Across from her, the man sits as well.
“AND SO I HAVE COME,” she says at last, but these words are not human. They are harsh, guttural sounds deep in her throat. They are teeth and hisses and growls. She looks about her, as if curious.
YOU HAVE COME AND I REJOICE.
“WHY DO YOU WANT ME HERE?”
The thing, man or beast, never moves. She cannot see any form of mouth. Only the shape of him, stiller than the night.
I WANT YOU. ANYWHERE.
“WHAT FOR?”
TO BE MY OWN. TO BE MY CREATURE. TO SERVE ME.
“AND MY SOUL. YOU WANT THAT ALSO?”
I WANT IT ALL.
“I AM HERE TO BARTER.”
Something like laughter ripples through the cavern, and then the shadow moves with unexpected suddenness. He leans on his elbow, the proud horns tilting to the left as he considers her.
KNOW YOU WHAT I AM? KNOW TO WHAT YOU SPEAK?
“I KNOW. I AM HERE.”
SING A SONG, LITTLE THING.
Roan does not hesitate. She opens her mouth and sings. She sings a song her mother once sang to her.
SHE IS MINE, THIS WOMAN OF WHOM YOU THINK.
“I HAVE LITTLE DOUBT.”
Again, the strange laughter.
AND IT IS YOUR DOING.
“AM I NOT EVIL INCARNATE, AS YOU INTENDED?”
SPEAK WHAT YOU WILL, AND MAKE YOUR OFFER.
“I HAVE QUESTIONS. I WANT THE ANSWERS. THE FACTUAL ANSWERS. I WANT THEM CLEAR AND PRECISE. AND IF YOU LIE, I THINK I WILL KNOW IT. AND AFTER THAT, I WANT SOMETHING MORE.”
The man smiles, and his grin is sharp and white and horrible.
ASK, AND OFFER. I WILL DECIDE.
“I WILL NOT OFFER MY SOUL. THAT IS MINE ALONE. BUT WHEN YOU CALL, AND FOR WHATEVER YOU ASK, I WILL ANSWER AND I WILL GIVE.”
I WILL TAKE IT.
“ANSWER ME THIS. AM I BORN CURSED?”
YOU KNOW IT.
“AND RAPLEY? EMMA. SEAMUS. WHO ELSE?”
ALL. YES. THAT MAN YOU CALL CAGE AND TWO OTHERS.
“TWO MORE UNCLOSED?”
TWO MORE CURSED LIVES.
“NOT UNCLOSED?”
NOT UNCLOSED.
Roan takes a moment to think.
“WILL RAPLEY AND I EVER BE FREE OF THIS?”
A moment of silence.
HE TOLD YOU TRUE ON THE MOUNTAIN THAT DAY.
“I DON’T BELIEVE IT.”
HE WILL DIE ON THIS MOUNTAIN. AND BE CURSED EVERMORE.
“LIES!”
Again, that terrible white grin.
“HE IS MY ADAM, YES?”
YES.
“TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED.”
A CLOAKED MAN BROUGHT HIM TO YOU THAT YEAR. IT WAS A SPECIAL YEAR. THE YEAR YOU DISCOVERED YOUR UNCLOSED NATURE. AND HIS. YOU CONJURED TOGETHER. YOU LOVED HIM. AND HE LOVED YOU MORE. AND THEN HE WAS TAKEN AWAY BY THE MAN IN THE CLOAK, BROUGHT TO THE MOUNTAIN WHERE HIS LOVE, HIS SOUL, AND HIS SELF WITHERED TO A PIP AND NO MORE.
“WHO IS THE MAN?”
THE ONE WHO BROUGHT YOU HERE. THE ONE YOUR LOVE IS GOING, RIGHT NOW, TO CONFRONT. ALAS, HE IS TOO STRONG FOR A PIP.
“TELL ME WHY YOU WANT ME. WHY THE MAN WANTS ME. TELL ME NOW! QUICKLY!”
The thing shifts again in the cave, somehow growing bigger and closer all at once.
YOUR POWER IS PURE, MY DAUGHTER. THROUGH YOU, HE WILL SURELY GAIN A THOUSAND YEARS THRICE UPON HIM. IF HE WERE TO CAPTURE YOUR SOUL… HE MIGHT HAVE ENOUGH CURRENCY TO BARTER BACK… HIS OWN. OFFER YOUR SOUL TO ME NOW, AND YOU ARE NO USE TO HIM.
“IT WILL NOT HAPPEN.”
YOU, MY CHILD, WERE CONCEIVED UPON THIS VERY MOUNTAIN. AND YOU LIVED HERE FOR A TIME. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE INTOXICATING TIME OF YOUR EARLY CHILDHOOD. WE WOULD SPEAK OFTEN, YOU AND I. MY HAND IN YOUR CONCEPTION WAS GREAT.
Unbidden, an image flashes into Roan’s mind, of a time before she existed. A brown-haired man, naked, lying with her mother. The bestial quality of it as she saw man merge with horns and out again. An unholy union.
“ENOUGH—”
HE WILL CARVE THE HEARTS FROM MANY MEN AND WOMEN AND CHILDREN LOOKING FOR THAT PRECIOUS SOUL…
“GIVE ME WHAT I NEED TO DEFEAT HIM. GIVE IT TO ME NOW.”
GIVE YOURSELF OVER TO MY DARKNESS, TO MY WILL, AND I WILL KEEP YOU SAFE.
“I WILL KEEP MY FREE WILL UNTIL I DIE. YET I WANT THE STRENGTH—WHATEVER IT IS I NEED—TO DEFEAT HIM. I FREELY OFFER ONE FAVOR IN RETURN. ANYTHING, AT ANY TIME.”
DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING, LITTLE GIRL?
“ENOUGH. DO IT. DO IT NOW.”
When the laughter comes this time, it does not stop. Even when Roan is screaming.
The light, dim when Roan walked willingly into the cave, is now a hot, white, throbbing orb. She cries out, shielding her eyes, and shies back into the dark.
Behind her, the cave is cold and empty. She is alone.
Blinking back tears, she looks out into the late afternoon again. She can see the piercing white mists and the jagged shapes of the slate protruding from the veil. She cannot see the house. She cannot see much else besides.
The light is a knife in her head.
She stumbles out of the safety of the dark, moving as fast as she can, opening her eyes as little as possible, heading for Mill House and her friends.
Hurry, something inside whispers. Do not tarry.
A gust of wind throws itself unexpectedly against her and she falters. The mists coil and part, and there in the vacuum stands Rapley. He is indistinct, faded around the edges like he is becoming part of the mists themselves. He does not see her. He is somewhere else.
“You,” he whispers, and Roan reaches out her hand, calling his name.
Rapley bares his teeth. “You!”
Hovering over his head… a crow, wings beating furiously as it squawks, the eyes as red as the ram’s.
She blinks, the mists rush in like a tidal wave, the crow screams—and Rapley is gone.
Her heart drops to her feet like a cold stone. “Rapley!”
He is waiting for them in the lowest part of the house. The dungeon.
Rapley, Cage, and Emma freeze when they see him. Robed in black, face hidden from view, the man they know is Fostos.
“Corrupt,” Cage murmurs. “Vile destroyer.”
The man opens his mouth to speak, but it is not Maudley’s voice that issues forth.
“Devil-Talker, Deal-Maker, Hell-Fated… so many names. And only one that was truly ever mine.”
Rapley’s lips curl. “Fostos.”
The man raises his head, the shadows flee from his features, and he smiles.
“You,” Rapley breathes. “You.”
“My God,” Emma whispers. “It cannot be… Andrew. But why?”
Andrew… Fostos… removes his hood, folding it back. His beloved cassock had seemed the most fitting attire for this moment. Behind him, the waterwheel stands stationary, and yet… it also spins slowly. Like some kind of strange mirage on top of reality, there are somehow two wheels. One in this world still as stone, and another in that other strange world that he and the others have access to—and this one is spinning.
Seamus is strapped to the wheel.
ZOEY
NOW
Chapter 41
SO…
Camera Footage
Zoey runs to Len’s side, screaming her name. Len coughs, grimaces, and then reaches for the hilt of the weapon. She pulls it free and rolls over, coughing blood.
“Len? Oh, God! Len!”
Len coughs again, and then grunts. “Hate it when that happens.”
She sits up, and Zoey screams again, but this time for a very different reason. Len’s chest is closing up in front of her eyes.
Len wipes her mouth. “We… we should talk.”
Diary,
I… hardly know what to write. So much has happened. So, first: Len’s immortal. Ha. Go figure. That shit’s real.
My best friend tried to murder her—did murder her, actually
, only she didn’t die. Yeeeah. I can’t wait to read this back when I GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE.
This is crazy.
I couldn’t look at Len for the whole day. I just… I couldn’t stop seeing her there, the knife in her chest, the blood in her mouth. I thought she was dead. Gone. And then… she pops up like a daisy.
I’m so… grateful. But my head is a mess.
I’ve been mulling over an idea ever since we read about the waterwheel in Roan’s letters. I’m going to propose something to Len, but I know she’s going to refuse. I’ll record it. Tonight.
“No,” Len said, pacing up and down. She swept her hands apart. “Absolutely not.”
She wouldn’t listen and she was making me dizzy. I was sitting on the sofa in the Red Room perfectly calm, but as the morning wore on she had become more and more nervous. We ate the last can of chicken curry this morning. I took half and left the rest for Pole outside the Hunting Room, which is now his bedroom apparently. Even knowing this, Len wasn’t willing to risk me Conjuring. I asked her what she suggested. As far as I can see, we have three options:
1. Pole and I starve to death.
2. Pole kills me in this—whatever madness this is.
3. We Conjure one last time to find the wheel and break it.
At least with option three we have a chance.
“I don’t want you to Conjure again,” she said. “Look what happened last time.”
“I told you, there’s a price. But the injuries heal.”
“Your anemia hasn’t.”
I hesitated. “Maybe it has.”
Len turned a sharp look on me. “It hasn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
She blinked hard. “Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“I just do.”
I insisted she tell me how.
She turned away from me. “Zoey, leave it. Please.”
“You don’t know—”
“I can smell it!” she yelled, facing me abruptly.
I have no idea what reaction I had, only that Len turned away again, her skin suddenly more sallow than I had noticed before. There had been an odd flash in her eyes when she’d said it.
I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant and found that I didn’t really want to know.
Later, though. I’m going to ask her later. (Note to self: DO IT.)
“I just think that it’s too much of a risk,” Len said eventually, her voice calmer and softer.
I took her hands as she passed me and pulled her to the sofa beside me. She couldn’t meet my gaze. “If we do nothing, I’ll die. Pole will die.”
I tried to turn her face toward me by nudging her chin. She didn’t budge, so instead I hooked my finger into her ear and used it as a lever to turn her head my way.
She laughed and faced me. And then she kissed me and we didn’t speak for a while. We just sat and looked at each other. She touched my cheek, touched my hair, touched the hollow of my neck.
“Zoey…” she said softly, her fingers roaming lower.
“I don’t want to die here,” I whispered.
“But what if you lose something vital. Your sight, your mind—”
“I don’t intend to lie.”
“I think Conjuring damages you whether you lie or not. At least, Conjures of this size.”
“There’s no choice.”
She closed her eyes and her answer was more an exhale than words. “Okay.”
I swallowed and closed my eyes too. “Thank you.”
“This one,” she said, kissing my neck, “last,” her breath sweet on my skin, “time,” her tongue on my collarbone.
I shuddered.
She opened her eyes and got up. Then she went over to the door and closed it, pushing a chair up beneath the handle.
“I want to show you something,” she said, and my heart beat once, stopped, and then thudded erratically.
Then she was on her knees in front of me, her hands sliding up my top, and each bit of skin she revealed, she adorned with kisses.
She touched my breasts, and then removed my bra, and I found myself touching and kissing her as well.
When she reached for the laces on my track pants, she looked up into my face and smiled.
“Beautiful,” she said, and went lower.
We hear Poulton upstairs, but never see him. He’s most active at night, when we hear him grunting, banging, and running, his footfalls loud and unnerving. During the day, we don’t hear a thing.
Len wants to tie him up, but I won’t do that.
But I do worry about him hurting himself.
Is this what my father went through?
It’s seven in the morning. Len is still asleep and upstairs is quiet. I’m going to go and check on Pole, but I’m going to take the camera. I’ll talk to him, without Len nearby, and ask him what he’s experiencing. I’ll try to get him back to himself. I want my best friend back.
Camera Footage
A hand knocks on a door, and a voice calls, “Pole?”
Zoey knocks again, but turns her camera on herself to say, “No reply.”
She waits a few more seconds, and then there is a sharp bang on the door.
“Poulton, please, can I come in?”
Silence.
She turns the door handle, but the door doesn’t budge. She rattles the handle—nothing.
“I’ll be in the twin bedroom. Please come and talk to me. I’ll be alone.”
She turns away from the door, the camera on her face. She opens her mouth to say something, but then the distinctive sound of a door creaking stops her. She turns around, camera still on her face, and screams.
The camera hits the floor.
The door is standing open.
The room beyond black as night.
Zoey stands still, breathing in, out, in, out…
Then, slowly, she bends down and picks up the camera.
“Pole?” she calls, her voice shaky. “Please don’t mess around.”
She steps slowly into the room and gasps.
The room has been decimated.
The camera shakes as Zoey looks around. The animal skulls, which before had been arranged in a pile along one wall, some mounted on the wall itself, have all been hung.
Upside down.
The weapons, which had been on the other three walls, have been removed.
None of them are in the room now.
The eye sockets of each of the skulls are dark and menacing, and when Zoey focuses the camera in their direction, she takes a step back. The eyeless black spaces glare with a kind of cunning; the long teeth almost make them look as though they are grinning.
Zoey backs away and then, with a little sob, runs from the room.
Poulton was not there.
Dear Diary,
I haven’t been able to find Poulton since I went looking in the Hunting Room yesterday morning. At night, we hear him, though. We’ve searched everywhere for both him and the wheel.
Nothing.
We hear crashes. Then long stretches of silence. The floors creak.
Len sits still, her lips thin, and when I ask her what she thinks, she doesn’t answer. Tonight, we Conjure. We find the wheel Roan talks about in her letters. We find our way out.
Poulton:
I don’t know
there were voices.
sounds.
movement.
sensations.
yes, the room was altered.
the skulls were inverted, yes.
hung upside down.
no, not by me.
I don’t know who
something evil.
demonic
I had horns, yes
they grew
right out
of
my skull
yes, okay?
yes. I was a
beast
an animal.
I was lost in the dark.
why did I do it?
Is that your
question?
I don’t remember.
Where is Zoey?
I told you.
I don’t know.
No I did not kill her.
We found the wheel. At first, I thought nothing was wrong.
It was one of the snakes that led us there. I saw it move first. It seemed to crack and move, each twitch just a little too fast.
And then it began to glide over the floor in jagged, strange movements, unlike a living snake altogether. It was more like some strange stop-motion puppet show.
“Your food is slithering away,” Len murmured. “You can see that, right?”
I nodded. “Mm-hm.” And we released each other’s hands.
I got unsteadily to my feet; Len was already following, a small bag clutched in her fist.
The snake led us through to the blocked wing and slid beneath the door. Len removed a piece of chalk and drew some symbols on the door, spoke some guttural sounds, and the door burst open.
I opened my mouth to ask her what she’d just done—was that the language she had spoken of? The one made of all the symbols she knew? The one she had refused, point-blank, to teach me?
I looked at the wreckage of the door as I passed and could see why. She was… powerful.
Len left her little bag behind but slipped her chalk into the zipped pocket of her jacket, and we followed the snake. It led us into a church, but unlike any church I’ve ever seen. It was the opposite of holy, with a large, black inverted cross on the altar. After that, another set of stairs. The snake descended very slowly.
It was pitch-black.
“Wait here,” Len said, and ran from the church.
The cold coming up from that doorway and those stairs was intense. Like opening a freezer door. Something moved in the blackness. It sounded strange and rippled. More than the snake was waiting for us.
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