CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Elysian
Elysian was on her second glass of wine when the wards went on alert. Her whole body jangled with the knowledge that someone was trying to get into their home, someone who would bring hurt and suffering if the wards didn’t keep them at bay.
The glass slipped from her fingers, splashing deep red stains all over the rug. It bounced once then rolled, unbroken, under the couch and came to rest against her discarded shoes.
Tila began to grizzle, making the guttural noise at the back of her throat that meant she was about to launch into a full-blown wail. Katie threw herself at her daughter, clapping a hand over her mouth before she could let out a proper cry. Tila’s eyes widened, and the shock of her mother’s bizarre reaction was enough to knock her off the tantrum track. She melted into her mother, tucking her head against Katie’s shoulder.
The wards went off a second time.
Annette popped into existence, unusually pale. The light from the living room’s lamp was visible through her chest. That meant that the wards were sucking at all the available magical energy from the effort of repelling the intruders. So much so that there wasn’t enough available for Annette to manifest properly.
“They’ve circled around to the back of the house,” she said. Her voice sounded odd, like she was shouting at them through a tunnel.
“Take Tila to the attic,” Elysian snapped at Katie, who was already halfway to the ladder, her arm curled over her daughter’s back like a shield.
Praneeta and Julia moved as if to follow Elysian to the back porch, but she held up a hand. “Stay out of sight,” she whispered. “Whatever this is—whoever this is—the less they know about who is inside the house the better.”
Elysian stepped out onto the porch, scanning the dark yard for signs of the intruder. To her shock, she saw the familiar shape of Walt standing just outside her back gate, lit by the glow of a street light. A pretty blonde woman was leaning into his side, her long pale fingers wrapped around his upper arm.
“Hi there,” the woman called out. “Sorry for sneaking in the back way, but for some reason we couldn’t get your front gate to open.”
Elysian’s stomach turned over. Was this Walt’s mysterious girlfriend? She’d never had the wards repel someone before. Was it possible they were so finely tuned they would turn away someone otherwise harmless just because it would hurt Elysian to see them?
“It’s a trap, Elysian,” Walt shouted. “Go back inside. Lock the doors.”
“Fuck’s sake,” the woman said. She raised her other arm, and the barrel of her handgun gleamed in the light. “You really don’t get how this whole ‘hostage’ thing works, do you, Walt?”
“If it’s any consolation,” Elysian said, “the ruse wouldn’t have worked even if he played along.”
“I really wanted to do this without waving a gun around on a residential street. It’s tacky.” The woman sighed. “Oh, well. We’ll do it the old-fashioned way. Drop whatever the hell this is—” She tapped the gun against the air, at the point where the wards met the edge of the property line. The air around the gun shimmered as it was pushed away. “Or I’m going to go Old Yeller on your puppy here.”
“Don’t,” Walt pleaded. “I brought her here. This is my fault.”
“I brought you here,” Elysian countered. “This is my fault.”
“Sweet,” the woman said. “I’m going to count to five. One.”
“Careful, Willa,” a new voice said. “What if she throws a fireball at you or something?” The voice was coming from the shadowed part of the street, where Elysian could just make out the shape of a second man.
“This isn’t goddamn Skyrim, Doug,” Willa snapped back.
It was less than a split second of distraction, but it was enough. Walt slipped from her grasp and threw himself forward, over the gate and through the wards. They let him through without a hint of resistance, but when Willa tried to follow him she was pushed back, so hard that she fell backwards onto the street.
“Walt,” Elysian shouted. Her heart was trying to beat all the way out of her chest, or maybe climb up her throat.
He ran to her, crashing through the garden and pounding up the garden path. She ran to meet him, colliding with him at the top of the wooden steps. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her off her feet, crushing her against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, pounding just as fast as hers was.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her neck. “She had the address and she already had the gun.”
“It’s fine. You’re safe. She can’t get through the wards,” Elysian whispered back. “Everything’s going to be OK.”
“I hate to break up this little moment you’re having,” Willa called. “But you know…” She waved the gun.
“There’s nothing you can do to us,” Elysian shouted back. “You can throw yourself against the wards all night. Fire every bullet you have. You can’t touch us.”
Willa stood bathed in the street light, her face a mask of frustration and anger. Then it smoothed out, and she put the creepy friendly persona back on. “Huh. That may be true. I can’t get in there. But what I can do is stay here. And call every hunter I know between here and the Canadian border. You may be safe in there, but my question for you is… how much food do you have?”
Elysian grabbed Walt by the wrist and practically dragged him inside the back door, out of sight of Willa and her creepy companion. She ducked into the guest bathroom, shutting the door behind them to keep anyone else out. She owed the circle an explanation, but she just needed one minute of privacy for the two of them, to see that he was really not hurt.
“Are you OK?” she whispered. She ran her hands down his arms, over his back, feeling for any spots of blood or signs of injury.
“I’m OK,” he whispered back. “I know I took a risk, but I was sure she wouldn’t actually fire the gun. Not out on the street like that.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “We could have found a safer solution. Don’t put your life at risk, ever. I was scared half to death.”
“You didn’t seem scared,” he said. “You never seem scared. Everything this weekend has thrown at you, you’ve never flinched once.”
“I’ve been terrified almost every minute of it,” she admitted. “I’m ten pounds of crazy in a five-pound bag right now. I’m just worried that if I let any leak out the whole thing is going to explode.”
“This is all my fault,” he said. “Once I realized she was dangerous it was too late. She already had your address, and I thought that at least if I brought her here I could warn you. If I tried to fight her and she killed me, you would have no idea she was coming.”
“Don’t talk about you getting killed,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “Even hypothetically. Just don’t.”
He grabbed her wrists, and looked deep into her eyes. “I’m here. I’m OK.”
She hated herself for it, but it brought her a strange sense of peace knowing that he had screwed up so badly. She wasn’t the only idiot anymore. For the first time since she’d laid eyes on him, they were on an even footing. They were idiots together.
Annette popped into the bathroom, making the two of them jump apart in surprise.
“Annette!” Elysian yelped. “What happened to the rule about bathrooms and bedrooms?”
“I assumed it could be bent when our house was under attack.” Annette still looked like a projection of light, instead of the almost human appearance she usually had, but her fading didn’t seem to be getting any worse. “Whoever is out there is walking the perimeter, testing the wards. The power drain is… considerable. But they’ll hold. What’s going on?”
“Hunters. Just two of them, but they have at least one gun.” Elysian was surprised by how calm her own voice was.
Annette blinked, and mouthed ‘hunters?’
Elysian nodded. “We’re safe for the moment, but can you take everyone into the attic? Stay away from the windows.”
Annette disappeared, and Elysian turned back to Walt. He’d been oddly quiet.
Walt was leaning against the sink, staring down at his own hands. Elysian followed his eyes, and to her horror saw an angry red pattern blooming across the pale skin of his inner arm.
“What is that? Did she poison you?” she asked.
“I don’t remember anything that might have been…” his voice faltered as the pattern spread, darkening from scarlet to nearly purple. “Elysian, what’s growing in your garden?”
“Nothing really, not at this time of year. There’s some tansy. Wormwood. The hollyhocks have died but I think the monkshood is holding on.” She grabbed his arm and gently turned it, examining the rash in the light.
“None of that rings any bells, but this feels exactly like…” he sucked in a deep breath. “Like poison ivy. Or stinging nettles.”
“No poison ivy,” she said. “Here.” She pulled him over to the shower and turned the water on. “Whatever it is, we need to get it off.”
He undressed quickly, throwing his shirt on the floor and kicking his pants off. His chest was alight with the rash, red rolling over his chest and abs like he’d been splashed with paint.
“Maybe it’s the names,” she said, panic starting to rise in her chest. “You might know tansy as bitter buttons or cow bitter. Monkshood is also known as aconitum. Devil’s helmet.” Her blood ran cold. “Wolf’s bane.”
“That’ll do it,” he said through gritted teeth, from inside the spray of cold water.