Ravenous

Chapter 2

Screaming.

Never a good word in her line of work.

Holly sorted through possible plans of attack. She had to get this exactly right. Six people are trapped inside.

Raglan was in his SUV, smoking a cigarette and settling himself to wait. Alessandro lounged against the fence, giving her the space to finish thinking. There was no 1-800 Haunted House Help Line she could call. She was it.

Sometimes it sucked to be special.

"Did you ever meet any of the Flanders family?" Alessandro asked, breaking into her gloomy thoughts. Now he was standing close enough that the folds of his coat were softly brushing her fingers. The caress of the leather was sensual, distracting.

"I was in high school when the last Flanders passed away," Holly replied. "Grandma said the family made the House of Usher look like Tiny Tim and the Cratchits. No wonder the old homestead went rogue."

"Oh. Remind me why I agreed to help you with this?"

"I dunno, because you might get to beat something up." She gave a wry smile. "You like that part. Plus, I pay you a percentage for it."

"I want more than mere cash."

"What?" Holly gave him a sharp look.

His expression was amused. The fitful light showed all the planes and hollows of his face, the strong nose and the long lines that ran beside his mouth. Fiercely individual. All too handsome.

"Nothing either of us would regret," he said. "Just some assistance with an investigation of my own. I have need of your special talents."

Holly frowned, curious. Alessandro ran his own collections agency, putting his natural vampire aggression to good use, but sometimes he took on less usual jobs. "What do you want me to do?"

His gaze traveled to Raglan's truck, cautious. "What do you know about summoning spells?" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "More specifically, how to track the magic user who is casting them?"

"Why?"

"So that I can rap their knuckles. Someone trashed a client's warehouse. He suspects sabotage. I found the remains of a ritual circle."

Holly folded her arms. "Wait a minute. Property damage? From a summoning spell?"

"Depends on what you summon."

"Oh. Right." Holly considered. "I can do it, as long as no one's tried to cover up the evidence. Shielding spells are something else."

"Too hard to move?"

"I'm all about the small-M, bread-and-butter magic. I banish ghosts and find lost property. Magic with a big, bold capital M—necromancy and the like—is outside my usual sandbox."

He looked hopeful. "Then you'll take a look? As a favor?"

"Absolutely. As you know, magic is always fun until your head blows up," Holly said, only half joking. Her last trip into big-M territory had left her power handicapped, almost like a quarterback who had blown a knee.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. Anyway, I'm ready to get started."

Holly wiped her sweating palms on her jeans. As usual, she had preperformance butterflies.

Alessandro pushed the gate open with his foot. The old iron hinges gave a wheezing squeak. They both paused, waiting for a reaction. The house was still and silent.

Vampires didn't need an invitation to enter a derelict property. Alessandro stepped through the gate, his posture poised and alert. She watched him move, pale hair swinging with the glide of his body. She followed, searching with her psychic senses. If Alessandro was ready for corporeal enemies, she could take care of the rest.

Holly felt the presence of the house ahead, curled like an animal waiting to pounce—not exactly patient, but willing to let them make the approach. "This house isn't almost sentient," she said in a low voice. "It's fully aware."

Alessandro didn't look back. "I suppose that makes this a fair fight."

"Good to stay positive," Holly replied dryly. "Me, I like my evil entities stupid."

Half-buried paving stones zigzagged to the porch. Fronds of grass brushed her ankles, grit and moss making her soles slide with a wet, crunching noise that did nothing for her nerves. She could smell rotted fruit from beneath the apple and pear trees that filled the corners of the lot. No one had picked up the windfalls.

They were nearly to the porch before the house stirred, a whisper that sounded through the grass and leaves. Why are you bringing the dead to my doorway? Send the vampire away. I cannot use him.

"Precisely," Holly replied under her breath. Vampires were the perfect backup. Nothing ever wanted to eat them.

The ground rumbled, a quick, irritated shake.

Alessandro was instantly at her side. "What was that?"

"It knows we're coming." Holly craned her neck, studying the scrollwork framing the porch. There were protective sigils carved into the crumbling wood, but the magic had long since faded away.

Alessandro looked at her expectantly.

"It's safe," she said. "Safe-ish, anyway."

With a rustle of leather, Alessandro mounted the porch, a tall, broad shadow in the darkness. He pulled a slender black flashlight out of his pocket. He didn't really require it, but the extra light helped Holly. "Do you have the key?" he asked.

"We won't need it. It wants me to come in." She joined him on the porch, her footfalls human-loud.

Yes, come in, come in. She felt an impatient tugging, as if someone had her by the front of her jacket. Holly braced against it, but a sudden jerk made her stumble forward.

Alessandro caught her, strong hands pulling her against his side. Her shoulder collided with hard muscle, the cold metal of his coat buttons scraping against her cheek. He held her still for a moment, giving her time to find her feet.

"It thinks I'm literally a pushover." A hot thread of anger wound through her gut.

"It hasn't seen you push back."

Come in, come in, come in. The words came from all sides, from inside her head and out. The voice split into a thousand different pairs of lips, a whispered chaos sipping at Holly's strength of mind. Meaning splintered, all logic crumbling apart.

Holly gripped Alessandro's arm, using the solid feel of him as a focus. Taking a long breath, she clenched her jaw, summoning the anger simmering just below her thoughts. The shards of her will drew together, pushing the invading, sibilant chorus away.

Back off. I have six people to find. Six souls. Six lost ones.

No. They're mine.

Think again, Demolition Sale. You don't get to chow down on your playdates.

Then come in, little one, and stop me. I invite you. I dare you.

The door rattled, the sudden loud sound making Holly's skin crawl. Reluctantly she pulled away from Alessandro as he flicked on his flashlight, shining it on the lock. As she watched, the ornate handle turned, the paneled door sailing open and releasing a stale gust of wood rot and paint thinner. The entryway gaped, empty and dark.

Whispers swirled in the darkness, imitating the motes of dust dancing in the beam of the flashlight. Her stomach cold, Holly stepped over the threshold. The house's energy pressed in on her, a sinister brush of wings over her face and hands.

She thumbed on her own flashlight. The beam caught Alessandro's eyes, and they flared the radiant yellow of a cat's. Predator.

At the sight of those eyes, Holly jumped. She couldn't help herself. Instinct made her heart speed. He lifted his chin, nostrils flaring. Could he smell the quickening of her pulse? The sour tang of nerves?

Always interesting when your coworker counts you as a food group, Holly thought to herself. In the time they'd worked together he'd never given her cause to worry, but that faint whiff of doubt never went away, either.

"Where do you want to start?" he asked, the question reassuringly mundane. He flipped a light switch on and off, confirming that the power was out. The house was oddly quiet. Whatever magic had cut the electricity also muffled any outside noise.

Holly shone her light to the left. The beam showed a room that would probably have been the parlor. Holly walked forward, playing the light from side to side. The ceiling was high, a threadwork of cracks showing in the vaulted plaster. It was the kind of space that could have comfortably held plush, overstuffed Victorian furniture. Now the room was empty except for a cluster of paint cans and dirty rags, the source of the pervasive chemical smell.

Holly slowed her steps, slotting pieces of her plan together. "By the feel of this place, it's not going down without a fight. Once we find the six victims and get them out of here, I'll try to neutralize the house by breaking the original sentience spells. If that doesn't work, I may be calling the fire department for a more dramatic solution."

Something moved in the consciousness of the house, almost as though it flinched.

Alessandro nodded. "Start with a room-by-room for the missing students?"

"Yeah, visual sweep first." She glanced around, reminding herself to watch for floating or falling objects. The house could fight with anything, and probably would before the night was over. With the beam of her flashlight arcing from side to side, Holly moved through the parlor, Alessandro at her elbow.

Someone had left a bagel wrapped in a Campus Joe's napkin and a newspaper. Alessandro picked up the top section of the paper. "It's today's."

"Must have belonged to one of the profs who came in this morning." Holly skimmed the headlines, irresistibly drawn by the heavy black type.

Pit Bull Eats Zombie: Murderer or Scavenger?

Can the Canucks Get Back-to-back Wins with the Oilers on the Road?

New Rooftop Vagrancy Law Makes Gargoyles Homeless in Richmond.

She remembered her boyfriend, Ben, going on and on about the vagrancy law and rent controls over breakfast. He was sadly both a morning person and a news junkie. He was already flying on back-to-school excitement, ready to resume teaching his economics students. By the first day of classes he'd be bouncing off the walls.

Alessandro tilted the paper toward his flashlight, centering the yellow beam on the hockey article before he dropped the paper back to the floor. "What's in the next room?"

Ahead stood a wide opening that might once have held pocket doors. Beyond was a long dining room, empty but for rotting drapes dangling from a thick oak rod. Alessandro took a step forward, but Holly caught his arm. "Wait. There's something here."

He set his booted foot down with the care of one crossing a minefield.

She glimpsed it from the corner of her eye, a glittering black flow in the darkness. "This is new." If she turned to look straight on, it disappeared. "It's right in front of us."

"What?" He was looking from side to side, his acute night vision still missing what her witch's eyes could see.

"I've never seen anything like this. It looks like someone's pouring down the night sky."

"Pardon?"

The flow broke through the ceiling, coursing down the wall to Holly's left like glittering black syrup. Points of light fell—or perhaps they rose—speeding and slowing, spiraling as the slow drape of thick liquid folded and pooled at the baseboard. From there the ooze snaked across the room inches from their feet, finally running between the cracks by the baseboard. It was impossible to tell which way the river of black progressed—from the basement to the ceiling or vice versa. It somehow looked like it did both at once.

What Holly could tell was that the sparkling blackness radiated a feeling of threat. A prickling sensation ran up her shins, as if an electrical charge surrounded the river, but that was only part of its disturbing presence. It was faintly warm, still fresh from whatever source disgorged it. She didn't know what would happen if they stepped in it, but one way or another, it wouldn't be good.

"Blood. Or something almost like it," said Alessandro, his voice hollow. "I can smell it."

Holly's stomach rolled over, his tone as disturbing as her thoughts. "It's not blood."

"Then what is it?"

"I've heard of this happening in rogue houses, but I've never seen it before. A really bad house doesn't just absorb ambient energy, it goes on the attack. The black ooze is its… I dunno… its digestive system, I guess. It's hunting. It's draining the six people here. What you smell is… um… it's their lives." Her voice trailed off to a whisper.

"Where's it coming from?"

"Up there." Holly pointed. "Or beneath us. I can't tell which way it's going. Wherever it begins, that's where we'll find our victims."

At her words, the river of darkness faded from sight. She had seen what the house wanted her to see. It was squeezing its victims dry.

If it was doing that to ordinary humans, what did it mean to do to a witch like her?

The energy level in the air dropped, dragging the temperature down to near freezing. The whispering voices in her head grew fainter, as if the house were drawing away to plan its next move.

This wasn't like any other house-gone-bad she had encountered. Usually they were evil but predictable. Hungry and dumb. This place, on the other hand, had done postgrad work in homicidal malevolence with a minor in seriously creepy, and she sensed it was just warming up.

Things were going to get interesting when it hit full stride.