Chapter 16: Waking Renee

Ms. Day pulled her car into the parking lot behind Lana's apartment, and like with Chloe, there was nowhere to park. She looked around with an irritated expression.

"You can park behind that big green car," I said, "Just leave a note."

"Fine. I hope this neighborhood is safe."

I shrugged.

After she scribbled a note and left it on the car, we walked out through the alley and to the front of the building. I pressed the button to 5A. "Come on up," Lana said through the little speaker. We went up and she met us at the door.

She wore loose fitting slacks and a sturdy looking blouse. When she saw my outfit, she gave me a curious stare. "You know Tyballa, this is going to be kinda dangerous, and we may have to run and fight."

"Yes, I know." I was wearing the same skirt and cami I'd taken from Renee's room when I'd fled from Mr. Woodhouse before. "This just felt – I don't know – symbolic."

"Well, fine. I hope you at least wore panties."

I had. They were blue. I smiled and flipped up my skirt.

We went and sat in Lana's living room, Lana and I on the couch, Ms. Day on a plush lounge chair. "So, do we have any sort of plan?" Lana asked.

I had, and I told her my idea. Mr. Woodhouse would no doubt have many warding spells around his house, but his magic was weak against me. "I can trigger the wardings," I said, "They'll hurt me, but I don't think they can kill me. If you follow, you'll be safe, and you can rescue the witches."

Lana smiled. "I thought the same thing, but I'm not going to let you just get hit by his magic."

"Oh?"

"I can cast a protection spell on you, a shield against magical wounds. I can make one pretty strong, and there are – entities – who owe me favors. I'll call those favors in – in fact I already have – and strengthen the spell. So, what happens when we meet Mr. Woodhouse?"

"I think I can just beat him up."

Ms. Day shuffled in her seat, but when I looked at her, her face was expressionless.

Lana said, "I don't doubt it, but don't underestimate him. I'm sure he's planning for whatever we might try. Anyhow, we move fast, you get Renee, and I get the witches, and we get out. Sound good?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

I waited, looking ahead.

"Tyballa, what do you mean?"

"Well..." I took a deep breath. Both women watched me. "Shouldn't we finish him off. He causes so much trouble, and he'll keep causing trouble. And he did nothing to help Renee."

"Tyballa! You mustn't!"

I looked over at Lana. Looking back at me with a distressed expression, she said, "He's done much that is bad, but he hasn't killed anyone. He doesn't deserve to die."

But he had killed people. Two people had died on the bus, and I was sure that he'd cast a spell. Why else was the bus engine burning? How else had I heard things breaking before we'd hit the truck?

I didn't say that to Lana. I just said, "Alright."

It made me very sad to think of Mr. Woodhouse – and Renee – that he was her dad when she was my lover.

We drove slowly past the road that led to the Woodhouse home. Beyond it, a hundred yards, a narrow gravel lane ran off into the woods. Turning onto that lane, our tires crunching through the gravel, we drove just out of sight of the main road and onto a patch of grass nestled among the trees. Ms. Day followed and parked her car behind ours. When we got out, Ms. Day remained in her car with the windows closed. In the darkness, she seemed to wave.

"Maybe we should approach his house through the trees," Lana suggested, her voice a whisper.

"Will we get lost?"

I heard her fumbling in the darkness, then her face was lit by the light of her phone.

"Nah," she said, smiling in the green glow, "I have GPS."

"Is that a spell?"

She chuckled. "Come on," she said. I followed her into the woods, silently over the soft forest floor.

We emerged from the trees to the side of the house behind the garage. Lana closed her phone, and we looked out over the open grass.

"There isn't much cover," she whispered.

"I'm going," I said, and popping out into the open, into the moonlit night, I sprinted across the grass to the house. I reached a side door made of thick wood with a heavy lock. Standing square to the door and bracing myself, I kicked it, making a deep thump. Again. On the third kick, it shattered.

Tearing into the house, I set off the first warding. An inhuman cry rang out, and tendrils of magic shot from the walls and lashed at my flesh. Lana's spell held, but there were sparks and crackles as the magical energies clashed around me. I ran through a laundry room and into the main hall.

I reached the door that led to his magical lab. More kicks, this time two, and the door crashed down. Another warding triggered, more flashes and pops, but Lana's spell still held.

Mr. Woodhouse was not within, and from a quick glance, I noticed that the jars of my blood were gone too, but the door to the basement was still there. When I tried its latch, it was unlocked. The dark stairs led down.

I listened and from below I heard nothing. I left the door open for Lana. I turned back. As I emerged into the hallway, she was just arriving.

"The door to the basement is open. Good luck," I said.

She gave me a quick kiss and headed in. I walked down the hall into the house to find Mr. Woodhouse – and Renee.

The main hall led to the foyer with its patterned floor and its warded stairs. I might climb the stairs, I thought, and pit its warding against Lana's spell – and against my flesh beneath – but I wondered if their wasn't another stairway?

I turned down a short hall, heading deeper to the rear of the house, to where the back door opened on a path to the servant's quarters. Next to that door, behind another door standing ajar, was a steep, narrow set of servant's stairs climbing up. There was no warding on these stairs, and I ascended to the second floor.

Down another short hall, I emerged into the main hall with its burgundy carpet and dim lights. I was near the main stairway, and there was a long section of railing that opened over the foyer beneath. When I looked down, I saw Mr. Woodhouse crossing, his hard-soled shoes clicking on the ornate floor. He passed the main stairs, heading to that other set of stairs, the narrow, hidden stairs to the basement.

Renee – if he hadn't moved her – was a short way down the hall. Lana – if she had followed our plan – was down those very stairs that Mr. Woodhouse would soon descend.

I leapt over the railing and plummeted to the floor below. Landing catlike in a crouch, making such little sound, no more than my sneakers might make over a soft patch of grass, I quickly peered around the room, taking in those parts I couldn't see from the railing above.

Three men waited for me, obscured behind a half open doorway, a decorative standing panel, and a large potted plant. They were large ugly men with long steel knives. They were on me fast.

It's hard to fight three men at once, and they used no magic, so Lana's spell didn't help me. Their knives bit deep. I spun about, this way and that, trying to evade their cruel blades, but they cut my arms and shoulders. I made one foolish attempt to attack a man, punching him. I hit hard, and he spat teeth, but that left me exposed to a deep slash across my back. I squealed in panic.

With blood dripping fast, and with shrieks of pain, I ran from the men down the long hall to the kitchen to get a knife of my own. They chased me. The one I'd struck shouted, "Don't let the filthy dyke bitch escape!"