“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-Two

The 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…

Screams of misery tore through the boiling, surging people—the non-fatal gunshot wounds had started expanding, skin unraveling like someone was pulling a thread in a knit sweater. That someone was me. Oops.

Like eddies of water, the crowd backed away from the growling, claw-swinging basajaun and around the miserable sods who were unraveling before their eyes.

More intruders than my dad could handle surged onto the property. Ivy House took up her mantle as protector.

Huge metal spears popped out of the grass and from under the cement walkway as spotlights pushed up near the base of the house and clicked on, flooding the scene with bright white light. The intruders ripped their arms up in front of their faces, shielding their eyes, and the large arrow points at the ends of the spears gleamed.

I heard my dad say, “Martha, look at that! Booby traps!”

A body flew up over the crowd as the spears launched forward, the metal rods collecting bodies two and three deep before the cables that tethered them went taut and yanked backward. The bodies slid off as the spears locked back in place, passing through two metal rods obviously for that purpose, ready for another release. Another body sailed overhead and gas released from the grass, so thick that the light almost couldn’t penetrate it. Those caught in it began to cough, clutching their necks and chests.

“Basajaun,” I yelled, making a let’s go motion with my hand. Ivy House would alert me if anyone got past.

“Make sure he is protected through the fog,” she said to me, as though hearing my thoughts. “Don’t worry about your parents. Should the worst happen, I will force them away if necessary.”

“Wait, what?” I threw a protective bubble around the basajaun as he charged through the crowd. Going around would’ve been easier, but whatever. “I’ve never done a bubble against gas!”

“That’ll do, pig.”

I furrowed my brow at her antics as someone foolishly swiped at the basajaun with their sword. The sword dinged off the bubble I’d created, a force field on the outside, and the wall penetrable from within, ensuring he’d be safe from the gas unless he stuck his head out. He grabbed the woman’s arm, wrenched it off, and smacked her across the face with it. Insult to injury.

He continued forward, waving his great arms, throwing people onto the grass. Their shouts of pain turned to wails of agony amid their coughs, whatever Ivy House had cooked up for them not for the faint-hearted.

The basajaun himself stopped just before the grass, eyeing the fog.

“You’re safe.” I motioned him closer. “Come through, you’re safe!”

The battering ram hit the curb, these modern-day issues impeding the usefulness of old-school machines. Even if they got it over, or went across the driveway, they’d have to get around the fully functioning, enormous spears positioned on some sort of javelin machine that had ruined Edgar’s perfectly tended grass. My front door wasn’t going to feel the wrath of that machine today.

“You are protecting me from the poison fog,” the basajaun said as he reached me.

“Yes, hurry. Ivy House can handle these people for now. It’s the people in the back who are going to be the problem.”

“It is good to be on your side.”

“Not really, since we’re vastly outnumbered and the house can’t help us with these guys. Not yet, anyway.”

“This house is amazing.”

I didn’t feel like he was hearing anything I was saying, but I also didn’t feel like there was any point in persisting, so I started to jog, finding Austin and the other shifters at the tree line, smushing the flowers as they peered into the darkness. The host of dolls waited off to the far right, standing because of Ivy House, but immobile since she didn’t know where to direct them.

“Hey.” I stopped beside Austin and put a hand on his furry shoulder, about level with my head, feeling him tense under the touch. I took my hand away. “Anything?” I whispered.

The basajaun leapt over the flowers, directing dirty looks at anyone standing on them, and pressed his large hand to the nearest tree trunk. He bent, crouching down, looking under the trees. “They’re here,” he whispered.

I crouched in my location, frustrated at their magic, and looked into the woods. Lines in the darkness, the trunks of trees standing sentinel. Bushes crawled across the ground, behind ferns. I couldn’t see any movement. Could they see me? Did they know we were waiting?

The cover of darkness was hurting us as much as it was helping us.

I reached up to tear the darkness away on this side of the house, then I spied it. Further back than I’d been looking, about fifty feet, I could see the soft blue glow of the spell keeping Ivy House and me from feeling the second group’s presence. Here to a basajaun had a different interpretation than it did for me.

I bit my lip, watching as they slowly, ever so slowly, worked their way to us. Did they think the intruders up front had distracted us enough for us not to notice them? Probably. For any normal small group of people, that certainly would’ve been the case.

I gestured behind me, not really needing the hand movement to direct the dolls or my magic, but it gave my brain a set place to focus.

The dolls took off right, drifting into the tree line quietly, knives clutched in their little hands, one of them climbing a tree and tootling across a branch to the next tree. I knew from experience that more would do the same.