them to deal with the spirit if they didn’t have its true name: to kill a mage and generate sufficient power for their circle that they could wrestle it in by main force and subjugate it while it was still weakened from its trip through.
The frightening thing was, they had a chance of succeeding.
“Alastair, come on, hurry up! I gotta do something,” Langley pleaded, continuing to stare at the circle. “ We can’t just let them kill that poor kid! What can I do?”
Stone was distracted, still paging through the book in the vain hope that he’d find something useful in it. “I don’t know, Tommy,” he growled. “If you want to help, find a way to disrupt that circle without breaking it.”
Langley nodded. He looked around until he found a heavy stone gargoyle candle holder sitting on a nearby bookshelf. Shaking, he picked it up, hefted its weight, and then drew his arm back. His football days were long behind him, but he aimed at the head of the closest circle member—an athletic-looking blond man—and let fly.
Stone glanced up just as he did this, his eyes going wide with shock. “Tommy, no—!” he cried. He tried to summon a spell to grab the gargoyle and pull it back, but was too late.
The heavy projectile flew unerringly to its target, smashing into the back of Oliver’s head with a sickening thud.
Several things happened nearly simultaneously at that point, so quickly that for a moment Stone could only stare in horror.
A bright light flared in the circle as the red energy conduit was disrupted. Oliver died instantly. He pitched forward, his arms and legs jerking as his body had not yet realized he was dead. His flailing right leg struck one of the thick black candles around the outside of the circle, sending it rolling off to the side of the room where it ignited a pile of papers and one of the wall tapestries. Dry and brittle, they flared up like kindling.
Oliver’s body continued lurching forward, crashing into Ethan’s table. The table, its rotting wood barely strong enough to hold Ethan’s weight, collapsed to the floor. The reddish energy flared and died.
Miguel and Trin clutched their heads, fighting crushing psychic feedback. Both had but a second to erect their mental shields, and both had done so, but imperfectly. Miguel screamed, staggering around half-blind.
Trin, meanwhile, her eyes blazing with rage, recovered fastest. She pointed at Langley and snapped out an unintelligible command. The terrified professor lifted off his feet and flew toward her. She clamped her hand on his shoulder and locked her gaze on Stone.
Stone regained his wits just in time, and was able to raise his shield just as Trin screamed something and pointed at him. Langley’s screams rose above hers as he bucked under Trin’s touch as if she were running a strong electrical current through him. His scream pitched to a shrieking crescendo and then suddenly he was gone. His badly fitting tuxedo fluttered to the floor, along with a swirling pile of ashes.
“Tommy!” Stone cried, lunging forward despite knowing there was nothing he could do.
Trin’s spell struck his barrier and pulverized it, sending him careening back into the wall. He slammed into it and
fell to the floor, scrambling sideways, his whole body alight with pain. Her eyes wild with power now, Trin advanced on him, pressing the attack.
Stone wasn’t giving up that easily, though—stunned as he was by Tommy’s sudden and horrific death, he knew he couldn’t let his guard down. If he did even for a second, he’d be dead.
Grateful for all the time he’d spent infusing his crystals and other power objects, he summoned a lightning bolt and directed it at Trin. She dived aside, and got her own shield up just in time, but the bolt flew past her and struck Miguel a glancing blow. He staggered again, swaying alarmingly close to the rising flames. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Stone saw the opening in the armoire had grown wider, and the swirling mist a little more substantial.
It was coming. He had to finish this fast. He dragged himself back to his feet and faced Trin, breathing hard.
She laughed, still brimming with the power she’d sucked in from killing Langley. She pointed both hands at Stone and let loose with another concussion attack. “Die, you bastard!” she snapped. “I already killed your pet. Maybe I can use you in his place!”
Stone had once again barely managed to get his shield up, but the feedback from her spells made his head feel like it was splitting in two. “Not—yet—” he breathed, aiming his own concussion beam at her. This time it hit her, and he was rewarded with the sight of her being flung back and slammed into one of the bookcases. Her shield flared and died.
Neither of them noticed Miguel making his slow and painstaking way toward the door. He’d swiftly taken stock of the situation, and realized things were not looking good. Oliver was dead. The fire was rising. There was a very real possibility that Stone would beat Trin—even if Miguel stayed to help. But half-blinded, his head splitting from the circle’s disruption, he was forced to be a realist. Realists survived—and Miguel was nothing if not a survivor.
With one last glance at the two combatants locked in their battle, he shoved open the bookcase door and slipped out.