“All right, forget bringing them upstairs. What about bringing those bedrooms down here?”
Dust shivered from the rafters, but nothing else happened.
Moving entire bedrooms was too much. The house was too exhausted and too hurt and too afraid.
“I’m here,” I assured it. “You can do this. We don’t need to bring the whole rooms. Just the wainscoting trim that has Temple’s spell.”
Excitement poked through the exhaustion. I felt...eagerness mixed with the fear, and beneath that, an unwavering trust.
The house reminded me of a child. A frightened, ridiculously powerful two-hundred-year-old child.
“Let me help you,” I said. “Like Temple does.”
I’d never actually seen the house work its magic before. It always happened when you weren’t looking: the closet was bigger when you woke up in the morning, or the fridge shifted your favorite snack to the front right before you opened the door. The house liked surprising people.
A four-inch-wide white board bulged through the ceiling and crawled down the wall. Thin nails through the board moved like tiny legs. It reached the floor. The wood softened and curved, encircling the thrall’s feet. A second board followed, eight feet long. This one clung vertically to the wall, touching the end of the first board.
“What’s happening?” asked Alex.
“We’re redecorating.” I spotted a problem. The two boards had the thrall more than half-enclosed already, but each thrall had an arm extended across the green fire. I didn’t know what would happen if Temple’s spell crossed the boundary of Alex’s summoning portal.
I approached the left thrall, squinted to blur my vision, and seized its arm just before the spot where it touched the fire. It was like I’d grabbed a four-inch-wide leech by the mouth. Needles pierced my palm and fingers as I tried to pull the limb from the wall.
I braced my right foot against the wall by its thigh and applied my full weight, straining every muscle in my body.
With a squeaking, flatulent sound, the arm tore free...and immediately coiled around my wrist. Pain shot up to my shoulder. Horror and revulsion filled me.
“Hurry, please,” I gasped.
A third piece of wainscoting skittered down the limestone. It crept along the edge of the portal, less than an inch from the fire. The bottom end touched the board on the floor. The three pieces grew together until any seams were invisible.
The instant the ring was completed, the pressure on my arm eased. The thrall slumped against the wall. The eyes drooped.
I used my other hand to peel the limb loose. It was like ripping Velcro hooks from the fibers of my muscles.
By the time I got free, I was in tears and gasping for breath. My legs gave out. I landed on the floor hard enough to jolt my lower back. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been this exhausted. It was more than fighting the thrall. The house had been using my reserves to rearrange Temple’s spellwork. I felt like I’d run a marathon and then fought off an entire army.
“How did you do that?” asked Alex.
“Power of friendship. Don’t underestimate a dumpy, middle-aged Care Bear.” Let him stew on that non-answer.
Cold from the floor crept into my body, chilling me to the marrow. I also felt...relief. The house’s pain had eased. Instead of bleeding from two places, we were down to a single thrall siphoning our life to R’gngyk.
“Not bad.” I sat up. My head spun. I closed my eyes and concentrated on not throwing up. “Think we can do it one more time?”
I sensed worry and guilt. The house didn’t want to hurt me.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Take what you need. I’m tougher than I look.”
The process was slower this time: cautious and hesitant. I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. That was probably a bad sign. Fragments of information about hypothermia and frostbite flitted through my mind. I clenched and relaxed different muscles to try to keep my blood flowing, but I wasn’t sure how long I could stay conscious. Nor was I sure how much the house had left.
In medical terms, it was bleeding out. Too much of its power had been siphoned away. It was like Temple had warned: the house would wring me dry, and it wouldn’t be enough.
Maybe we’d get lucky. Maybe Ringo had weakened the house enough that when Temple pulled the trigger on that rocket launcher, the resulting destruction would only take out part of Salem.
“At this rate, our insurance agent is going to stop taking my calls.” Annette’s voice sounded far away. I thought I was hallucinating. “Oh, shit! Jenny!”
Strong hands helped me to sit up. When had I fallen over, and how long had I been lying on my side? Wait, what was Annette doing here? I tried to ask the question. “Whtdnhrm?”
