“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
She vanished. Or maybe she’d never been there. Dying brain activity was erratic and not fully understood. What other memories and dreams would flicker through my consciousness? I’d love to see the Pacific again. Or relive that hot fudge sundae I had at Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco.
The stink of ammonia pierced my sinuses. I jolted back.
Annette pushed an open bottle of smelling salts at my face, but I slapped her hand away.
“That’s better.” She capped the bottle. “I didn’t know how well this stuff would work, given how putrid it already is down here.”
I fought to focus, to remember what was happening. “You were supposed to leave.”
“I’m disappointing everyone today, aren’t I?” She nodded to Alex. “Nice job taking down Captain Asshole.”
I blinked and squinted until my vision cleared enough to see the second thrall. It was half-enclosed by enchanted wainscoting. “Help me.”
“How?” Annette asked.
“The house responds to what its people need. We need it to finish bringing that binding spell down from the second floor.”
“It’s using you for fuel, isn’t it? That’s why you look like shit.”
“That and middle age.”
She sat beside me and took my left hand in her right. “What do we do, just visualize what we want?”
What I wanted was to send her away. In my younger days, I probably would have. I hated the thought of her dying with me. But she had the right to make her own choices, and I needed the help. “Talk to the house. Give it permission to use your strength.”
“Ten bucks says I last longer than you.”
I managed a weak smile. “No fair. I’m already half tapped out.”
“Only half? It’s cute that you believe that.” Annette looked around the basement. “I’m ready. Come and get it.”
I leaned against Annette to keep from falling. I felt like the blood was draining from my body. Sparks flickered at the edge of my vision. She was definitely going to win her bet.
From the ceiling, a new piece of trim board grew down like a white stalactite.
“Do you hear voices?” asked Annette.
I started to explain about end-of-life hallucinations and brain activity, then frowned. “That sounds like Temple.”
He was whispering in a slow, raspy voice. I could barely pick it out over the squelching of the thralls and my own labored breathing. I didn’t recognize the language.
Not only could I hear him, I knew where he was. I saw him sprawled on his side in the grass out front with his cane held tightly against his chest. I knew he was looking toward the house—toward us. I knew he was exhausted and afraid.
In the same way, I saw Annette sitting beside me. I shared her worry for me and Temple and her family. I felt her determination. I felt her love.
“Looks like we’re fully networked now,” said Annette.
The wainscoting board clattered to the floor. The sound made both of us jump. Nails scratched the concrete as it crawled into place.
“Help me pull the thrall’s arm back so the house can complete the circle.” Somehow, I pulled myself to my feet and helped Annette up.
We stumbled toward the portal. I grabbed the thrall’s arm and braced myself like before. Annette wrapped her arms around me and pulled.
I wouldn’t have been able to do it alone, but the two of us pried the arm back just enough for the board to slide past and link with the rest of the spell.
As before, I felt the magic take effect, like a weight lifted from inside of my chest.
