12.08
Time to be the monster from the monster movies, I thought.
Dozens of practitioners, each and every one capable of binding me, or calling in help.
The advantage, conversely, was that they thought I was trapped in the mirror. At least, they did until Johanes elected to share that pertinent detail, or at least until one of the Others or Witch Hunters we’d just dealt with reported in.
The advantage of surprise. With luck, the fire would suggest that they had won. With better luck, they’d be misled into thinking they’d won by too much. That someone had made a mistake and now the house burned, threatening to let a demon loose.
As I looked back over my shoulder, Hillsglade House was backed by a pitch black sky, the overcast sky blocking out even the moon and the stars. The smoke, the snow on the ground and the clouds nearest the house on the hill were lit up by the orange glow of the two fires. It was hard to ignore.
Evan’s underbelly was pale as he relocated to the roof of a nearby house. Green Eyes crawled through the snow, blending into the pale snow.
Then there was me. When I resumed walking, the house to my back, the branches of my arms, legs, neck and body all snapped and cracked, more like I was a man moving through a thick tangle of branches than a man made of branches.
Once I found my momentum, though, my body remained pliable. Only movements that broke from the flow elicited the noises of breaking and creaking wood, or scrapes of wood against bone.
My feet were bare, and the snow muffled my footsteps further. I was virtually silent as I moved between houses, avoiding the open streets where practitioners were gathering in clusters.
I headed between two houses, along a shoveled path that led to two gates, each opening into backyards.
I was approaching the group that had been nearest the house. A fence enclosed the backyard, separating me from them.
“-did it?” a woman was saying.
“I’m suspicious it was the Behaims. Every time the topic of demons has come up, the Behaim leadership are so blasé. You don’t act that way around demons unless you’re very confident you’re safe or you’re stupid,” another woman suggested.
A man spoke, “Couldn’t it be stupidity? The stories I’ve heard of their misadventures here and in Toronto… I’m not sure how to put it politely.”
“It’s easier to let yourself make mistakes when a fix is often a turn of the clock away,” another man said.
“They’ve been doing more,” the woman said. A Duchamp, had to be. “They went to Toronto and made a play there. They dealt with the Thorburns on several occasions here.”
“Saying they failed only because they tried more doesn’t elevate them in my eyes.”
“I’m not trying to elevate them, dear,” the woman replied, making it the least affectionate ‘dear’ I’d ever heard. “But they’re stubborn, and in our little spars in past decades, they’ve managed to hold their own.”
“How?”
“Big guns,” another man said. “Chronomancy, you’re tampering with one of the fundamental aspects of reality. Put up a fight, scrap, trade blows, and wait until you have an opportunity to deliver the knockout blow.”
“Essentially,” the woman said.
“What if it’s the Sorcerer?”
“Johannes?”
I hurdled the fence, using my empty hand on the top of the fence to make it possible, enjoying just how light my body was. The action required ‘muscles’ I hadn’t exercised, and the resulting crack of wood made their fear spike. I could feel it. Alarm, attention.
A small bird flew across the street.
They relaxed. I could feel the fear fading.
“If the Thorburns have dropped out of the running-”
“Rose is at the hospital, she might not have heirs, but we have to kill her to end the line.”
“We should get our bearings first. The moment she dies, we have no reason to play nice with the Behaims or Johannes.”
“More importantly, they have no reason to play nice with us.”
I drew closer to the corner behind them. Five people were gathered together, two women and three men. I avoided looking at them.
Safety in numbers?
The other member of the group was a distance away, talking on the phone.
I could hear her, too.
“-inside. I already talked to her about the snowballs she put in the freezer last night. She went to get them after dark, and if the lecture- yes. Snowballs. I don’t know why. Either she wants them to become ice balls or she’s saving them until spring. Yes. No, I don’t care what the reasons are. I don’t want your cousin going out tonight, for any reason. It’s dangerous.”
The group of five were facing the house, allowing me to approach the Duchamp woman that was on the phone. Standing just far enough away that she wouldn’t be heard.
My eyes and thoughts remained elsewhere, as I approached. No use giving her a cue. If she was looking for connections and saw one appear with great haste, it would be a giveaway.
My footsteps were silent. I didn’t breathe or have a heartbeat.
I pressed the Hyena to her throat.
I heard her breath catch.