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  House of Chaos

  The Devil Rose up from Georgia

  Book Two

  K.R. Alexander

  Copyright © 2019 by K.R. Alexander.

  All rights reserved.

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  1

  We watched the floor as we stepped into the foyer. It rested where it should, solid boards, no gaping holes, politely welcoming guests like any reasonable floor. Even so, we tread carefully, keeping the lights aimed down as we eased into the dusty Victorian after sunset.

  Wade, Gideon, and I all held flashlights. Vel, a vulpine shifter, and Fulco, a vampire, both seemed able to see in the dark and avoided looking into pools of light splashed across floors and walls by the beams.

  Adam clung to a little bundle of homemade stakes, despite our vampire guide’s assurance that he had no kinfolks here. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. I felt a nagging prickle at the back of my neck over the whole thing. Fulco had said he would help us clean houses as long as we spared the undead. We’d agreed to round them up to the old farmhouse with the peach grove, where we could trap them downstairs like a pit of vipers. Then he’d brought us straight to a house with only a spirit infestation?

  It should have all been the same to me. I wanted the whole town cleared—all of Midway City purged of distressed spirits and undead after my parents had failed in their attempt and I’d taken up the cause. The trouble was, I’d been relying on the others to tackle undead with Fulco this evening while I brainstormed how to get my curse back so I could actually be useful in a haunted house. I should be postponing places like this. And why would Fulco want us here?

  I argued silently on every step through the foyer, easing from room to room, listening to my own breaths and trying to reassure myself that it didn’t matter. I had to come sometime. How would I ever get my curse back if I didn’t push it? And how better to push it than here? Fulco claimed this was one of the most disturbed spirit houses in town. In a place like Midway City, that really meant something. I must try to remember and intuit how a banishment worked, and just go for it. Either the curse would come back or it wouldn’t.

  The main level of the house was laid out in a circle around a central staircase, with side rooms branching out to the north and south of the west-facing design. We didn’t stray but made a quiet circuit of this main space, stealing through large rooms with elegant crown molding and other trimmings, divided by archways, corridors, and doors. The house was so old and grand, the kitchen wasn’t a main part of the first floor. It must be down that hallway to the south, beside the long dining room. That would have been servants’ work—or slaves?—and not a hot and smothering space for the master or mistress of the house to see.

  Because there was almost no furniture, the rooms blurred together, one big, high-ceilinged rectangle after another. Dust and spider webs bore testament to the years since anyone had moved out. While the move itself must have been rushed, or abruptly ended. Strange remnants remained. An upholstered chair left in the middle of an empty room. Plastic bags of stained rags, paper, and other debris poking out, chewed and torn open by rats for nest material. Then more random oddities, things that had been on their way out and simply been left. Garden tools and buckets in a back room. A coffee table, end table, self, and multiple floor lamps in another, all in a row, ready to be loaded onto a phantom moving van. A dog bowl so old it was solid rust sat in a corner with a jumble of other junk—books, shoes, papers, kitchen utensils, and more—that looked like someone was sorting through them to pack up or throw away. There was even a hatrack on the wall in the foyer with a bowler hat on it.

  Not a mouse moved as we walked slowly around, checking out the central rooms and returning to the foyer where, for some reason, that hat drew my eye and I gazed, unable to remember what was next since all I knew I needed was my curse.

  How did you get back something that wasn’t a skill, but a natural gift? How did you harness an energy with no name or context? I might as well be telling myself that I just had to buck up and give a violin concert. That was how much sense it made to say I had to “get my curse back.”

  If it was coming back, surely it had to be somewhere like this. In the meantime, Mom and Dad had done this regularly and they never had the curse at all. I might not know all they did, but I had basic ideas and daypack of gear.

  The bowler was smooth, black and round in the beam of my flashlight, reminding me of something, though I couldn’t place it.

  We’d hardly made a sound aside from creaky floorboards and soft stir. My crew was remarkably light on their feet: the hulking wolf dudes far more agile than they looked, Wade almost holding his breath with nerves, Vel slight and seeming to float, and Fulco used to lurking silently in dark houses. He was the only one dressed in anything with real sleeves in the stifling heat of the August night in northern Georgia—in a closed-up house without electricity or even a cold drink. His slender black overcoat or trench coat—I hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the light and wouldn’t swear to the style—separated him from the rest of us in jeans or motorcycle pants and short sleeves.

  I’d remembered to be sensible tonight. Jeans no matter how hot, contacts no matter how much I preferred glasses. Extra flashlight and water bottle with our kit in the daypack. Also remembering notes from my parents that I’d looked through all afternoon.

  Sensible in every way other than being in here without my curse, and the company I was keeping. It would have been nice to have someone in the group who had done this before. Or at least had a full grounding in the theory. Instead, they were more a distraction than anything at this point. I felt guilty about Gideon, needing a redo. Confused about Wade, how fast I felt something for him. Creeped out, yet intrigued by Vel, still not sure what to think but kicking myself over spilling my guts to a guy I didn’t trust when I should have talked to Wade—if anyone. On the fence about Adam. Plus Fulco in a class by himself.

  Still that prickle on my sweaty neck. We shouldn’t have agreed to work with him. Could he even be any help in a house like this? For that matter, did he have any intention of helping?

  But I wasn’t alone; that was worth everything, worth going ahead and trying even when we didn’t have the best record so far and I was starting out by feeling like a total loser without my curse. Weakest link in the team, Vel had called me. He was right, until I got my curse back—when I would be the strongest.

  Until, I told myself hard. Until I get it back. Not if I get it back.

  Standing in the foyer, no one said anything. No one had knocked over a floor lamp or wandered off down a hall or done anything else startling or stupid. We just stood, looking at things. The hat made me think of the birthday cake I’d made for my mom when I was like nine. Dad had helped. That made it worse but we sure tried. It had come out a round lump like that hat. The frosting, though, gooey chocolate, like fudge, was so good, that’s what we’d ended up enjoying.

  After trying to eat the bowler cake, we’d all scraped the frosting off and Mom had broken out crisp pretzels and nuts and strawberries and sliced apple so the fudge frosting had turned into a dessert dip. I’d never thought of the great birthday cake fail as a fail. We’d turned it into something fun, making a success.

  Somehow, we had to succeed here, even if it happened in strange ways. My whole life had changed with these guys that had saved me in my bleakest moment and I was getting way too carried away, way too fast, but that was so much better than a grief blackhole. One way of turning a fail into a win, wasn’t it?

  I almost laughed at that hat. Thinking of Mom and Dad and pretzels dipped in fudge. It really looked like the cake attempt.r />
  Wade rested a hand on my shoulder. His right and my left were on flashlights. I looked around, unsurprised to see he was also smiling. He understood. They all would. We should have brought ice cream sandwiches.

  I leaned in. Wade kissed me, turning his head while I raised up a bit on my toes. He was so tall—yet I was so tall. One more way we fit. As to Gideon, I knew he didn’t mind. I only had to make sure Wade realized we weren’t exclusive or anything because we’d had one night together. Not that I didn’t care about him. Just … so much going on. He would get it. Like everything else coming together—people working together, understanding each other and kissing, enjoying fudge or wings or ice cream sandwiches. So freakishly hot in here we’d just … get fresh air, then we could head out for dessert. Wade would be fine with Gideon joining us tonight. My skin tingled with even the fleeting idea of the two of them at once, blood sizzling, breath tightening.

  I took Wade’s hand with my left. We walked out, down the old steps from the porch to the crushed shell overrun with weeds. The others followed.

  We kissed again, Wade leaning into me, both giggling a bit, as we walked back to my car. Gideon touched my other arm and I turned to kiss him. Wade didn’t mind.

  Was someone missing? I looked around.

  Adam was at our side. Vel stopped a bit back in the weeds. He had a palm against one ear as if they were popping. Fulco was nowhere in sight.

  I flicked the flashlight over the steps and up to the door of the black and silent mansion while the bullfrogs croaked. The vampire stood in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring at us. The sight of him reminded me of that prickle—that something was wrong.

  Fulco cleared his throat so everyone looked around. “I knew you were a soft touch,” he sneered. “Yet this nearly defies belief.”

  I gulped. “I, uh … forgot … something in the car.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “I’ll just … yeah, and we’ll get started.”

  2

  I had a feeling that the next time the house asked us to leave, it wouldn’t be so polite. Now I was pissed off before we’d even begun. The nerve of some houses. And the naïvety of some house cleaners! I mean, Fulco had an implied point. It wasn’t all on the house.

  I chose what seemed to be the dining room—nice and central, with another sizable room front and back, hallway off to the right, heading south, and a wall that had the stairway on the other side to the left. The only furniture still in the room was an antique china cabinet with such a thick layer of dust and grime on the glass doors the flashlights hardly reflected on them. Also no garbage in this room, and no windows, making a nice clear space.

  With my mom’s little besom, I swept a circle in the middle of the room. This was symbolic, bristles seldom contacting floorboards. The same with sweeping down all of us—not touching, just stirring up energy.

  They didn’t like being swept at, the wolf shifters suspicious, even though I wasn’t casting, and Fulco wouldn’t even come properly into the room, waiting in the archway with his arms crossed as if we were running late and inconveniencing him. Vel, on the contrary, stood in my face, watching the quick movement so I bumped into him a couple times as I turned. Only Wade actually stood still to be swept.

  “Can you cast a circle for the room?” I asked him, almost in a whisper, though it was clear the house was already awake. It’s hard not to whisper in a house you’ve broken into in the dead of night.

  “You should do it,” Wade answered just as softly. “You know about their work.”

  I wanted to snap back, demand why he never lifted a magical finger unless blowing something up. But that was all nerves making my temper flare and I didn’t answer.

  I swept him, swept Vel, pushed my flashlight at him to hold, and began setting out the contents of the daypack.

  Herb bundles, candles, rune stones, stuff like that. It was all familiar. Just as familiar as the car you ride in to school every day when you’re ten years old. Doesn’t mean you can drive that sucker.

  I set everything out in a rough circle five feet across, knowing circles were protective, empowering, and defendable. Circles were as basic to magic as one plus one equals two is to math. Then I cast a circle, again, taking in the things, me at the center, and the five guys scattered around. Only Wade and Vel actually stood in the circle with me. That might have mattered if I’d known how to cast serious protective circles and telepathy shields that could block out energy attacks from demons. As it was, the best I could hope for was that the three of us were getting a slight edge by being part of this magic embrace.

  Long drink from my water bottle, pass that to Wade, search the bag, but nothing more to find. Was that all, then?

  “Why are you all staring at me?” I looked up, my glare landing on Gideon.

  He cocked his head, taken aback.

  “As apposed to all the hoots and hollers we could be feasting our lamps on?” Adam asked.

  “What would you prefer we do?” Gideon asked.

  “I would prefer you know the rituals so I don’t have to do everything,” I hissed, furious at the stupidity of the question showing up right in the midst of my own failings.

  “Yeah…” Adam said with infinite slowness.

  “What did they say in the workshop?” I snapped at Wade next.

  His eyebrows lifted, face lit from below with his flashlight in hand, but still contriving to look pale and nervous rather than sinister like the fox guy on my other side.

  “Oh, well…” He shrugged. “It wasn’t about teaching us to, you know, send them on. It was more an overview of spirits and situations. How spirits can come to be attached somewhere and a little bit about how casters can help, but it was more like … being respectful and acknowledging a presence. And being able to identify a real problem situation so you could call in an expert. I’m sure you’re on the right track with the circle.”

  “That’s like saying you’re on the right track for walking into a bakery when you want bread.” I realized I was chewing my nails and pulled my hand away, turning to face Vel. “You spied on my parents.”

  Silence. It seemed I could hear a tick-tock-tick-tock. Vel watched me in the flashlight’s glow, an arm’s reach away.

  “Hello?” I whispered.

  “Hola.”

  “You’ve seen my parents work, right?”

  “Scarcely.”

  “Well, cough up. You said you’d help. Any insights?”

  “They didn’t set herbs around in a circle.” Silky, smoky voice.

  “No, I know that. My mom used these things for summoning and ritual transition spells to send spirits to the next realm and allow them to fully cross over. She would sweep and cast a circle. These things were used in different ways. Did you ever watch a ceremony?”

  “I saw the changing of the guard on TV once.” He smiled sweetly at me.

  I waited.

  “And your mother gave me the cheese out of her salad sandwiches. Delicious.”

  “She wouldn’t feed a wild animal. She knew better than that.” Even as I said it, I remembered, as if from a lifetime ago, stripping wallpaper one weekend, months back, and her saying she’d given a bite of her sandwich to a fox at a house. I’d totally forgotten, having pictured a red fox, then thinking no more of it. But she must have seen him several times and couldn’t help tossing him a treat. If only she’d known.

  The “salad sandwich” was a reference to my mom’s CLTs—cheese, lettuce, and tomato—since she was a vegetarian. Dad and I were the wing-eaters.

  The corners of Vel’s mouth turned down, shoulders sagging. “Knows better…” He sighed. “It’s true, señorita. We live in an age when most people ‘know better’ than casual kindness.”

  “There’s nothing kind about feeding a wild predator. If you’re nursing it back to health or something, okay. But in most cases that’s just asking for trouble. It’ll end up becoming a problem animal, coming too close to people, getting in garbage or hit by a car, all
because someone was ‘kind’ to it. No thank you.”

  “You feed wild cats.” Why was he always standing so close?

  “They’re feral—a human-created problem—and I’m trying to trap the rest of them to get them spayed. Not the same thing.”

  “Always interesting where a line is drawn, is it not?”

  Wade was shifting his weight from foot to foot. Gideon made a sound like a small cough.

  “Tell me if you know anything about what to do here or back off and give me space,” I ordered Vel, so angry about being distracted into nonsense I hoped he would choose the latter.

  “You could try asking nicely.” He folded his arms.

  “You could try not being a creepy cad, but are you trying? No.” I turned my back to grab the three little candles in their silver holders, then sat with my legs crossed in the center of the circle.

  I knew this was first because my mom used to sit like this with candles to talk to disembodied spirits. The energy it took to stir a breath of air enough to make a candle flame move was a fraction of something like making a noise, much less words. You needed a very still room to do it so everyone should sit and be quiet, but that bit could come in a minute.

  Seeing I was taking initiative, Wade knelt, back to a whisper again to ask what he could do.

  “Gather the stones. Certain runes are signposts to certain energies. Calming or energizing or healing. Dad knew all about glyphs and minerals. Mom knew the herb lore. They put it together with their magic to make a safe environment to send souls on. I think the first part of contact is with the candles. We’ll try that and just…” I shrugged, glad when he sat beside me, more confident as I lit the three candles with magic, then set them in a neat triangle before us.

  Wade picked up the rune stones, bundles, and incense. I wasn’t sure this was the time and place for it, but I lit a calming chamomile and witch hazel stick and Wade settled it in the soapstone holder.