“What’s going on?” Bailey grabbed my arm, squeezing for dear life. “What’s happening?”
“It’s going to be okay,” I lied. The first row of seats had a pipe railing over it and open space for wheelchairs. Since the stairs were occupied, I pushed Bailey under the railing and climbed up after her.
One of the Santas lunged for us, but tripped over his own feet and clattered to the ground.
“Eed … eed … eed … eed … ”
“We have to get everyone out of here,” I said, trying to think. With a row and a railing between the advancing army of Santas, they couldn’t come directly at us. At Bailey. They were going after her first. It was just a theory, but I wasn’t about to test it out.
We ran to the end of the row. Most of the kids who were making for the theater’s exit had already passed us, but they were cut off from the exit by one of the Santas. I looked towards the place we’d entered from, and Santas were guarding it, too. They’re cutting off escape routes. But how was that possible? Maleficia was supposed to destroy things. Break them down. Not play puppetmaster.
“They’re not hurting anyone,” Bailey said at my side. “Just the ones who get in their way.”
And then a moment later, “They’re after us, aren’t they?”
“One … one … one … one … ”
“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice short. “Stay away from them,” I shouted to the one or two kids who still thought going up against the Santas was a smart move. The majority of the red-
suit pack kept heading towards us.
The Santas by the emergency exit couldn’t be toppled by any of the kids rushing for the door.
Time and again, they shoved back anyone who attempted to run away. Eventually the crowd panicked and ran for the stairs, though the rest of the people were still hiding on the top row.
A shift seemed to come over the monsters then. It was like Bailey’s first question had reminded the Santas that they were supposed to be the demon-filled patriarchs of a bloody
Christmas, because where they’d been content to push people out of there way a moment ago, now the violence was escalating. Their movements stopped being as jerky, and they kept their balance better. Mouths that had been painted closed now opened, revealing bloody teeth.
It’s like they’re becoming more alive. But I didn’t know what that meant. Or how it could help me.
One of them shoved a boy to the ground below us, crawled on top of him, and started punching. Bailey gasped. “Jesse!” She dropped her hand and bolted down the step towards the
Santa.
“Bay!” I yelled profanities, jumping under the railing and trying to cut her off. The Santa raised its fist like it was going to punch her, and I threw myself between them. “Bailey, run!” There’s the curse to think about. Come on, hit me. When the curse had activated before, it had been like being covered in something heavy, right before it had cut through the wraith that had attacked me. Hopefully, history would repeat itself. I turned my neck, giving the creature a perfect target to hit.
The Santa raised its fist … and then it hesitated.
“Hit me! C’mon, hit me!” I shoved it, but the Santa wouldn’t complete the act. It took the shove, then turned its head to look down at Bailey.
“Hit me!” I shoved it again, and this time it toppled backwards. Jesse, the hair-swooping boy that had been sitting next to Bailey, struggled to his feet, Bailey at his side.
They know what happens when we’re threatened. Everything Quinn told me was wrong.
Maleficia wasn’t stupid at all. It was smart. Really smart. I raised my voice into a yell. “You want us to go with you?”
“Justin, no!” Bailey looked up from the boy, shaking.
“You only need one?” I continued, raising my hand to point at them. “Take me. But you leave my sister alone.” I looked around the theater, pretending it was so I could look at each of the
Santas, one by one, as if I really were speaking to them and not whatever was pulling their strings. But the truth was I had to figure out a way to keep thirty people safe from creatures that were about to be really, really, pissed off.
I’d seen enough creepy things in my life. The wraith, the Harbinger, the Moonset symbol. But all of those were trumped by a legion of devil Santas all cocking their heads to the side, as if they were contemplating something.
I dropped my voice, and spoke out of the corner of my mouth, moving my lips as little as possible. “Bailey, remember that thing I made you promise to never, ever do again?”
She looked startled. “What?” Then recognition hit her, and her face knotted up. “You said never. Not even if it was an emergency.”
I looked at the army of zombie Santas. “We’re a step past emergency.”
I backed up and took a step down the aisle, moving toward the screen and never once turning my back on the Santas. I kept my hand raised, finger pointed. They seemed to follow it with their eyes. I grabbed Bailey by the shoulder, and once she was behind me started to back up again, only this time I was heading for the emergency exit.
The few who were still there by the door backed away from us—a few of them Bailey’s friends from the group, I noticed.
The guards couldn’t be moved. They were like statues. But I was willing to bet that those rules didn’t apply to me, either. “You can’t hurt me,” I said to the pair of them. “And you can’t stop me either. Can you?” I shoved first one, then the other, and both tumbled away from the door like they were nothing.
Above us the screen started skipping again, a blurring of images and sounds as each second of the movie was extrapolated and thrown out of order. Until it finally settled on the words it was looking for.
“They … die. They … die. They … die.”
My eyes widened. Even as I’d opened up an escape route, the Santas had turned on the crowd, and were now heading up the stairs, single file. A boy in a white T-shirt was collapsed on the ground, unconscious. One of the Santas approached, settling his black boot over the boy’s neck.
“No!”
I stepped forward, throwing out my hand the way I’d seen Quinn do against the wraith. What was the spell? “Les divlock. ” Nothing. “Lex davlock. ” Nothing. Shit, what was it?!
Ash appeared at my side, punching her fist forward. “Lex divok!”
The Santa went flying back, spinning up in the air like a top. My brain went spinning in much the same direction. Ash just used a spell. Ash just used magic.
I opened my mouth, expecting to confront her about being a witch, but what came out instead was, “You knew who I was all along?”
She looked guilty, but determined. “Justin, we’ve got to get them out of here. I’ll explain later.”
“The hell you will,” Bailey muttered, a suddenly fierce expression crossing her face. “Now, Justin?”
I shook my head, trying to regain my focus. “Yeah,” I said, my mouth dry.
When people thought about which of us was the most dangerous, they always picked Jenna.
Occasionally Cole. Rarely me. But never Malcolm or Bailey. But Bailey had the talent for evocations, and an inability to understand the difference between when to use her powers and when not to.
Bailey dropped her head, whispering words to herself.
Fascinations were brainwashing spells, in which the subject is literally fascinated into believing whatever the witch wants them to. Witchers were basically the reigning lords of fascination magic—they used it the most frequently, and they limited who they taught it to. But Bailey’s gift was self-taught, something innate she was born already knowing how to do.