“You can feel the greater surroundings, now, hmm?” he said, leaning over me to peek as well.
I elbowed him to get him off my back, but I was thankful he was there. It was less terrifying to go through a burglar situation with someone else, especially someone who named his weapons.
“I guess. There’s someone on the front porch—” I pulled back around the corner as a shadow loomed through the glass at the side of the door. My heart kickstarted, beating frantically. “You locked the front door, right?”
“Yes, but we have nothing to fear. There is just one of them, and Edgar is monitoring him or her. They don’t seem to want to do damage of any kind. Not yet.”
“What do you mean not yet?”
“If we’re living for the present, we have nothing to fear. If we are worrying about the future, this could be a bad omen.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know who we are dealing with, I know what we are dealing with, and if you mix all the ingredients together, it’s a recipe for disaster. But rest assured, right this moment we’ll be just fine.”
I looked over my shoulder, wondering if he could make out my expression that hopefully said what the hell is wrong with you?
“Cats. I should’ve chosen cats,” I said, peeking around the corner again.
“But then you would’ve had to clean litter boxes. What a drag.”
The shadow clipped the edge of the window before moving into the frame, directly behind the white, mostly see-through curtain. Its hand came up, as though shielding a glare, and its shape loomed larger, moving closer.
A thump sounded upstairs, directly above us.
I jumped, pulled back, and nearly wet myself. “What was that?” I asked, clutching Mr. Tom.
He looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I’m afraid to go look.”
“What do you mean you’re afraid to go look?” I whispered urgently. “You can shift to a bigger magical form, you have a weapon, and you can fly. I’d say you are well-equipped to check it out.”
“Yes, but whatever that was might have a better arsenal than old bones, weak wings, and a crossbow with the wrong kind of arrows.”
He gulped, and fear doused me. I hadn’t expected him to be afraid. He’d been so calm a moment ago. A fact I reminded him of.
“We were fine at the moment. That moment has passed,” he replied.
Pounding sounded above me, the thump-thumps of someone or something enormous heading toward the stairs.
“Whatever that is, it is in this house.” He yanked me back the way we’d come. “Let’s get into the walls. The closest entrance is this way.”
Which would take us toward the sounds.
“I am not running toward whatever that thing is for any reason. This way!”
I ripped out of his grip, dashed across the open space of the foyer, wondering if the shadow at the window could see me, and darted into the first room on the left. Mr. Tom was right behind me, his breath harried.
“How did they get into the house?” he asked, panic lacing his words. “I can’t even feel it in here. That shouldn’t be possible.”
“Can it get into the walls?” I ran across the room, fear quickening my feet. Loud thumping sounded somewhere outside the space, like someone crashing down the stairs.
“It’s louder than you are,” Mr. Tom said, pushing me out of the way and fitting his thumb into the side of the fireplace. “That means it is going for speed over stealth. It’s trying to catch us.”
The edge of the stone popped open. He reached in, turned the hidden handle I’d discovered the previous day, and yanked the small door open. He shoved me in first and shuffled in after me.
As he turned to close the door, I glimpsed a massive human-like shape filling the entryway to the room. The thing had to duck to enter. Its torso was covered in shimmering, deep gray metal, the armor etched with muscles and nipples like Batman’s costume. Long gray hair, like strings, hung over its absolutely massive shoulders.
Its roar filled the room to bursting. I flattened against the wall, dread drowning me, the click of the door not doing anything to block out the sound. I grabbed a suddenly frozen Mr. Tom and ran.
“Go, go, go, go, go!” I said, seeing the map I’d drawn in my mind’s eye. I’d done that so I could find my way through the secret tunnels. I always remembered better when I put new info onto paper. Thank God, because now I took the turns at breakneck speed, hearing a loud thump behind us.
That thing was trying to crash through the wall. I said as much.
Mr. Tom broke free from my grasp, getting his senses back online. “It can’t. These walls are structurally and magically fortified. It won’t be able to break through them.”
“It got in the house.”
“That’s because it’s a shadow wraith with some sort of magical armor that makes it corporeal. It opened a window.”
When we reached the first viewing area, Mr. Tom pulled ahead of me.
“What is a shadow wraith?” I asked. Another thud echoed down the passageway. “It sounds strong.”
“It does sound strong,” Mr. Tom said, hooking both of his hands through a little hole in the wall I hadn’t noticed before. “Sorry, Ivy House, but this is dire. I can’t let that thing get its hands on her.” A hidden door swung open—huh, a secret passage within a secret passage—and he ducked into the opening and grabbed an iron banister attached to a circular iron staircase, leading straight up. He hurried up the stairs. “A shadow wraith is a ghostlike creature that drains the souls of the living.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered. My stomach flipped in horror.
“That one has some sort of armor that gives it a corporeal body. Apparently it can still float, because that’s how it must’ve gotten in here. They don’t float as fast as I can fly, though, and they don’t fight well in the skies. The sky is our only hope.”
He slowed halfway up, and I realized his stamina was giving out. His age was showing.
Somewhere deep within me, I felt a pulse. Strong, solid, and sure, it filled me with assurance.
That pulse soaked into the walls. Buzzed through the iron of the staircase. Reverberated through the air.
That pulse was Ivy House, I knew, and the beacon that had drawn me in when I was young was calling me back.
I could fix Mr. Tom, I knew. I could turn back the years for him, curing his flagging stamina. Turning his sagging skin and bowing back into muscle and might, like in the days of old. I could boost my own stamina, too. Up my strength, claim the freedom of flight for myself—
The needle skidded off of the record, the first indication my thoughts were not completely my own.
“If I got that magic, I’d be able to fly?” I asked, winded.
Mr. Tom made it to the top of the steps and doggedly moved out of the way, breathing heavily. “The Ivy House magic is the female version of a gargoyle, though infinitely more powerful. Only females can claim the magic, just as only males can shift into the gargoyles you usually see and hear about. Females lead her army of warriors.”
“I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.”
“Yes, yes, right. A Jane,” he murmured, hurrying down a tight passageway.
A warning flared through me—the stranger on the porch was now inside. I couldn’t sense any other presences, but I knew better than to think the shadow wraith had left. Mr. Tom and I just couldn’t feel it.
“Gargoyles will be drawn to you once you ingest the magic. They’ll recognize you as their queen, and everything in them will want to mate with you so as to best protect you. I won’t feel the attraction, of course. We’re family.” He shrugged out of a night shirt I was only just realizing matched his cotton pants, like a child’s PJs. Fluffy slippers adorned his feet and an elf-style hat sat atop his balding head, the little pompom hanging down the side of his face.
“No,” I blurted. “No on all counts. I signed up to clean a house, not download magic that will make me the queen of a bunch of legendary creatures who will want to mate with me. Get a hold of yourself, man. We all just need to get a hold of ourselves.”
He pushed down his pants and I jerked my head away, squeezing my eyes shut.
“What are you doing?” I asked with gritted teeth. “I have no interest in seeing your begonias, Mr. Tom.”
A sound like huge boulders rolling down a hill compelled me to squint an eye open to check on him.
Whereas Donna had shifted shape in a warm flash of light and dare I say magic, Mr. Tom’s transformation was slow, his skin mottling into what I could only describe as stone. His shape enlarged, the stone-grinding sound getting louder as he grew. Even in this massive form, I couldn’t help but notice his muscles were a little stringy, his skin a little saggy. Great wings blossomed out behind him, unable to fully stretch open due to the confining space.
I gaped in shock at this additional proof that magic had to be real, watching as he lowered down onto his haunches, an enormous stone gargoyle fashioned like the water spouts on medieval buildings and cathedrals, and froze.
Seconds ticked by. The presence in the house entered my bedroom, making my skin crawl. The stone creature at my feet continued to do nothing.
“Did you just duck out on me without saying so?” I asked the stagnant statue, suddenly wondering how I would get out if I didn’t have wings to fly.