“Wow.” Samantha could easily imagine how terrifying that would be for vampires. Amaliya had told her all about how she’d raised the dead at Santos’s mansion. Those were only the victims he’d been dumb enough to bury around his home. Add in hundreds of years of killing, an army of angry, powerful ghosts, and it wasn’t hard to see that the vampire would end up so much mush.
“According to the journal of this hunter, the phasmagus could pull ghosts from all over the world,” Benchley added. “He could just open portals and suck them through.”
“That’s hardcore,” Samantha said in awe. “So, what happened to this phasmagus?”
Alexia’s voice was barely audible. “He was killed.”
“Who killed this phasmagus?” Samantha asked, dreading the answer.
Alexia lowered her head, her hoodie hiding it entirely.
“Well?” Samantha glowered at Benchley.
“Uh, The Summoner,” Benchley muttered.
It made sense. The Summoner wouldn’t want a phasmagus that powerful to live. Considering how many people he’d killed, and his abuse of their bodies, it would be his worst enemy. Samantha felt the sick feeling in her stomach intensifying.
Beatrice skidded down the hallway and with a yowl launched herself onto the back of the sofa. Pushing her head through the slit in the curtains, the cat began to angrily meow.
“Uh, that’s not good,” Benchley muttered.
“He doesn’t know about me, right?” Samantha whispered. “Right?” She ransacked her memories of the night in the Fenton graveyard. Had she done anything remarkable? Well, Amaliya had dragged her through the ground to her side, but that wasn’t Samantha’s powers showing. Or was it?
Back arched, hissing loudly, Beatrice continued to make her unhappiness known.
The three people in the living room were motionless.
“Maybe it’s a dog,” Samantha said, her voice cracking.
Alexia finally looked up, the lenses on her glasses catching the light from the TV. “Right. Totally.”
Benchley let out a nervous laugh. “There’s no way he knows about you.”
A second later there was a loud whoosh and a sound unlike any other Samantha had ever heard filled the house. She clapped her hands over her ears as Beatrice screeched, tore across the back of the sofa, and vanished down the hall. The noise, a cross between rushing water and boulders falling, was deafening.
“What’s that?” Samantha cried out.
“What?” Benchley asked. He whipped about, looking frightened as the bag of chips fell from his hands.
“That sound!” Samantha screamed over the din.
Alexia and Benchley stared at her in fear.
“I don’t hear anything,” Alexia finally said.
“Fuck me! How can’t you hear that?”
“You’re a supernatural,” Benchley said, his voice nearly drowned out by the racket outside. “We’re not.”
With a sudden surge of anger, Samantha launched herself off the couch and stormed over to where her purse sat on the kitchen table. She jerked her pink Glock out of its hidden holster inside her Betsey Johnson bag and stalked toward the front windows. “Benchley, Alexia, get down. Don’t move.”
Benchley slid off the couch and crawled to his sister’s side. Alexia dug around in a bag she had brought in with her.
The weight of the gun in her hand steadied Samantha’s nerves as all the years of lessons at the firing range kicked in. Samantha took several deep breaths, then, careful to keep out of view, she looked out the front window.
Two dark figures stood in the shadows of the pecan trees that bordered the property line between Samantha’s small house and the neighbor’s two-story. Dark waves of purplish magic flowed out of one of the figures and crashed against the ward. The magical bubble was holding against the torrent of dark magic, but the surface was rippling under the assault. The taller form’s eyes were glowing red fire.
“Okay, I got someone hitting the ward with purple magic. Black witch, right?” Samantha asked.
“Yeah, totally,” Alexia answered, laying a cross, a dagger, and some spell bags on the floor next to her.
“Second one has red eyes. Vampire?”
“Or demon,” Benchley said, shaking his head. “I hate demons.”
“Are they eyes like fire, or just glowing red?” Alexia asked.
“Fire.”
“Demon,” Alexia and Benchley said at the same time.
“Shit.” Samantha licked her lips. “Can they get through the ward?”
“No one can get in that means you ill will. That’s how the ward works,” Alexia explained. She crawled over to the front window and set a small camera on the sill, before going back to her computer. “Benchley, put these on the back window and side windows.”
Benchley vanished into the house with the cameras.
Samantha watched as the purple energy crackled over the ward. It was shot through with arcs of energy that looked like lightning. The dark magic hungrily lapped over the surface, seeking a way in. “Does it hold against bullets?”
“I...think so.” Alexia was busy at her laptop. “I’m not sure.”
“Can I shoot them through it?”
Alexia shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Find out!”
“Cameras are up,” Benchley said, huffing back into the living room. He grabbed a small .22 from the bag and stuffed some spells into his pockets.
“I got the feed.” Alexia looked up at the television where the views around the house were projected. “Two in the back trying to get through there.”
Samantha crouched and stared at the screen. The cameras did not reveal the magic that was pummeling the ward or the ward itself. “Call Aimee and find out what the ward will and won’t do.”
Searching his pockets for his phone, Benchley gave her a curt nod.
Biting her lip, she tried to sort out what she could do. The sound of the black magic hitting the barrier was making her head hurt and it was difficult to concentrate through the pain. It amazed her that Benchley and Alexia couldn’t hear or see what she was witnessing. Crawling forward, she pushed Alexia away from the laptop and pulled up the presentation they’d been giving her. Scrolling through the pictures, Samantha searched for any clue as to how her magic could help them.
“How did the phasmagus call ghosts?” Samantha asked Alexia.
“He carried dirt from a graveyard and bits of bone,” Alexia replied.
“Doesn’t help. I’m not going to go dig up Mr. Kibbles. I’d probably only get kitty ghosts.” She saw the blank looks and quickly explained. “My other cat that passed away. I buried him in the yard.”
“He used corpses as a focus to reach the dead,” Benchley explained. “You just need something that will help you contact the spirits. Like a Ouija board or something.”
“Hello! Good Baptist here!” Samantha sat back on her heels, her gun still clutched in her hand.
Benchley’s thick fingers were trembling as he held his phone to his ear. “No answer. Trying Cass.”
Samantha returned to the window and peered out. The assault was growing in intensity. Now there were two more figures joining the first in hurling dark magic at the ward. Beyond them the neighborhood was peaceful and quiet.
At last, Samantha realized what she needed. “Amaliya.”
Chapter 8
Amaliya clutched Cian’s hand as they strode along the busy sidewalks of downtown Austin. The early evening breeze was heavy with moisture and the threat of late summer storms. The many swanky stores, upscale restaurants, and towering buildings holding luxury apartments were a far cry from the older buildings, dives, and bars that had once inhabited much of this area Austin. The city was continuing its transformation and Amaliya missed the old version. She had fit in better with the Austin she had originally fallen in love with.