“If you want to be pragmatic about it,” Alister said. “I prefer to phrase it as ‘a bunch of existences end rather horribly, and the demons win a meaningful victory.'”
“I don’t,” the Elder Sister said. “Believe me, I don’t want to be pragmatic when I could be more human, but all of this is hard enough to take in. You know, I could blame to you two for inviting us into this mess.”
“That’s a debate for another time,” Rose said. “Let’s focus on the now.”
“For now,” the High Priest said, putting a hand on Emily’s shoulder, pulling the little girl back from the edge of the group and toward the middle, “Let’s keep you from getting touched by your uncle Malcolm.”
“I can’t locate him anymore, but he’s out there. Circling us. I’ve never seen him like this,” the girl said.
“I have,” the High Priest said. “I saw his predecessor do it too, but I was young then. If things had gone differently, you’d have been raised to do it as well.”
“Do what? I was told, but…”
“You’d stalk. Hunt. Solve problems,” the Elder Sister said.
We’re the problem he’s solving right now, Rose thought.
But the inverse was true, too. Except her side was the one with the time limit, with pursuers on the way. These vestiges were a problem to solve.
“These vestiges,” she said. “They do damage through connections. I don’t think any of us want to touch them, but their footprints form a connection to the ground, and they aren’t doing any damage I can see there. If anyone is going to deal with them, it should be someone with as few connections to them as possible.”
“Easier said than done,” Alister said, watching Laird. “It’s the people with connections to them that have the ability to deal with them.”
Like the novice illusionist dealing with Fell.
“Then I would suggest,” Isadora said, “That you give very good advice and leave it at that.”
Alister shook his head. “Not that simple.”
“Of course not,” the sphinx said. “I’m sensing hostile intent from our invisible gunman. Oh, he’s backing off now that I’ve announced it.”
Most of the group was facing outward now, wary for an attack from any direction. The atmosphere grew a touch more tense after the sphinx’s statement.
“Aren’t invisible assholes supposed to leave footprints or disturb the snow?” Peter asked. “That’s how it works in the movies.”
“I learned how to stop doing that on my second day of studying illusions,” Emily said.
“Well aren’t you precocious,” Peter said, affecting a tone. Ainsley jabbed him. Paige simultaneously shot him a disgusted look.
“Can’t win,” Peter muttered.
“In more ways than one,” Ty said, sounding a little defeated. Maybe a little broken.
He looked so tired. Rose was a little startled to see it. It was like looking at her mom and seeing how she suddenly looked fifty, instead of just looking like mom.
It stung, and it made her feel uncomfortable, realizing that his weariness was partially her fault. She’d leaned so much on him…
She had to do something, and the best thing she could do was help work through this problem.
“They don’t want to die,” Rose said. “Self preservation is a part of them. Something instinctual is probably telling them that they can sustain themselves by consuming us. Fell won’t attack until he’s reasonably certain he can do it and get away alive after the fact.”
“Ainsley!” Laird called out.
Ainsley startled.
“I can use the Sight. I’m well aware that you just contacted my wife. Or rather, that she just answered your repeated attempts.”
He very deliberately looked up at the ceiling above him.
“Maybe I should go say hi to her,” Laird said. “Or my sons?”
Ainsley brought the phone to her ear, hand over the mouthpiece. Instructions for those within the house.
Laird smiled a little. Smug. The Behaims had a way of looking so smug.
“What do you want, Laird?” Rose called out, hoping to distract him.
“What do you think?” Laird asked.
“More to the point,” Alister muttered, “Why hasn’t he gone into the house?”
Rose looked at the doorway. The front step was scorched, the snow there melted, where the Eye had struck.
“Threshold,” she said. “The barrier there.”
Alister’s eyes widened.
Rose’s eye fell on the imp above the door. “If you could get to the door, could you get inside?”
“I have permission. The barrier allows only people with Behaim blood and those with names written in the guestbook inside. Major members of the family can give permission, but guests will feel uncomfortable.”
“Because books,” Ainsley said. “Magical paraphernalia. Better to keep visits short.
“Is there a back door?” Rose asked.
Alister snapped his head in Ainsley’s direction. Ainsley nodded.
“That’s a yes, then,” Rose said. Her eyes turned to the imp, perched above the door. Murr wasn’t a very vocal or active imp, but god damn, was he troublesome. “Need to deal with that, and there’s still Fell, who’s liable to capitalize on any distraction.”
“Distraction is a good idea,” the High Priest said. “Not my forté.”
“It’s mine,” the little girl said. “But Uncle Malcolm is a lot better at it than me.”
Too many conditions. These vestiges made life so difficult.
“They’re arriving in a minute,” Isadora said. “Whatever damage that explosion did, they’ve recuperated.”
No time to plan, if proper plans were even possible.
Her eye fell on the shadow of someone on the upper floor, peering through a window.
“Go,” Rose said, “Go! Evan-”
“On it!”
We’ll figure it out in the process.
Alister and Ainsley broke away. Without communicating anything overtly, they’d already chosen their respective directions.
Alister headed for the front door. Ainsley sprinted for the back.
The group had the knights, they had the sphinx, they had the Eye.
Rose had to hope they could deal with Fell.
Her eyes were on the demon.
What was it? Not ruin, not darkness.
What plane did it operate on? Not madness, not feral. Abstract?
It brought back the dead. Defied natural order. But they weren’t truly dead. They were memories, tainted ones.
Grief?
Choir of sin.
The choir of sin was one of the hardest to deal with. It required certain human conventions to combat. Of those conventions, one stood out.
But Blake was there, stirring to life, almost eager to have something to supply.
She closed her eyes, wincing in pain as the memories were pushed to the surface, the scenes distorting, fragments missing.
As if she’d lose the memories in the end, as a price for having them supplied.
But it was a near-perfect recall. Being in church. Reading the words, the tips for pronouncing Latin.
The Latin words, ones she didn’t even understand, flowed from her mouth, as the memories were supplied, one after another.