“That’s just because you don’t go to the circus.”
“She didn’t just mention magic once. She keeps mentioning it…” The pitter-patter of feet made her freeze up, turning to look out the open door and into the hall beyond. A doll stopped as it passed by, looking at her with a sad little smile on its cherubic face. It waved, of all things, and kept going, the first time she’d actually seen one of them moving. “I think this house might actually be magical, Pete. I’m not kidding. I don’t think ghosts are this good at moving things.”
Pete muttered something as the light suddenly dimmed, dark shadows unfurling from the sky.
Martha turned back and looked out the window, same as Pete, ducking a little to glance upward.
“What in the hell?” he said softly, a toothpick in his mouth and his gun at the ready. “Was there supposed to be an eclipse today?”
“I don’t remember seeing anything like that in the paper.” She tsked. “Jessie doesn’t get the paper. It’s magic, I tell you. If we can have UFOs, we can have magic.” She let her words drift off for a moment.
“UFOs aren’t real and neither is magic. There’s no magic out there. Mother Nature can be savage. And all those people are clearly trying to get in here and get the goods. There’s a lot of expensive stuff in this house. Even just those weapons in the attic. Those would go for a lotta money. Don’t worry”—he pulled the bolt hammer back, checked inside, and slid it into place—“they won’t get very far onto this property. They think they can take the goods, then they got another think comin’. You ready? They look like they’re getting antsy.”
“Well, I guess.” Martha leaned forward. “I just think this is really outlandish. Magic is the only explanation.”
Jessie had mentioned different rules for magic, like different laws, Martha guessed. This situation would make more sense if the magical rules were along the lines of barbarianism.
Nearly convinced, she squinted through the sudden low light and prepared for the onslaught.Twenty-TwoThe gargoyles took to the sky, hiding in the darkness I’d magically created. Niamh scampered into the trees, immediately lost in the shadows. Austin changed, blessing the faux night with an enormous roar. A moment later, an answering roar sounded in the street behind the front enemy, the basajaun having run along the other side of the house, hopped a few fences, and worked his way behind them.
I ran around to the front, my heart thumping. I just needed to make sure this group of attackers didn’t have the ability to conceal themselves from Ivy House, in which case, I’d leave this onslaught to the house and help with the more dangerous crew around back.
If they could hide themselves…
I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
The non-glowing crowd at the front of the house shifted and shuffled around, bumping into one another. The basajaun roared, and I could see his head topping the crowd, his great arms lifted high and waving maniacally.
The crowd moved faster now, like a swarm of bees after a ball hit their nest. They turned toward him but back-pedaling, swords out, ramming into those standing too close to them. The people who’d been pushed staggered into the lines in front, finally making the first line edge onto the property. Their presences popped up in my mental radar. They hadn’t taken the potion to hide from Ivy House.
A gunshot rang out and I ducked and covered my head, unable to help it. Wide-eyed, I spun to look at the shooter, only to see my mom and dad in a second-floor window, my dad sighting again through the barrel.
“Oh—” Another shot rang out, blasting through darkness. Someone screamed and grabbed their leg, sinking to the ground. “Crap.” My word was like a wheeze of breath. I hadn’t thought he’d actually shoot! He was also not aiming to kill, which wasn’t ideal, given most magical people would heal quickly enough to head back into the fray.
Unless I could stop them from healing.
The basajaun grabbed someone and threw him at the crowd. He grabbed another man by the legs, bashed his head onto the ground, and then started pounding those around him with the body, gruesome as all hell.
The crowd surged, their courage faltering.
The basajaun pushed forward, manic, driving people toward the property. He flung the body, grabbed a wrist that held a sword, and ripped the whole thing clean off. He threw the arm at those backing away from him, crimson spraying, the sword flying free and stabbing someone in the back.
“Holy crap.” I ignored my churning stomach.
To avoid focusing on the carnage, I fixed my attention on the two people my dad had shot—only for another blast to ring out, dropping a third. Healing meant stitching things back together. So if I just focused on reversing that magic, it should…