Comes the Night (21 page)

Crying now, Seth moved. He crawled the short distance at the feet of the three shrieking casters to reach Brooke, and he pushed the poker aside. Then he curled into a fetal position and closed into himself again. “Leave me... leave me alone.”

“Get up, Brooke,” Alex hissed as the casts relinquished their screaming.

A door slammed below them—Bryce was on the way.

“I... I can’t,” Brooke replied weakly.

Immediately, the strange cast was at her side, wedging herself behind her right shoulder, Maryanne went to the left. Awkwardly, Alex grabbed her legs. There was no weight to Brooke’s cast, but the heaviness was somehow deeper. Weary. Draining.

“Hurry!” Maryanne cried. There was thumping on the hallway outside now—Bryce was running toward the room.

The three carried Brooke toward the wall by which they’d entered. They’d almost made their escape when Bryce Walker burst into the room, shoving the already open door wider. The mysterious new caster shrieked and darted toward him. She was going to attack! Maryanne knew as sure as anything. But as the door banged against the wall and back again with the force of the hand behind it, the caster stopped.

“I... Ira?” Her cast voice croaked and trembled as her head bent, looking down at the iron manacles locked in Bryce’s hand.

The cast zoomed hastily away as Bryce swung the handcuffs, then further back as he swung his left fist. And it was Alex’s hand on the strange caster’s shoulder that finally pulled her from the room, through the wall, and into the pitch-black night.

Maryanne and Alex braced themselves for the pain of the exit, but Brooke cried out with it.

Every light in the Walker house came on as the four casters made their way to the woods. Struggling with Brooke and led by the strange caster, they stopped there just within the cover of tall, dark pines, close to the needle covered ground. They could hear Bryce’s shouts as he banged out of the house, Melissa’s frightened whispers. Seth was in the yard now, too, and he was still crying.

“We’re... we’re safe?” Brooke whispered. Guilt rode through her question. She leaned back on Maryanne.

“Not until we get home,” Maryanne said. And oh, God, what a journey that was going to be. Between them, she and Alex were going to have to carry Brooke’s strangely heavy cast, because she seemed unable to soar on her own. It was as though she’d been drained completely by her ordeal with the iron poker, turning her into dead weight. And Maryanne wasn’t feeling so good herself. They’d been tired to start with, having been out longer than usual. Then that round trip through the wall with all those old iron nails and the spurt of speed they’d put on to get away had pretty much taken the rest of Maryanne’s energy. But at least they had a fighting chance, thanks to this the stranger. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for helping us free our friend. But... who are you?”

The question hung, unanswered.

As Maryanne studied the stranger, the shock of it finally hit home. There was another like them! Another with the power to cast! Another possessed of the secret knowledge they shared.

“Go now,” the stranger said in a rusty voice, then started soaring off.

“Wait,” Alex called. “Can’t you help us? Brooke can’t fly by herself and—”

The strange caster paused and turned back. “I know. I’ll bring help.”

Help? What kind of help? Were there still more like them?

“Come on,” Alex said. “We need to haul ass.”

Each with an arm under Brooke, they started toward home. Every yard they covered was an excruciating effort of will. Maryanne wanted to talk to Alex, get her impressions about the stranger—God, the
caster
—but couldn’t spare the energy. She could barely think let alone talk. Not if they were going to keep moving forward.

Then the stranger was there again, moving up on Alex’s right.

They stopped.

“Here,” the stranger said, holding out her hand. “For her.”

A jolt of shock zinged through Maryanne when she realized the significance of that outstretched hand.
Holy crap, she held an object!
Whatever it was, it didn’t pass through her dark fingers. How was that possible? Unless... No, it couldn’t be iron. It wasn’t debilitating her.

“What... what is it?” Brooke asked.

“Take it, Brooke,” Alex urged. “It’s safe.”

The strange caster nodded, and Maryanne found herself joining in the encouragement. Whoever this stranger was, she was like them. One of them who’d come to their aid. She was a caster in the night. She knew their secrets. Knew of this power. And as sure as Maryanne had seen the pain in the others, this caster had seen the pain on their faces—she knew they suffered as she had.

Brooke reached out a trembling hand, but instead of slipping the thin circle into her palm, the caster slipped it around Brooke’s wrist.

Brooke levitated under her own power. Not immediately, not with a snap as if shot with adrenaline. But slowly, and definitely, she regained her own strength. Part of it anyway. Maryanne felt her pull away, no longer needing their support.

“Copper,” the strange caster croaked in that rusty voice. “Copper... help.”

Her voice was childlike. No, not her
voice
. Her speech. It was as if her words were unpracticed, shy almost. But her size was comparable to their own. This wasn’t the cast of a child. And hadn’t this one known more than they how to fight Seth? How to truly terrorize as she raised her voice in a scream? And hadn’t she called out a strange name to Bryce? No, not a strange name! One Maryanne had heard before.

Ira
, she’d said. That had to be Ira Walker. When she’d looked into Bryce’s eyes, she’d thought she’d seen his grandfather, the Heller hunter.

“Hello, Connie,” Alex suddenly said.

The dark cast whirled her head around. “You... you
know
me?”

“I know you.” Alex answered quietly. “I know everything.”

Maryanne raised her hands to her head.
It couldn’t be! Connie Harvell was dead! Connie Harvell was murdered! Connie was... here amongst them, in the Mansbridge night.

Bright lights moved through the trees, past them. Instinctively the four casters held very still to blend in with the shadows as the truck lights swept by.

“Bryce,” Brooke said, her voice regaining its strength. “He’ll be pissed. If he finds us—”

“Can you make it home now?” Maryanne asked her.

Brooke raised a hand to rub the copper around her wrist. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I think I can now.”

“Copper... helps,” the strange caster—er,
Connie
—repeated. And she produced two more circular twists of thin metal. She handed a small wire circle to Alex, and then one to Maryanne. The girls slipped them around their wrist. “Copper... makes you stronger. Takes the pain... away.”

The truck lights swept the woods again before the vehicle stopped and a car door slammed. Bryce was coming; thrashing through the woods.

“We have to go right now!” Brooke said, clearly not looking for another challenge this night.

Alex turned to Connie’s cast. “Come with us!”

“No.” She shook her head as she rose, and began moving through the trees. “I’ll... see you all again.”

Maryanne believed her with every dark bit of her being, as the three of them turned and soared off toward Harvell House.

Alex

“
D
AMMIT
!” B
ROOKE YELLED
, then proceeded to turn the air blue with a few more pungent curses.

The old Alex would have laughed out loud.

Hell, if she wasn’t so tired, the new Alex might have laughed, too.

Brooke had just tried to re-enter the attic through the stained glass window, but her outstretched hand had bounced right back, causing her to smack herself in the forehead.

“Apparently copper bracelets do not travel through glass,” Alex observed.

“Thank you for that news flash,” Brooke fumed.

Brooke had been first to the window, anxious to rejoin her body after the terrifying events of the night. Alex couldn’t blame her. But after tormenting Seth Walker again, maybe she deserved that smack upside the head—a wake-up call from the Madonna.

Except—holy shit!—what if Brooke had broken the window when the copper hit it? Would they have been able to get back inside? Or would they all be stuck out here, like Connie’s cast? The thought made her shudder, and she decided against mentioning it to the others. They’d had enough jolts tonight.

Alex swallowed hard. God, what a disaster. What happened to Brooke tonight scared the crap out of her. Scared her even more when she thought about what could have happened. Yeah, she should have found a way to stop Brooke, but Alex knew much of the blame for tonight lay squarely on her own shoulders.

Meeting Connie had also added another layer of fear. Though Alex was very glad to have met her, she was nevertheless scared of the implications. Possibly eternal implications.

Then there was that other thing that scared the crap out of her. The one that weighed the heaviest. The one that never left her. What new memories would press in on her tonight?

“What do we do with the bracelets?” The slim band of copper around Maryanne’s left wrist disappeared as she covered it with her right hand

“We’ll have to leave them out here, I guess,” Brooke said. Her voice took on a very un-Brooke-like tremor. “But I hate to.”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Alex looked around. “That big oak by the river,” she said. “I’ll hook them on a high branch and we’ll get them next time we cast out. Give them to me.”

“When will that be?” Maryanne asked. She seemed as hesitant as Brooke to hand Connie’s makeshift bracelets over. Clearly, she wanted to keep it close, this giver of strength and taker of pain. Alex knew the feeling.

Alex left the question unanswered as she collected the bracelets and flew towards the dark oak.

When will that be?

Soon.

Now that she’d seen Connie, it would be very soon. Even if she had to go out alone.

With all three copper bracelets tucked securely within the oak branches, the heaviness of the night returned to Alex. She soared back to Harvell House where Maryanne and Brooke waited by the window. They felt the exhaustion too, Brooke probably worst of all. It was time for that re-fusion of body and cast.

Brooke was the first one through the glass. From outside, Alex watched as Brooke’s cast reunited with her body with a force that sent her skidding back across the attic. Or would have, had she not tried to control the momentum. Alex watched her twist sideways and body-slam into the dresser, grimacing as the lone flame that still burned atop the dresser shook. But the stubby little candle didn’t topple. Brooke sat up automatically, wrapped her arms around her knees. The adrenaline rush wasn’t making her bounce tonight. No doubt she was still scared, and rightly so. She rocked herself as she sat there on the floor, her head down on her knees.

Maryanne’s cast-in wasn’t quite so dramatic. Just as fast, but she went with the force of it and slid all the way to the back wall. She jumped up immediately, and went to Brooke. Not to wrap her arms around her—she knew better than to try that. But to sit beside her. To wait with her.

Alex hesitated before she moved through the glass, finding herself looking up into the Madonna’s eyes as she hovered there. There was such compassion in the lady’s eyes.

She was getting closer to remembering the rape—the rapist. With every cast out and back in, that hammer in her memory would crack through a little more. And while she desperately wanted to know—
needed to know
—who had hurt her, facing those brutal truths, bit by bit, was a living nightmare.

Alex braced herself, then slipped in through the window. Instantly, she blasted into her body, blasted into the new memories. The wind knocked out of her as she shot across the floor.

Hold them.
That was her only thought as she stopped against the back wall.
Hold on to the memories, but hold them down. Just for a little while. Just until you’re alone again.

Her pulse raced, and she could hear the ragged unevenness of her own breathing. When she stood, her knees shook. But Alex walked across the attic to join the other two girls. Maryanne had set the one low-burning candle on the floor beside her and Brooke. The two looked up at her. Even in that dim light, they could all see the wildness in each others’ expanded pupils.

“What happened back there, Brooke?” Alex asked. “What did you—”

“What did
I
do?” Brooke snapped. “For God’s sake, Robbins! What did
you
do? Or
not
do, I should say. You could have got me—”

Brooke broke off abruptly.

Got her what? None of them really knew the full extent of what could have happened tonight.

“Trapped?” Maryanne offered, and for once her eyes were hard. Clearly, she was not rushing to Alex’s defense. Alex couldn’t blame her.

“Because you didn’t warn us about the iron, you could have gotten her trapped, at the very least,” Maryanne continued. “Hurt, maybe? Broken?” Her voice lowered. “Killed, even?”

And there it was, out in the open. What surely the others had wondered all along, but none had dared to voice. Could their casts be killed?

“What would happen, Alex?” Brooke asked. “If my cast was trapped or... or worse?”

Alex shook her head. She sat. “I... I don’t know!”

Brooke hissed, only Maryanne’s warning hand on her arm stopping her from shouting. “You’re going to tell us, Alex!
Everything.
I don’t know where you hide that damned diary when you’re not carrying it around with you, or tucking it under your pillow at night—yes, I’ve seen you! But I’ll tear this place apart and read it myself if you hold back any more secrets! You could have... ”

“Brooke—”

Brooke drew a shaky breath and continued, as though she hadn’t even heard Alex. “When Seth came at me with that poker, I could have dodged the blow, but I didn’t even try. I thought it would just go right through me. But then he hit me with it. I think the contact scared him into dropping it. I could have bounced then, except the damned poker landed on me. Oh, Lord, I couldn’t even
move
under it. You’ve no idea how helpless I—”