Red House (24 page)

A bead of sweat rolled down Blake’s face. His skin was pale, stretched taut, eyes a little too glassy. There was a faraway look to them that worried me. Haschall liked to haunt people with their worst fears and now he was buried deep in Blake’s subconscious. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what Blake’s worst fears were.

“Not long,” he said.

“Come on.” Daniel put his hands under Blake’s arms to pull him up. “Be easier for me to hold you if we’re standing.”

“Be gentle with me, Bubba.” A weak version of Blake’s smirk temporarily lit his face. “It’s my first time.”

Daniel laughed. “Yeah, right.” He spared a glance for Shelby. “I were you, I’d be building a fort in all those tables and chairs.” He jerked his chin in the direction of all the furniture we’d moved.

“He’s right,” I said. “You gotta know your limits, girl.”

With evident reluctance Shelby agreed and retreated to behind the banquet table.

Blake groaned, almost pitching over. Daniel caught him and held him up, arms around the taller man’s chest. “He’s trying to get out.”

“His heartbeat’s erratic.” Daniel spoke low and evenly but the warning was loud and clear.

They both knew enough about magic they didn’t need an explanation for what I needed to do. An outlay of this much magical power should have taken hours of preparation but I only had moments. Grounding first, I reached for the energy of the ley line. It poured through me in a cold waterfall, the pure current of a livewire. Keeping a tight hold on it, I turned inward.

Anybody can mix ingredients or repeat the lines of a spell, Rozella used to tell me, but it took real force of will to bend the world to one’s bidding. A witch had to be made of strong stuff and have the hubris, the swagger, to use it. Rozella once told me she knew I had the stuff but I was afraid to tap into it. I’d done it four months ago, I knew I could do it again.

The smoke and the faint tang of whiskey blended. Blue notes teased at the edge of my awareness. I grabbed on to them, willing it into a song and weaving that with the livewire.

Blake cried out. Daniel kept him on his feet, tightening his grip. Unintelligible words came out of Blake, pain filled frantic whispers that raised gooseflesh on my skin. Something shifted inside me then locked into place. After a deep bracing exhalation I stood, the knife clutched tight in my hand. The cigar and whiskey that usually served to attract wayward spirits into a bottle trap might not help with Haschall but I had something that would.

Standing in front of Blake, mere inches between us, I stroked his face with my free hand. He managed to focus on me, recognition shining through the cloud of horror in his eyes. “Let him out now. It’s okay.”

He slumped. “I’m sorry,” Blake whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Just let him go.” Wanting to soothe whatever demons Haschall had unleashed inside Blake, I smoothed a heavy lock of his hair from his forehead and kissed his jaw line. “Let it go. I got this, babe.”

The muscles of his face went slack and he began a rapid chant under his breath. After nearly two minutes of this I started to wonder if Haschall was fighting back, then almost right away got the answer.
 

Blake doubled over, screaming. “No, no, no, don’t do this, please don’t. Come back, please come back, I’ll do whatever you want, be what you want, please don’t do this.”

Daniel eased his grip on Blake’s arms, guiding him to the floor. “Haschall’s fucking with him.”

A desolate sob ripped its way out of Blake as the starfield of his aura went nova into every shade of darkness. Colors I’d never put a name to before–isolation, self-loathing, hopelessness–crashed into each other, spiraling into pitch black.

“Blake, I need you to force him out.” I touched his cheek again. Fever warmed my trembling fingers. “Blake. Force him out! Come on, you can do this.” Tears ran down his face. He was silent and that scared me more than the earlier outburst. “Daniel, I need you to keep it together no matter what.” I opened the pocket knife and held it with my right hand then stretched out my left arm.

“What are you doing?” A note of hysteria sent Daniel’s voice up an octave.

“Haschall wants me to say pretty please.” I took a bare second to gird myself for what I was about to do. All those dumb movies and television shows that have somebody slicing their palm to get blood for a spell get it so very wrong. The amount of blood they’re splashing around in those shows would take a cut that would do serious damage to the muscles in the palm, and there’d be no wrapping it with a little bit of gauze and going on your merry way. They use the palm because it looks good and the actor can squeeze a little package of fake blood all over the place for a nice stark visual.

The reality was much different. If I’d only needed a few drops I could have pricked my finger. Haschall and his blood fetish called for more than a few drops, though. The quickest way I knew to draw a good amount of blood was to go for the veins in the wrist, nice and close to the surface. Before I could lose my nerve I stuck the sharp tip of the knife in the biggest vein and held my arm in a position that I thought might help the flow, hand toward the floor.

“You like blood so much, Stanley, come get you some.” I shook my hand to make the drops splatter.

Daniel dropped Blake. Hissing and staring at the blood, he murmured, “God damn it, Roxie.”

“I need you to hold him.”

Daniel took a step back, his fangs out, hunger pulling his entire body taut. “I can’t. It’s too much.” Vampire speed carried him to the door so fast I didn’t even see him move. The barrier kept him inside, causing him to shout with pain when he tried to muscle past it. “Open the ward. Let me out now!”

Shelby didn’t wait for me to ask, she just grabbed a container of salt and ran for the door. As soon as she let him out she fixed the ward and closed the door, on the outside of the room with a hungry vampire. God damn, I wanted to beat Haschall into a pulp and grind him into dust.

Blake lay face down on the floor motionless. I stood over his prone form, dripping blood into a small puddle inches from his head. “You know what I think, Stanley? I don’t think you killed your sister just ’cause she asked too many questions. I think you killed her because of what questions she was asking. I think you were doing things you knew were wrong, like maybe things with blood magic, and I think she found out somehow.”

Moaning, Blake shook as if in the throes of a nightmare. I forced myself not to think about it. Do what had to be done, then take care of Blake
.
“I think she was a witch. Did she try to stop you? Is that what made you so mad you killed your own sister? Or were you mad because she was better at it than you?”

Red crashed into the auric field in a violent wave. Egotistical bastard. Nobody’s ever as special as they think they are and this murderous psychopath was no different. “She was better at magic than you and she knew you were doing stuff that was wrong. She was going to put a stop to it and you killed her for it. Isn’t that right, Stanley?”

Haschall pushed up from the floor and climbed to his feet with slow awkward movements, as if it took a little time to acclimate to being in a body each time. “Never did like that name.”

“It’s the one you got, Stanley Haschall. It’s who you’ll always be.” Ignoring the pain, I opened up another hole in my vein with the knife. Then I massaged my forearm to try to work more blood out of it, walking backward to get closer to the bottle trap.

“Who are you, witch? You ain’t nobody. You can’t kill me, not after what I done. I made sure a that.”

A few more steps back, more blood trailing on the floor. Don’t think about how it’s starting to hurt bad, don’t think about that kid out there with a hungry vampire, don’t think about Blake trapped inside his worst nightmares, don’t think about anything. “You used their blood, didn’t you? Some kind of dark blood magic rite to keep your spirit on this plane forever. That’s hardly living, Stanley.” I hoped it pissed him off every time I used his first name.

“You’re smarter than you look but you ain’t smart enough to send me on to Hell. Better than you’s tried and failed.”

“It never gets old having assholes tell me how inadequate I am.” I reached the bottle trap. Kneeling behind it, I held my wrist over the opening. A quick slashing motion set my flesh on fire and blood leaking into the bottle. “Blood will call you and blood will bind you,” I said. “By my blood you will do as I bind you.”

Haschall swore, calling me several names I didn’t know had been around when he was alive. I shut out his voice and kept up my spell. “Blood will call you and blood will bind you. By my blood you will do as I bind you.”

My blood mixed with the ingredients in the bottle, charging them with my force of will. Haschall screamed, a blast of furious energy knocking me down. I grabbed the bottle, keeping my wrist over it as I chanted. Magic twisted inside me, clawing its way out through my blood.

“Blood will call you and blood will bind you. By my blood you will do as I bind you.”

Haschall threw his head back, bellowing with rage. Red light fractured at his center as he fought the spell.

“By my blood you will do as I bind you. You will do as I bind you!”

He collapsed to his hands and knees. In one long current Haschall’s red energy rushed toward me. I very nearly dropped that bottle and ran, but instead I held it and watched his spirit become tangled in the trap.

“Oh fuck, where did I leave the cap?” I had to dump out the entire contents of my bag but I found it. Screwing it on tight, I smeared blood around the seal and repeated the spell again. All the magic in the room tapped out, every candle extinguished and everything that was smoking stopped.

I found a handkerchief in the bag and wrapped it quickly around my wrist, holding it in place. Blake was already getting to his feet, a sight that gave me tremendous relief. Then he wobbled almost drunkenly and dropped to the floor.

I sat beside him on my knees. “Are you okay?”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I am a long fucking way from okay.” He rubbed his face, then looked around. Spotting the bottle he pointed at it and said, “He in there?”

“Yeah, it worked. He’s locked up tight.”

For the first time he noticed all the blood. “Jesus, Roxie! What did you do to yourself?”

“He had a thing for blood magic so I had to use that to get him in the trap. I’ll be fine.”

“How bad did you cut yourself?” He tried to examine my wrist but I pulled away.

“It’ll be fine. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged properly, but that’s all. No stitches or anything.”

Cupping my cheek with one hand, he leaned over to kiss me. “Can we get the hell out of here now?”

“I think so. Should be able to, anyway.” With Haschall under control we should have been able to leave the house. With Haschall not riding herd on the other ghosts they should be able to leave as well. The ones who wanted to, anyway. “Uh, I think we need to stick to the plan and do Shelby’s summoning spell.”

“Where are the others?”

“Daniel kinda didn’t react too well to the blood.”

Blake tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt and used it to tie the makeshift bandage around my wrist. He stood, a little unsteady but better than earlier. “If he ate your client’s granddaughter you’re probably not getting paid.”

Ha ha, oh shit. “He prefers to call it drinking.” I ran to the door and kicked the salt away. Peering into the hall, I found them at the far end sitting opposite each other. “You guys okay?”

Shelby hopped up and almost ran to me. “Is it over? Did it work?”

“It did. Haschall’s in the bottle trap and Blake’s not hurt.” I wasn’t going to lie and say he was fine, especially since I didn’t know exactly what kind of shape he was in, but he was alive and in one piece so there was that. “Are you okay?”

She wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. “Yeah.”

I was about to put a hand on her arm then thought better of it, instead wiping the tacky blood on my jeans. “You sure?”

“He’s a little scary.” She glanced down the hall where Daniel still sat staring at the wall. “But he didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“He’s a good man, Shelby. My best friend and my family and I love him. But he’s still, you know.”

“A vampire.”

“It’s a little like being around a lion. You have to respect what he’s capable of.”

“Lions aren’t exactly warm and cuddly.” She stepped into the ballroom. In a moment I heard her talking to Blake.

“We still have to do the summoning spell,” I called out to Daniel. “You should be able to leave the house now if you need to.”

Daniel walked toward me with deliberation. I realized he wanted me to see him moving, so that I knew where he was and wouldn’t be afraid. Stopping a foot in front of me he said, “I am sorry I failed you.”

I wasn’t going to put up with formality out of him. Hugging him tightly I said, “You could never fail me, Bubba. Not even if you tried.”

He returned the hug with care, as if afraid of his own strength. “I’m here as long as you’re here. I don’t know what I’ll be able to do to help, but I’m not leaving.”

A crash came from inside the ballroom, followed by Shelby screaming. Blake yelled for me. Daniel and I reentered the room. Blake stood in a protective stance in front of Shelby. Several feet away was the house’s resident evil spirit, a smudge of gray in the shape of a Civil War era soldier.