Page 70 of Blackwicket (Dark Hall #1)

The influx of corruption in the magical byways was blood in the water.

The Fiend materialized, a ghastly reckoning for our trespass.

It took pursuit, its many limbs and faces tumbling over each other, crashing against doors and walls, shaking the foundation of this in-between where worlds had once touched.

The gravity of it was terrifying, a force complicating momentum, dragging us closer.

My panic erupted, a squall of magic pouring into my plea to Dark Hall, begging it to yield to my will, as it once had long ago when I’d explored and played in its passageways unburdened.

In response, the corridors undulated, corners merging, doorways disappearing with the creak of lumber as it stole the Narthex to the tower ever closer. The portal opening flew towards us, and we were caught up in it like fish in a net.

“Close it!” I shrieked as we emerged on the other side.

Fiona was in Thea’s arms, her reaction too slow. As her magic lashed back, Coppe had already materialized, along with part of the Fiend. It was caught in the portal, half shut, raging against the accidental trap, stretching the edges with pure might, trying to pull itself free.

Fiona had already driven Thea and Jack out of the tower door, begging them to flee.

William stood dressed in Coppe’s body, only a few feet from the grasping tentacles of the Fiend, unbothered.

His left eye was a gory hole, bruises spread from his nose beneath both sockets, but the most horrifying aspect of him was the way his skin sat wrong on his skeleton, as if it had been removed then draped back into place by a careless hand.

“Well,” he breathed, pleased with himself, just as two ear-shattering gunshots sounded.

Coppe stumbled backwards, clutching the new set of holes in his chest, blood pouring between his fingers.

He looked up at my sister, who held Victor’s gun in front of her, pulling the trigger repeatedly, though there were no more bullets.

“You bitch,” he gargled.

The Fiend took its opportunity, grabbing hold of Coppe, crushing him back against the wall of the portal, beginning its vicious rending, dragging him through an opening far too small.

As the shape of him began to collapse into the hole, his mouth opened, jawbone fracturing as the Drudge roared free.

It surged forth, a demon, its many lipless mouths gnashing and drooling curses, teeth long and gray.

The last time I’d seen this horror, its mouths had only been two, but now there were three, a sphere of misshapen howling maws.

The remainder of its figure resembled what Victor had grappled with at the Vapors, distended and bent.

But now that it had no material body, the physical world no longer hindered it, and as Coppe’s remains disappeared, it moved swiftly, engulfing Fiona in a cyclone of nightmares.

The Drudge snatched her from the ground where she dangled like a rag doll, gorging on what meager magic still clung to her.

It all happened so quickly, I had no time to react other than to reach uselessly as she was pitched aside, her body crashing upside down against the windowsill, feet shattering the panes.

She slid down through the glass, lying prone and motionless.

I bolted toward her, tripping on the coiled carcass of a vine, tumbling forward.

I was forced to crawl the remaining distance.

She was trying to move, her breath ragged.

I tucked my arms beneath hers, helping her onto her back, where she coughed, blood rising over her lips in an awful spray.

There was no respite, the seething vortex plunging towards us.

Victor stepped into its path, ravaged by what he’d already endured at the hands of his brother’s madness.

The Drudge didn’t slow, but changed intention, striving to infiltrate Victor’s defenses, but with paltry results.

I realized Victor could do nothing for us but stand there, distracting the Drudge, which seemed obsessed with making a meal of the man who’d matched it.

When its attempted rivening made insufficient headway, it changed tactics, rising into a thunderhead near the arch of the roofline, giant and looming. The Fiend had spread where it could, eager for the influx of cursed magic, just out of reach.

The Drudge opened one of its triple mouths to speak, and Grigori’s reviled voice took the air from the tower, gravelly and unkind. My blood ran cold, the fear of childhood overwhelming me anew as though I were still a young girl, listening to a man threaten and manipulate my mother .

“You were supposed to be my greatest success. You ran away, you whimpering coward. Little nothing. Scared of a bit of pain? I’ll show you pain, boy!

” He yelled, raising his skeletal arm, curses transforming into a cane, scythe-like handle, sharp and cruel.

The Drudge swung the ghostly weapon towards Victor, who, driven by an instinct burned into his nature, raised an arm to block the blow, body flinching inward.

The phantom cane disintegrated as it made contact with Victor’s arm, and the Drudge dove like a wraith, head twisting to give a new mouth prominence.

“You abandoned me,” William’s voice, wretched and hurt, a lost soul calling from the depths, “Why didn’t you come find me? Why didn’t you help me? Look what happened because of you. Look what I’ve become in your stead.”

Victor remained hunched, his arm shielding his head, suffering the guilt and horror of his childhood, his Drudge too weak to rise and protect him.

The last mouth was given its voice, and Coppe’s rough cadence brought with it a new grating note of detestation.

“You’re the torment of all of Nightglass. My family suffered, my brother died, unraveled by Grigori to take your place. You should be dead. You!” It yowled, the sound expanding in the tower as the phantasm dove, clawed hand outstretched.

Victor’s psychic barricades had weakened, and despite his best efforts to remain standing proud, he lost his footing, dropping to his knees as the ghast tore bits and pieces of his magic away, clean and corrupted volutions of power extracted with every blow.

I called his name, rising to aid him, but was caught by my sister’s hand. Though her grip was feeble, it stalled me enough that I could do nothing as William’s Drudge found the soft spot in Victor’s defenses, and broke down into a spoil of smog .

I couldn’t watch as Victor was possessed, couldn’t bear to see him forced to swallow the ghosts of his past.

The tower grew quieter, the uproar diminished to only the clamor of the Fiend and the groaning of the house’s frame, the joists and beams struggling.

Victor’s back was still to us, and his shoulders rose, squaring off in the way I knew him for, defiant and unbreakable, and I dared hope. But as he turned to face us, it became abundantly clear he hadn’t survived the ordeal unscathed.

William’s Drudge laughed inside of Victor, his handsome face distorting into something more foul than I’d ever seen.

“This man is damaged,” it drawled, lilting the last word with a dripping satisfaction, “And he’s really fighting.”

I glanced at the portal where the Fiend was almost through. Perhaps I could reach it, give it the magic it needed to open. It would cost us everything. I hesitated, trying to think of a way, any way, we could walk free from this.

The creature stretched its shoulders back, rolling its neck to get a feel for the new body. “The magic in here is peculiar, but tastes so sweet, like you two.”

He brushed his thumb over his mouth, simultaneously biting his bottom lip, tantalized, irises the shade of whitecaps breaking shore.

“There are some very interesting memories here concerning you, Eleanora,” William purred in Victor’s voice.

“It’s a shame I won’t be able to bring you with me.

And as for you, Fiona, my love. You’re a precious, stupid woman.

I hope your pride was worth all this. Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be out of the way when the Fiend makes its appearance. ”

The beast in question had pulled itself more than halfway, shaking the house’s foundations, which creaked ominously.

As Victor made to escape, I knew what my last choice was.

The only choice. The Fiend would soon be in this world, consuming all it could.

There was no stopping that. But I could stop William from spreading like a disease through Dark Hall, leaving destruction in his wake in pursuit of more power, more magic.

I didn’t know what worlds existed beyond this, but I knew they were not prepared for him.

In three reckless bounds, I’d grabbed hold of Victor, and as expected, he turned, ready to fight, to ruin my body with the hands of his brother, who’d once touched me so gently.

But he was met with an offering that threw him off guard—all that remained of my magic, every bit of me Dark Hall hadn’t used up.

“Oh, that’s…” He intoned, low, shivering at the sensation, and in unconscious recognition of my magic, Victor’s guard lowered.

“Goodbye, William.” I grated, latching onto his Drudge, coiling it around the portion he’d already been so gracious to give me.

He tried to wrench away, but it was too late, the natural laws governing this exchange were already in motion.

My lungs expanded as I took in a breath that was more than a breath, an invitation to the worst kind of magic.

I wouldn’t be able to take it all, and even if I had been, there was no time for Victor and Fiona to escape.

I couldn’t save the people I loved, but I could make sure no one suffered the whims of a Nightglass ever again.

As the first taste of scourge rolled across my tongue, the Fiend crashed through the portal, fracturing the wall, shifting the very structure of Blackwicket House, until the boards began to snap.