“Hey, Sissy,” EJ said.
Angie made a little squeaking sound and stopped. KitKit laughed in cat laughter by twitching her tail tip. It was funny.
A bright light hit Angie’s face.
“Turn that off,” Angie hissed like a cat. The light went out.
KitKit moved to a corner and watched.
Angie used her magic to see in the dark and spotted EJ under a blanket in the Daddy’s spot. EJ giggled. Angie frowned.
“You’re a son of a witch on a switch.” Which was the Mama’s swear words, in the same way a hiss was KitKit’s swear words.
EJ giggled.
“How did you know I was up?” Angie demanded.
“You’s magic was singin’”
“Magic doesn’t sing. It sparkles.”
“Sings. And the magic from the woods is singin’ louder. It hu’ts my ea’us.”
KitKit raced to the window. There had been magic on the hill behind the house all day, different magic from the residue of death magics that had killed everything alive there. This was fresh magic. This was danger. And the alphas would not listen no matter how KitKit yowled and talked and stared at the magic on the hill through the windows. KitKit not could make them understand, even when she scratched the Daddy.
For some reason, they couldn’t see it and they had refused to listen to their own kits, too, when the little-ones said magic was on the hill.
The Mama and the Daddy said nothing was there. As KitKit watched, it grew brighter. It was big magic.
“It sings like a wolfie and a bird and the bells in the church,” EJ said.
George the Stupid-Dog joined KitKit and the human-witch-kits at the window. George growled, a deep menacing vibration. KitKit hissed and arched her back.
George the Stupid-Dog put his head against KitKit. I will watch the kits. You wake the biggers.
Biggers is what George the Stupid-Dog called the Mama and the Daddy alphas.
“A wolf?” Angie asked.
“Yup. And a bird and bells.”
Angie said, “It shines the color of Uncle RickyBo. That might make it a were-animal.”
It was not a were-creature, or even any kind of normal animal. KitKit and George knew this. KitKit raced to wake the Mama and the Daddy.
Dog eyes were not as good in the dark as cat eyes, but George’s nose was the best dog-nose of any Bassett Hound ever. And George had been smelling the magic all day and all night. It was not were-creature magic. It was not purely witch magic. It was other.
This magic smelled like witch magic mixed with normal human machines, what humans called tech. George needed to call for help, but he did not know how to get help.
He nudged Angie. Hard. His legs tangled in EJ’s trailing blanket and he bumped the table. The cell phone the Mama Bigger had left on the table rattled. Angie looked at the cell phone. He nudged it again, but Angie turned back to the hillside.
Angie did not move for a long time, watching the hill where the bad smell came from. Finally, Angie picked up the cell phone to call a helper.
George huffed in satisfaction.
EJ said, “Sissy? Its bells is comin’ c’oser to the house. If it’s a animal like Unca Ricky-Bo, it can maybe get in the ward.”
George’s hackles rose. His floppy lips pulled back showing his teeth.
KitKit raced back into the room. Angie did a bad, she thought at him. The Mama and the Daddy are magicked asleep, and I cannot wake them even with my claws.
Still holding the phone, Angie grabbed EJ and hauled him toward the Biggers’ room, his blanket dragging behind hm. He and KitKit followed, KitKit meowing. George growled softly, looking at the door to the hillside. The Biggers’ ward around the land should protect them. But the smell that came through the cracks in the door said they were in danger.
Angie made a witch gesture and said, “Wake up.” The smell of magic rushed out and back, snapping hard, hitting the little witch with the smell of burned things.
“Ow!” She shook her hands at the pain of her own magic ending too quickly.
“Mama! Daddy!” she shouted.
In the dark, Mama Bigger rolled over. “Kids? What are you doing up at this hour?”
And then the outer ward made a gong, GONG, GONG!
Daddy Bigger sat up, still asleep, one arm waving in the air, his other reaching for his flute. Mama Bigger raced clumsily to the window and threw open the drapes, looking up the hill, holding her little baby bump. Bright light blasted in. Mama Bigger said a very bad word.
“Evan, what is that thing?”
EJ’s hands covered his ears. “It’s louder! Bad bells hu’ts my ea’us.”
A smell rushed against the windows, through the ward that let in air. George sneezed at the stink. Sneezed again. The smell was bad. Very, very bad. And that meant the magic was very bad too. Whatever the magic users had started out doing, they had made it much worse just now. Much stronger. As the Biggers would say, they had activated a curse spell.
“I told you it was out there,” Angie said, and pulled EJ closer, under her arm, standing in the doorway. George leaned into them, his soft growl vibrating, telling them he would protect them. KitKit raced around the room. Jumped to the window ledge and stared out. Jumped back down. Everyone ignored her except for George. He knew her power.
The Biggers poured magic into the wards, smelling of many wonderful smells, like pine trees, and rosemary and mice and sounding of good human music. The thing on the hill started gonging again, louder and louder. It threw lights at the ward. Hammering it.
The ward began to hum and echo, brighter and brighter.
This was bad. This was very, very bad. George tangled into EJ’s blanket, as close as he could get.
EJ, hands on his ears, cried in pain. KitKit leaped onto the bed, her eyes on the Mama, stalking her across the mattress.
The Mama screamed over the gonging, “I don’t see anything!” Her scream hurt KitKit’s ears. Their fear-smell flooded the room. The Mama’s bad magics began to rise.
This was KitKit’s job. To stop the bad magics. She stalked closer, ready to pounce.
“Me neither,” Daddy said. “But the ward is fracturing.”
“Evan!” Mama shouted over the magical noise. Terror in her tones.
“Angie,” Daddy yelled. “Make a personal ward around you and your brother. The strongest one you can. Now!”
“But you said—”
“Do it! Use all you got,” the Daddy shouted over the gongs.
He took a deep breath and blew a long, high-pitched note full of magic on his flute. With his magic, the Daddy made a personal ward for the Mama. KitKit was inside the small ward with the death magics that were rising. The Daddy was sweating and breathless. The Mama was panting, fighting her bad magics.
KitKit watched Angie pull the Mama’s and the Daddy’s bindings off EJ, bindings meant to contain their magic. It was taking too long. Beneath the bindings on the kits, colors began to shine. Colors of light and power. Angie made a ward around EJ, George the Stupid-Dog, and her. It was a lot of magic.
“Ohhh,” EJ said. “That feels good.”
The Daddy’s music magic filled the room. The magic shapings shivered.
But the gong got louder. Faster.
The Mama’s bad magics rose with the noise. Her powers went black as a cave, death magics all around her, enclosed in the ward the Daddy had made. Enclosed with KitKit.
The Mama did not know how to control them. Now they had two ways to die. The magic attack on the hill, and the magic in the room. KitKit hunched, ready to attack the Mama. Ready to stop the bad magic.