Last Car to Annwn Station (25 page)

“There,” Kravis said, pointing.

Mae followed his finger. She spotted the signal cloth hanging from the dark window. Giving the grounds another look, Mae started forward.

“Wait!” Kravis said behind her.

Mae stopped in her tracks. “What?”

He pointed to the corner of the mansion nearest the marked window. Perched on the edge of the roof was a stone gargoyle. It turned to watch the yard with glittering jeweled eyes.

“Is there any way to slip under or past it?” Mae asked.

Kravis shook his head. “No.”

“Then we shall need to destroy it,” Mirallyn said.

Kravis scowled at the faerie sorceress. “And that won’t draw unwanted attention in any way. No, they’d never notice a big explosion of magical energy on the bleeding roof!”

“I’d rather stay hidden a bit longer,” Mae agreed.

“If you both would be silent for a moment.” Mirallyn said.

Mae turned back to her mother. The diminutive faerie’s eyes were closed, her lips set in a hard line. She seemed to be concentrating on something. Mirallyn clapped her hands together once, the echo sharp in the silence of the winter night.

The sound of tiny feet scrabbling on wood and stone above their heads made the three intruders look up. Four raccoons swarmed over the stone gargoyle, their clever little digits and teeth working loose the crystals in the eyes of the stone guardian. The furred bandits accomplished their task and vanished into the snowy dark with the scrabbling of clawed feet, taking their trophies with them.

“I can’t believe you used cute fuzzy animals to save the day,” Mae said.

Her mother shrugged. “They answered my call. One works with the tools that present themselves.”

Kravis leaned in between them. “We should get you two through the window before those crystals explode.”

Mae asked. “Explode?”

Kravis nodded. “In about a minute.”

“Great. I’ve helped kill a bunch of defenseless furry animals.”

Mae turned back to the designated window. She ran as quickly as her short legs would carry her through the shin-deep snow. She came up hard against the wooden siding of the mansion, under the window. Mae looked up. There was a piece of red cloth dangling from a cut in the upper left corner of the window screen. It was too high for Mae to reach while standing flat-footed. She collapsed the baton and handed it to her mother before grabbing Kravis by the shoulders.

“I’ll need you to give me a boost. Make a stirrup with your hands and lift me.”

Kravis gave her a sour look but did as she asked. Mae placed one booted foot in his hands. She reached up and tore the screen away. She managed to perch precariously on the outer sill of the window. She felt Kravis put his hands on her legs to help stabilize her.

Mae peered through the cracks of the closed shutter at a dark room. It looked and sounded empty. She slowly lifted the window up, listening for the sounds of habitation on the other side of the window. The wooden shutter cracked open a few inches when she bumped it. Mae pushed it open and peered inside.

Mae realized it was what the builders would have called a water closet. There were no bathing facilities, only a toilet and two-sink vanity. The room was dark and empty, but Mae noticed faint light under the door.

She looked down at Kravis and her mother. “I’m going in.”

Mae tried to swing one leg over the sill. She missed. Her foot caught, making her tumble through the window and hit the tiled floor with a dull thud. She bit down on her tongue to keep from cursing and crying out.

“Mae?” Kravis called quietly from outside. “Are you okay?”

Mae stood. She had landed on her left arm and hip. Both hurt from the impact, but nothing seemed damaged except her pride. She leaned out the window.

“I’m fine. Toss me the baton.” She caught it easily when Mirallyn pitched it upward.

Her mother turned to Kravis. “Lift me.”

The dark faerie rolled his eyes, then knelt in the snow and made a stirrup with his hands for the second time.

Mae saved her mother an undignified landing by reaching up and helping the woman off the window sill.

Mae leaned back out the window and looked at Kravis. “Good luck,” she said.

Kravis nodded solemnly to her. “And to you, Mae.”

Mae closed the window and shutters. She took a deep breath and walked to the door, her mother trailing in her wake. Mae pressed an ear to the wood. She could hear nothing.

“How long before they realize you’re in the house?” she asked her mother.

“They may be aware of my presence at this time. I will not know if I am detected until they move to eliminate me.”

Mae exhaled a long, nervous breath. She opened the door a crack and peered out. There was a well-lit hallway outside the door. Dark paneling stretched out for ten feet, ending at a door of dark wood. There was no indication of people. She opened the door and peered around it. More hallway, a couple of tables facing each other, and a series of portraits hanging from the wall greeted her. There was a bright light shining through an open door at the end of the hall. She stepped into the hallway, her mother behind her.

Mae started to walk toward the open door, moving to flatten herself along the wall. Her mother grabbed her arm.

“Those candles are set to detect anyone who passes them. If we walk between them, it will alert our foes.” Mirallyn turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “We can, however, crawl underneath their gaze.”

Mae walked as close to the tables as she dared, then crawled on her hands and knees past them. She made sure she was well clear of the detection devices and stood. She checked over her shoulder, making sure her mother was still with her, and continued toward the light.

She reached the open door and stood next to it for several minutes, listening for any sounds that might alert her to danger. Hearing nothing, Mae peered around the doorframe.

She found herself looking into what was either a hall or a ballroom, with a polished floor and a vaulted ceiling dominated by an ornate crystal chandelier. At the other end of the room she could see through an open set of double doors into the parlor where she had first encountered the animated corpse of Chrysandra Arneson.

On the polished, honey-colored wood floor lay a black clutch purse next to a shattered glass and the sticky remnants of dark red wine. Mae dashed to the purse, ignoring her mother’s hissed warning to be careful. She knelt and picked up the purse with trembling hands, opening it. Jill’s revolver was still inside. Mae snapped the purse shut and stood. She walked back to the hallway and regarded the two tables near the bathroom door.

Somewhere in this house her lover and her sister were being held prisoner. Mae shrugged out of her heavy coat, letting it fall to the floor: it would only impede her movements. She opened Jill’s purse and withdrew the snub-nosed pistol. She stuffed the pistol into her pocket and drew the baton, snapping it open. She placed Jill’s purse in her bag and slung the bag over her shoulder.

Mae walked purposefully toward the two tables, stopping long enough to crawl under them.

“What are you doing?” her mother cried, grabbing Mae by the arm.

Mae gave her mother a hard look and pulled her arm free. “They’ve got Jill. They’ve got Fay. This house is too big for me to search quickly, and it’s probably trapped to a fair-thee-well. It would take me too long to find them skulking around, and I’m not even sure anyone is even here. There was supposed to be a party, and instead the place is quiet and dark. So I’m changing the plan. I’m going to charge in and hope for the best.”

Mae turned away from her mother, stepping steadily toward the door at the end of the hallway. Mae reached out and grabbed the doorknob. A sharp tingle struck her hand. She pulled it back and clutched it to her chest. It could have been static electricity, but somehow Mae doubted this.

“What have you discovered?” her mother asked.

Mae looked at her and bit her upper lip. “I think the door is a trap. I got shocked when I touched the knob.”

“Perhaps we should—”

Mae gritted her teeth and grabbed the doorknob. The shock traveled up her arm and shoulder, making her teeth hurt. She turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Another hallway greeted them. Doors—some opened and some closed—lined either side. Mae caught the smell of food and alcohol. She moved to the first door and peered into the room. It was a dining room with a large cherry table and seating for a dozen. Mae pressed on, past the formal dining room toward the next door. The lack of resistance was making Mae’s mind imagine any number of horrible scenarios, all of which ended with Jill dead.

The opening of the door took Mae and her mother by surprise. For an instant the two women locked gazes with an older, larger woman with gray hair and a severe look on her face. Mae recognized her as the woman who greeted her on the night of her ill-advised visit to the Arneson home. The woman gasped and raised her hand. A gray-silver light began to discharge from a ring she wore. Behind Mae, Mirallyn hissed in pain.

Mae reacted on instinct. Raising the baton to chest level, Mae ran into her opponent, aiming her shoulder at a point beyond the woman’s back. The woman made a satisfying shriek as Mae overbore her and knocked her flat. Mae pressed the baton into the woman’s throat.

She sneered down at the gasping woman. “Hi, I’m Mae Malveaux. We met a few days ago.” She frowned. “You and your employers have some people that are important to me. I’m here to take them back.”

“Make her take off the ring,” Mirallyn said.

“You heard her,” Mae pressed the baton harder on the woman’s throat. “Do it!”

The woman took the dull gray ring from her finger and dropped it on the floor with a sharp metallic clatter.

Mae leaned toward the woman’s face, shifting her weight slightly forward. “Tell me what you’ve done with Jill Hall. Tell me where you’re hiding Fay.”

The woman’s face became set in the look of someone who was content to stonewall until help arrived, and knew help would be showing up at any moment. Mae had not exactly been silent during her attack. Any element of surprise, any chance of being sneaky and subtle about the rescue, was blown. It would have to be brute force after all. She steeled herself, ready to bash the information out of the woman and leave her unconscious on the floor.

Mirallyn knelt next to the woman, placing a hand on her face and catching the woman’s eyes. “You know what I am. I could tell by your reaction upon seeing me. What you do not know is
who
I am.” Mirallyn caressed the woman’s cheek, stroking it as if she were touching a lover. The woman’s eyes glazed over. “Tell me where my daughter is,” Mirallyn said in a gentle voice. “Tell me how to find Fay.”

“You’re too late. The ritual has begun.”

Mae saw her mother’s expression change from calm to fierce. Mirallyn’s face darkened, her silver eyes turning black and her small pointed ears growing longer. She grabbed the woman under the chin, above Mae’s baton, and began to squeeze her throat with fingers that had elongated and grown sharp nails.

“Where is she?”

The woman’s eyes widened in fear. She made a gasping sound. “Down the stairs! The door on the left is the library. There is a door behind the tapestry on the wall.” The woman’s demeanor changed from fear to a nasty sneer. “It’s warded against your kind.”

“Yeah, but not against me, I’ll bet.” Mae stood. “We need to hurry.”

“Yes,” her mother replied. Mirallyn’s hand squeezed and twisted in a sudden motion. There was a snapping sound and the woman’s mouth opened in surprise.

Mae took a step backward, shocked at the sudden, casual way her mother had killed. She bumped into something solid. With a shriek, Mae turned and raised the baton.

Death smiled sadly at her. “Harden yourself, Maeve Kathleen Malveaux.” He knelt next to the dead woman and opened his briefcase. “This one’s death is but the first of many this night shall see.” He vanished from her sight, leaving Mae to stare at the dead body on the kitchen floor.

Mae swallowed back the acid-tasting bile in her throat and stepped over the corpse. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and followed her mother down the stairs in the corner of the kitchen. They paused at the bottom of the stairs. There were two doors, one on each side of the landing. Mae looked at her mother.

“Now what?” Mae asked.

“The woman told me true. That I could read from her eyes. This is the door to the library and beyond that, their sanctum. They must know we are here. I suspect there will be someone behind the door waiting for us.”

Mae collapsed the baton and placed it in the back pocket of her jeans. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. She drew the pistol from her front pocket, turned off the safety and looked at her mother.

“I’ve never killed another person. I don’t want to.”

“Even if that means the death of your love?”

Mae gave her mother a grim look. “I didn’t say I
wouldn’t
kill. I said I don’t
want
to.”

“That is the difference between you and those we hunt.”

Mae looked away from her mother, still troubled by the violence upstairs. She raised the pistol and took two quick breaths, blowing both out completely. She inhaled deeply, twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

Mae stepped into the library. Scanning the room, she found no sign of opposition. No one jumped out from behind the desk or emerged from a shadowed corner to challenge them.

Mae walked carefully toward the tapestry on the wall, moving as silently as possible. She pulled the tapestry away to reveal a door stained dark brown, so brown it was nearly black. She could hear voices on the other side, though she could not make out the words. There was a cloying smell of incense. She glanced over her shoulder at her mother.

“I believe the door is all that is warded against me,” Mirallyn said. “Once you have opened it, I should be able to enter the room.”

“I hope so,” Mae mumbled, grabbing the small knob. “Otherwise this is all going to end badly.”

“I suspect it will end badly no matter what we do, daughter.” Mirallyn paused. “Should I fall, you will need to move quickly to save Fay, Jill and yourself. Kravis will destroy this entire manor shortly after my death.”