Magis Read online

  Della’s colorless lips moved and sounds emerged. But they weren’t words. More like emotions given auditory form.

  She was quickly running out of time.

  Beyond the door, something crashed, the impact so massive the pictures on the walls trembled. Growling sounds were interspersed with the wet sound of ripping flesh. I shuddered, forcing myself to concentrate on the task at hand.

  I reached out and took Della’s ghostly hand, nearly dropping it again. The flesh was worse than cold. There was a rubbery and clammy feel to it, like death, which made me wish I’d never pressed my skin against hers. But I gritted my teeth. “I’m going to try to enhance your magic, I told her.”

  Her fingers tightened against mine and the cold seared my skin, a painful jolt that had me reaching deep for the will to hold on.

  Della’s lips moved again but, though I leaned close, I couldn’t understand the words.

  I closed my eyes and reached for the ribbon of fairy magic I’d pulled into my core, wrapping magic around it where it sat, inert and unresponsive.

  The power I tried to infuse it with fell away as if the two parts were opposing magnetic poles and inherently repellent to each other. I tried again and again to reinforce the energy…to make it stronger…but nothing worked.

  Della’s lips moved, her grip tightened on mine, surprisingly strong and shapely fingernails digging into my flesh. I leaned close. “What is it? What are you trying to tell me?”

  Her insubstantial form wavered, blipping like a hologram that was losing its ability to transmit. The grip on my arm increased, belying the wispy quality of her form.

  Her lips moved, her silvery gaze locked on mine.

  I strained to hear.

  Her body shuddered, her nails slicing through my flesh.

  I winced, losing the battle not to pull away. But somehow she held on. And her gaze slipped past me, to the door.

  Fear became a living thing on her translucent face. Her lips moved again…drawing on energy she could scarcely afford to spend. And I finally heard what she was trying to tell me.

  Run!

  10

  The snarl was mere inches from my ear. Hot spittle hit my cheek and, before I could dive away from it, fangs sank deep into my throat.

  Agony speared through me, hot and bitter, like a sour taste on my tongue.

  The horrible thing wrapped me in a spidery grasp and sucked, the sound terrible in the sudden silence of the house.

  Vampyre? I asked myself, immediately dismissing the idea as something deep inside me tore and magic began to rip from me in a wash of white-hot agony.

  The thing was drawing my enhancing energy, making itself stronger even as it drained me of my life-giving blood.

  I screamed, tugging on the magic in the air and yanking it blindly to me. Purple energy glowed around my hand and I reached up, smacking the monster in the chest and spearing the power into him in a wild, untamed rush.

  It hit him hard, ripping him away and flinging him across the room to smash against the wall.

  Della lifted an insubstantial hand and squeezed it into a fist. In response to her command, the floor buckled in a violent groundswell and the soil beneath the floor surged upward like a wave, covering the horrible creature and pulling it beneath a rich, black wave.

  I placed my hand over the ragged tear in my throat. It came away covered in my blood. Hot blood streamed down my throat, saturating my tee and weakening me with the force of its loss.

  Dizziness swamped me as the blood flowed, but I gritted my teeth against it. The thing that had attacked me wasn’t gone. It would be back and stronger than before, thanks to the energy it had stolen from me.

  I forced myself to my feet, staggering toward Della. “What is that thing?” I asked her. “How do I stop it?”

  She shook her head. “Go. Leave me.”

  As tempting as leaving was… “I’m not leaving you with that thing.”

  “You can’t…” She stopped, narrow chest heaving as if she was finding it hard to breathe. “You can’t help.”

  Across the room, the soil rolled and I knew the monster was digging its way upward again.

  I clasped her icy hand. “Tell me how to help you.”

  She licked her dry lips. “You can’t.”

  “I’m not leaving. Please, Della.”

  Her eyelids fluttered closed and I thought I’d lost her. “Della!” I shook her slightly, her weight insubstantial as air in my hands.

  “The soil,” she rasped out. “There’s magic in the soil.”

  The earth geysered upward and the fanged monster it had imprisoned flew out of it in a spray of black dirt.

  The thing hovered a foot above the earth, chalk-white flesh stretched over its skeletal head. Its fangs were brown and curved, the canines an inch long apiece with a deadly-looking row of triangular teeth between them. A bright red stream of blood…my blood…trailed down its chin. The monster had glossy black eyes and dull black claws at the ends of its skeletal fingers. There was no flesh on its form, only dead-looking skin stretched over bones.

  As I stared at the creature, its colorless lips curved slowly upward. “You have a tasty soul,” the thing rasped, its voice coming from several places at once.

  Despite my resolve to fight, I found myself taking a step backward as the voice scoured over my senses like sandpaper. My knees wobbled and I nearly hit the ground.

  “You need to leave,” I said, despair rising at the breathy, uncertain sound of my voice.

  It laughed, the maniacal sound layered on the air as if there were several of the monsters in the room instead of one.

  I took another step back, icy fingers sliding up my spine from the sound.

  “I will leave,” it said. “As soon as I’ve eaten my fill.”

  “Goddess’s galoshes,” I breathed out, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. I needed backup.

  The thought made me wonder where Hawk and the dog had gone. Fear razored through me at the realization that they’d been too quiet for too long.

  Had the thing across the room already dispatched them?

  The floor shifted beneath my feet. I jumped back as it rolled upward, spilling Della into the earth. The boards rolled and undulated toward the creature across the room, shooting toward the ceiling as the monster leaped into the air.

  I heard him slam against the scarred wood as I dropped to my knees, plunging my hands into the earth. It was cool against my feverish skin, a rich, loamy scent wafting from its moist surface.

  Across the room, the wooden floor shuddered, a board splintering as a clawed hand broke through the barrier.

  I forced my gaze downward, my attention locking on my goal. Energy rose from the soil, its imprint ancient and its touch like silk against my skin. It was unlike any magic I’d ever handled. Still, when I tugged at its strands, the magic seemed eager to come to me. I pulled it deep into my core, wrapping my enhancing magic around it and feeling it grow and swell against the edges of my core. I let it build, feeding it energy until it fairly burst from my skin. I stared in wonder at the violet glow rising above my skin and reveled in the feeling of power swelling my every cell.

  The wooden barrier exploded outward and the thing flew at me, fangs wetly gleaming and claws outstretched.

  I braced for it, not wanting to expend Della’s magic on the monster when I needed every bit of it to make her whole again.

  Fortunately, I didn’t need to use the pulsing energy that saturated me.

  An enormous black form flew through the door, hitting the monster with the force of a runaway train. The attack carried the monster and the giant black dog across the room and through the window, their entangled forms disappearing into the night beyond the shattered glass.

  I didn’t waste any time taking advantage of the respite. I dropped to my knees, placing a hand over Della’s heart and one on her forehead. I tried to push the energy into her, but it resisted, clinging to my skin.

  Panic flared as th
e sounds of growling rose beyond the window. Something slammed up against the outside of the house. My panic grew.

  What if the magic wouldn’t take?

  I tried again to ease Della’s fae magic into her flesh, despair filling me as it resisted again.

  I was too late. She was already gone.

  My hands slid off her cold form, falling against the cool soil.

  I’d failed.

  The dirt rose around my hands, wrapping them in a silky embrace and drawing the enhanced magic from me.

  I watched in wonder as the violet-colored energy formed a network of what looked like veins in the soil. A network that spread and branched a dozen times like the veins beneath a person’s skin. And then they began to flow toward Della’s lifeless form, sliding over her skin and sinking inside. Carrying the magic into her as they went.

  A moment passed as I stared at her, transfixed by the process I’d just initiated. She lay perfectly still, her form hardly more than a glistening wisp of color on the air.

  I blinked, frowning.

  At some point, without my noticing, the fairy spirit had become more substantial. Her wispy form gained solidity and her gray cheeks turned a healthy pink again.

  Suddenly, her thin chest rose and she gasped in a healthy breath. Her eyes opened. And her head turned slowly to me. It wasn’t until her once again pink lips turned upward in a weary smile that I finally breathed.

  “Thank you,” Della said.

  I clasped the hand she offered me. It was still cool, but that was probably normal. Her skin no longer felt like dead flesh. “You’re welcome.” I panted. “You scared me for a minute.”

  She just shook her head, her smile fading away. “Is it gone?”

  “I…”

  Footsteps pounded down the hall and I tensed.

  I shoved to my feet and turned toward the door, yanking energy from the air. The power slammed into me, nearly taking me down again, and boiled eagerly at my fingertips as I faced the door.

  Hawk stumbled inside. He was too pale and had blood dripping down the side of his face.

  His gaze slid around the room. When he spoke, his voice was a soft growl. “Where is it?”

  I let the energy fall away, breathing a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure if the relief was because I didn’t have to fight the nasty thing again. Or if I was glad to see that Hawk was alive.

  Probably both.

  “The dog carried it outside.” I looked toward the window, only just then realizing the night beyond had gone quiet. “I hope he’s all right.”

  Hawk sagged against the door, one hand rubbing blood from his face and onto his jeans. “Well, that was fun.”

  The tension shattered in the room and I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “Yeah. Tons of fun.”

  A soft whining sounded outside the window. The dog’s head appeared within the empty window frame. Its gaze brightened when it saw us.

  I hurried over, “Are you all right?” I asked the big canine, my hands reaching through to test his fur. There were glossy patches of blood, but he didn’t seem to be damaged in any substantial way. “Good boy,” I told him, resting my forehead against his and earning a long, wet lick on the cheek for my concern.

  “I need to name you, don’t I,” I asked him.

  He whined softly.

  “It’s Nicht,” Hawk’s deep voice said behind me.

  I turned in surprise, finding him standing only a foot away. I hadn’t even heard him move. “You must be part cat,” I told him, my hand covering my suddenly pounding heart.

  He shook his head, his expression filled with horror. “Please, don’t insult me. Cats are bossy.”

  I lifted an accusatory brow and he shook his head, though a grin trembled on his lips.

  Then his words sank in. “Wait. What did you say about his name?”

  He nodded toward the big canine, reaching out to scratch it beneath the chin. “His name is Nicht.”

  I felt my eyes go wide. “You know him?”

  Hawk held my gaze, a thread of worry sliding through his. “You could say that.”

  “What else could I say?” I asked, narrowing my gaze on him.

  He sighed. “You could say that he was my dog. Or, to be more specific. He’s my hellhound.”

  11

  I sat on the roof between my bedroom window and the tallest peak, staring at the horizon as the sun began to rise in a spectacular play of color.

  Tiny nails scritched along the shingles as Boyle came down from his favorite perch on the peak to snuggle up next to me.

  I wrapped an arm around his tiny body and sighed. Watching dawn come was a favorite activity for us. We’d been doing it since he came to me as an infant. Even then, he’d laugh and point toward the flares of distant color and grab his adorable little toes with excitement.

  His joy in the sight had become slightly more reserved as he’d grown, but it was no less real.

  “You tired, Glynnie.”

  It wasn’t a question. He could feel when I was tired. As he could sense when I was in danger. I counted my blessings, again, that he’d listened to me and hadn’t followed me to Della’s house. Though I’d found him clinging to the roof on that side of the house, his tail wrapped around the chimney so he could lean out into the night and make a quick leap if he thought I needed him.

  It was the hardest thing about having a baby gargoyle. Gargoyles are innately protective, especially of those they love. Boyle was far too young to protect me in any but the most basic sense. He would have just put himself in danger.

  But he’d have been a delicate meal for the soul swallower Hawk and I had encountered at Della’s.

  I shuddered, and his head lifted from my shoulder. “Bad man?”

  Nodding, I kissed his warm forehead. “Very bad.”

  “Puppy and Hawk hepped you stop him?”

  I rested my chin on his head so he couldn’t see my frown. Hawk’s revelation had been a shock. For several reasons. The most important of which was the fact that he hadn’t told me about the dog ─ hellhound ─ sooner. I gulped at the realization that Boyle had been very rambunctious around Nicht. The big hound could have hurt the baby. And that made me crazy with anger.

  So why hadn’t Hawk told me? It was the question I’d been chewing on before Boyle joined me. And I still hadn’t come up with an answer that didn’t feel like betrayal.

  And snooping.

  “Yes.” I looked down at Boyle. “The puppy’s name is Nicht.”

  Boyle’s orange brows lifted in surprise. “Glynnie name him?”

  “No,” I said, forcing my expression to remain neutral. “Hawk did. He’s Hawk’s dog.” I pulled Boyle into my lap, wrapping my arms protectively around him. “He’s a hellhound,” I told the baby. “Hellhounds are dangerous. So I want you to stay away from him.”

  “Aw, Glynnie!” he objected.

  “No arguing. I want you to promise.”

  Boyle’s bottom lip stuck out, and he frowned up at me.

  After a minute, I strummed a finger over it, making it vibrate. He giggled and I smiled. I tapped his adorable little nose. “Just until I know for sure who he is and what he wants. Okay?”

  Boyle gave me a long-suffering sigh and nodded. “Otay, Glynnie.”

  “Good. Are you hungry?”

  He jumped up, bouncing energetically on his toes. “Yeth, yeth, yeth!”

  I followed him to my bedroom window and waited while he climbed inside. He was bouncing happily on my bed as I slid a leg through and hesitated.

  Headlights cut across the front yard, bathing the big tree in yellow light and causing a family of raccoons to scurry higher, chittering angrily at the intrusion.

  I frowned down at the unfamiliar car, watching as the passenger-side door opened and a long, slender form unfolded itself, a handsome face turning upward, unerringly finding me where I sat sideways on the sill.

  He lifted a hand but I only frowned, not bothering to return the wave.

  The man
leaned back inside the car and his voice trickled upward as he pulled a suitcase from the back seat. He thanked the driver and waited while the car pulled back out of the drive, wasting no time hightailing it back down the street.

  “Goddess’s galoshes,” I grumbled unhappily. “What is he doing here?”

  Artur Forester, a.k.a. my older brother, stood on Victoria’s front porch and glowered at the door, which refused to open for him.

  If I’d been a bit more mature, I would have helped him out. And, I would…eventually. But in the meantime, I stood in front of the large picture window with the lights off so he couldn’t see me, and grinned like a high school teen watching a mean girl get rejected by the star quarterback.

  It was just too sweet to cut short.

  “Glynnie, open the demon-possessed door.”

  My grin widened. “It’s open,” I called out, a mean chuckle escaping before I could stop it.

  There was a growl. It might have been Nicht, but I doubted it.

  “Who dat?” Boyle asked, his cheeks full of the chips I’d given him to keep him from barging onto the porch and letting my unwelcome visitor inside. “That, sweet boy, is your Uncle Art.”

  His eyes got big and he crunched loudly on a particularly large chip. “Dat Uncca Artur?”

  I frowned down at the little gargoyle. “You remember him?” My brother’s absence from Boyle’s life was actually one of the reasons I was ticked at him. My brother had neglected a lot of things in his thirty-six years. Boyle was one of them. And Victoria was another. The old house was currently letting her feelings on that neglect be known.

  And she had my full support.

  “This demon-spawn house won’t let me in and you know it. Now, either open this door, or I’m going to do something neither one of you is gonna like.”

  Art tugged a fire stick from his pocket and flicked it on. He held it toward a tatty rocker whose dried and cracked weave would no doubt grab hold of the flame and create an easy bonfire.

  My pulse didn’t even rise. Instead, I reached out and touched the wall. “You gonna let him get away with that?”