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“Great, they look like they’re enjoying this,” I said, backing up to attempt another spell. Before I could summon the Moon Mother’s power, they were joined by a herd of shuffling flesh-on-the-sneaker. Zombies. Or ghouls. Oh, I hoped it was zombies—easier to kill, not so much in the brains department.
There was a subtle pause as we sized each other up. They were strong. Very strong. We had a fight on our hands. I just hoped to hell that Stacia would hold off until we took care of these cretins. I grabbed Morio’s hand.
“Let’s try to dispel some of the zombies,” I said. He nodded. We moved off to the side and Morio hurriedly pulled out a quartz crystal-beaded necklace and handed it to me. I draped it over my neck and he did the same with one of obsidian beads. We joined hands and began focusing on the spell that would turn the zombies back into worm food.
Meanwhile, I glanced up in time to see Delilah and Smoky move in on the bikers, and then they were joined by the rest. Iris hung back, shooting a shower of ice fragments at the demons. Demons generally didn’t like the cold unless they hung out in the Netherworld, and considering they were working for the lamia, I doubted that there’d be any cold spots in the house at all.
Wilbur joined Morio and me, and he quickly sprinkled salt into a large pentagram, then drew a circle around it with salt mixed with rosemary. He sat in the center of the five-pointed star and began to incant something low under his breath. I pulled my attention away, trying not to focus on the shouts and screams that were coming from the fight, but on the little squadron of zombies that had noticed us and were heading our way. Great, they were drawn by the necromantic energy. Delightful.
“Concentrate,” Morio hissed.
I shook my head. Why couldn’t I focus? Why couldn’t I ground myself? And then, just like that, the attention was there, shoving aside all other thoughts. I sank into the energy, let it engulf me as it dragged us down into the realm of shadow, into the realm of the night. Everything around me took on a faint violet glow and I knew we’d opened the door.
Morio squeezed my hands and we began the chant to release the summoned undead. Like many of our other spells, it played with a counterpoint rhythm. Morio began to open the gate.
“Devo shena, devo sherahni, devo shilak. Devo mordente, devo resparim, devo salesum . . .”>Marymoor Park was on the Eastside. The Greater Seattle Metropolitan area is made up not only of Seattle proper, but of numerous suburb cities that flowed into each other, divided by manmade boundaries rather than natural divisions. Many of the bedroom communities had grown large enough to be central metropolitan areas themselves.
The GSM area surrounded several lakes, including Lake Washington, Lake Union, and Lake Sammamish, while Seattle proper was on Elliot Bay and the Puget Sound Inlet, which led out through the Straits of Juan de Fuca to the Pacific Ocean.
The Eastside was east of Lake Washington, connected to Seattle by two floating pontoon bridges, one of which—the 520 Floating Bridge—was one the longest of its kind in the world. Both the I-90 Bridge and the 520 were marvels of engineering in the earthquake-prone area, and the 520 was in desperate need of rebuilding, both to service the increased load of cars that crossed it daily, and to prevent it from going belly up during a major trembler.
We were headed for a city called Redmond, the home of Microsoft. It abutted Bellevue—a city of over one hundred and twenty thousand people—and was a little less urban but still a growing community. The two cities were divided by Bel-Red Road, short—of course—for Bellevue-Redmond Road.
As we headed toward the exit off of the 520, which had been sparsely trafficked thanks to the fact that we’d headed out shortly after eight P.M., I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Chase’s SUV was following Morio’s Subaru. We’d brought two cars, considering that we had eleven people and all our gear to transport. Morio was driving me, Menolly, Trillian, and Smoky. Chase ferried Delilah, Rozurial, Wilbur, Vanzir, and Iris.
We sped along the 520 freeway until we came to the exit, which opened onto Leary Way. Straight ahead and we’d be in Redmond proper. Morio swung a right onto West Sammamish Parkway. Less than five minutes later and we were at the entrance of Marymoor Park. He eased into the left-turn lane at the light, and pulled into the park, followed by Chase.
There was some sort of event going on, and the park was still open though it usually closed at dusk. We eased into the parking lot near Clise Mansion: a community hall that had once been a country estate and now was available for meetings, weddings, and other special occasions.
As we scrambled out of the cars, I looked wistfully at the mansion. “It’s beautiful. It would be so nice to have some sort of party where we didn’t have to worry about all this other crap.”
Trillian put his hand on my shoulder. “Perhaps for the holidays, we can throw a party here?”
I stared at him, touched. Trillian usually wasn’t so keen on social claptrap, as he put it, but now the look on his face told me he meant it. I kissed him lightly on the nose. “Thank you for that.”
We gathered our gear and headed out of the park. The towering firs and cedars were interspersed with maple and birch and hawthorn and alder, and numerous other types of trees and shrubs. The park was over six hundred acres. We were on the west side. A five-minute walk took us back to West Sammamish Parkway, and a few seconds later we were across the street.
Menolly looked around—nobody was on the road so she quickly hovered up to the top of the restraining wall and, perching on it, tossed down a light rope. We made light work of climbing up, even Iris, who was a lot stronger than she looked. On the other side of the wall, we found ourselves facing a shallow ravine filled with trees. It was easy enough to scramble down into the cover of foliage.
“Okay, where’s Stacia’s place?” It was dark, and the ground uneven. I was glad I’d traded my stilettos for granny boots. It was also cold and I was equally glad I’d worn a light jacket over my leather bustier and rayon skirt that fell to my calves.
Vanzir gauged the area, then pointed. “Up ahead. It’s new. Looks like it was built in the last year or two. They cleared out another patch of woods for it.” He led us under the shelter of leaves that were dripping water from the rain. At least the weather had let up a bit, and we were only facing a drizzle. But the mist was rising from the ground and, before long, it would be rolling through the area.
We silently followed him to the edge of the ravine, clambering up the embankment without much trouble. At the top, we were at the edge of the tree line, staring into the backyard of a large estate.
“You’d think with a joint this expensive, they’d have more land attached to it,” Trillian said.
“Around here, land’s a valuable commodity. People tend to put the money into the house rather than the yard,” Chase murmured.
But house was a misnomer. Stacia Bonecrusher really did live in a mansion. Three stories tall, the house sprawled across the lot. Oh, it wasn’t any fancier than a number of the expensive homes in the area, but it must have set the demon back close to a million. How the hell had she gotten the money to buy it? Did the demons invest in Wall Street? Whatever her means, Stacia had chosen the butt ugliest house on the block, I thought.
Mansion it might be, but it looked like one of those slap-together houses, the siding painted a bland beige, with the requisite white-trimmed windows. Like every other new house on the block, just bigger. Much bigger. There were two sets of French doors leading out into the backyard, onto stone patios, and as I glanced around the yard, I began to sense the wards Vanzir had told us about. I homed in on one that was about two yards away from me, and motioned to Morio.
We slowly crept up on it, followed by Vanzir, keeping low to the ground so the cover of night might hide us from prying eyes. Unless, of course, they could sense the heat of our bodies. With Stacia being a lamia and so connected to snakes, it might just be a possibility. I whispered as much to Morio, but he shook his head.
“Too cold. It’s dropped below fifty degrees. Snakes won’t be out and about in this weather. Most likely they’re brumating. But once we’re inside, we’ll have to be careful. Bet you it’s hot as hell in there. Which makes me think,” he added. “She’s a lamia, part snake. If we hit her with enough cold magic, it should do extra damage.”
Vanzir nodded. “Good thinking.”
