Twenty-Four
“Did I close the door to the passageway in my room?” I asked the silence, reaching into my pocket with badly shaking hands. I unlocked my phone screen, found Austin’s name, and tapped it without hesitation.
I knocked on Mr. Tom’s head. The dense stone thudded under my knuckles.
“You bastard,” I whispered, swaying from side to side like I was rocking a newborn baby, the movement comforting even all these years later. “You didn’t even leave me at a proper escape route—”
“Yeah,” Austin answered, his voice raspy, barely surfacing from sleep.
“Hey. There are people in my house—well, a person and a shadow wraith with some sort of body armor—and Mr. Tom just turned into a stone gargoyle. I’m…” I swallowed, my voice shaking. “I’m not sure what to do. I couldn't think who else to call. Edgar was apparently monitoring the guy that used to be outside but is now inside and in my bedroom. I’m really hoping I closed the secret passageway door in there because—”
“Wait, wait. Slow down,” Austin said, the shroud of sleep shredding quickly. “What did you say? Someone is inside Ivy House?”
“Yes. A stranger and a shadow wraith. And despite popular opinion, the house is definitely not doing anything to get them out. It is just a house. A big house with a very long drop from my current location.”
“Earl is stone?”
I gave Mr. Tom a kick. Pain shot up through my slippered foot. “Yeah. He looks like a water spout.”
“Where are you?” His voice muffled for a moment, then got farther away. “Where in the house are you?”
“In an offshoot secret passageway, up a spiral staircase. Third floor. There is a thread of blue lighting near the ceiling, but that’s it. I can’t see much. I don’t know where exactly in the house we are, but that wraith was really fast, Austin, and if I have to make a run for it, it’ll catch me.”
“Shhh, shhh. It’s okay. No one is going to catch you,” he said soothingly, a hard growl rumbling through his words. “Edgar probably went to get Niamh. You say that wraith had body armor of some kind?”
He sounded like he was moving, his voice jogging with his steps.
“Mr. Tom said the body armor made it corporeal. When it roared, it scared Mr. Tom. I had to yank him behind me to get him to run.”
“You didn’t freeze?” Austin asked.
Impatience made me dance in place. “Of course I didn’t freeze. What do you think, I want to get caught? What should I do? I don’t know what to do. Mr. Tom basically left me. If there’s a hatch here somewhere, I’ll roll the bastard out. Maybe it’ll leave a dent in his head.”
“It’s okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. You have to think really hard about what you need from him, okay? When gargoyles shift, they require a purpose to animate them. They must be called upon to act. Otherwise they’ll remain frozen until their human form re-emerges. In Mr. Tom’s case, that could be years. He’s old.”
“What? But you said he changed earlier.”
“Yes. I needed a bottle opener and you needed some food to eat. He had a purpose. You need to give him a purpose.”
“Well…I need him to be a living gargoyle, find a hatch, and fly me the hell out of there!”
The sound of boulders rolling across hard-packed dirt made me jerk away and stare earnestly at Mr. Tom. His body shuddered. His shoulders moved.
“Something’s happening,” I said quietly, the presence of the stranger still in my room. “Why is he so interested in my room?”
“Who?” Austin asked, and his voice cut out for a moment. “That’s Niamh calling now. She must not think she can handle this alone. Damn it.”
“The stranger, and thank you for not saying ‘I told you so’ regarding the sundry characters you warned me this house would attract,” I said as Mr. Tom uncoiled, standing slowly.
His gray skin lightened to a somewhat purplish tone in the blue light, and his lips opened, giving way to large teeth that hung over his bottom lip on either side of his mouth. Black hair fell around pointed ears. He was just as ugly animated as he was in stone form.
“Mr. Tom is staring at me with his beady eyes. Now what do I do?” I asked Austin.
Mr. Tom grunted, and a foul smell washed over me.
“The gift of flight comes at a steep price,” I murmured as Mr. Tom turned, thwapping me with a wing. I staggered back, grabbing the banister of the spiral staircase to keep from falling.
“What’s happening?” Austin asked. “Is it safe to hang up and call Niamh?”
I almost said wait, but I was a grown woman. I couldn’t keep using Austin as a safety blanket. At some point, I had to think for myself.
“That’s fine. It’s fine,” I said.
Mr. Tom bent and pulled open a steel door reminiscent of a storm cellar. Cool, sweet air swirled into the stairway. From my vantage point, I could see the steep slope of the roof. It was another trap door leading outside, not unlike the one I had found the first time I was in the house, but definitely not the same one.
“He’s strong enough to carry me, right?” I asked, watching as Mr. Tom slowly turned and started rummaging in the corner for something.
“Plenty strong, yes. He won’t drop you. Tell him to meet me at the lake. He’ll know where I mean. Don’t worry, Jess, okay? He’ll get you safely to me. I won’t let anyone harm you.”
But as I hung up the phone, the same string of words that had snagged me last night sent chills over my body.
If that boss wants to own this town, there is nothing Austin Steele could do to stop it.
Another thought wove through it, as crisp and clear as if someone were speaking in my ear.
“If you accept your rightful place as heir, you will not have to rely on Austin Steele to keep you safe. You can rely on yourself. You can enjoy being truly free.”
“Everyone has an agenda,” I said, feeling that deep pulse within me again. Feeling the thought that wasn’t mine slither through my brain. Feeling bodies emerge from the woods way back behind the house. Feeling the intruder finally leave my room and head down toward the front door.
“Get us out of here, Mr. Tom. Austin said to meet him at the lake.” I was not about to go looking around the house for magic. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay in this crazy circus. Adventure was one thing, like a zip line with safety cords, or sky diving with a knowledgeable instructor strapped to your back, but this was something else entirely. I was about to jump out of a door in the roof in the arms of an old as hell mythical creature who kept forgetting to explain very important magical precepts in moments of crisis. I’d read dozens of fantasy books, and none of them were this weird.
Mr. Tom grunted, stood, and slung the huge canvas sack he’d grabbed from the floor in the corner around my back. “Sh-it,” he grunted.
I looked at the bag, which seemed empty, then around the space. “What happened? Did you feel the people coming? They’re here for me, right? But you can get me out of here?”
He helped me curl my fingers around the edge of the canvas bag, indicating I should hold on to it.
Then swore again. “Sh-it.”
“I don’t know how to help. I don’t know what’s wrong!”
He shoved me with one of his clawed hands, the points pricking me painfully. I stumbled, couldn’t get my footing, and fell into the sack.
“Yer-ah,” he said, nodding.
“Oh, sit.” I curled my feet into the bag, remembering how he’d carried the food earlier. Even still, I was really unsure about this. I weighed more than that food. “Is this bag going to hold me?”
“Yer-ash.” He grabbed the handles, collapsing the bag around me and lifting me off the ground. “Her-oh-d ah-n.”
“Hold on. Okay.” I grabbed the edges. Stuffed my feet into the base. Felt fear travel my length. “Oh God, there has to be another way. There has to—”
Colorful swearing accompanied our dive through the opening as I swung wildly below him. My canvas-covered butt crashed against the roof. I skidded down the slope and then swung wildly into empty air. It would’ve been nicer leaving out of that other trap door that didn’t lead out onto a roof before the fall. His massive wings thrummed, curving down around me. He turned back to the trap door and I skidded up the roof again.
“Wrong…way,” I said, trying to wriggle for a softer place to take the bouncing.
The heavy steel slammed down onto the roof. He turned again, treating me to a third encounter with the roof. A moment later we were completely airborne, him soaring through the sky, gaining altitude with each wingbeat, me dangling below him, the view of his begonias sure to haunt me.
“The lake,” I repeated from earlier, not sure if he could hear me over the roaring of the wind and his wings. “Austin said to meet at the lake!”
I wanted to shift my positioning so I could look out the side of the canvas, maybe see the intruders, but I didn’t dare. My luck, I’d pitch over the edge and go splat before Mr. Tom even knew I’d fallen.
Chilled wind froze me to the core. As we got farther away, it struck me that I’d been blocking out that the voice that had urged me to claim the magic was still speaking to me—probably had been all along. My panic had blocked it out. It got fainter as Mr. Tom hastened us away, but I got the final messages quite clearly. “If you had my power, you wouldn’t have to flee. No man could make you run, ever again. No man would need to be your escape.”