Rising Fury (Hexing House Book 1) (3 page)

Yes, actually, it would. But at what cost?

Thea exchanged a look with Aunt Bridget, who gave her a small nod. The command in her eyes was unmistakable.

For a moment, Thea rebelled against it. Of course she wanted to find Flannery. Of course she wanted to do whatever she could for Aunt Bridget, who had always done more for her than she deserved. But this was an awful lot to ask. She’d have to give up everything. She’d have to give up being
human
.

Or maybe she wouldn’t.

“How long does it take?” she asked. “For me to turn into a fury?”

“It varies. Average is three months.”

Three months to investigate, find Flannery, and bring her home, before anything irreversible happened. It might be a small chance, but it was possible that she could manage it, and that both her and Flannery could come out of it unscathed.

But why did he want her so badly? This thing that had (maybe, probably) already taken her cousin? Thea couldn’t believe he’d really been overwhelmed by some latent power in her. She had no idea what he really intended to do with her. For all she knew, he was just going to fly off with her and kill her, dump her body in to some pit on top of Flannery’s.

It was completely unfair to put her in this position.

Because your current position is so nice, is it? Twenty-seven million dollars in exchange for a meaningless life of terror?

Thea wasn’t foolish enough to trust any of this. She certainly didn’t trust Graves or most of what he said. But he was right about this much, at least: she was weak.

She was a prisoner, locked in by bells and packing tape.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I’ll do it.”

“He can’t really have meant the Spencer School.” It was the eighth time, by Thea’s count, that Aunt Bridget had said this.

“He did. Pull over.”

The Spencer School, less than ten miles from Bridget’s farm, had been abandoned for at least fifty years. Once an upscale private campus, now it was a crumbling, kudzu-choked ruin that the locals liked to say was haunted. Nobody knew why someone didn’t just knock it down, build a nice housing development there.

Aunt Bridget got out of the car and pursed her lips at the gate that, despite being rusty and crooked, was still locked tight. “Well, how are we supposed to get you in?”

“We’re early. Don’t worry about it, Graves will be here.”

It had taken Thea less than a week to put her affairs, such as they were, in order. She transferred a sizable chunk of money from her bank account to Bridget’s, and found a housekeeping service to maintain her apartment for the time being. She made Aunt Bridget promise to look after Pete, and assure him that they had private investigators—plural—looking for Flannery.

He wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t be fooled for long by these imaginary investigators who never came and asked him a single question. But maybe it would keep him calm for a little while, at least. Apart from that, the best Thea could do for him was leave him in the hands of the highly regarded and equally highly priced lawyer she’d hired to get the charges against him dismissed.

She had only one suitcase. Graves had told her she wouldn’t need much in the way of clothes; before long she’d have wings, and have to have her clothes made specially anyway. She hoped she was packing light for a different reason, and that she’d be long gone before wings became an issue.

Graves made quite an entrance when he arrived, swooping down from above on his bat’s wings, brushing some stray leaves from his suit as he landed. He greeted Aunt Bridget like an old friend, with kisses on each cheek, then without ceremony asked Thea if she was ready to go.

There wasn’t much left to be said. She hugged and kissed Aunt Bridget, and whispered an assurance in her ear that she’d find her daughter, and that before she knew it, they’d all be celebrating Flannery and Pete’s wedding.

“You can leave your bag here by the gate,” Graves said. “Someone will be along to get it and put it in your residence when you’re assigned one.”

“You didn’t already assign me one?”

Graves scratched the back of his neck. “Not quite yet.”

Thea didn’t like the sound of that, but he turned away from her before she could ask any more questions, and walked up to the gate.

“We’ll have to go in on foot, of course.” He reached up to touch the ornate entwined S’s in the iron. Thea and Bridget watched as they shifted, straightened, and arranged themselves into H’s. There was a click, and the lock dropped open. Graves began to unwind the chain. “Only someone with fury’s blood can do that, so until you get that far in your transformation, you’ll have to be escorted on and off the campus.”

That gave Thea pause.
Once I walk in, I’m trapped. And he doesn’t have a room for me yet? What if this is all a lie? What if they eat humans? Or sacrifice them to some weirdo fury gods? Or use them for slaves?

Then you’d obviously better get Flannery away from them, and fast.

With one last wave to Aunt Bridget, Thea followed Graves through the gate.

He locked it behind them, and they walked up a lane that became increasingly neat and trim as they went. When they came around a bend to what had once been the Spencer School’s campus, Thea stopped to stare.

Meticulous landscaping separated neat red brick buildings. Ribbons of black walkways lined with flowers flowed around them. The windows were shiny, the doors bright white. Furies flew or walked along, at least a dozen of them that she could see. It looked bustling and pleasant.

“But I’ve seen the buildings. Only the tops from a distance, but still. They’re covered in kudzu, and the ones that aren’t are falling apart.”

Graves smiled. “How you see it depends on where you see it from. And how you come in, whether you’re authorized.”

“That’s some magic, I guess.”

“Enchantment is the rarest form of magic.” Graves said with a nod. “That kind of power doesn’t come along often, but once in a while, you get a fury—or a human, although that’s even more rare—who can render something of this magnitude. Normally our magic is limited to vices and virtues.”

“What do you mean?”

“Manipulating them. It’s what hexes are made of.” Graves waved away her confused look and said, “You’ll learn all that.”

A young fury passed, walking not flying, carrying an armful of packages.

“He doesn’t have wings,” Thea said, half turning to watch him.

“No. He’ll get them when he reaches maturity and completes his transformation. Same as you. Your transformation will be harder, because you have further to go, but the same principle applies.”

It was the perfect opening to ask about something that had been making her uneasy. “Will it hurt? All this training and transformation?”

Graves glanced at her, as if surprised by the question. “Yes.”

Thea swallowed, but dropped it when he didn’t elaborate. He already thought her weak.

“And what if you’re wrong? What if I’m not a natural, or powerful, or whatever? What if I can’t do it?”

He stopped walking and gave her a hard look. “Do you see a beard on my face?”

“What?”

“A beard. A long, white one. Do you see one?”

“No.”

“Exactly. I am not the wise old mentor in your story. I’m not the friendly wizard who shows up when you need him the most. Do not confuse my courtesy with soft-heartedness. I’m a fury.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come here!”

“Yes, and you’ve made your decision. Don’t fret over it, don’t look back, and for the love of heaven, do not ask for coddling. You won’t get it here. I’m telling you so for your own good, before you meet the others.”

Typical man. Charming and encouraging until he gets what he wants from a girl, then he turns on her.
Thea limped after him into a narrow three story building.

“Administration,” Graves said. “Alecto’s office is here.”

“And who is he?”

“She. She’s the head of Hexing House. And my niece, as it happens.”

Thea felt a little relief at hearing that the person in charge was a woman. Maybe she’d be nicer than Graves. Maybe she’d even let Thea look at whatever files they might have on Flannery, once Thea had a chance to explain. “Does she have a sister?”

Graves led her up a staircase. “Yes, one. Why?”

“Then she’ll understand. About Flannery, how close we are.”

Graves laughed, a sound more akin to a growl. “I think you may have just missed my point. I will give you one piece of wise old mentor advice: do not look to Alecto for understanding.”

The thin, pinch-faced fury in the office Graves led her into scowled at them. He had curly black hair and green eyes that were startling against his lavender skin.

“Vlad,” Graves said. “She should be expecting me.”

“She is.” Vlad’s tone suggested he thought this unwise of Alecto. “And I see you’ve brought a human with you, how nice. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

Apparently snotty assistants were common to all races of beings. Just as she would’ve if she was back in L.A., Thea gave him a sunny smile and thanked him as if he’d just been extraordinarily sweet to her, although inside she felt the familiar tightening of panic again. She followed Graves past Vlad’s desk and through a door behind it.

Alecto’s office was a harsh room, sparsely furnished and gray-walled. There were no pictures, and nothing at all on the desk except a computer, not even a stray pen. Alecto herself was even harsher. She looked Thea up and down with eyes that were so light brown they were almost gold. She was slender beneath a great cascade of braids falling to her wings, and although she wore a suit, the jacket was slung over the back of her chair, leaving her in a sleeveless blouse that seemed designed to show off hard, muscular arms.

Thea exhaled a shaky breath and hoped nobody heard it.

Alecto didn’t invite them to sit, nor did she sit herself. Instead she leaned against her desk, crossed her arms, and said, “You should know that I’m meeting with you only as a personal favor to Graves, out of respect for him. I do not have high hopes of your being hired here, and neither should you.”

Thea turned to stare at Graves. He gave the slightest little wave that said
don’t worry about it
, but she noticed he didn’t meet Alecto’s eyes.

Alecto stepped closer. She smelled like cloves. “We haven’t had a human transformation in sixty years. And I don’t believe in them, as a rule.”

She looked at Thea. That was all. There were no magic words, no eye of newt. Her eyes didn’t roll back in her head or shoot laser beams. She only looked.

But Thea could feel her taking inventory. Not of her mind, exactly. It wasn’t Thea’s thoughts or memories Alecto could see. More like her spirit, or maybe just her character. Her strengths, her weaknesses.

Instinctively, Thea returned Alecto’s regard. She almost thought there was something there, but then she hit a wall, so hard she felt physically pushed. She took a step back.

Alecto’s eyes widened briefly. “She does have power, I’ll give you that,” she said to Graves. “But I don’t believe she has the strength to use it. She’s afraid. She’s weak.”

“We can teach her to use it,” Graves said. “We can make her strong.”

Much to her own surprise, Thea jumped in before Alecto could express further doubt. For Flannery’s sake, of course. But also from a sudden need to prove herself to this hard, prideful woman. (
Prideful? When have you ever used that word?
)

“It’s not that I’m too weak to use it,” she said. “I’ve been trained not to use it. I can be trained the other way.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Alecto said. “I don’t think your heart is hard enough for this work. You’ll fall apart.”

“I’ve been in worse situations and not fallen apart.”

“What, in Hollywood?” Alecto smiled a little at Thea’s obvious surprise. “You didn’t think I knew? We have access to TV, you know. And movie night every Friday in the auditorium. The
Benjamin Stake
movies are quite popular here.”

“What do you mean, when you say you’ve been trained?” Graves asked. “By whom?”

Thea shook her head. Coming off being reminded of Baird, this was the last thing she wanted to talk about. But her position was obviously more precarious than she’d realized, and this interview, if that was what it was, needed to go well. She sighed and told them the truth.

“When I was seven, there was a boy in my neighborhood who went missing. His stepfather, Mr. Delacroix, I saw his shame.” She shrugged. “Well, the shame and his dead stepson clinging to his back, with one side of his head smashed in. Mr. Delacroix did that with a shovel, because Bobby hadn’t done his chores. Every Sunday in church, there was the ghost of Bobby Higgins, stuck to Mr. Delacroix’s back with his arms around his neck like he was getting a piggyback ride.”

“And the shame?”

“I’d been seeing things like that my whole life, but that might have been the first time I knew the word for what I was seeing.” Thea bit her lip, remembering. “Well, seeing is maybe the wrong word. It wasn’t like he had an aura or something. I just knew. He carried it, same as he carried Bobby’s ghost. There was shame all over him.”

Graves gave Alecto a pointed look, then turned back to Thea. “What you’re able to see is virtues.”

“Caving your stepson’s skull in with a shovel is a virtue? What, was he punishing Bobby Higgins for the sin of sloth, like you were punishing Flannery for whatever the hell sin you made up?”

“Who’s Flannery?” Alecto asked.

“Her cousin. It’s how I found her, on a job.” Graves looked back at Thea. “
Contrition
is a virtue. Did you tell anyone about Mr. Delacroix’s shame?”

“I told everyone,” Thea said. “I didn’t know any better. Nobody believed me at first. But then I told them where to find Bobby’s body and the shovel.”

“How did you know where they were?”