Marymoor Park was on the Eastside. The Greater Seattle Metropolitan area is made up not only of Seattle proper, but of numerous suburb cities that flowed into each other, divided by manmade boundaries rather than natural divisions. Many of the bedroom communities had grown large enough to be central metropolitan areas themselves.
The GSM area surrounded several lakes, including Lake Washington, Lake Union, and Lake Sammamish, while Seattle proper was on Elliot Bay and the Puget Sound Inlet, which led out through the Straits of Juan de Fuca to the Pacific Ocean.
The Eastside was east of Lake Washington, connected to Seattle by two floating pontoon bridges, one of which—the 520 Floating Bridge—was one the longest of its kind in the world. Both the I-90 Bridge and the 520 were marvels of engineering in the earthquake-prone area, and the 520 was in desperate need of rebuilding, both to service the increased load of cars that crossed it daily, and to prevent it from going belly up during a major trembler.
We were headed for a city called Redmond, the home of Microsoft. It abutted Bellevue—a city of over one hundred and twenty thousand people—and was a little less urban but still a growing community. The two cities were divided by Bel-Red Road, short—of course—for Bellevue-Redmond Road.
As we headed toward the exit off of the 520, which had been sparsely trafficked thanks to the fact that we’d headed out shortly after eight P.M., I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Chase’s SUV was following Morio’s Subaru. We’d brought two cars, considering that we had eleven people and all our gear to transport. Morio was driving me, Menolly, Trillian, and Smoky. Chase ferried Delilah, Rozurial, Wilbur, Vanzir, and Iris.
We sped along the 520 freeway until we came to the exit, which opened onto Leary Way. Straight ahead and we’d be in Redmond proper. Morio swung a right onto West Sammamish Parkway. Less than five minutes later and we were at the entrance of Marymoor Park. He eased into the left-turn lane at the light, and pulled into the park, followed by Chase.
There was some sort of event going on, and the park was still open though it usually closed at dusk. We eased into the parking lot near Clise Mansion: a community hall that had once been a country estate and now was available for meetings, weddings, and other special occasions.
As we scrambled out of the cars, I looked wistfully at the mansion. “It’s beautiful. It would be so nice to have some sort of party where we didn’t have to worry about all this other crap.”
Trillian put his hand on my shoulder. “Perhaps for the holidays, we can throw a party here?”
I stared at him, touched. Trillian usually wasn’t so keen on social claptrap, as he put it, but now the look on his face told me he meant it. I kissed him lightly on the nose. “Thank you for that.”
We gathered our gear and headed out of the park. The towering firs and cedars were interspersed with maple and birch and hawthorn and alder, and numerous other types of trees and shrubs. The park was over six hundred acres. We were on the west side. A five-minute walk took us back to West Sammamish Parkway, and a few seconds later we were across the street.
Menolly looked around—nobody was on the road so she quickly hovered up to the top of the restraining wall and, perching on it, tossed down a light rope. We made light work of climbing up, even Iris, who was a lot stronger than she looked. On the other side of the wall, we found ourselves facing a shallow ravine filled with trees. It was easy enough to scramble down into the cover of foliage.
“Okay, where’s Stacia’s place?” It was dark, and the ground uneven. I was glad I’d traded my stilettos for granny boots. It was also cold and I was equally glad I’d worn a light jacket over my leather bustier and rayon skirt that fell to my calves.
Vanzir gauged the area, then pointed. “Up ahead. It’s new. Looks like it was built in the last year or two. They cleared out another patch of woods for it.” He led us under the shelter of leaves that were dripping water from the rain. At least the weather had let up a bit, and we were only facing a drizzle. But the mist was rising from the ground and, before long, it would be rolling through the area.
We silently followed him to the edge of the ravine, clambering up the embankment without much trouble. At the top, we were at the edge of the tree line, staring into the backyard of a large estate.
“You’d think with a joint this expensive, they’d have more land attached to it,” Trillian said.
“Around here, land’s a valuable commodity. People tend to put the money into the house rather than the yard,” Chase murmured.
But house was a misnomer. Stacia Bonecrusher really did live in a mansion. Three stories tall, the house sprawled across the lot. Oh, it wasn’t any fancier than a number of the expensive homes in the area, but it must have set the demon back close to a million. How the hell had she gotten the money to buy it? Did the demons invest in Wall Street? Whatever her means, Stacia had chosen the butt ugliest house on the block, I thought.
Mansion it might be, but it looked like one of those slap-together houses, the siding painted a bland beige, with the requisite white-trimmed windows. Like every other new house on the block, just bigger. Much bigger. There were two sets of French doors leading out into the backyard, onto stone patios, and as I glanced around the yard, I began to sense the wards Vanzir had told us about. I homed in on one that was about two yards away from me, and motioned to Morio.
We slowly crept up on it, followed by Vanzir, keeping low to the ground so the cover of night might hide us from prying eyes. Unless, of course, they could sense the heat of our bodies. With Stacia being a lamia and so connected to snakes, it might just be a possibility. I whispered as much to Morio, but he shook his head.
“Too cold. It’s dropped below fifty degrees. Snakes won’t be out and about in this weather. Most likely they’re brumating. But once we’re inside, we’ll have to be careful. Bet you it’s hot as hell in there. Which makes me think,” he added. “She’s a lamia, part snake. If we hit her with enough cold magic, it should do extra damage.”
Vanzir nodded. “Good thinking.”
The ward was made from a ruby-colored crystal, similar to the ones we had at home but they were definitely not Earthside or OW make. Morio and I joined hands and examined the energy. It coiled around the crystal like a snake slithering around its prey. And then I saw the runes magically embedded into the energy.
Apparently Morio spotted them, too. “Vanzir’s right. These are set up to warn when Demonkin come through. They must come and go by the front gate, or they’d be setting off their own wards all the time.”
“Unless it’s set to ignore whatever kind of demons she’s surrounding herself with,” I said. “Whatever the case, you, Menolly, Roz, and Vanzir can’t cross the wards without chancing to activate them, since you’re all considered some form of demon.”
We crept back to the others and reported what we’d found. There was still no one in the backyard, though lights were shining in various windows of the house.
“So we follow our original plan?” We’d turned it around and around during our strategy planning session and couldn’t find any other solution, other than to creep in, leaving those four behind. Once the fight was on, they could charge in as a second wave, given that Stacia would know we were here already.
“Yeah, that’s the only way I can see it,” Menolly said. “I just wish I could go in first, but if there’s a chance my being a vampire will set off the alarm, then I’d better wait with the others.”
Morio pulled out the small casket Rodney slept in and I groaned. He flashed me a look that said Suck it up and opened the box. As Rodney climbed out of the box, Morio hissed, “You will keep your mouth shut or I will tear you apart. I am not kidding. Get it?”
Rodney glared at him, but nodded.
“You’re going to go in as a scout and you’d better keep quiet when you do because there are some big bad demons in there who would think nothing of squashing you like a bug. Got it?”
Again, the nod.
“When you reach the door, you’ll grow to full size. You’re to take out as many of the demons in there as you can. Fight like hell because they’re sure going to. And don’t even think about sneaking out and running away, because I’ll hunt you down and give your bones to the nearest dog. Capiche?”
Morio began to transform into his full demon self and Rodney stumbled back a couple of steps, nodding.
I nodded. “Okay then. Come on.” I motioned to the others. “Spread out and work your way toward the back of the house.”
We’d decided to come at it from several angles. That way if one person was spotted, the others might still get the drop on the action. Fanning out, we slowly began edging our way through the yard. There were assorted shrubs and ferns dotting the lawn, so we had some cover. As I darted behind the nearest huckleberry, it occurred to me that this was getting old hat.
We were good. I couldn’t see the others’ progress, which meant that chances were, anybody looking out the window couldn’t see them either. The yard was dark, illuminated only by the light coming from the windows.
I’d nearly reached the house when the set of French doors nearest me opened and a bloatworgle came out, scratching himself as he proceeded to urinate on the grass next to the patio. I froze, hoping that the thinly trunked birch behind which I was hiding would cover me. Bloatworgles were ugly and dangerous; we’d fought several not long ago. They were among the thousands of grunts in the Sub Realms, almost caricatures of FBHs, with distended bellies and long, drooping arms and unshapely gray skin that drooped in wrinkles. But they could breathe fire and they were unreasonably strong.
The bloatworgle shook his dick and scratched his balls, then looked in my direction. He froze. Oh cripes, he saw me. I knew he could see me. As he opened his mouth, I let out a shout and dove to the side as I called down the lightning. The clouds were so thick that they responded and a ball of blue energy raced down toward the bloatworgle.
Please, please, please, don’t let it backfire, I thought, but just then the energy sputtered and broke up in a shower of sparks, the flaming hot energy hitting everything in sight.
“Fuck it!” I dashed in, drawing my dagger, trying to stay out of the way of that mouth of his. Nasty blasts of fire came out of that mouth. Very nasty.
At my shout, the others broke cover and raced in. Smoky caught the bloatworgle by surprise, blindsiding him as he unleashed his claws and flew by in a blur, leaving five deep gashes across the bloatworgle’s belly. The demon snarled and as he turned, blasting fire after Smoky, Delilah caught him from behind. She didn’t do her usual kick-spin, but brought Lysanthra, her dagger, down on the bloatworgle’s back, driving it in to the hilt between his shoulder blades. Smoky rounded for another hit and between the two of them the bloatworgle was so much dead meat. One demon—easy to kill. Many demons—chaos and trouble.
There was a sound from the doors and I looked up to see a half dozen human-looking guards standing there. Bikers on steroids?
“Tregarts,” Roz said, rushing in behind me. “Demons.”
Morio, Vanzir, and Menolly were on his heels. We spread out, facing the men, who were dressed in thick leather jackets and pants. Knives and chains seemed to be their weapons of choice, though it looked like one was holding a lead pipe. They moved forward, glaring at us. Mr. Lead Pipe tapped the pipe in his hand, a glint in his eye.
“Great, they look like they’re enjoying this,” I said, backing up to attempt another spell. Before I could summon the Moon Mother’s power, they were joined by a herd of shuffling flesh-on-the-sneaker. Zombies. Or ghouls. Oh, I hoped it was zombies—easier to kill, not so much in the brains department.
There was a subtle pause as we sized each other up. They were strong. Very strong. We had a fight on our hands. I just hoped to hell that Stacia would hold off until we took care of these cretins. I grabbed Morio’s hand.
“Let’s try to dispel some of the zombies,” I said. He nodded. We moved off to the side and Morio hurriedly pulled out a quartz crystal-beaded necklace and handed it to me. I draped it over my neck and he did the same with one of obsidian beads. We joined hands and began focusing on the spell that would turn the zombies back into worm food.
Meanwhile, I glanced up in time to see Delilah and Smoky move in on the bikers, and then they were joined by the rest. Iris hung back, shooting a shower of ice fragments at the demons. Demons generally didn’t like the cold unless they hung out in the Netherworld, and considering they were working for the lamia, I doubted that there’d be any cold spots in the house at all.
Wilbur joined Morio and me, and he quickly sprinkled salt into a large pentagram, then drew a circle around it with salt mixed with rosemary. He sat in the center of the five-pointed star and began to incant something low under his breath. I pulled my attention away, trying not to focus on the shouts and screams that were coming from the fight, but on the little squadron of zombies that had noticed us and were heading our way. Great, they were drawn by the necromantic energy. Delightful.
“Concentrate,” Morio hissed.
I shook my head. Why couldn’t I focus? Why couldn’t I ground myself? And then, just like that, the attention was there, shoving aside all other thoughts. I sank into the energy, let it engulf me as it dragged us down into the realm of shadow, into the realm of the night. Everything around me took on a faint violet glow and I knew we’d opened the door.
Morio squeezed my hands and we began the chant to release the summoned undead. Like many of our other spells, it played with a counterpoint rhythm. Morio began to open the gate.
“Devo shena, devo sherahni, devo shilak. Devo mordente, devo resparim, devo salesum . . .”