Greywalker - Kat Richardson [137]
The revenant shrieked and howled, clawing at the air between them and cursing in gouts of fiery storm until my knees shook and I thought my ears would bleed. Carlos screamed back at the ghost, long, entwining words that wove around the spirit, loosening and thinning him as the vampire dashed more and more of the organ to the ground. Music rails and preset knobs rattled to the floor and sloughed into dust. Keys groaned as they were wrenched from the boards and fell away in slivers of memory.
The hallway boomed. I was slow to turn my head, but heard Cameron scream and fall.
“What a lovely party,” Alice hissed from the doorway. “And I wasn’t invited.” The flesh on her face still showed deep gashes, but her hair, face, and dress were covered in fresh blood.
The sight staggered me, and I leaned one hand hard onto Mara. Quinton . . . ?
“Bitch,” Edward spat, whirling toward Alice.
She laughed and darted forward, tearing a hole in the circles on the floor. She snatched the mirror from the organ. “Mine!” she shouted. Colors and streamers of power roared around her, twining over and through her. “I am your mistress now. Attack the ones who would harm you!”
Sergeyev howled unholy glee and rushed into the inner circle, pouncing on Carlos and the organ.
Mara sobbed and rocked backward. We lurched back against the flickering wall, cringing.
Edward flew toward Alice, who danced sideways from the circle, clutching her prize to her chest. She howled mad laughter and shouted, “Edward! It’s only you I want! Run away, mice! Run and hide, or I’ll eat you, too!” She fired a cold glare of triumph at me and laughed harder.
Cameron lurched to his feet near the door, his neck and head looking lopsided and loose. He snatched at her, missed, and swung his arms again.
Carlos had fallen back against the organ, his arms up, warding against Sergeyev’s slashing energies. Shrieking faces and savage blades of light lashed from the instrument. Single-minded, the necromancer swiped at the music rail, dislodging the last of the spindles, which dissolved and powdered on the floor as they came away from the instrument. The ghost yowled and wavered a moment, then attacked with savagery.
Mara struggled up out of my arms and flung a ball of blue light at the ghost’s back. It splattered across him and he howled as Carlos howled, too.
She winced. “They’re too close together. We’ll have to reclose the circle. Come and help me.”
I tried to move and felt ice tighten on my limbs and a sharp shortening of my breath. Sickness and revulsion held me back with a muttering in my brain: “Neither help nor hinder . . .”
Mara threw herself onto the floor and began to crawl, drawing new symbols and chanting in gasps. She looked up at me, desperation in her eyes. “Come on!”
I stumbled a step back. If I moved forward I felt the weight of Alice’s geas against me. But I could go and nothing would happen to me—she had promised me that, screamed the chittering voice in my head. . . .
Mara tore her gaze from me with a frightened face and kept crawling, painfully, across the floor.
I backed toward the door, curling against the shuddering, battering of the Grey in violent discord, while the double-pronged battle raged around me, cutting me with stray blades of energy that played tearing chords on my chest.
Sergeyev smashed at Carlos, oblivious to every counter his opponent made. Even as his substance faded, his strength, drawn from the artifact, seemed to grow, and his wrath burned a reeking red and black pall around them.
Edward and Cameron flung themselves on Alice from opposite sides and grabbed her. She fought and screamed, slashing and biting, tearing flesh wherever she touched them, a whirlwind of fury. Cameron caught her flailing arm and yanked it backward. A sickening pop and a rending sound—Alice shrieked and wrenched toward him, jaws gaping. Edward snatched at her head, tangled his hands in her flying red hair and yanked, twisted, jerked. . . .
Her neck snapped with a crunch and she flopped onto the floor, thrashing like a gaffed fish and gnashing