SVM is owned by the clever and talented Charlaine Harris.
This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy, who is really just an amazing encourager/nudger, opinion-giver, and editor. Thank you!
I'm sorry that I missed the Tuesday update. Hopefully I am back on track here!
Also, I have started using twitter, so if you care to receive random notes from me in your feed, I'm chicpea9. Hope that's not inappropriate to mention here.
Chapter 12 - Vampire by Vampire the Goose is Plucked
Eric had given me his phone number, but only for emergencies, and so Mintah planned to send Leonard to Fangtasia to retrieve him, and possibly Pam, after dark. Meanwhile, I was privy to a little of what he'd learned the night before.
"I am sorry to say that the visit you received last night did nothing more than corroborate what I was already able to confirm in regards to the demon involvement."
I nodded. It was crystal clear by now that demons, not any other supernatural group, were behind the robbery.
"There are a number of new names, faces," Mintah continued. "I do not know to what extent you follow the politics of our world." I knew that he meant the demons' own world, and I understood that his statement was more of a question.
"Not at all, really," I admitted. "I don't really know anyone who goes between too often. Gladiola and Diantha sometimes go with their father, but they don't talk about it. Mr. Cataliades is almost always here. It's uh, still run by Lucifer, right?"
"For now," said Mintah.
I looked up sharply, half expecting him to be smirking with such a remark, but that's not something that Mintah does. I had no choice but to take it as candor.
"I don't know much," I offered.
Though I'm curious by nature, when it comes to worlds beyond this one and other dimensions, the scope just grows too large for me to take in. I have a hard enough time keeping everything straight here on regular old earth. Instead, I mentally categorize the likes of Hell along with Bhutan or Laos or Azerbaijan; faraway countries of which I know little. It's a poor analogy, but it literally helps me sleep at night. Contemplating the so much else that exists could keep a person lying awake at nights indefinitely.
"There are power struggles, as anywhere else. Just as with the fae, there are those who resent contact with this world, though the reasons are not the same," he said obliquely. "I was banished to this world, are you aware of this?"
I nodded, uncertain of how he would respond to my knowing things about him that he had not told me himself.
"And yet, I live quite pleasantly."
For lack of any other response, I just continued nodding. I actually had no idea how Mintah lived, apart from assuming a grandeur that comes with many centuries' accumulation of worldly assets.
"That bothers people back home?" I guessed. Suddenly I was thinking of modern parents sending misbehaving children to their bedrooms, wherein they have a television, a gaming console, and a computer, let alone books. Not exactly a punishment of deprivation.
"It is a matter of old, infrequently recollected, but perhaps it has been brought to some attention. Any other explanation seems petty, considering the scale of this interference."
"What is the goal?" I asked.
"We will find out. There is a group at work here. This is not hard to deduce based on the evidence. We will use our friend Mr. Glassport to determine who, and why, and then we will put this matter to rights." I mentally excluded myself from the latter part of the "we."
He left me alone shortly after that and I thought only fleetingly of Kenneth Glassport once again before I realized I had a phone call to make.
"Hello Sookie," came the warm voice of Gladiola. Where her older sister was kinetic in every sense of the word, Glad seemed to take more after her uncle; in manner, if not in looks. I could hear the smile in her rich alto voice as she greeted me, and I couldn't help but return it, though she could not see me.
Gladiola and Diantha have different mothers, obviously. Their resemblance is minimal. Gladiola's skin is a deep chocolate brown, with pale gold hair and huge, caramel colored eyes. She reminded me of a runway model; not pretty, at all, but striking and unearthly. Her beauty was alien. She could have made a prosperous career in Milan or New York, had she been only a foot or so taller.
"Hi Glad, how've you been?" I asked.
"I have been well. I hear you have been getting up to trouble, though."
"Not by choice," I argued.
"You must be careful, Sookie. Trouble is always looking for you."
I could hardly argue that.
"I'm being as careful as I can," I averred. "Do you know what happened last night?"
She hadn't heard the details, so I gave them to her. She made all of the appropriate noises, gasping or whimpering right along with my telling, letting me know I had her rapt attention.
"I am glad that your vampire was able to get there," she finally said. "But what will you do now?"
"That actually brings me to why I'm calling in the first place," I explained, and went on to tell her about how I'd met Kenneth, and the bits I'd gotten about his connection to her, and finally, as delicately as I could put it, why it had occurred to me that it seemed unlikely. She was unselfconscious in her reply.
"I agree, that is very strange. A human man! That would not end well for him, I think." Her laughter at the absurdity of such a suggestion was ever so slightly tinged with the mad malevolence I more often got from Diantha. It was little things like this, the tepid sadism, which always brought me up short. No matter how fond I was of my two adoptive "cousins," and truly, I did love them, they simply weren't my kind.
"But you do know him then?" I asked, in a quick scramble to gloss over what had been for me, at least, an awkward moment.
"I know him, and I know the family. We have not met for perhaps two years, though. There was a birth," she recalled. "They are bad people, Sookie."
Though I was morbidly interested to know what sorts of crimes could earn such an epithet from Gladiola, I didn't want to sidetrack the conversation.
"Was he there with Herbahz?" I asked.
"Who is Herbahz? I keep hearing this name lately."
I frowned against my cell phone. "He is Kenneth's sponsor, and a new client of Splendide... he was here last week."
"Oh, that makes sense then."
"Um, does it?" I asked.
"Herbahz is a human name, for the human world. Most do not keep their true names here..."
I could see what she meant. She and her sister were the best examples. What kind of demon names his daughters "Diantha" and "Gladiola"? No kind. But these were their names, for here. The same was true for Mr. Cataliades of course; I knew full well that there was no demon birth certificate (or whatever the corollary to these were - scrolls written in blood on the skin of flayed animals probably) naming him "Desmond."
A lot of supernatural creatures seemed to adopt new names over time. The fairies I knew who frequented this world had abandoned their Gaelic-sounding names and surnames for modern American ones. Even "Eric" was an Anglicization of an old name. For fleeting moments I was caught up with the idea that it was actually possible for these creatures to outlive their own names. I couldn't decide if that was amazing or tragic.
"So Julian Herbahz is a taken name, not his given one. What is his true name?" I finally asked.
"Haagenti," she said, matter-of-factly. The way she pronounced it reminded me of the ice cream, like Haagen-Dazs.
"I'm not familiar," I said.
"That is just as well," Gladiola agreed. "He is a grandson of... well. Their family is important in the other world."
"Why is he here, then?"
"I do not know."
"So Herbahz or Haagenti or whatever, he's an important guy... back home... but he's new to here."
"That's correct."
"And you know Kenneth, but you're not dating him."
She laughed again.
"Right, taking that as a no. So why did he say so?"
"I couldn't tell you. When will you be questioning him?" she asked me.
"As soon as Eric Northman rises for the night and gets here, I guess."
"You are keeping the strangest company nowadays, Sookie."
"Don't I know it," I agreed, with chagrin.
"You will call Uncle and tell him everything," she warned.
"I will. As soon as we have answers."
"Try not to be too conspicuous when you speak to Kenneth."
"I think that's why we're waiting for Eric, for the glamour," I said.
"Good. Well, I have to run," she said. "You will keep in touch, yes?"
"Of course."
We said our goodbyes then and rather than seeking out Mintah, I found myself in the front parlor, looking over a shelf full of antique books in search of a volume I knew had once been there, on demonology.
Human "knowledge" of demons, at least insofar as it has been recorded in books, is a very strange mixture of fact and fiction. It's the same with fairy-lore. I've learned that there are portions of truth in almost all mythologies. Given my field of interest, I find these gray areas of the historical record, where human and supernatural influences overlap, to be incredibly interesting.
This is the sort of thing that witches study in the academic sense. Contemporary humans tend to dismiss it all as occultism; at best as the fictional musings of unscientific minds, and at worst as heresies. As curios or collectibles, occult relics are extremely desirable. Brenda keeps a couple of objects as part of Splendide's showpiece collection, just the same way that she keeps an early ormolu mantle clock, and a first edition copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. These sorts of items come and go from our inventory, when the price is right. They adorn the parlor in the meanwhile, setting the tone and drawing interest from our clients, both of which can be redirected into sales.
I found the volume I was looking for, a reprint of the Ars Goetia, as edited by Aleister Crowley. This hilarious manual, and ones like it, give instruction and advisement for humans seeking to summon demons to do their bidding.
Tscha.
Nonetheless, the book does contain an excerpt of the rather expansive list of Who's Who of Hell, circa 1500 CE. The anonymous authors of the early medieval grimoires from which this information was compiled must have led very interesting lives.
The nearest match I found to the name Gladiola had given me was Haage. Apparently a Grand Duke, he had, at the unknown time of writing, fifty-seven sons, seventy-three daughters, and was the commander of thirty-nine legions. Legions of other, lesser demons, I assumed. His natural shape is something resembling a minotaur, part bull and part man, but in the case of Haage, with wings. There was a crude little drawing of the hideous figure. He was promised by the book to appear human, at the demand of the "conjurer." Special skills? Look at that. Transmutation.
"Mintah?" I called, without looking up. It was rude in the extreme. I don't really know why I'd expected his response to my shouting after him. I didn't get one.
I retreated back to the office and found a slip of paper to use as a book mark. It's not like I was going to dog-ear one of the pages! After that, I sat and read a bit more. I wondered vaguely if Mintah himself was in here. I didn't think any of Mr. Cataliades' antecedents would be. I'd never had the impression that their house was of particular importance, hence their choice to reside here.
I let myself be immersed in my reading to the point that I hardly registered Eric's arrival until he was sitting down beside me on the antique French sofa that was comically small for his large frame.
"Good evening Sookie."
"Hi," I greeted, barely looking up.
"What are you reading?" he asked, throwing an arm behind me and leaning over, his head next to mine. I handed over the book, cuing him to withdraw, and he sat back with the book in his lap, leafing through with one-handed indifference.
"On the subject of summoning demons, where is your employer?" he asked, returning the volume.
I shrugged. "Retrieving Kenneth maybe."
"There were no incidents today?" he inquired.
"None," I shook my head. "I have been here for a lot of the afternoon."
"How have you been feeling in regards to your health?"
"Fine, I guess. Your blood is waning a bit. I've had a chill the past couple of days, but I think that's just the winter weather," I shrugged.
He dropped his arm from the top of the sofa to my shoulder and rubbed his hand across my upper arm, attempting to create warmth with the small amount of friction. It was a familiar gesture in the sense that I had seen it performed by and for others countless times, even while my sensitivity to touch prevented it from being done to me very often. I shivered under his cool arm, laughing a little.
"I don't think that actually works if the warm-er has a lower body temperature than the warm-ee," I chuckled.
He stayed as he was though, and I found I wasn't particularly bothered by it. It might have been odd considering the source, but the pose felt friendly. It wasn't really a day for rejecting friendliness. Perhaps we were coming to an understanding.
"Does it wane for you as well?" I asked him. "The awareness of your blood in me, or whatever it is?"
I went back to leafing through the book he'd returned to me, and so I felt the slight sway of his body beside mine as he shook his head, rather than saw it.
"It will, but for now I am so unused to it that it seems quite strong whenever I allow my attention to focus on it."
"Is it constant?" I asked, wondering if it was anything like my own ability.
"At the moment, because you are here beside me, I feel you very strongly. I know that you are pensive. I do not have to try, I simply feel this, and I know that it is from you."
"Are you able to block it out?"
"Yes, but I will not do this. It is useful."
"What about from a distance?"
"I cannot explain. As an echo that I can follow to its source, perhaps. Tell me what you and Mintah have learned today," he said, ending the line of questioning. I obliged him though, and explained our suspicions about the source of the attacks and the very broad speculations as to why.
Mintah did return not long later with Kenneth Glassport, looking considerably less well-cared for than he had when last I'd seen him. His arms were bound behind him and his eyes were bloodshot with faint shadows underneath, as though he'd been denied sleep. He was still handsome, even haggard as he was. His eyes shot to Eric and I with alarm as he was pushed past us to stagger down the hallway. I got a steady stream of apprehension off him, but so far, he was still, in his conscious mind at least, unburdened by any betraying thoughts.
With a mild look in at our cozy scene, Mintah flicked his wrist, beckoning us to join them down to the conference room.
Not bothering to wait for instruction, I sat down beside Kenneth, back at the foot of the table. He glanced at me only cursorily, wondering if I was in trouble with Mintah and this vampire too. Rudas stood behind him near the wall, while Ghellert stood at the door. Eric was standing behind me, and to my right, sort of between Kenneth and I, and Mintah paced for a moment before finally settling on Kenneth's opposite side.
There was a lot of tension in the room. It radiated from the two shapeshifters, both on high alert, and though I couldn't sense it directly, I could see in Eric's posture that he felt it too. Time for business. My newfound chum had remained in the parlor; it was the ancient vampire who'd joined us in the conference room. At Mintah's gesture, Eric seized Kenneth by the scruff of the neck and wrenched his head up, capturing his gaze before Kenneth had a chance to avert his eyes.
Only then were Kenneth's hands unbound and spread out on the table. Mintah and I took either one.
"Who is your master?" Eric demanded.
I sighed at the crinkling static of Kenneth's mind. "Humans don't have masters, Eric."
"Who is your employer?" he rephrased, stiffly.
"My great uncle, Julian Herbahz."
"Ask his true name," I prompted. Kenneth didn't know. That was wrong.
"Ask how he's lying to us," I frowned. Kenneth didn't think he was lying.
I looked at Mintah. "Gladiola said it's someone called Haagenti."
Mintah nodded.
"You knew this?" I asked, letting both my surprise and then my irritation show.
"The creatures from your home bore the marks of loyalty to this family. I did not know which member had sent them," Mintah dismissed.
"Cards on the table, okay?" I demanded, with a brazen glare at my boss. "Who is Haagenti, and what is he to you?"
When Mintah did not answer I felt my frustration swell. Eric did too, and his hand came to rest on my shoulder. It was probably intended to be calming, but totally was not. It felt condescending. I tried to flick it away, but of course that failed. Evidently it was the vampire's turn to be diplomatic, or at least, his version of it.
"We are here to help you, demon. I do not see how you expect us to do this if you are not forthcoming about what you already know. If you prefer to keep things to yourself, I will take Sookie and leave."
Mintah and Eric had themselves a staring contest, which Mintah evidently lost. I felt an unreasonable stab of pride at that, and the twitch of Eric's fingers on my shoulder alerted me to the fact that he felt it too. That could get really annoying. I tamped down on the feeling immediately and waited for Mintah to speak.
"Haage is only a Duke, but his power and influence rival that of the Princes, and even some of the Kings. My source tells me that he hopes to grant our Lord a boon by returning me to face justice. Our Lord has little personal interest in my apprehension. This I have heard directly."
Mintah emphasized the last word with a pointed glance between Eric and I.
"You have demanded to know what matters have held my attention away from urgent matters here," he offered.
Well alright. I suppose congress with Lucifer himself was probably more pressing than demon-parts cleanup.
I nodded for Mintah to continue.
"As I said, each world has its politics, and should I be presented in capture, the usual conventions will take their course. Condemnation for me, and mine, and reward for those who have apprehended me."
"So the price on your head is promotion in the ranks," I said.
"There is no fixed price, there will only be the pressure to present a large boon, and perhaps the fear of rebellion if this is not met. As I have said - Haage's power rivals that of kings. What he is not given, he may well eventually take."
"Then Sookie was correct," Eric interrupted. "And this robbery is intended to be a trap to bring you here."
"It is that and more, I think, but to verify this, we need Mr. Glassport's compliance."
"But shouldn't you leave, immediately?" I said worriedly.
"I will not," said Mintah stiffly.
Beside us, Kenneth groaned. I clasped his hand tightly and realized that somehow he was fighting Eric's glamour. I said as much, but when Eric moved to reassert his influence over the man, I stayed him.
"No, wait, let it..." I mumbled, trying to focus on Kenneth's mind.
It wasn't unheard of for a person to break out of the glamour on their own; any serious stress would do it, if the vampire was not actively holding them. That's just something that's true of hypnosis in general. The conscious mind is what is suppressed, but the subconscious stays active. I'd seen evidence though that Eric's glamour was very strong. He'd held Jack and Daphne Mason both, seemingly indefinitely, and they'd been seriously panicking, either one. So whatever we'd just been discussing had evidently been more stressful to Kenneth Glassport than the broken jaw and threat of ugly death to Jack Mason, or the fear of loss of a lover to whom Daphne had an obsessive devotion.
"What do you see?" Eric asked me.
What I actually saw in his head was something like smoke clearing. There was Julian Herbahz talking to Kenneth in the hazy memory, and he seemed to be telling him an abridged version of his own life's story.
"Kenneth, how do you know Gladiola?" I asked him.
In his head, Julian was telling Kenneth about me and about Brenda. He was given very brief descriptions about each of our families - for me that was Mr. Cataliades and his nieces. He was being briefed to meet us for the first time.
"Your name is Kenneth. You will be charming and knowledgeable, beyond suspicion," I heard Herbahz tell Kenneth, in his memory. "You will be humble and chagrined when you have forgotten the glove. You will be observant and curious. Smile at the women..."
"I'm not entirely sure what I'm seeing," I frowned uncertainly. "He is remembering Herbahz telling him things that he already knows, like he is being programmed with certain responses."
I had the wild impulse to pinch Kenneth, just to make sure he wasn't an android robot or something. It was ludicrous, since I was plainly reading his human brain, but I did it anyway, reaching over and giving him a hard pinch, right on the muscle of his forearm. He lurched forward suddenly, trying to buck out of his chair, and his mind changed rapidly again.
Now the haze was totally clear and unlike before, there was no air of weariness about him. No benign regret that he could not be of more use to our investigation. Kenneth Glassport was mad as a wet cat.
Before I was fully aware of what was happening, Eric had scooped me up out of the chair and set me on my feet behind him as Rudas and Ghellert rushed forward to better restrain our prisoner, now gnashing his teeth almost like an animal.
I heard a slam and I peered around Eric like a child around a tree trunk and saw Kenneth's head forced against the table while Rudas held his arms behind his back. Ghellert then vanished, only to return a moment later with a role of duct tape, once again proving it to be the hostage-taker's best friend. Kenneth was cursing and struggling as they bound him, but once he was fixed to the chair, arms pinned to his sides, Eric stepped away from me again and brought the man back under his glamour, effectively ending the scuffle.
I looked around at the two guards, Mintah, and Eric in turn, trying to figure out what had just happened.
"It would seem that our guest has decided to show us his true colors at last," my employer said. "That is well. Ghellert, check outside and then return to the door. Rudas, back. Miss Stackhouse, are you well?"
"I'm just fine," I said, surprised to hear that my voice was wavering.
Ghellert elected to pass by my side of the table as he followed his order, stopping to give me the once over before repositioning my chair from where Eric had knocked it aside in his haste to shift me away. He stood over it like a maître d' waiting for me to resume my seat. As he left, I felt Eric's hand come to my shoulder once again.
"There is entirely too much happening right now," I mumbled to myself. I rubbed wearily at my eyes, calm now from the momentary shock.
"Eric, ask him how he knows Gladiola please and when did he last see her," I said.
"She is the daughter of the demon Nargal. We last met at the birth of the half-demon son of Glasya Labolas, two years ago."
"Why did you tell Sookie differently when you met?" Eric asked, deciding to take over the questioning himself.
"I was instructed to ingratiate myself to the employees of Splendide."
"How did you manage to lie?"
"My memory was altered to know nothing different. It is not a lie if I was telling my only truth."
"How did you know to do that?"
"We prepared for all eventualities. We know that Miss Stackhouse is a byblow of Cataliades. We do not know her gifts, but we prepared. I knew no ill intent. I knew only what I was told."
"Who is your master?" Eric asked again.
"My great uncle, the demon Haagenti, known as Julian Herbahz, son of the demon Haageros, son of the demon Haage, Grand Duke of the Abyssal Plain."
"What was your purpose in coming to Splendide?"
"First to scout security and meet the employees. To learn and beguile. To lay the bait, the vampire artifacts."
Eff.
"Later," I muttered to Eric.
"Yes," he agreed, before continuing to Kenneth. "Why did you return?"
"First to deliver the anchor of the portal spell to the vault. Then to create confusion." His voice was flat, inflectionless.
"What was the purpose of the robbery?" demanded Mintah. Kenneth apparently did not actually need to hear every question from Eric.
"We broke the vault to bring you here, and to sever you from your allies in this world."
"And what is your plan, now that I am here?" Mintah demanded.
"I was to submit to questioning and be found beyond reproach."
"What is Haagenti's plan?" snapped Mintah.
Kenneth Glassport didn't know the answer to that.
He was questioned for another solid hour until I was certain we had every bit of truth from him. I stayed to help with the questions, feeling where the phrasing was the block, rather than the line of questioning.
After running through the how's and why's, Mintah combed through Kenneth's mind himself, ordering Eric at intervals to lift the glamour. At some point in time, Mintah had decided to dispense with the illusion that I was the only person in the room doing something like mind-reading.
All in all, from the point of view of mystery-solving, it was an extremely productive day. We weren't actually close to solving the problem, but, at least we knew what it was and why we had it.
I realized Mintah was wrapping up, but he'd failed to ask a really important question so I went ahead and chimed in.
"Um. Where is Haagenti now?" I asked. The static of unknowingness.
"How will you return to Haagenti when you leave here?" I tried.
"I have a watch. I will go when the time is right."
Quick as a wink Eric had bent him forward and liberated him of a slim iron pocketwatch on a thin chain, as well as a leather strapped wrist watch. Either was yanked unceremoniously from his person and tossed to the table. I picked up the wristwatch first, it was an expensive one. I could tell because the "u" was written as a "v." I set it down and picked up the pocketwatch, looking it over.
"What's this for?" I asked, picking it up.
Eric leaned over my shoulder to take a look at the watch, and I clicked it open.
Kenneth Glassport started to speak, but I never heard him.
The blinding silvery wind whipped around me once more.
I shielded my eyes from the icy feel of the air, and went once again sprawling to the cold ground.
Well, shit.
.
.
.
I was afraid to open my eyes for several seconds. I strained to hear anything around me but there was only open air. Cool air. Quite chilly air. And more wind, but just regular wind. I was outside. There was a large house a short distance away. Nice house. Antebellum house. I was in a yard. So I was somewhere in the South, in a backyard. I scrambled to my feet, staring around at the ground. I let my shields fall away and I reached.
There were demons inside the house. Six, no, eight. There were two out front. I took another quick inventory, not of body parts this time, but of assets. Keys, wallet, cell phone - sitting in my damned purse in Brenda's office at Splendide. I had a gum wrapper and a sales receipt that felt like it had been through the wash a couple of times. Okay. I have a pocketwatch. I held it up to my ear. It was not even ticking. I closed it and opened it again, just as I had a moment ago. Nothing happened. I have... an under wire bra. Maybe a little too soon to resort to destroying that for survival; besides, I may need to run at some point, so that can stay put. I have a silver necklace and the ill-intent pendant. That was really good, because I'd have warning. I didn't know what I would do with that warning, but I'd have it.
I was backing up through the trees. This wasn't just perimeter landscaping, these were woods. Okay, that's good, woods mean cover. I stumbled over something. Big rock. I picked it up. Okay, semblance of a weapon, a bludgeon or a one-time use projectile. That is much better than having no rock at all. I hefted it in my hand until I found the most comfortable grip for my fingers to curl around it. I walked into the woods, away from the house.
I pushed the stupid watch into my own pocket as I crept along. I didn't know what I was thinking snatching it up like that. Strike that. I wasn't thinking at all.
I'm not usually so careless! I hadn't taken time to even try to sense magic on the watch before I grabbed it up. I mean logically, if he had a means of escape in his pocket the whole time, why didn't he use it sooner?
Why had he come there in the first place, Sookie? It was a deliberate ruse. We'd been meant to believe he was harmless. Well, that great deception had certainly worked, I thought bitterly.
I promised myself then and there to be a lot more cautious about any objects I encountered in the future. I could beat myself up about this all night, but that sure wasn't going to get me out of here. I had bigger concerns at the moment.
Okay.
Eric can track me if he is close, so if I am still close, Eric will find me no problem. I walked for a good five minutes, holding myself very stiffly, willing my muscles to tense against the cold. Eric didn't drop from the sky to my rescue. So I am probably not still within the Shreveport city limits. Or, maybe I am, and they are marshaling their forces. Think think think. Okay, realistically speaking, I can't be too far away, because, when they first came to Splendide, it was early in the morning, and, when Kenneth came to Splendide alone, it was after doing a bunch of chores for his boss, not after driving for hours and hours. Except they were both filthy but really careful liars and nothing they had done could be trusted. Damn it. Back to "some woods, somewhere in the South."
I was moving steadily farther away from the house and there were no other sentient minds moving closer to me. That was good. I'll just keep walking, and everything will be fine because...
The air grew impossibly dense around me, and suddenly I could move no further forward. I could see ahead of me fine. I breathed in, and smelled old batteries. Corroding metal. I felt sick to my stomach. I swallowed against the non-existent bile in my throat and tried to push through the barrier, but I couldn't. I tried my trick of angling my body toward and letting gravity do the work, but this wasn't a stay-away, and these weren't human wards. The feeling of illness roiled in me as I tried to push forward and I was fully ready to let myself vomit if that's what it took to make progress but it didn't work no matter what. My body worked its way back a few paces of its own volition, and I found I was panting. I squatted down and scrabbled together a handful of dirt and twigs and threw them. They went through unopposed.
If this works two ways, then anyone coming to rescue me won't be able to get in.
If it doesn't, anyone coming to rescue me won't be able to get out.
Maybe it only works on humans?
I began to walk again. Trudge, really. I forced myself to stay close to what I assumed was the edge of the property, or at least the edge of the wards. How long had it been at this point since I had come here? Thirty minutes maybe? A bit longer?
It was terribly cold. My skin was gooseprickled, but I didn't actually start shivering until I heard the howl. It was not a wolf. There was very little moon to bay at tonight. Anyway, it didn't sound like a wolf. It didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. I so, so wanted it to be just a dog. A fancy dog to go with the fancy house and the extensive grounds. I was pretty damn sure it was not actually a fancy dog. I looked around me and started to move a lot faster. When I saw what I was looking for, I leapt.
My fingers brushed down the slender limb just above my head, failing to make purchase. I backed up a few paces and tried again.
It was really, really imperative that I get off the ground, immediately. I wedged my rock down the front of my pants, which was awkward and actually a bit painful, but better than leaving it on the ground.
On my third go, I managed to grab and swing. I worked my hands back and forth, lifting my fingers the tiniest bit until I had a good, solid grip on the thing. The last time I had been forced to do a pull-up had been when I played softball for the Lady Falcons back in High School. Suddenly Coach Peterson was in my head hollering, "Come on Stackhouse, let's make it to ten!"
Let's make it to one, Coach.
Jesus Christ. For a few seconds I flailed out with my legs, hoping maybe I could catch the trunk and walk my way up, but that wasn't happening. I could reach, but my toes just slid right off. I was wasting time, and energy. My arms screamed in protest, but I was almost certain now that I could hear something else in the woods, even over my own labored breathing.
I got my elbows up on the branch. I felt like it was bowing beneath my weight. Somehow that gave me the impetus I needed, and kicking wildly against the thin air I managed to press myself up to my palms and finally pull a knee up. For just a second, I felt like Mary Lou Retton. Nadia Comaneci. Nastia Liukin. One of those teeny, tiny Chinese girls.
Then I heard the growl as something not far off caught my scent and then was crashing closer. I could practically feel the paws thudding on the ground. From here, it was easier, and I was able to step from branch to branch moving upwards. By the time the hound reached the tree, I was at least twenty feet off the ground. I stayed dead still and I heard its wet sniffling of the ground. I could see it moving this way and that, trying to determine where I had gone.
I drew a ragged breath. I'd been holding it, but I just couldn't any more. It caught the sound. I knew it did because stopped moving, listening. My body betrayed me as I shuddered involuntarily, against the cold, against my fear. Even this high up, I felt it as the creature threw its paws up against the trunk. It must smell where my shoes had been. At this range, it was a roar. Keening, ululating. The leaves around me were shaking. It was me.
I fished the missile from my makeshift kangaroo pouch, levering myself against another branch to free my hands enough to do it. I weaved back and forth, looking for an opening to hurl it downwards. As soon as I found it, I took it, and the dull thud and the harsh, piercing whimper told me I'd connected. The vicious growl and the monstrous wail that followed informed me that I'd only made it mad.
There was a brain approaching. I crouched down against my branch and started praying, silently. Not for my reprieve, because I felt like that was beyond me at this point. One of the same creatures who had scaled my house wouldn't have the slightest difficulty scaling this tree. Anything more intelligent could simply cut it down, and what would I do? So I prayed for Gran, who would have to bury yet another child. Not that I figured there would be a body... and I prayed for Jason, to be strong enough to look after her. I kept my eyes squeezed shut. When the branch I rested on juddered I couldn't bear to look. When the harsh buffeting gusted frigid air across my skin, I just held on tighter.
But when the sharp beak clicked three times, managing, in the midst of all my terror, to sound irritated, I opened my eyes and saw Ghellert, who cocked his eagle head at me, and plummeted towards the ground where the fight was already in progress.