“You’re scaring me,” Rose said.
“Don’t worry,” Declan told her. “The probability of an actual conflict between the two dimensions is rather low.”
“It’s mostly a precautionary measure,” William said.
“You have to be prepared for what your enemy could do rather than what they might do,” Declan said.
William nodded.
Rose didn’t look convinced.
TWENTY-FIVE
ÉLÉONORE sensed the approaching steps a moment before a careful knock on the door broke the silence. She put down her pestle and went to get the door. Technically Emily should be the one to do it, given that she was the youngest, but Emily was cooking a dead cat over the stove and had to keep stirring it. It smelled ghastly enough as it was. No need to add burned stench to it.
Éléonore opened the door and looked at a familiar-looking young woman. Ruby, she remembered. One of Adele’s great-grandchildren.
“There is a man here to see you,” the girl said.
A man? In Wood House? How in the world did he get past the wards? “Me or your great-grandma?”
The girl bobbed her dark head. “You, Mrs. Drayton.”
Éléonore wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out.
A man waited in the yard. Dark-haired, tall, about Declan’s age. He looked up, and his eyes shone with wild amber. Alarm shot through Éléonore. Like looking into the eyes of a feral beast. “You would be William, then,” she said.
He nodded.
“Are you here for yourself or for Casshorn?”
“For Jack,” he said.
“I see.” She didn’t, but that seemed like the right thing to say.
William sat into the grass. “Tell me when the curse is ready. I’ll draw the hounds to the lake.”
Éléonore nodded and went inside. Something had happened. She would have to ask Rose about it, but not now. Now they had old magic to court.
Two hours later, she staggered out onto the porch, pale and exhausted. He sat in the same spot. “It’s done,” she gasped. It had taken all of their strength, too. “Go fast. The curse won’t hold him for long.”
William pulled off his shirt, then his boots. His pants followed, and he stood naked on the grass.
His body twisted, muscle and bone stretching, flowing like molten wax. His spine bent, his legs jerked, and he crashed into the grass. A violent tremor shook his limbs. His fingers clawed the air. Newly formed bone, wet with lymph and blood, thrust through the muscle. Éléonore fought a shudder.
Flesh churned and flowed, encasing the new skeleton. Dense black fur sprouted and sheathed the skin. A huge wolf rolled onto his feet.
“Open the gate!” Éléonore called. Some young one slid the wooden beam aside and wrenched the gate open.
The wolf panted once and dashed into the Wood.
Éléonore watched him go. A terrible dread claimed her, squeezing her chest with a cold fist, and she sank down into a chair. This wouldn’t end well.
THE pond lay placid, its silt-muddled waters opaque and green. The afternoon had ripened into early evening, but they still had at least a few hours of sunlight. From her vantage point at the nose of the small inflatable boat, Rose saw the dock very clearly. Layers of ribbed tire rubber sheathed it, covering the wood completely. She might die there. All the times in her life she’d thought of dying, she hadn’t pictured her demise on a dock covered with black rubber. At least the boys were safe. She took them out to the Broken to stay with Amy Haire. They didn’t like it, but they both realized this wasn’t a good time to argue with her.
Behind her, Buckwell and Declan rowed quietly. The dock grew closer and closer.
She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. Ten minutes ago Jeremiah had called her. Her phone finally died, cutting him off in mid-word, but not before she got the message: the curse had been placed. Casshorn was asleep. William took off into the woods as soon as he heard, and now she was in a small boat, heading to a dock that looked more and more like a death trap.
“It’s not too late to back out,” Declan said.
She shook her head, stealing a glance at him. A relaxed expression held his face. His body betrayed no tension. She didn’t know if he didn’t feel fear or if he hid it well, but she had to do the same. If she fell apart, she would be a distraction. The whole point of her forcing her way into this situation was to let him save his strength.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Not a chance.”
Declan smiled at her.
“We had a saying in the army,” Tom Buckwell said. “Often wrong, but never in doubt. Once you decide what you need to do and how to go about it, you can’t afford to second-guess yourself. You just do it.”
The dock loomed before them. Rose got up and caught a wooden support, bringing the boat alongside of the dock. Declan caught the edge and pulled himself up. Rose gripped his hand, and he lifted her onto the dock. She stomped her feet in Leanne’s rubber-soled boots. They were a size too big, but she didn’t own any electrical hazard boots and they would have to do. This whole idea seemed amazingly stupid now.
William was in agreement with her. When they told him of their plan, he’d shut his eyes and shaken his head. The fact that she’d come up with this harebrained scheme only made the whole thing more ironic.
Buckwell passed Declan his swords. “Don’t touch the water once the power lines come down. We’ll be over there.” He pointed to the shore behind the dock, where the roof of the church cut across the sky. “If any of them make it past you up the road, we’ve got machetes. And I’ve got my chainsaw. I’ve got six people down there, and every one of us should be able to see the beasts.”
Declan nodded. “Good luck.”
“Same to you.” Buckwell took off.
She wanted to jump into his boat. Hell, she wanted to jump into the water and swim ashore.
“Scared?” Declan asked.
“Yes.” She saw no point in lying.
“Good. It will keep you ready.”
They watched Buckwell land and pull the boat out. Behind him Thad Smith waved his arms. Leanne appeared on the bank, gripping a huge severed cable with rubber gloves. She hurled it into the water. A loud sound popped, like a thunderclap.
A small fish surfaced by the dock, white belly up.
“Now we wait,” Declan said.
Rose shrugged her shoulders, trying to break free of the pressure that clamped her.
“Remember, stop the moment your vision blurs,” he said. “Pushing any further is asking for trouble. Don’t be stupid.”
She nodded.
No wind troubled the greenery around the pond. Somewhere in the distance an Edger warbler sang out a trilling note. Mockingbirds screeched.
“So, regarding that tidbit about your having a fertile imagination when it came to private activities,” she said, fighting off anxiety. “Was it another lie?”
“Depends on how you look at it. It’s not exactly a lie, and if you come with me to the Weird, you’ll find that rumors of my ‘creativity’ when it comes to bed games with the opposite sex do exist. I started them myself and managed them very carefully. The trick with rumors is to feed them once in a while, so they don’t die.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
“Because I don’t particularly feel like being appraised like a side of beef by every enterprising young lady shopping for a husband. Despite my unfriendly demeanor, I’m wealthy, handsome, and a peer.”
“All that female attention. Poor you.”
Declan grimaced, his face turning cold. His voice became saturated with hard cynicism. “There is a great deal of difference between female attention and a never-ending assault of sugary pouts and ‘marry me, marry me, marry me.’ ‘You looked at me, can we get married now? You laughed at something I said, should I order a dress? You kissed me, I shall summon my father; he will be overjoyed to hear of our engagement. ’ This way the only woman who tolerates being alone with me doesn’t mind having her reputation sullied, because she’s either in the market for a lover or she’s looking for a patron to support her. Quite frankly, I prefer it this way. No painful confusion, no complicated explanations.”