Snared

  Someone was breaking into Jade’s house.

  14

  In an instant, I was up off the bed, a knife in my hand. I hurried over to the open bedroom door and peered out into the hallway beyond. I looked toward the front of the house, but the office was dark and still.

  Crunch-crunch.

  Another sound came from the back of the house, but it wasn’t the doorknob turning again. No, this sounded more like someone stepping on broken glass—like the shards that littered the kitchen floor where Jade had dropped her drink earlier.

  I slipped out of Elissa’s room and headed in that direction, tiptoeing past the bedroom where Jade was still sleeping. I didn’t know who might be breaking into her house, but she’d been through enough already, and she needed her rest. I just hoped that I could kill the intruder quietly enough not to wake her up—

  Creak.

  Of course, I stepped on a loose floorboard, one that seemed to screech as loudly as an owl in the dark quiet. I winced, realizing that I’d lost the element of surprise, and hurried on.

  I reached the end of the hallway and stopped, peering into the kitchen beyond. A nightlight was plugged into an outlet on the kitchen counter, and the soft pink glow illuminated the area, including the scattered shards in front of the glass double doors that took up the back wall.

  But no one was there.

  No one was in the kitchen. No cat burglar dressed all in black, no low-level thug sporting a cheap suit and a cheaper gun, no guy wearing a hockey mask and clutching an overly large knife.

  So who—or what—had made that telltale noise?

  My knife still in my hand, I sidled over to the doors and looked out through the glass—

  Rattle-rattle.

  I froze at the sound, and it took me a second to realize that one of the doors was cracked open. The winter wind gusted in through the opening, making the glass rattle in its frame and sliding some of the broken shards across the floor. Well, that explained the noises.

  Still, I frowned. I was almost certain that the door had been closed and locked when Jade and I were in the kitchen earlier, but now here it was, standing open. Perhaps someone had gotten inside after all and had been scared off when I stepped on that loose floorboard. Only one way to find out. I eased the door open, wincing at the rattle-rattle that it made, and slipped outside.

  The doors opened onto a stone patio, which gave way to a large backyard, before the woods took over fifty feet away. I slipped off the patio and crouched down in the shadows at the corner of the house. The moon and stars shone big and bright in the night sky, painting everything a ghostly silver, from the white wicker patio furniture, to the short, stubby grass, to the tops of the bare, skeletal trees in the distance. A heavy frost had already crusted the ground, gleaming like metallic snow, and the cold wind cut through my clothes, chilling me from head to toe.

  I scanned the patio, the yard, and the woods beyond, but I didn’t see or hear anything, not so much as a stray cat padding through the grass, searching for shelter for the night. In the distance, the houses on either side of Jade’s were also dark, and no cars rumbled down the street. Everyone was in bed, except for me.

  Still, I couldn’t help but feel like someone was here, watching me.

  It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on. No trampled patches of grass, no man-shaped shadows that shouldn’t be here, not even someone’s breath steaming in the chilly night air. But an uneasy finger of dread crept down my spine all the same, and I pressed my back up against the wall so that no one could sneak up on me from behind and take me by surprise.

  My knife still in my hand, I held my position and waited, scanning the landscape again. One minute passed, then two, then three, and nothing moved or stirred.

  But I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was out here—maybe even the Dollmaker himself.

  It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. If the killer had Elissa, then he had her purse, driver’s license, address, phone, everything. Maybe creeping around his victims’ houses and witnessing the anguish of their loved ones gave him another sick thrill. Maybe it was all part of his twisted ritual. Or maybe he was here for me, since he’d drawn my spider runes on his latest victim.

  I didn’t know, but if the Dollmaker was here, I was going to end him. So I tightened my grip on my knife and waited—just waited. All he had to do was move one fucking inch, make one more fucking sound, and he’d be mine.

  But nothing happened.

  No movement, no noises, nothing.

  After about five minutes, even that creepy feeling of being watched faded away. If the Dollmaker—or anyone else—had been here, he was gone now, and I was all alone. I scanned the yard one more time, but it was as cold and empty as before, so I finally admitted defeat, went back inside the house, and locked the kitchen door behind me.

  • • •

  I spent the next several minutes cleaning up the broken glass and liquid from Jade’s dropped drink. I also lined up all the kitchen chairs in a row in front of the glass doors, creating a crude barricade. The whole time, I kept one eye on the backyard, but it remained as empty as before.

  Once that was done, there was nothing more I could do tonight, so I curled up on a couch in the den, which was located off the kitchen, and slid one of my knives under my pillow. If the Dollmaker or anyone else tried to break into Jade’s house again tonight, I would hear him and respond accordingly.

  I grabbed a fleece blanket from the back of the couch, covered myself up with it, and settled down to get some sleep. Even though it had been a long, long day with all sorts of emotional ups and downs, I still had trouble falling asleep. The image of those blood-red spider runes loomed in my mind, making me toss and turn.

  Eventually, my exhaustion caught up with me, the same way it had caught up with Jade, and I fell asleep. Although sometime after that, the blackness receded, and I found myself in the land of dreams, memories, and nightmares from my past . . .

  My world was on fire.

  My childhood home was fully ablaze, the flames streaking up into the night sky like rockets being fired one after another. Ash fluttered like confetti spraying everywhere, and the acrid stench of smoke overpowered everything, even the stench of my own charred flesh. Even though I was in the woods, fifty feet away from the mansion, I could still feel the intense, searing heat from the flames.

  Not just regular flames—elemental Fire.

  The same Fire that had engulfed my mom. That had consumed Annabella. That had been used to torture me. I could still feel the foreign magic burning inside my own skin, a constant, throbbing, intense agony that seemed like it would never, ever stop.

  Despite the sweat soaking my body, I still shivered. I would have wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill, if it wouldn’t have made my hands hurt more than they already did. But I couldn’t stop myself from unwrapping one of the crude bandages from around my palm. I held my shaking hand up to the flickering light, knowing and dreading what I would see.

  The mark, the wound, the burn was the same as before—a small circle with eight thin rays. Half of my spider rune pendant, superheated and melted into my flesh. Even though it was made of silverstone, just like my necklace had been, the mark was a vivid blood-red. The pain of it blazed as harsh and bright as my house, and the sensation made me just as sick. I quickly wrapped the bandage back around my hand, hiding the rune from sight.

  I couldn’t stand to look at it right now. I just couldn’t stand it.

  I’d staggered away from our house ten minutes ago and had been standing in the woods ever since, aimlessly wandering up and down along the tree line, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of the ruined, rocky rubble of the Snow family mansion. But the flames were only part of the damage. I’d caused the rest when I’d used my Ice and Stone magic to collapse the structure, in a last-ditch effort to save Bria from t
he Fire elemental and her men who had stormed into our home.

  But I’d collapsed all of that stone, wood, and glass right on top of my baby sister, crushing her to death.

  That horrible knowledge pushed me over the edge. I bent over double and heaved and heaved, until my stomach was as empty as my heart. After several minutes, I straightened up and wiped my mouth off on one of my makeshift bandages, ripped from the bottom of my nightgown. I knew that I should leave, walk, get away from the mansion, but I couldn’t make my legs move. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the destruction, destruction that I was more than a little responsible for—

  “What did you do?” a loud, harsh male voice demanded. “What did you do?”

  I blinked, wondering if I’d only imagined the booming voice. But then, a second later, a low, satisfied laugh rang out, floating through the trees right along with all the ash.

  “You know exactly what I did, Hugh,” a lighter feminine voice said. “I killed Eira. Finally, finally killed her. Just like the others wanted. Just like I wanted.”

  I froze. I recognized that soft, silky, sinister tone. It belonged to the Fire elemental who had killed my mom and Annabella and tortured me with her terrible magic. I’d thought—hoped—that she was dead, crushed by the falling rubble. The sound of her smug, satisfied voice made a fresh wave of heat spike through my burns, reminding me just how much I had lost tonight. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming from the pain, both in my hands and especially in my heart.

  “You killed Eira?” Hugh’s voice rang out, harsher than before. “You actually killed her?”

  “Oh, yes,” the elemental purred again. “No doubt about it. She never had a chance against my Fire magic. I got one of her little brats too.”

  Even though I wanted to run, run, run away from that voice, from her, from this living, waking nightmare, I made myself creep forward, hunker down, and peer around a tree. Through the dense, boiling smoke, I could just make out two figures standing in what had been our backyard garden before part of the house had toppled over and landed on it, burying all the trees and flowers in jagged, broken stones.

  One of them was a man—Hugh—although he seemed more like a shadow than a tangible person. Hair, eyes, goatee, suit. Everything about him was blacker than the night itself. He paced back and forth, staring at first one burning, crumbled section of the mansion, then the next.

  Someone was standing beyond him, backlit by the flames. All I could make out was her slender shape, but I knew who she was—the Fire elemental who’d just destroyed my entire world.

  Hugh stopped pacing, stormed over to the elemental, and stabbed his finger at her. “You enjoyed this.”

  The Fire elemental let out another deep, throaty laugh. “Of course I did. I’ve wanted Eira dead for years, and the Circle finally let me take care of that meddlesome bitch once and for all.”

  “She was one of us!” he hissed back. “You always were jealous of her.”

  “Aw, what’s the matter, Hugh? Upset that your precious Eira is dead? You didn’t really think that she’d come crawling back to you, did you?” She clucked her tongue, mocking him. “We all knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not after Tristan’s . . . accident.”

  I frowned, wondering if I was hearing them right over the continuous popping, cracking, and sizzling of the flames. Tristan? Why were they talking about my dad? He’d died in a car accident several years ago. What did that have to do with any of this?

  Hugh turned away from the Fire elemental and stared at the burning house again.

  “Oh, you did. You really did think that Eira would fall in line and come back to you.” She let out another loud, pealing laugh. “You sad, stupid little fool.”

  “Shut up,” he growled. “Just shut your fucking mouth.”

  “Or you’ll do what?” She sneered. “What will you do, Hugh? Everyone knows that you can’t even tie your shoes without his permission—”

  Her words were abruptly cut off, and it took me a second to realize why. From one heartbeat to the next, Hugh had crossed the distance between them, wrapped his hand around the elemental’s throat, and hoisted her up off the ground as easily as I could pick up one of Bria’s dolls. I’d never seen someone move that fast. He bared his teeth at her, a telltale gleam of white flashing in his mouth. Not just teeth—fangs.

  The vampire tightened his grip and gave the elemental a vicious shake. She let out a little squeak of fear, like a mouse caught in a cat’s sharp claws. Dark satisfaction filled me. In that moment, I wanted the vampire to bite her, to snap her neck, to hurt her the same way that she’d hurt me.

  Do it, I thought. Make her suffer. Kill her just like she killed my family.

  But instead, he gave her another hard shake, slammed her back down onto her feet, and shoved her away. The Fire elemental staggered back, clutching her throat.

  “You said that you killed one of the girls,” Hugh snapped. “Which one?”

  She coughed and coughed, trying to get her breath back.

  “Which one?” he growled again.

  “The . . . oldest . . . Annabella . . .” she wheezed.

  “What happened to the other two girls?”

  She kept wheezing, and he stepped forward, as though he was going to throttle her again. She staggered back and snapped up her hand. Flames erupted on her fingertips, momentarily stopping him. But as fast as the vampire was, he could easily snap her neck before she even had a chance to blast him with her magic.

  “I don’t know. They were still in the mansion when it all came tumbling down. I assume that they’re both buried in the rubble.”

  Hugh looked back at the burning mansion. “But you don’t know for sure. You didn’t kill them yourself. You didn’t actually see them die.”

  The Fire elemental cleared her throat and straightened up, trying to regain her composure. “I didn’t have time. But you’re right. We should check and make sure that they didn’t escape. We wouldn’t want any loose ends coming back to strangle us later, would we?”

  She stepped behind a pile of rubble, out of my line of sight, but I heard her voice ring out loud and clear. “Barry! Chuck! Carlos! Get over here! Start searching the woods for survivors!”

  “Sure thing, boss!” a male voice called back.

  A few seconds later, three giants jogged into view. They stopped long enough to nod their heads respectfully at Hugh, the vampire, and then headed toward the tree line—toward me.

  Heart pounding, I lurched to my feet, whipped around, and stumbled deeper into the woods. I had to hide. I had to run, or I’d be as dead as the rest of my family . . .

  I woke up grinding my teeth, my fingers clenching the blanket, my spider rune scars itching and burning as though Mab Monroe had just freshly branded them into my palms, just like she had on that horrible night so long ago.

  For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was, but then last night came rushing back to me. Finding the dead girl at Northern Aggression. The trip to the coroner’s office. All the ugly revelations about my spider rune and the Dollmaker. Driving Jade home and destroying her world with the news that the serial killer had her sister.

  I forced myself to let go of the blanket and take deep, slow, calming breaths as I dug my fingers into first one scar, then the other, trying to massage the memories out of the marks, as well as my mind. But it didn’t work.

  It never did.

  I might have gotten some sleep, but it hadn’t been restful. Not at all. And the memory that it had brought along with it . . . So many awful things had happened that night, and I’d been in so much pain that it was hard to keep track of them all. Oh, I dimly remembered staggering away from our burning mansion, trekking through the woods in the dark, and eventually making my way down into the city. But I hadn’t remembered Hugh Tucker being there, talking to Mab, not until tonight. And he’d actually been upset that s
he’d murdered my mother. Distraught enough to consider killing Mab with his bare hands.

  I thought back to how Damian Rivera had mocked Tucker by bringing up my mother. My memory seemed to confirm that the two of them had had some sort of relationship. I wondered exactly what had happened between them, what had gone so wrong that it had ended with my mother’s murder.

  But that was a question for another day. There was no more time to rest, so I threw off the blanket, swung my feet over the side of the couch, and got up, ready to start the day and face whatever new danger, despair, and heartbreak it might bring.

  15

  Jade was still asleep, so I went into the kitchen and raided her refrigerator and cabinets, determined to make her a hearty breakfast. Even though she didn’t feel like it, she needed to eat to keep her strength up, and so did I.

  But the kitchen was depressingly empty, except for all the containers of take-out food in the fridge, including several from the Pork Pit. I opened one and sniffed the contents. My nose wrinkled at the sour stench. Even I couldn’t do anything with two-week-old baked beans, so I tossed them into the garbage, along with some old Thai food, a couple of half-eaten burritos, and a lasagna that was pea-green with mold.

  Luckily, Jade had some fresh eggs, milk, and cheddar cheese in her fridge, and I found a couple of potatoes tucked away in a cabinet, along with some dill weed and other spices. So I whipped up some cheesy scrambled eggs with a side of fried, seasoned breakfast potatoes.

  I was dishing up a plate of food for myself when Jade stumbled into the kitchen. She looked slightly less exhausted than she had last night, and her eyes weren’t quite as red this morning. She hadn’t been crying today. Yet.

  “Just in time,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Sit down, and eat up.”

  Jade staggered over to the table, plopped down, and stared with bleary eyes at the plate that I slid in front of her. “How can you even function without coffee?” she mumbled.

  I thought of my memory of Hugh Tucker and Mab Monroe watching my childhood home burn to the ground. “Trust me,” I muttered. “I don’t need a jolt of java to start my day.”