I turn and run through the front door, slamming it behind me. Inside, I hear Helsing screaming and sobbing, slamming his fists against walls. He’s alternating between yelling for me to kill him and saying he’ll kill me if I don’t.
I look wildly around the clearing. Luckily, the moon is shining, lending me its light. I spot some thick branches and start grabbing them, stacking them in front of Helsing’s door. He can’t be allowed to get out and into the village. Not in the sort of state he’s in.
Once I’m satisfied that he’s barricaded in, I turn and run down the path toward the village. Helsing can’t be left on his own anymore. I have to get help.
Sore, tired, and aching, I don’t stop until I reach the tavern. It’s got a back entrance for guests staying in the rooms upstairs, and I burst into it and run up the staircase, down the corridor, and bang loudly on the room I left just hours before.
The door flies open almost immediately. Owen stands there fully dressed. Piers and Bennett sit up on the bed, and Piers slides off.
“Avery! Avery, I’m sorry, I—”
“We have to get back to the school,” I gasp, doubling over to put my hands on my knees. “Get dressed. We have to go.”
“What happened?” Owen asks, trying to pull me into the room, but I shake him off.
“Hurry,” I say. “Skinner is staying nearby. We’ve got to get to him, get him to drive us back to the school.”
“The snow’s too deep to drive in,” Owen says worriedly.
“We’ll run if we have to!” I yell at him. Behind him, Piers and Bennett are hurrying to get dressed. “It’s an emergency.”
Owen is still trying to coax information out of me when Bennett and Piers leave the room and shut it behind them. Seeing them ready, I just turn and run downstairs.
The boys follow me out into the snow. I lead them to Skinner’s house and knock loudly on the door, but there’s no answer. Cursing, I start running toward the school.
Bennett catches up to me and stops me. “You’re tired,” he says simply, and squats in front of me. I climb onto his back and he stands up, adjusting me to get a better grip, and starts running up toward the school, Owen and Piers trailing behind.
He doesn’t set me down until we’re in the entrance hall, and I tear away from the boys as they collapse to the floor in exhaustion. It’s been more than an hour. I hope we aren’t already too late.
I plant myself outside the headmaster’s office and hammer at the door with my fists. “Novac!” I yell desperately.
It may
be the middle of the night, but the door flies open and as impeccably dressed as always, Novac gazes down at me. “Miss Black?” he says incredulously. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“Helsing,” I say. “You need to perform an exorcism. I think he’s possessed.”
Novac’s gaze is level as he stares at me. After what seems like an eternity, he nods. Behind him, I see that Skinner is already here, sitting at Novac’s desk.
“Come in and tell me exactly what happened.”
I do. I sit heavily across from Novac and tell him everything that happened in Helsing’s cabin. Novac takes notes on a tiny lilac notepad, then turns to Skinner.
“I apologize, Mr. Skinner. I know you’re not a secretary, but I need your assistance.”
“Whatever you need,” the lawyer replies seriously. “If we’ve got an incubus on our hands, I’ll help in any way I can.”
Novac pushes the notepad at Skinner. “We have a lot of calls to make. We need our strongest hunters to take care of this.”
“I’ll go too,” I say. “I want to help.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Novac says as Skinner snatches up the notepad and leaves the office, slamming the door behind him in his haste.
“But I—”
“There is no doubt in my mind that you are a very capable monster hunter,” Novac says, talking over me. “But if a spirit like the one that seems to have possessed Helsing grows strong enough to break free from its host, then there’s no telling what sort of damage it could do, or how many lives it could take. It is vicious. It is violent. It must be stopped at all costs. And you will remain here.” He stands up and walks over to his office door, which he opens and then stands in front of, looking pointedly at me.
I stand up dejectedly.