by Krista Walsh
Charles’s eyes widened by a fraction, and he glanced around the room, possibly expecting said ancestors to pop up at the mention. Laura pressed her thin lips together, and Daphne couldn’t tell if she was trying not to laugh or not to scream.
“Unfortunately, they can’t join us today to corroborate what I’m saying, because I killed them. For real this time, with the help of all the people whose lives they ruined over the years. Which were many. Tell me,” Daphne went on, and she crossed her arms to add some bulk to her skinny frame, “was that the reason Peony House was converted into a hospital? As the Ancowitz family’s personal fast food restaurant?”
“Quiet!” Charles hollered, and beside him, Laura’s brown eyes went wide, her pale face ashen. “I don’t know what you hope to discover by spouting out this — this — fantasy novel, but it won’t work. Our family has been cursed with tragedy, but it has nothing to do with any demons, I assure you. If you have nothing else to say, then we’re done here, and I can go ahead and finally tear down this accursed estate.”
He started toward the door, but Laura called after him. “You can’t tear this place down, Charles. I won’t let you.”
Her brother halted in his tracks.
“Why?” Daphne asked.
Laura brushed her blond hair out of her face and blinked three times in quick succession. “Because it’s a beautiful house. It was my home. My happiest memories are here, and I can’t just let it be torn down. I will fight until my last penny to keep Peony House standing.”
Charles turned back to face his sister, his expression pinched with restrained anger, his cheeks flushed red. “You? You’re the reason we had to close the hospital down to begin with. Father worked his entire life to keep your secret, but you refused to control that thing inside you. You brought shame on the entire family, and if it weren’t for you, our legacy would be more than just a rotting mansion.”
Daphne’s mouth fell open as the truth crept into the corners of her mind, replacing the facts she’d been so sure about.
It can’t be.
Sweet, scone-baking Laura? But she’d had no magic, nothing to connect her with the evil that had been done in this place. Daphne’s head filled with a rumbling clamor, as though the stone walls of Peony House were crumbling on top of her. Cluttered memories of everything she’d learned over the last couple of days struggled to take on any coherent sense, but for the moment she still couldn’t believe that she had been so easily fooled.
Just as she reached a point where she doubted she’d ever understand how kind-hearted Laura and not her magic-blooded grumpy brother could have been the one to attack her, a revelation blasted through the rubble of her thoughts. It all came back to the hospital.
She shook off her shock and squeezed her hands at her sides to conceal the tremor in her fingers. Drawing in a deep breath, she paused for a heartbeat to make sure her voice was steady, then said, “You know, the pieces of this puzzle have been so fragmented, it was difficult for me to get a clear picture, but once I saw the connection between Jack and the other victims, everything fit together.”
She took a step backward toward the door. “What first clued me in was that Jack’s mouth was glued shut to prevent his ghost from talking. I knew there was more to the story than drugs or an unhappy business connection. No one believes ghosts can talk. Except for the people who understand our side of the world. I confess, Mr. Ancowitz,” she glanced at him, “I thought you were the one behind it. That your desire to tear down the hospital was to cover up evidence, but I see I got that wrong.”
She looked back to Laura, whose eyes had gone wide. In spite of her seventy-eight years, she looked like a child — a child terrified of the dark and all the monsters that might hide in the shadows.
“Peony House is your territory, isn’t it, Laura?” Daphne pushed. “Your feeding ground. You can’t bear the thought of losing it.”
She cast her mind out again and sensed the red magic coming from Charles beside her. But the green energy was still in front of her. Her own magic recognized it and ached to take it into herself, but she pressed the desire down.
All that time, Laura had been shielding herself, just as Daphne had done.
Charles approached slowly, but Laura stepped away from him, cowering from his looming stature.
“No, you were right the first time. It’s Charles.” Laura dropped her gaze. “He doesn’t want people to know what happened here. He thinks that if we tear down Peony House all the memories will disappear. But they won’t, Charles.”
Her show was pathetic, but Daphne no longer believed in the sweetness.
When she saw her ploy hadn’t worked, Laura turned on her brother, and her attitude changed from fear to anger as she shoved his chest. His hefty size kept him steady, and when he grabbed her wrists to prevent another strike, Daphne saw no anger on his face — just cold resignation.
“This was my home,” Laura cried. “It’s still the only place I feel comfortable enough to be myself.”
She twisted her head to stare at Daphne.
“Because it’s the only place your family ever felt comfortable enough to feed in,” Daphne said.
It wasn’t easy to keep the judgment out of her voice, but she reminded herself of the point Allegra had made on the night of her visit. The Morgrin demons weren’t evil. Like every other species, they were out for survival. Motive had nothing to do with it.
“How many more victims are there, Laura? If we dig up the backyard, how many more bodies will we find with their mouths glued shut with demon saliva?”
Ahead of her, rubber soles struck the hardwood floor as Hunter and Meg came toward them from the back corridor.
Laura laughed, her remaining fear adding a touch of hysteria. “I don’t know what you mean. How would I know?”
Her fingers twitched around her brother’s lapel. Daphne glanced down to see that her fingernails had elongated and the fingertips had turned black, the skin shiny, as though charred. The blackness crept up her fingers toward her palm.
Charles tightened his grip around his sister’s wrists, his knuckles turning white with the effort. “Stop this, Laura.”
“I think you do,” said Daphne, replying to Laura. “The ghosts here sensed it every time you fed. Isn’t that why you wanted to keep this place running as a palliative care facility or a convalescent home? You want people wandering these hallways so you can pick and choose your next gourmet meal. Is that why Charles was here the other night? To track you down and make sure you hadn’t stumbled on another tasty dish?”
Laura’s mouth opened, and Daphne expected to hear more lies and excuses, but instead a low keening spilled from her lips. The sound cut through Daphne’s mind, so full of despair, grief, and hunger. The blackness of Laura’s skin extended up her arms, darkening to a pitch so deep it struck Daphne that she wasn’t changing color but leaving negative space where her paleness had been before, turning her into shadow.
Hunter crept around the edge of the room and came up behind Daphne. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her back, farther from Laura’s transformation. He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard, and in the tightness around his eyes, Daphne saw his attempt to come to terms with the reality he likely hoped had been his imagination.
“You might want to get out of here,” she said.
“Not without you.”
“I have a better chance of handling this than you do,” she argued.
Across the room, Meg stared on in wonder, her eyes and mouth open, her hand on her gun.
“Laura, look at me,” said Charles, full of calm disgust.
His sister forced her neck toward him and the moaning stopped, but her mouth continued to widen. Her jaw popped, and her teeth vanished into her gums, leaving her mouth a gaping black hole.
“Stop this,” he commanded. “Take control of yourself. Crush this repulsive creature that shames our family.”
“How long have you known?” Daphne asked, keeping one eye on Laura.
Daphne eyed him warily. If he wasn’t the culprit, she wanted him out of the way. He was just as mad as the rest of his family if he thought he could talk his sister down.
Laura’s wail began again and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Daphne reached into her core to grab her magic, recognizing that her window to deal with the situation was closing fast. When her magic didn’t respond, her breath caught in her throat and panic squeezed her chest. If she hadn’t recovered enough to cast the spell, none of them would make it out of the hospital.
Hunter drew his weapon and aimed it at the siblings. “Daphne, what is she doing?”
“Stay back, Hunter,” she said, staying calm and focused. “Step back and avoid her claws.”
“Wha —” His question fell silent, and she guessed he’d spotted the stretched fingernails that were now half the length of her fingers and still growing. Laura had released Charles’s jacket and now pressed her hands against his chest, the claws growing upward toward his chin.
To the man’s credit, he refused to release her, holding her tighter even as she struggled to free herself.
Daphne’s magic prickled, and she doubled her focus on drawing it out, using the time to start weaving the disentanglement spell.
Her muscles strained with the effort to control her power. She sucked in deep breaths, but the harder she tried to keep them slow, the shakier and more uneven they came out.
She squeezed her eyes shut. In spite of her struggles, the spell came more easily this time, faster. But her magic had already dipped into its reserves, and each knot tugged at her core, the pain sending swirls of white light through her vision.
She would need weeks to recover, possibly months, but it had to be done. If Laura attacked and Hunter or Meg killed her, her demon spirit would be trapped in the hospital, free to feed however she could. The hospital still wouldn’t be safe.
Daphne’s magic strained at its source and tears spilled onto her cheeks at the challenge of keeping it strong enough to use.
“Daphne?” Hunter rested his hand on her shoulder, and his voice sounded scared.
“You need to leave until I’m done,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You need to look,” he said.
She opened her eyes and saw that Laura’s blouse and sweater now hung loose on her shoulders, her trousers low-slung around her hips. All that remained of her was the blond hair over her charred and crispy form.
21
Laura wrenched her arms away and Charles lost his grip, sending flakes of blackened skin drifting toward the floor.
He moved between her and Daphne, but the demon swept out her arm and cast him aside, throwing him against the wall as though his height and bulk meant nothing.
At the sight of Crispy, the healing scabs on Daphne’s back burned, and she ground her teeth, determined not to let the same fear that had slowed her down last time get in her way. Her skin prickled as sweat broke out from her pores and soaked through her shirt. She tried to weave faster, but her magic worked against her, and her fear that she wouldn’t finish in time caused the spell to slip.
She grabbed hold of it, squeezing her hands at her sides so tightly her knuckles ached.
The second knot closed. She was halfway through. All she had to do was create the wedge and then break the magic apart. Easy.
Tears shimmered in her eyelashes and a sob caught in her tightened chest at the thought of the work she still needed to do. She was so tired. Every part of her ached.
“Daphne!” Hunter’s voice jarred her concentration as he called her name again.
Laura charged at her, and Daphne dodged the attack just in time. Holding the spell in her mind, she jumped away from the long claws. Her trembling legs couldn’t hold her up and she lost her balance.
Hunter caught her before she fell. She felt his heart hammering against her back as she kept herself between him and the sprinting demon who was whirling around to charge again.
Her magic hummed with the desire to defend herself, but she kept it close to her chest, wanting to preserve it for the only spell that would actually help them. She just needed a few more minutes.
Meg made her way around the other side of the lobby, staying clear of the demon. Her weapon was drawn and aimed, but she didn’t fire, her gaze jumping from the demon to Hunter and Daphne and then to Charles, who was now stumbling toward the front door.
Daphne waved at her to stay back, but Meg didn’t see her, and Daphne didn’t want to shout and draw attention to her.
Before she launched herself at them again, Laura jerked her head to the left at the sound of the front door opening. Her charcoaled lips pulled back into a snarl, revealing the small fangs protruding from the black gums. She growled and sprinted after her brother.
She pounced and landed on Charles’s back, taking them both to the ground. He moaned when she rolled him over, and Daphne looked away when she lowered her gaping maw toward his mouth.
Meg reached them and asked, “What the hell is going on here?” at the same time Hunter asked, “What is she doing?”
His one hand remained on Daphne’s back while he kept his weapon trained on the demon with the other. His pale skin glistened with sweat, but his hand was steady.
“She’s about to feed,” Daphne replied. Her concentration had already returned to the chain in her mind.
She hated that she sounded so cold. She hated that she was relieved Laura had caught her brother, because the distraction was what she needed to give her time to finish her spell.
Her heart strained to keep up with the magic rushing through her veins. Its beat was unsteady, and she couldn’t find the rhythm of it to center herself. Her skin was flushed, and her shirt had soaked through. She tore off her jacket, tossed it on the ground, and focused on ignoring the scene around her.
But Hunter couldn’t stand by to let another person die at the monster’s hands. He holstered his gun and tore across the lobby.
Her heart jumped into her throat as he tackled Laura from the side. He grabbed her around the chest, trapping her arms between them.
Daphne tried to call after him, but no sound came out.
“What is this?” Meg demanded, shooting her a sidelong glance, never shifting her aim away from the demon. Her voice trembled and the pitch climbed as the demon struck back at Hunter. With shaking hands, she shifted her weapon toward Daphne, though she kept it aimed at the floor. “What is going on here, Heartstone? Did you lure us here for this?”
The terror in Meg’s voice, strained through the thickness in her throat, left a bitter taste on Daphne’s tongue. She wished her spell were visible, so that Meg could see she wasn’t standing by while her partner fought for his life. But the distraction came at a cost, and she gripped the spell harder to keep hold of it.
She squeezed her eyes shut and drowned the noises out. She had to trust that Hunter could take care of himself for one more minute. That was all the time she gave herself. She had to finish the spell before then or she doubted she’d have the energy to finish it at all.
A shot rang out beside Daphne that left her ears ringing and the shock forced her to open her eyes. Laura’s blackened lips were pulled back over her teeth, blood dripping over her charcoaled chin. She dropped Charles and bounded on all fours across the warped floorboards at Meg. Meg fired again, but the shot went wide as Laura slammed into her and took them both to the ground.
Daphne’s concentration slipped as Hunter gained his feet and tore after the demon. He grabbed hold of her leg and jerked her off of Meg, who had turned her face to the side to avoid the touch of Laura’s gaping mouth.
Laura rolled onto
her back and lurched up to rake her claws across Hunter’s chest. Blood blossomed through his white shirt and he staggered back. A hissing noise spilled from between Laura’s lips that Daphne vaguely identified as laughter, then she pounced on Hunter and took him down, straddling his chest.
Daphne’s desire to run to him to make sure he was all right broke her focus and the third knot unraveled. She forced her concentration back to the spell and started over, barely keeping the entire chain from coming apart. More tears spilled down her cheeks and her hands shook at her sides. Chills ran over her skin, followed by a burning flush that fogged her vision with sweat. She couldn’t breathe, her nose was running, and she still had two more knots to go.
Charles groaned and sat up, sliding across the floor toward the door.
Meg cried Hunter’s name and scrambled to her feet. The blood had drained from her face and she’d lost her weapon, but the sight of her partner in trouble had clearly wiped out all concern for her own life. A twinge of relief squeezed Daphne’s heart that Hunter wouldn’t have to face Laura on his own.
Meg threw herself at the pair on the floor and hooked her arms under Laura’s armpits to drag her off of him. She hadn’t braced for the crispiness of the skin. Her grip slipped, and in the jarring movement, Laura slashed her claws across Hunter’s cheek. He released her arms to protect his eyes and blood spilled through his fingers down his face.
Out of breath, Daphne finished the third knot and moved on to the fourth, her magic coming in patches, nothing more than the dregs of her power. Her legs gave out and she sank to her knees, bracing her hands against her thighs. She wanted to close her eyes again and block out the fight, but was too afraid of what might happen when she wasn’t looking. She couldn’t bear the idea of Hunter getting a claw through the heart or Laura changing her target to devour his soul.
Daphne liked his soul. She wanted him to keep it.
Laura kicked her foot into Meg’s chest, the strength in her muscles sending the detective sergeant sliding across the floor. Free, she switched her attention to her brother and launched herself at Charles, landing on his back.