Jace bled the engine of every drop of power, tearing through quiet country lanes, by a ponderous tractor, whose driver bellowed surprise, impatiently parting a tide of milkers returning to pasture with a hail of further abuse. It still wasn’t enough. Panic consumed him. Could Laini be right? Were the twins at this moment inside Grey Manor?
Noel’s howl of pain and loss rattled his mind. He couldn’t bear to think of Laini dead. At least she’d suffer no more. And wasn’t that the mystery: why did she suffer? There seemed no reliable medical explanation. The magnetism she exerted both surprised and appalled. Had he truly wanted to kiss an invalid?
The driveway to Grey Manor materialised at the end of a pitted dirt cul-de-sac, the merest suggestion of parting greenery. He opened the throttle until the motor screamed, airborne on the cusp of gravel. Riding unknown, rugged terrain flat-out, minus a helmet, leathers and wearing only his daggy mowing Volleys was the epitome of dumb. What for? Some half-baked intuition, encouraged by a damaged girl and her crack-pot granddad. He’d arrive maimed to find Reagan and Reece lounging on deck chairs, waiting for him to do all the work. They’d buy him a straight jacket.
But Angus had been gone nearly twenty four hours. He was addicted to his mobile, never known to turn it off for longer than it took to reach a power outlet and charge up. And his friend was the decent type who religiously returned calls. Jace could barely fathom what he’d seen, but it had been real. Something wicked troubled that house. Or someone.
The motor whined as he bumped and jarred his way along the overrun scrap of road, pot-holes threatening to unseat him. Forward momentum became more and more difficult the nearer he drove. By the time he reached their campsite, visibility was zero. How on earth could he negotiate the badlands to Grey Manor? Jace had to try. He launched from the bike, dropping it to its side where the wheel spun futilely, and groped for his axe and a torch. Damn it! Where had he left them?
Chance wasted away, the pressure of action burning within. He edged the clearing for the trailer to confirm both ride-ons gone, fuel too. Good! Less he’d have to tote. The bittersweet discovery confirmed the twins were already up there. Heedless of the treacherous path, Jace burst into a sprint.
He was unarmed and clueless except for the faith Lady Grey protected her patch with ferocious dedication. He prayed the cloying mist lingered because vileness erupted when it ceased. But it also implied she was awake. To distract himself from the competing urge to flee and stop the hideous torments his brothers might endure, Jace pieced together what he’d guessed while tunnelling bleak nothing, no idea if the direction was correct.
The lovers had been betrayed, not as if their antics were difficult to predict. And then what? Lady Grey wreaked a terrible vengeance? What Noel said was true. How did the dowager incapacitate Blake, a third her age, taller and twice her weight? Jace slowed to check his position. He’d been at it ten minutes and that’s all a trip to the mansion should take. The atmosphere resembled glue and he was hopelessly mired, lost in its suffocating bulk. Fear ran rivulets down his back and coated his tongue dry. How? The question joined others etched deep by the impossible. How could he save them if he couldn’t even find them? Newly hatched courage was a scrawny, helpless bird too feeble to raise its head.
As if a miracle that severed vapour and cowardly thoughts of surrender, the dreamy notes of a cello rang the air. Jace mentally lunged for it, chasing the harmony through soup, oblivious of lacerating twigs, sharp rocks and tall fronds that whipped like blades. He stumbled to all fours often and probably looked a bloodied, bruised disaster. The song was one he finally recognised as his Vietnam Vet grandfather’s favourite ‘A Paler Shade of White’, which soothed fractured nerves and eased the ordeal of his mother’s last days. Jace was so grateful he wanted to sob, something avoided since kindergarten.
He didn’t realise he’d made Grey Manor, until the jagged rock of the stairway painfully collected his shins, forcing Jace to his knees in what he fervently hoped wasn’t a sign of things to come. The doors stood ajar like a ravenous maw, an abandoned axe, empty fuel container and other evidence of his brother’s trespass strewn about the porch. The place reeked of petrol where it toppled and spewed forth to douse boards. A relentless buzzing drone filled attention.
Menace shrouded the tar-pit innards. Loitering at the portal, for that’s what it seemed, Jace failed to penetrate the gloom by squinting. He pined for a torch. Even with the axe he felt under-equipped a flame-thrower judged the minimum, but there wasn’t one to hand. And the whirr grew and grew until it eclipsed all else. He shook his head against the angry noise. After a moment for his eyes to fully adjust, Jace risked a step over the brink. At least the fog had the decency to remain at the doormat. His foot hovered briefly, so much for his promise to Laini. Had there ever really been any choice?
“Reece!” he whispered. “Reagan!”
Were malevolent spirits attuned to sound? He crept further in, sneakers squeaking tile above the irritating, relentless hum. A damp musty smell only partially layered the undercurrent of something far worse. A figure loomed and Jace swung madly, before realising he’d almost disembowelled a rearing, moth-eaten grizzly bear, less intimidating once the cobwebs draping its jaw became obvious. He exhaled slowly to steady his pulse.
Eagles, snakes and now taxidermied bears; the interior designer sure favoured a predatory theme. If he didn’t have a heart attack first, his brothers’ woeful, cretinous, greedy arses were flayed from here to eternity when Jace hunted them down. The rest of the once grand foyer came into focus, complete with a canon -- replica? -- and walls decorated by an antique arsenal in glass cases inscribed with plaques. The light was strangely luminous. Maybe a spooky trick of the enemy, so he’d scare to death when she fronted. There was no doubt she would. He slapped the thought away.
A curved staircase met at the first floor mezzanine from two directions circling a massive crystal chandelier high overhead. It too had suffered under an arachnid onslaught. Perhaps the whole thing was a mistake. A figment of stress; a fantasy conjured by migraine. Didn’t the doctor say it could happen? Was Grey Manor honestly just a house? Jace strode towards the horrid, whirling cacophony, happy in the denial.
It seemed to emanate from a door shut firmly in the sweep of the foyer wall. He gripped the handle and yanked wide. It took a frowned instant to register. Within, a roiling shadow unfolded like a leprous worm wriggling free of its pupa. The rancid stench so nauseated he projectiled on the spot. Staggering back, a smothering wave of darkness consumed him. Tiny black flies swarmed ears and up his nose, in his hair and the crevices of his body, burrowing and biting.
Opening his mouth to yell proved an error and Jace clamped teeth against the cloud, hacking ground insects and pinching nostrils, scraping and flailing with one free hand. After a flapped frenzy the bugs gradually spread, but he knew they weren’t the worst of it. A few stubborn stragglers malingered and Jace took great pleasure mashing their wretched carcasses to a greasy pulp.
He worked to spit the residue, yet his throat was raw with bile and he failed to muster the saliva, veering from awareness of their last feed. It did nothing to settle his stomach. Turning to the closet, already knowing what lay there, he forced himself forward retching in the stink and glad to have nothing left. Jace had discovered the whereabouts of his friend Angus.
What was left of him propped at a forlorn angle amidst mops, buckets and brooms. Mostly bleached skeleton, scraps of grey flesh competed with remnant clothing. A carving knife jutted broken teeth in a poked-tongue parody. Jace collapsed to his knees and shuffled forward.
“I’m sorry, Angus,” he mumbled, stifling tears.
But the mourning was short-lived. A shriek ripped the night and with it the crash of splintering timber.
***
Chapter Ten