Deadly Rising

by Jeri Westerson

  The Stranges flowed one generation after another. The last male child was my father, who had no siblings. That only left me. And I had no heirs. Was that significant?

  “It appears you are a direct descendant. As is that unpleasant Russell woman.”

  “Is it significant, Erasmus? Does this prove I have some sort of destiny to fulfill?”

  “It seems very likely.”

  “Erasmus, are all the Chosen Hosts women?”

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  “What’s the significance of that?”

  “Women appear to be more resilient and more…stubborn.”

  “I’m not buying that.”

  “And yet, regardless of your feelings on the matter, it is true.” And before I could round on him, he touched me lightly on the shoulder. “It is true. I am not obfuscating this time.”

  “Meaning you’ve obfuscated before?”

  Caught! He wore an amusingly guilty look.

  “Never mind.” I hesitated again before I asked, “Erasmus, did you know I was related to Constance Howland?”

  He shuffled his papers and wouldn’t look at me.

  “Well?”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “Have…have they all been related to me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I thought about that as I took a picture of the photo with my phone. “Are there any more parchments we should look at?”

  He pulled out a few more showing more of the tree of descendants, all carefully written out with a quill. “By the way, did you see any reference at all to the Booke?”

  “There was one.” He shuffled a parchment from the stack and laid it out. “Mistress Howland’s immediate relatives were concerned about the ‘devil’s booke’ that seemed to be distressing her. One kinsman tried to burn it but ended up immolating himself in the process.” He chuckled. If it were anyone else, it would have been inappropriate.

  I glanced over my shoulder for any signs of the archivist before quietly asking, “Did you do that?”

  He blinked slowly. “As amusing as it would have been, no. It was the book, protecting itself.”

  “Then strike off trying to destroy it.”

  “That would prove as foolish as bricking it up inside a wall, and just as futile.”

  “Where did it come from? I mean, how did Constance get a hold of it?”

  “I don’t know. She never mentioned it. I suppose it followed her family from the Old World.”

  “Did she…” I bit my lip and felt the warmth of the amulet heating my skin beneath the sweater. “Did she wear your amulet too?”

  His eyes were suddenly ablaze. Anger, fear? I couldn’t read him. “No. Only you had the audacity for that.”

  “The Wiccans. It was their suggestion. I wouldn’t have known to do that. It was a good idea, as it turns out.”

  He clammed up and I took that to mean Sharing Time was over. I spread out a few more parchments, including the one he’d read to me, took pictures, and then carefully packed it all away again.

  I handed the box back to the man behind the door. “Find what you were lookin’ for?”

  “Ay-yuh,” I said with a quirked smile. “Looks like you’re looking at a founder descendant. The Strange line.”

  “Strange? I never heard of them.”

  “Maybe you need to study your own archive.”

  But as I walked away with Erasmus in tow, I wondered why the Stranges were cut out of history. It was plainly there for anyone to see, yet no one remembered. Though as I recalled, it seemed to me that Karl Waters had. As soon as I had mentioned my name, it flicked on a light switch in his brain.

  I wanted to see the place I spent my early summers. Maybe there were answers there. Maybe not. But it was a good place to start. I was just reaching for my phone to switch on the GPS when it rang. Walking quickly across the marble lobby to the porch outside, I looked at the screen but didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Kylie.”

  “Who is this?”

  “I’m wounded. You don’t recognize your old pal Doug?”

  I squared my shoulders. “What do you want?”

  “Oh, not very polite. I mean, after all, we might be in-laws someday, you dating my brother and all.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. And it wasn’t a pleasant thought. “I’m hanging up.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. We’ve got your, uh, friend here.”

  “What friend?”

  “Guy named Jeff. He’s going to be our guest for a bit.”

  I fumbled, nearly dropping the phone. “W-what? If you’ve hurt him…”

  “Nah, nothing like that. Not yet. But we’d like to talk to you. Why don’t you come on down to Hansen Mills?”

  “No, I’m not going there.”

  “Ah come on, Kylie…”

  “I’m hanging up and calling your brother.”

  “Well, Jeffy won’t like that. Won’t like it a bit. We have these rituals, you see…”

  “Okay, stop.” I bit my nail and turned to Erasmus, who was wearing a concerned expression. Covering the mic, I whispered to him, “The Ordo kidnapped Jeff.”

  Erasmus smiled. “Good.”

  “No. It is not good. They want me to come talk to them. They said something about rituals.”

  His smiled vanished. “You’re right. That isn’t good. I don’t think you should go.”

  “No shit. But I think I’ll have to.”

  “Then I am going with you, of course.”

  “Hello?” said Doug. “You still there, Kylie?”

  I took a deep, bracing breath of cold Maine air and spoke into the phone. “Where do you want to meet?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I don’t think you should go with me.”

  “Of course I shall. I can vanish at will.”

  Erasmus and I had been arguing since reaching the highway. Navigating the curving country road, I shook my head at my demon companion. “It’s risky.”

  “Shabiri will be there.”

  How could I have forgotten? The Ordo had their own demon. A sexy lady in a catsuit who seemed to know Erasmus a little too well. I didn’t like her for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one might have had to do with their longtime acquaintance. Jealous much, Kylie?

  “All right. Do your vanishing thing right before we get there.”

  “As you wish. Ah. I see why they chose this area.”

  We had just managed a hairpin turn I had taken a little too fast and passed a sign that read “Hansen Mills.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Can’t you see them?”

  “See what?”

  He sighed wearily. “I keep forgetting you are a mere mortal. The lines. The ley lines. They converge in this area.”

  I frowned, continuing to steer into the curves of the road. “What exactly are ley lines?”

  “Lines of ancient power. Confluences of magical energy. They’re rather thick around here.”

  “What about Moody Bog? I would think all ley lines met there.”

  “Oddly enough, they don’t. They do surround the village, however, in a very curious pattern. But they converge in Hansen Mills.”

  “I wonder if that was why…” I began thinking of my dream—or memory, I guess. “Erasmus, is there a reason why someone wouldn’t go to Hansen Mills in the fall, but only in the summer?”

  “Of course. The solstice.”

  As if everyone knew this but me. I turned to him with an exasperated expression. “And what does that mean?”

  “Have your Wiccans taught you nothing? The solstices have great power. For good, for protection. But it fades the farther away from the solstice you go. Fall is a very dangerous time for certain mages. They tend to lay low. Except during Samhain, which seems to collect its own form of magical power, concentrating it, waiting for the winter solstice.”

  “
Samhain. You mean Halloween?”

  “Your quaint names notwithstanding, that is what I mean.”

  “Halloween is two weeks away.”

  “You love stating the obvious.”

  “No, I mean all this concentrated power is moving toward us. How does that affect the Booke and all the creatures coming out of it?”

  “It would accelerate it, I should think.”

  “Like two creatures emerging instead of one?”

  “Or more,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Great. Just great.”

  I pulled into the parking lot of Mike’s Roadhouse, favorite bar of local bikers. “You’d better disappear,” I told him.

  He gave me an intense gaze. “I will not be visible, but I will be here.”

  “Thanks, Erasmus.” He seemed to be waiting. I would have happily given him a kiss for good luck, but I knew better than to start something like that. Instead, he merely vanished with startling ease.

  I took a breath and suddenly wished I had thought to bring my crossbow with me.

  Getting out of the car, I scanned the bar with its old barnwood sides and corrugated steel roof. Across the highway, the forest was thick and dark under a deeply cloudy sky. The smell of pine was strong, with the occasional breath of salt off of the distant sea. Even with Erasmus somewhere close by, I felt vulnerable. What would I be walking into? And why did they care so much about what I did?

  I stuffed my chilled hands in my jacket pockets, even though they were feeling a bit clammy. When I pulled the doors open, a blast of warmth hit me, along with the sound of loud rock ’n’ roll and the smell of sweat and beer. Just the kind of place Jeff liked, actually. No wonder he’d gravitated here. I wished he would have listened to me and left when I told him to.

  Standing on the threshold, I looked around. It didn’t take me long to spot the Ordo in all their grunting glory. There was the tall skinhead, Dean Fitch. The upside-down pentagram tattooed on the side of his head looked like a brand on his pale flesh.

  Red-headed Charise had tats on her chest and arms, a ring in her nostril, a scar on her face, and a thing for Doug, though I got the feeling it was a one-way street.

  And then there was Bob Willis, who looked like a farm boy, with floppy blond hair and a bulky frame. They were all in their leathers, sporting Goat Guy in a pentagram on the backs of their jackets.

  But no Jeff.

  “What is this? Where’s Jeff?”

  Doug whipped around, looked me up and down with a leer, and smiled. He was a younger, bearded version of Sheriff Ed, with, unfortunately, the same sort of sparkle in his eyes.

  “Kylie! Good to see you. Come on, sit down. Have a beer with us.”

  Charise didn’t seem to think too much of this invitation, but she kept silent except for her sneer.

  “Where’s Jeff?”

  Doug laughed. “Now this lady likes to get down to the point,” he said to his fellows. “That’s what I like about you, Kylie.”

  “Doug,” whined Charise. “Just get it over with already.”

  “Relax, Charise. We’re all friends here. We’ve got loads of time. Sit down, Kylie.”

  Bob scooted over, making room for me. I looked around, grabbed an empty chair from another table, and slammed it down at the end of their booth. Stepping nimbly around it, I sat. I guess I was too angry to be nervous.

  “No crossbow this time, Kylie?” asked Doug.

  I folded my arms and said nothing.

  “That’s okay. I’m not really after that anymore.” He took a slug of his beer and set it down again in a pool of water rings. “I’m after something else.”

  I don’t know who liked his leer less, me or Charise.

  “How about a beer, Kylie?”

  Losing patience, I finally snapped. “Just get to the point, Doug.”

  “Everyone’s in such a hurry,” he muttered. “Okay. It’s like this. Old boyfriend Jeffy for the book.”

  I hoped my poker face hadn’t slipped. “What book?”

  He chuckled and angled to face me square on. “Don’t play games. I don’t think Jeffy can wait that long. You know which book. Our friend Shabiri told me about it.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Threw back my head and let it rip. “Oh, Doug. If you had any idea how funny that was…If you really had any idea, you wouldn’t want it, believe me.”

  “But I do, darlin’. I do.”

  “The Booke. Just what did Catsuit Lady tell you about it?”

  He grinned. “Well, she told me it’s powerful and that it brings creatures to command.”

  “And just what did she call this book? Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?”

  He got in close and whispered, “It’s called Booke of the Hidden, so don’t fuck with me.”

  I leaned away. “Then she doesn’t know shit about it.”

  “Well, you’re right about that. She is a wiseass. Do you have that much trouble with your demon?” He gestured toward my amulet, which I quickly stuffed back in my sweater.

  Smirking, I sat back a little less stiffly. “It’s a permanent condition of demons apparently.”

  “I thought as much. I only saw your guy for a few minutes, but that scowl looked like a fixture.”

  “You know, we could swap stories about this demon stuff all day long, but I’d rather get on with it. I can’t give you the Booke and that is really that. So you have to release Jeff because there’s nothing left to negotiate with. And I really am dying to tell your brother about your further shenanigans so you can go back to a cell again. For much longer this time, I hope.”

  His amiable smile faded. “Well, look who turned into a bitch.”

  “I told you,” said Charise with some amount of glee.

  “Can you blame me?” I swept over them with a contemptuous gaze. “I gave you a chance, Doug. I didn’t press charges like Ed wanted me to do because I thought maybe we could work together. You really have no idea what you’re dealing with here. There is no controlling these creatures. They get to do what they want, to whom they want. And gods like your Goat Guy? They don’t do anything for you without a price. Are you really that ignorant?”

  “That’s not what Shabiri says…”

  “Demons lie, idiot. It’s what they do. They manipulate and trick to get what they want from you. They aren’t genies.”

  Bob shuffled in his seat. “Shabiri doesn’t want anything…”

  “Oh, do some freakin’ research, Bob!”

  Their table fell silent. I felt like dusting my hands at a job well done, but since I still didn’t know where Jeff was, I waited.

  This did not appear to be good news to the Ordo, but Doug plowed on anyway. “Doesn’t matter. We want the book anyway. We want control of it.”

  “Do you think I have control of it? Do you have any idea what it really is?”

  “Shabiri says—”

  “Haven’t we already established that demons lie?” This was ridiculous. I stood. “Where’s Jeff?”

  Doug stood, too, and then the others clumsily followed him out of the booth. They all stood around me, and soon the chatter of the place quieted as the patrons became aware of our little one-act play. “I want the book. It’s important to have it. That’s what I’ve been told and that’s what I’m gonna do. And you don’t get Jeff back until I have it in my hands.”

  Glancing around, I could tell there were no knights in shining armor ready to come to the rescue. Just curious, bleary-eyed men who had nothing better to do than drink in the middle of the day.

  Quietly, I said, “Look, even if I could give it to you, it won’t do you any good. I’m tied to it. I could hand it over right now and it would still come back to me.”

  “So what does it do?”

  I postured. “Ask Shabiri.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Where’s Jeff?”

  The front door opened and Jeff stumbled in. Bruised, bloody, and a bi
t out of it. “Jeff!”

  He blinked and cast a glance toward us. He seemed to recognize me and staggered forward, but then pushed me out of the way to point a finger at Doug. “You son of a bitch! Someone call a cop!”

  “Jeff, are you all right?”

  He spared me a glance and shrugged. “I guess. No thanks to your friends here.”

  “They aren’t my friends.”

  “I untied myself and got free. You bastards.” And then he suddenly turned to me. “What are you doing here? You gotta get out of here.”

  “I’m rescuing you.”

  “What?”

  Looking around, it didn’t seem that anyone was stepping forward to defend the Ordo. I pointed a sharp finger in Doug’s face. “I’m leaving and you’d better leave us alone. You aren’t getting the Booke or anything else from me. You need to chill on this stuff. It’s too dangerous. More dangerous than you can imagine. You’re screwing around with things you don’t understand. Hell, I don’t understand it and I’m stuck in the middle of it.”

  “Is there a problem here?” The bartender had finally decided to come over and see what was going on. He gestured toward Jeff. “You okay? You want me to call the sheriff?”

  “No!” I said at the same time Jeff said, “Yes!”

  Jeff glared at me. “Kylie!”

  “It’s all settled,” I said to the bartender. “A bet gone bad, but it’s okay now.”

  “It’s not settled,” said Jeff, getting increasingly louder and more hysterical. “These bastards kidnapped me, beat me up, threatened me…”

  “Jeff.” I grabbed him and yanked him to face me. “It’s over, okay. We’re leaving now.” I gave Doug a significant look and turned my back on him, shoving a protesting Jeff toward the door.

  A waitress carrying a heavy mop bucket across the barroom stumbled, dumping muddied water across the floor. She swore and stomped off to the back room as patrons laughed and applauded, apparently forgetting the drama before them.

  The water spread. Even as I was almost at the door, its odd behavior caught my attention. It had stopped spreading and instead rippled and churned, as if wind was blowing over its surface.

  I’d seen something like it before. In my own tub.

  Before I could shout a warning, the kelpie burst up through the puddle.