Rising Fury (Hexing House Book 1) (14 page)

After that it was mostly repetition of the word
smite
. Cora showed some inclination to beat the man into submission, but Thea held her back and shook her head. “Let’s just get him off the campus,” she said. “He’s told us what we need to know.”

Cora looked at her like she was crazy, but helped her fly Mr. Fanatic—wrenching and screaming and actually, at one point, trying to bite them—off the Hexing House grounds. They deposited him outside the gates. Thea didn’t like just leaving him there, but he didn’t seem inclined to tell them where he lived. He still held his cross, but seemed to have dropped his bag of salt and bottle of holy water. When they left him, Thea flew back to the cabin and picked both up.

“What do you want those for?” Cora asked.

“Holy water,” said Thea. “There’s a little left. And I’ll bet you the salt is blessed. It’s an old tradition, for warding off evil. I don’t think many priests do it anymore. Probably hard to find.”

“What do you need blessed salt for?” Cora asked.

Thea sighed. “If what he said meant what I think it meant, it can’t hurt.”

“What he said made no sense.”

But it had, to Thea. Hers had been a Bible-reading house, and after the incident with Mr. Delacroix, when the extent of Thea’s powers became obvious, it only became more so. It seemed the women in Thea’s family often had such abilities. But Thea’s mother did not. She regarded them as gifts from the devil, and was convinced that the Lord had put her in that family to stamp out the evil from within. Some of her methods of stamping were terrifying. Some were excruciating. But some were just reading scripture.

Thea had read Revelation enough times to know what the seven bowls meant. And it wasn’t anything good.

She and Cora flew back to Thea’s residence to talk. “Okay,” said Cora as she collapsed onto the couch. “Tell me what Mr. Fanatic was talking about.”

Thea sat beside her and sighed. “The seven bowls,” she said. “It’s in the Bible. They’re plagues—weapons—given to the angels to be used against the wicked. During the apocalypse, this is.”

“But he thinks we’re demons, trying to take this weapon to use against the righteous instead? Oh, and that it somehow relates to his blood being stolen. And that makes sense to you?”

“He wasn’t the only one whose blood was stolen.”

“Right, I know, but you seem to think it all fits together. I still see nothing but a bunch of disjointed pieces.”

“Graves wanted me here awfully badly,” Thea said. “He kept talking about my natural aptitudes and talents. And maybe I was unusual, for a human, but I only have one talent that furies don’t seem to be able to train for.”

“Hex resistance.”

“Hex resistance,” Thea repeated, nodding. “And they wanted my blood. And I’ll bet it’s why they wanted Flannery’s blood, too. That sort of thing could run in families. A lot of this other magical stuff seems to. And maybe Mr. Fanatic has the same trait.”

“So?”

“So, vials of blood, version eight, subject T, serum fourteen. They’re experiments. Hexes and hex resistance. That hex in the forest that even I couldn’t resist, and all the weird shit it did. I’m not positive of exactly how it all fits together, but I can tell you what Mr. Fanatic thinks they’re cooking up in their lab. Whoever they are.”

“The end of the world. The demons destroying the righteous,” Cora said. “They’re making a weapon.”

They checked with some people hanging around the residences, but there was still no word about Hester. Thea wanted to go back out to the river, just to do something, but Cora convinced her not to.

“We just agreed it’s too big a search area,” Cora said. “And it’s already getting dark. You’re better off waiting for Hester to wake up and trying to talk to her.”

“What if she doesn’t wake up?” Thea asked.

“Then a directionless search around miles of riverbank can be your plan B,” Cora said. “But for now you’re exhausted, fresh off that attack and then your test, not to mention a major physical change. You can’t possibly be at your sharpest. Plus aren’t you supposed to start your exploratories tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Eight o’clock.”

“So, that decides your whole future. Rest tonight. I’ll go with you tomorrow after work, if you want, and then after that it’s the weekend and we’ll have plenty of time.”

When Thea was alone, she ran a claw across her palm and smeared her blood once again across the smiling face of Tatiana Tulip, hoping for a glimpse of Flannery. She knew it almost certainly wouldn’t work, that her flower friends were friends no more. But it was better than doing nothing.

Nothing was exactly what she got. She couldn’t feel Flannery at all.

Maybe it’s not the flower friends who’ve left you. Maybe you can’t feel Flannery because she’s dead.

Thea looked down at the violet blood mixed with red on
The Book of Flower Friends
. “No,” she told it.

You’re supposed to be fearless now. Even reckless. What are you doing, pacing around here? Agreeing to do the sensible thing and wait?

Just before dawn, while it was still dark enough to slip away unseen, Thea flew out west, back to the river. She sat on a rock and waited for the sun to come up. She hoped she wouldn’t come across any humans—a race she already thought of as
them
instead of
us
—but she didn’t suppose it would matter that much if she did. Persephone had been pretty nonchalant about the possibility of being seen. And it was easy enough to fly away.

When it was light enough to see by, Thea started searching again. It only took an hour to come to the same conclusion she’d come to the day before: it was stupid to be out here, stupid to risk being late for her first day of exploratories when she would never find anything—

Something in the mud caught the light.

Thea swooped down and bent to pick it up. Her heart was hammering; she was sure it was a piece of turquoise jewelry, the kind that Hester always wore.

She was wrong. It was nothing but a piece of tin foil some careless picnicker had dropped. Thea crumpled it and glared out at the river, as if it was to blame for not giving up all its secrets.

Something hit her from behind, and then there was the feel of mud on one cheek, something hot on the back of her head.

And that was all Thea felt for a while.

She was in a hospital bed, in a white room. There were things stuck in her arm. Beeping sounds. The smell of disinfectant.

Why was she in the hospital?

That’s right. Baird. I remember.

She looked at the door, half expecting the sandy-haired, blushing Irish lawyer to come in. What was his name? O’Connor, or maybe O’Connell.

Baird deeply regrets This Unfortunate Incident. Baird wants only for both of you to move past This Unfortunate Incident. Baird wishes you nothing but the best, and hopes you can remain caring friends despite This Unfortunate Incident.

Thea would never see Baird himself again. Within a month, he would have a new woman on his arm, another fresh-faced everygirl the public would believe he happened upon in a coffee shop or while walking his dog, and love.

O’Connor-or-maybe-O’Connell was clearly embarrassed, having to say crap like that to a woman whose leg—and life—had just been pulverized. He was just doing his job. But then, he took the job in the first place. He’d been the one who recruited her and drew up the contract. Her and several before her. The yearly agreement, the terms of her availability, the non-disclosure, and of course the financial arrangements. He’d been Baird’s lawyer for years. He knew what Baird was.

So Thea didn’t feel all that bad about putting the squeeze on him. He tried to gently remind her that she wasn’t allowed to tell anybody, that the non-disclosure prohibited her from discussing Baird in any negative light, no matter what the circumstances of their parting.

She reminded him, less gently, that she’d read her contract too, and it didn’t say anything about nearly fatal internal bleeding and eleven assorted breaks and fractures. But if he wanted to make it all a matter of public record by suing her, he was more than welcome to do so.

He didn’t fight her much after that.

No police ever came to talk to her, and Thea never went to talk to them. She came out of the hospital with a limp and twenty-seven million dollars, and disappeared, just as she’d promised. No
Celebrity Dance-Off
for her.

But this, she realized as she stared blearily at the metal door, was not that disappearance. It was a new one.

And she was relieved. Whatever was going on, whoever had taken her, whatever reason she was here, it was all bound to be horrible, she supposed. But that was outside herself.
She
wasn’t horrible. She wasn’t the weak borderline-prostitute who used up the last of her courage to extort twenty-seven million dollars out of a movie star. She would never have to be that woman again.

Thea worked at the restraints that were holding her down, but there was no budging them. She switched her focus to taking in her surroundings. One window, high up, and it didn’t look like it opened. The room was bright with artificial light, but Thea was pretty sure that was ground she was glimpsing through the glass. She was in a basement, then. Two doors, but one looked like it only led into some sort of metal closet in the corner. Lots of machines that made no sense.

It was awkward trying to look down at herself while flat on her back, but she seemed to be wearing her own clothes. The weight of her amulet on her neck was gone, as were her shoes. An IV in her arm appeared to be giving her blood. Purple blood.

There was a noise at the door: a key turning in a lock. Instead of a sandy-haired lawyer, it was a woman who came in, but she had the same grim, slightly embarrassed expression.

“Thea. I thought I might find you awake,” she said. “I’m Dr. Forrester. How are you feeling?”

“Like I just got beaten up and taken prisoner. You’re human.”

“Yes.” Dr. Forrester felt Thea’s pulse. “Most of our staff is.” She pulled over a machine on wheels, and fastened something around Thea’s neck. Thea struggled, but she could only move so much.

“No need for that,” Dr. Forrester said. “I’m not going to hurt you. You might experience some minor discomfort while you’re here, but that’s it. As long as we have your full cooperation, of course.”

Thea glared at her. “Minor discomfort?” She nodded at the drip in her arm. “How much of my blood did you take, exactly, that you’re having to replace it now?”

Dr. Forrester smiled. “Such an imagination. I’m glad your thought processes are working so sharply, anyway. We took two pints of blood from you. We’re not replacing it because you’re injured. We’re replacing it with blood from a non-hex resistant fury as part of the experiment.”

“Just to see what happens? And what if what happens is that it kills me?”

“That imagination again. I assure you, Thea, nobody wants to see you dead. We’ve been lucky enough to find a few hex resistant subjects, but you’re the only hex resistant
fury
we have. And that makes you very important.”

“Which I guess is why Graves was so desperate to turn me into a fury.”

Dr. Forrester didn’t react to Graves’s name, or to Thea’s accusation. She just said, “If we can isolate some of your more unusual properties, it will be of great help to Hexing House.”

“What do you care about Hexing House?” Thea asked. “You aren’t a fury.”

Dr. Forrester shrugged. “It’s my place of employment, same as yours. I count on it to put food in my children’s mouths. I’m afraid it really is as mundane as that, despite your apparent need to attach drama to everything. The population of furies in the colony is fairly small. Not many can be spared to work in this little… satellite office.” She seemed satisfied with whatever readings the machine had given her, and took the band off Thea’s neck. “Okay, one more test, and then I’ll have some tea and dry toast sent in for you. If you keep that down, you can have the regular dinner.”

She pulled another machine across the room, larger, with several knobs and buttons and blinking lights. It looked like something from a science fiction movie. Dr. Forrester connected it to Thea by means of wired disks attached to her head, neck, and wrists. 

“Now, try to relax.”

Thea couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

“You’re in controlled conditions,” Dr. Forrester said. “You’ll be perfectly safe.”

Such safe conditions, it seemed, that Dr. Forrester had to close herself inside the metal closet. Thea could only see half her head through the narrow window in the door. There was a buzzing noise, then a click.

And then Thea felt it: a hex. This human was using that machine to do what only a fury should be able to do. Thea could sense it trying to settle over her mind. Sulfur and smoke. Just like that night in the forest.

The bees were after her again. Thea ran and ran, as the clown riding the lion chased her. The headless girl rode in front of the clown, laughing with a mouth that wasn’t there. And then something new: a pack of dogs. No, they weren’t dogs. Were they wolves? Thea stopped abruptly and nearly fell as the mass of fur moved toward her like a single entity. The sound coming from the animals was horrible.

Hyenas. They were hyenas.

Thea turned to run away, but the clown and the little girl blocked her way. In another direction, the swarm of yellow-jackets paused, floating in the air, not chasing her, but prepared to, if she did the wrong thing.

There was only one path open to her. They were herding her. Herding her toward what? Thea didn’t want to find out.

She tried to run the other way, past the clown, back the way she’d come. The clown didn’t follow her, but the bees did. She screamed as they stung her, the old familiar mistake, and several flew into her throat. It was closing, she couldn’t breathe.

Thea gasped, then stuffed her hand into her mouth, gagging around it, digging for the bees, desperately trying to get them out. She could still feel them, they’d multiplied into what felt like dozens, now, stinging her hand as well as her throat. How were they still alive? Why couldn’t she swallow them?

She retched as something tugged at her hand. A hyena had it between its teeth.

All at once, Thea stopped struggling. It would be easier to die.

“Cowardice. Interesting. The vice you’re most susceptible to was the first to rise to the top.”

At the sound of Dr. Forrester’s voice, Thea’s eyes snapped open, and she took in a great gulping breath, desperate for air.

“I think you need to work on your definition of discomfort,” she croaked. “Aren’t doctors supposed to be smart?”

Dr. Forrester ignored the feeble insult and started pulling off the disks.

“What was that hex?”

“We’re calling it Hex Nine for now. It’s still in the early stages.”

“What did you mean about cowardice rising to the top? A hex contains one specific virtue or sin.”

“Sometimes,” Dr. Forrester agreed. “This one doesn’t. Instead it ferrets out your vices, and brings them to the surface.”

Momentarily forgetting about the restraints, Thea tried to point at the metal closet, found she couldn’t, and gestured with her chin instead. “Why did you have to go in there?”

“Hex Nine is not target-specific,” Dr. Forrester said.

“So it hasn’t been finished yet, but it still couldn’t affect more—” Thea stopped, remembering the forest. The other fury who had, what? Disappeared? Died? Both of them had gone mad at once. “You’ve got hexes that can hit more than one person.”

“It’s a blanket hex with a specific radius, yes.”

Even more alarming than the actual answers to Thea’s questions was the fact that Dr. Forrester hadn’t hesitated to give them. Thea assumed that meant the doctor wasn’t expecting her to be in a position to give away any secrets.

Pushing that worry away for the time being, Thea said, “Since you’re being so forthcoming, how about you tell me what this is all about? Why am I here? Is my cousin here too? Flannery?”

But Dr. Forrester only shook her head. “None of that is my area. Now get some rest. I’ll have some food sent down shortly.” And with that, she left Thea alone again.

Over a period of several days, Thea was tested over and over again with different iterations of Hex Nine. She had hallucinations every time, but always managed to throw them off at the moment a vice bubbled to the surface and began to manifest. Usually this was cowardice. Sometimes, like when she’d lost control in the forest, it was wrath.

After the second day, they took off her restraints in favor of one hand cuffed to the bed. The chain was long enough for Thea to sit up, feed herself, flip through a magazine.

Or swing an arm, should the opportunity arise.

She was allowed up a few times a day, once for a shower and the rest for bathroom breaks. But there were always security guards around, waiting outside the bathroom door while Dr. Forrester or a nurse waited inside for Thea to finish her business. There were no obvious chances for escape, but Thea did her best, through the rigors of the experiments, to stay alert.

She had no doubt that her theory about them—whoever
they
were—developing a weapon was correct. Anything that would bring forth an intensified, almost undiluted version of a sin couldn’t have any good outcome. The target might turn on his friends, or give up without a fight, or change sides, or just start killing indiscriminately.

Target or targets. This was a blanket hex, and worse, it seemed to be self-inflicting.

Thea understood why this research into hex resistance was so important. Nobody would unleash such a thing without some kind of protection—armor, an antidote, something—for the person or people controlling it. And for whoever was on their side.

But once they had that, they could just sit back and watch any war win itself. An entire enemy population manifesting sins at once, turning on and eventually consuming itself. Violence. Murder. Lies and betrayals, people saving themselves at the expense of everybody else. Complete chaos.

As the days went by, Thea got better at resisting the hex, and the waking nightmares got shorter as she improved her control over it. Time was on her side; unlike a regular hex that stayed intact until the target brought themselves into balance, the blanket hex had a finite period of infliction. She only had to keep it at bay for a minute or two, at most, before it dissipated on its own.

But however brief, the times when the hex engulfed her took their toll. The panic attacks came back. Thea’s limbs felt weak, and she became so exhausted she sometimes had trouble distinguishing between the hallucinations and reality.