Chapter 31
Griffin
The grand foyer of Whyborne House had transformed into a battlefield. Persephone, Calls Dolphins, and several footmen fought the Hounds across the marble floor. The sounds of fighting echoed from other rooms on the first floor, and I hoped the servants were safe.
A Hound rushed at me—then its image abruptly doubled, splitting from one Hound to a ghostly figure a few feet away, and closer to Rupert.
“There!” I shouted, pointing with my sword cane.
He flung powder on it from his pouch, even as it solidified. Calls Dolphins stabbed at it; deprived of its normal means of avoiding injury, it could only leap back. The jump brought it closer to me, and I skewered it through the back of the neck.
“Persephone!” I called. “My sword cane!”
Fire blazed along the blade. The Hound let out a strangled cry. Its body convulsed, claws shredding the priceless rug, then stilled.
“Well done,” Calls Dolphins said. She didn’t waste time asking how I knew where it would appear, only turned back to the fighting.
“Block the Hounds down here,” Persephone ordered. “They’re trying to get to Father. Fenton, have him retreat to the upper rooms. Christine and Mother will protect him.”
Fenton obeyed her without question. One of the Hounds tried to blink past Persephone and follow him, but Rupert cast a handful of powder on it, pinning it in place. The scars on Persephone’s face blazed in my shadowsight, and the Hound shrieked as it began to scorch.
Calls Dolphins and I fell in together. She forced the Hounds to blink, and I stabbed them as they reentered our world. Soon my blade was slick with greenish ichor—as was the marble floor. One of the footmen slipped; two Hounds were on him before he could get to his feet. Rupert struck them with the powder, and Persephone sent one flying with a blast of wind. I ran to the footman’s side, but he was already dead.
Even so, the tide seemed to be turning in our favor. If we could only hold out a little longer, we’d drive back the Hounds.
Persephone stood at the foot of the stairs, her tentacle hair thrashing as she cast spells. Arcane power poured through her, lighting her up in my shadowsight like a candle. She dashed the Hounds back with wind, scorched their hides with fire, and bent the marble floor around their clawed feet.
Then she froze, her eyes going wide with shock. The light blazing inside her seemed to stretch, past the boundary of her skin. As though someone was trying to rip out her very soul.
She staggered, a cry of pain wrung from her, then collapsed. Whatever force was turned against her seemed to release its grip. The arcane fire that lived within her snapped back into place. She lay gasping on the floor, body shuddering in reaction.
Calls Dolphins raced to her side. The last Hound tried to intercept her, but Rupert’s powder already clung to its scaly hide, and I dispatched it with a blow. I sprang over its collapsing body and dropped to my knees beside Persephone.
“What’s wrong with her?” Calls Dolphins asked. “Is it some spell?” She turned on Rupert, her tentacle hair poised to sting. “Have you worked some foul magic against her?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with the abom—the hybrid,” Rupert corrected. He watched from a slight distance, a frown touching his full lips.
“It looked as though something was tearing her soul out,” I said.
Rupert’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
Damn it. Rupert didn’t—couldn’t—know the truth about the twins and their connection to the maelstrom. I pretended not to have heard him, and instead bent over Persephone. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Her hand shook, but Calls Dolphins and I managed to get her to her feet. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I squeezed her hand, before letting go. “Some sort of spell, I assume. Turned against the magic inside you.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “My brother.”
Could what had happened to her have happened to Whyborne as well? She seemed recovered...but what if he wasn’t? Fear slicked my spine with ice, but I forced myself to think rationally. “We’ve driven back the Fideles here for now. I’ll take the motor car to the Lester mansion, and—”
The muffled sound of a rifle shot echoed from above.
~ * ~
“Father,” Persephone said. “Calls Dolphins, Rupert—stay here, in case this is only a distraction. Griffin, come with me.”
We ran up the grand staircase, making for the uppermost story. The distant sound of shattering glass came from above, accompanied by hoarse cries. As we hit the third floor landing, footsteps pounded down from above.
“Monsters!” The footman Niles had sent to run messages had gone white with terror. “Two of them!”
God—had the hematophage come to kill Niles? But there weren’t two such beasts, were there?
I didn’t bother questioning the frightened man any further. Instead, Persephone and I ran to the long room on the fourth floor, where Heliabel had once lived.
Where we’d sent Niles to keep him safe, thinking the danger came from below.
Cold air flooded into the room through a broken window. Despite the breeze, a horrid stench clung to the room. Curtains lay in a pile nearby, and the mahogany table had been overturned, the chairs around it scattered.
Two dragonnish creatures clung to the mansion’s facade, stirring the air with their rotting wings. Surely it was they who had smashed the windows and overturned the table. Niles and Heliabel lay near the hearth, both of them thoroughly enmeshed in a strange, sticky webbing that glowed with magic. They seemed to be unconscious.
Christine stood before them with her legs braced, a gilded candelabrum gripped in her hands like a club. She faced down a man dressed in the robes and featureless mask I’d come to associate with the Fideles cult.
When we entered the room, she glanced in our direction. It was her undoing. In that instant of inattention, the sorcerer flung what appeared to be a short piece of black silk rope at her.
Christine swung the candelabrum, just a fraction of an instant too late. The rope touched her arm—and instantly adhered, transforming to a sticky web that began to wrap around her body.
“Christine!” I raced across the room, my sword cane at the ready. Before I could reach either her or the sorcerer, one of the winged creatures lunged at me.
Its snapping teeth caught the arm of my coat, ripping through it and scraping off skin. I thrust my sword cane at it. The point of the blade skittered off its bony muzzle, caught on mold-furred skin—then broke free and went directly into an eye.
The monster jerked back with a shriek that forced me to clap my hands over my ears. Its wings spread and flapped as it thrashed.
I saw the spell even as Persephone cast it, the warp and weft of the very universe bending to her will. A blast of wind caught the creature’s outstretched wings, sending it tumbling free of the building.
“Now the other one!” I called.
But Persephone’s only answer was a shout of pain. Shocked, I turned, and saw she was under a second assault, just like the first. As if something sought to drag the arcane fire free of her very bones.
The sorcerer didn’t waste the opportunity. Even as she collapsed, the black webbing began to form around her.
No.
I gripped my sword cane and ran at the man. But before I could reach him, the second creature shoved its bulk halfway through the smashed window. A clawed hand struck me with stunning force. For a moment, my feet left the ground. Then I crashed into the overturned table hard enough to drive the breath from my lungs.
I lay there, struggling to move, to breathe. My sword cane had fallen from my fingers, and I forced my hand to move, searching for it blindly before the sorcerer could act.
Too late. One of the black silk ropes hit me, rapidly growing into the same bonds that covered the rest. I fought, but the strands were implacable, seeming to expand more rapidly the more I struggled. Within seconds, I was thoroughly trussed.
Helpless.
The sorcerer approached and bent over me. My heart pounded with fear—did he mean to kill me now? A wild longing for Ival gripped me, and I prayed he was all right, that whatever had attacked Persephone hadn’t affected him.
My captor lifted his mask slightly and blew a palm full of powder directly into my face.
Surprise made me gasp—and draw the substance into my lungs. Instantly, a heavy languor gripped my limbs. I fought against it, but it was no use. My eyes drooped closed on the sight of the winged creature stretching out its hand to grasp me. As I slid into unconsciousness, the last thing I heard was the distant ringing of the telephone.