You can read the story so far from the beginning here
Hilary sagged in her kitchen chair and ran a tired hand over her face. “I’m going to have to chase Lord Peregrine out of the house with a broom,” she said. “It’s going to be like one of those cartoons.”
Samgan chuckled. “What is happening now?”
“He’s talking about the Imbolc celebration in February!” Hilary sagged further. “He wants to have it here because my home is nicer."
Cabus smiled and sat next to Samgan, across from Hilary. “I would surrender now, Mistress Hilary. You know that Lord Peregrine will get his way.”
Hilary narrowed her eyes. “I’m not giving up without a fight. I’m going to get one of those spray bottles that they use on cats. Maybe that will deter him.”
Samgan laughed out loud. “There would be a queue of people who would pay to see that happen,” he said. “I fear, however, that it would be ineffective. You should start considering what to do for the feast at Imbolc.”
“I’m considering nothing,” Hilary said, then smiled. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue, though. It’s done no good so far.” She looked out of the window. “It’s dark already. The nights are really drawing in. I’m going to start dinner as they’ll be back from the shop before we know it.” She caught the question in Samgan’s eyes. “I’m making corned beef hash. It’s not too fancy and it’s lovely and warming.”
“With baked beans and fried mushrooms?” Samgan asked. “Or cabbages braised with caraway and carrots?”
“I’m happy to assist with peeling the potatoes,” Cabus said. “I need a break after working on the notebooks. It’s a fascinating study, but I’m overloaded.”
Hilary smiled. “That would be helpful, thank you,” she said. “At this time of year…”
There was an echoing bang from outside, coming from the far end of the garden. Hilary started, knocking her half-drunk mug of tea over, the hot liquid spilling across the tablecloth. All the cupboard doors flew open and the kitchen taps turned on, the water hitting the sink with noisy force as the flames from the stove suddenly roared up the chimney. Samgan fell off his chair and lay curled on the floor, holding his head. Cabus’ eyes flamed red and his fangs grew. He stared down at his hands as claws slid out from his fingers and the palms of his hands roughened with hair. Hilary found herself holding onto the table as a tidal wave of twisted magical energy flowed through the room, sparking and snapping when it hit the wards, then ebbing out down the hall towards the cellar.
“What was that?” Hilary gasped out, pushing herself to her feet and carefully walking across the room to turn off the taps.
Samgan struggled to his feet and winced. “I cannot believe that it was beneficial,” he said. “Cabus, do you need assistance?”
Cabus looked more normal, and was sitting rigidly, his eyes closed and his hands flat and face down on the table. “There was a pulse of power from the stones,” he murmured. “I need a moment.”
Hilary whirled around as the kitchen door flew open. “Lord Peregrine!”
The fae stumbled into the kitchen. His coat was torn and his trousers were liberally streaked with mud. He looked at Hilary with wide, wild eyes. “I may have been in error,” he said.
Hilary rushed over and guided him onto a chair. “Are you hurt?”
Lord Peregrine looked at her, his eyes slowly focusing. “I could manage a brandy,” he said.
“That’s not what I asked,” Hilary said, checking him over. “You look like you’ve been in a fight.”
“That brandy…” Lord Peregrine said.
“You’re not supposed to give brandy for shock anymore,” Hilary said sternly. “Samgan, please could you fetch the bottle of brandy from the dining room.” She patted Lord Peregrine’s hand. “I’m not giving you the cooking brandy. And I’m making you a cup of tea as well.” She rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment before filling the kettle.
“I’ve only myself to blame,” Lord Peregrine said. He shook his head, still slightly dazed. “I thought that if I bled off some of the power building in the stones, it would make things easier. It gets so intense this time of year.” He took the bottle of brandy from Samgan. “I thought that with a sudden loss of power, there’d be a little slack in the tension, a little ease that could help when we move the stones.”
“Use a glass!” Hilary said, setting a tumbler sharply in front of Lord Peregrine as he took a long swallow from the bottle.
“Must I?” Lord Peregrine sighed as he poured a hefty measure into the glass.
“You must!” Hilary insisted. “And what happened? You tried to get rid of some of the energy, and it went wrong?”
Cabus brought his own glass and poured an equally large measure. “Only Lord Peregrine is strong enough to even consider doing such a thing,” he said. He took a large swallow and coughed a little. “But it wasn’t correctly directed.”
Lord Peregrine grimaced. “There was a lot of power, and I’d allowed for it. But I hadn’t allowed for the malice in the power. It was twisting like a cat being baptised.”
“There was feedback, wasn’t there?” Cabus clutched hold of his glass. “It felt awful.”
Lord Peregrine took another drink. “If it felt bad here, in this warded space, think how I felt in the centre of it.” He shook his head again. “My ears are still ringing.”
“How may we restore you?” Samgan asked urgently.
“I need a few moments, this good brandy and the tea that is no doubt about to appear in front of me,” Lord Peregrine said. “And I need to stay for dinner. But not much longer.”
“I concur,” Cabus said. “You amplified everything. I can feel the vibrations from the stones, even in here. They’ll have to be moved tonight.”
“Make us something with plenty of meat, Mistress Hilary,” Lord Peregrine said. “And hearty with it. Those working on the stones will need to be grounded and have plenty of fuel inside them.” He took another mouthful of brandy. “Please call the Village Stores and ask them to shut early. Put the call out and get everyone here. We cannot delay.”
***
Alison looked at the heaped pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen. “You need a dishwasher,” she said. “You’ve just fed half the village. You shouldn’t have to wash up as well.” She glanced out of the window. “And it’s not as if the men can help, not if they’re out there, digging up those stones.”
“It’s not usually this bad,” Hilary said. “And I don’t really have room.”
“You could make room,” Alison said. “The kitchen is enormous. I’m sure that you could manage something if you really wanted.”
“I do not approve of the dishwasher,” Bracken said. “It lacks precision.” She rolled up her sleeves and started to run water into the sink.
Alison grabbed a tea towel. “I couldn’t manage without mine,” she said.
Hilary picked up another tea towel. “You need to save every moment to spend with your sons,” she said. “We have a long wait and a lot of worrying to do. Washing up keeps the hands busy.”
“And it helps keep you and I grounded,” Paul said. “We have to keep moving and talking. We can’t risk getting influenced by whatever is in that cellar.”
Alison looked towards the kitchen door. “I feel like a liability. And I can’t even help outside with the stones. I know I’m not strong like the werewolves, or Cabus and Lord Peregrine, but surely I could be some help.” She shivered as rain rattled against the window. “I can’t help feeling guilty being safe in the warm like this while they’re all out there in that dreadful weather, and who knows what could happen to them.”
Paul nodded. “I know,” he said with infinite understanding. “All we can do is clean up, keep the room warm and have good food and drink ready for their return.”
“And towels and hot water,” Bracken said. “With all things neat and tidy and in their place.”
“Besides,” Paul said, looking over at Samgan. “We may be needed for reinforcements. We get things set up in here, and we stay ready.”
***
“We start nearest to Rowan Cottage and work out,” Cabus said. “I think all of us can feel how the magic is twisting, so don’t bother trying to be fancy. We just get the stones out of the ground as quickly as we may. As long as they’re moved at least a hand’s span away from their original hole, it should break the connection.”
“My attempt to divert power may have backfired,” Lord Peregrine said. “In fact, the feedback loop has made things a little more intense.” He raised an eyebrow at the groans among the werewolves. “But it’s rattled the original links between the stones. Just that movement will do it, just a few inches or centimetres or acorns away from the original placement and out of the ground, ideally on their side.”
“We can split into teams,” Magnus said. “No-one knows what’s going to happen.” He grimaced as a gust of wind drove icy rain into his face. “We may as well start wide, and we can change if we have to.”
Lord Peregrine nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. We’ll start with…” he ran a quick count over the group. “We can start with two teams of four. I’m not sure how hard it will be to move the stones, but I’m sure that a group of four can manage.” He nodded at Cabus. “No time like the present.” He strode over to the nearest stone and drove his crowbar deep against one side. An unexpected and unnatural clap of thunder rattled around the clearing. “I must be doing something right.”
“Over there!” Tom pointed through the trees.
A glowing shape, framed in ethereal sparks, stood next to a stone. A sudden weight of magical energy pressed against them, a thick fog settling on their minds and stifling their movements. Magnus threw back his head and roared. “The hell with this!” He ran to the next stone and started working. “They’re not that deep.”
Cabus stared. “The figure. It’s changed.” The mental blanket suffocating them eased a little as the glowing figure split, one figure advancing on Lord Peregrine and another heading towards Magnus. “They’re splitting their power. Everyone take a stone!”
Cabus hung back as the rest scattered, checking that no stone was missed. “Keep moving!” he yelled. He muttered a charm and one of the figures fell back a little. “As soon as you’ve broken a stone, move on to the next.” With a grunt of effort, Lord Peregrine toppled the first stone out of its place. A figure disappeared, and the pressure eased, but what felt like a wave of fire ran through their bones before dissipating.
Magnus took a moment to recover, leaning on his crowbar. “Better or worse, we can’t stop,” he snarled. “Keep going.” With a final heave, his stone lifted out of its place and rolled an arm’s length away. A sense of an electric shock ran through all the men, leaving them shaking, but still determined. “Cabus, where’s the next stone. We’ll get this finished and clean out these woods.”
***
Bracken peered out of the window. “It looks fierce out there.”
“I can feel it,” Hilary said, sitting carefully down on the nearest kitchen chair. “How about you, Paul? Are you feeling anything?” She looked carefully at Paul. “Paul?” She looked at the woman sitting across the table from him. “Alison?”
Neither looked up. Both sat, their faces blank and their hands neatly folded on the table in front of them. “I fear that they are not with us,” Samgan said. “If this room was not stringently warded, things could be dangerous.”
“Or if that thing in the cellar was more focused.” Hilary grabbed the cooking salt from the cupboard and quickly poured a thin trail of it around the table. “It’s already outside, we can see the sparks. I bet that it wants to get Paul and Alison working against us, but hasn’t got the strength to make them do something, just the strength to get into a place where it’s been before.”
“The salt is working. They are stirring a little, but far from free,” Samgan said. “I believe that you are correct.” He knelt and touched the salt and a tang of ozone filled the air.
“Keep an eye on them, Samgan,” Hilary said. “Bracken, I want you to fetch all the cooking salt from the stores. I need to grab something from my workroom.”
There was a slimy feel to the air in the hall as Hilary hurried to her workroom. A hint of sulphur and decay hung heavy, and she could hear banging from the direction of the library. She grabbed up her supplies and ran back to the kitchen. “We can’t carry on like this,” she said. “I’ve had enough!”
“That is how they find weakness,” Samgan warned. “You are pushed and pushed and pushed until you reach breaking point and act rashly. You must take care.”
“No, I really don’t think so,” Hilary said. She caught up a huge serving dish and put it between Paul and Alison. “I’m going to act while whatever is in the cellar is distracted. I've been thinking about this.” She tipped crystals from a silk bag into the dish and sprinkled them with salt. “Samgan, can you get this incense going.” She put the burner, charcoal and jar of incense on the table next to Paul. “Don’t put the burner on the bare wood!” She raced out to the utility room. The air was icy in here and there was a stench of foul water and slime as she pulled out the hose that she’d used so often on Tom after his muddy runs. As an afterthought, she picked up a large tub of the ice and grit that she’d got to salt the paths, before hurrying back to the kitchen.
“There should be no risk of fire,” Samgan said, then swore as all the lights went out. “I shall light a battery powered lamp.”
“What happened?” Paul asked. “Did we do anything?”
Hilary shook her head. “Whatever’s down there has its attention split too many ways.” She hurried around, switching on the battery lanterns and grabbing a headlight for herself. Outside, the rain drummed hard against the window and there was an unnerving bang. “You two stay here, inside that circle. I won’t be long. Samgan, Bracken, I need your help.” She handed over a headlight to each. “Are you with me?”
Bracken swallowed convulsively, but there was determination on her pale face. “There is much mess and disorder, which I cannot tolerate,” she said firmly. “Of course I shall help.”
“And I remain in your debt,” Samgan said softly. He squared his shoulders. “And I, too, can no longer tolerate this state of affairs.”
“Follow me.” Hilary took a deep breath and marched out of the kitchen. “Shut the door behind us,” she said. “I want to keep as many barriers as possible between us and Paul and Alison.”
“They wouldn’t wish to hurt us, but we cannot risk unexpected attack,” Samgan said quietly.
“Besides, the hall is freezing,” Hilary said pragmatically. “They may as well keep the warmth in the kitchen. I have a plan.” She looked quickly back at Samgan and Bracken. “It’s scary, and I don’t know if we can make it work, but whatever’s down there has its attention split. I think it’s out best chance.”
There was an echoing bang from outside. “I owe loyalty to both you and Lord Peregrine,” Samgan said quietly. “We will make it work.”
“You took me in and taught me to cook,” Bracken said. “And you paid and you paid with kindness. I has fear,” she admitted. “But I will no longer tolerate this mess.”
“Okay.” Hilary gathered up her mental strength. “Let’s get into the library.”
Hilary had repeatedly locked the library door, to no avail. It stood ajar now, a musty, dank smell spilling out into the hall. She pushed the door wide and stepped in. The library looked dismal in the glow of the headlights. A film of dust covered everything, and a faint, oily sheen coated the window. Most of the books were still on the shelves, but a few were tumbled around on the floor and the stench of damp, dirty paper was almost overwhelming. “Stay close,” she murmured.
“There will be so much to do before the Solstice feast,” Bracken said. “May I ask Auntie Olive and Auntie Ivy for assistance?”
“As long as they do what you tell them,” Hilary said, barely registering the words as she crept towards the cellar door.
Samgan casually tipped the heavy library table on its side. “We must take care and ensure that the door stays open,” he said. “I do not wish to be trapped again.”
“Good idea,” Hilary said, waiting for him to jam the secret door open before starting down the stone steps. “You know what to do?”
“We do,” Bracken said, uncomfortably close behind her. Outside there was another bang and a pained howl. “We must do something and I think we must do it now.”
Taking all her courage, Hilary slipped the coil of the hose over her shoulder and meticulously picked her way down the stairs. There was an unhealthy sheen on them, though the walls were coated in unpleasant, dusty clumps. “There’s a light on downstairs,” she said.
“No, it is not electrical light,” Samgan said softly. “None of the electrical lights are working. All we can say is that there is light.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Hilary said, reaching the bottom of the steps. “And it’s coming from the ritual room. Okay, let’s go.” She handed over the end of the hose to Bracken who sprinted across to the sink in the corner. Hilary hurried across to the ritual room, pushing past the wall of fear and horror that was sweeping through her. The stink of death filled the air as she pushed into the room and ripped the lid off the bucket of salt and grit. Then she stuttered to a halt.
“This is my place,” a shadow said from the corner. “It has been my place for so long. It will always be my place.” In the depths of the dark, where the headlights couldn’t penetrate, a dark, sadistic smile flashed. “And your fear is nourishment, so much nourishment. I could dine on you for a lifetime. That is, your lifetime.” There was a hint of a dark chuckle. “I believe that two of you could sustain me for some time. I could send one of you back, deranged and damaged, as a warning.” The dark chuckle sounded again. “Who should be released and who should suffer? How should I decide?”
It felt like ice slithering over Hilary’s skin. She’d brought her friends down, she’d brought down people she owed a duty of care, and now it was for nothing. The darkness was overwhelming, the power was too much. How could she have thought that there was any point in this? She was helpless. Vaguely she could hear a sob torn from Bracken and she thought that the low moaning came from Samgan. Her shoulders slumped as despair stabbed through her. The bucket of salt and grit tilted in her grasp and some spilled out over her hand. The sensation of burning icicles driving into her hand shocked Hilary, a frosty chill sliding into her mind and leaving her alert, unencumbered by fear, and furious. She hurled the salt and grit from the bucket, a wide swathe arcing across the intricate patterns on the floor and landing with a hiss. “Bracken, the hose!”
“I am ready,” Samgan said at her side. “How dare he!”
“I has turned it,” Bracken called. “The water is moving.”
Hilary turned the nozzle to jet and aimed at the centre of the circle. “Brace!” she called. “Samgan, on my mark!”
“Ready!” Samgan answered, his voice filled with purpose.
A howl echoed in the corner. “All to me, all parts, all to me!”
“Get ready!” Hilary sprayed the water over the salt and grit, scouring the intricate markings which melted in the onslaught. “I’m almost there.” More and more of the circle faded under the water.
“I forbid this!” The voice echoed and a chill slid into the room. The marks stopped melting as the water froze, the ice crystals gleaming in the light of the headlights. “This will stop.”
Hilary could barely hold the hose as the chill crushed her. She hunched over, desperately trying to keep her grip. “Now, Samgan, while the water’s still running.”
There was a deep groan from Samgan as he stretched pale hands out, but he didn’t flinch as he pulled at the hanging nearest to him, his supernatural strength dragging the railing down with it. Hilary turned the hose on the inscriptions, washing them away.
“No! My brother’s! Help me!” The scream was shrill and the temperature was rising fast. The ice was melting and the circle was almost gone. “Help!”
Translucent shadows flicked through the room, coalescing in the corner. A pulse of dread pushed out, but Hilary was relentless. Samgan moved behind her, crossing to the other side of the room to grab the hanging rail.
“Leave ussss!” There was an unpleasant echo in the voice. “Leave us here and we can grant much wisdom, many secrets. We can give power to those who spare us. No!”
Steam was rising from the water. “This water is much more hot than expected,” Bracken said, rushing in with a mop.
“Don’t touch the water!” Hilary said. “Samgan, go for it.” He pulled the rail entirely from the wall, letting it drop and leaving the hangings damp and muddled on the floor. Hilary didn’t hesitate. “Move back, Samgan,” she called as she sprayed the wall wildly.
The inscriptions glowed in patches, sparking and twisting, as a chorus of howls echoed around the room, splintering and shattering as they dwindled. Bracken looked anxiously at Hilary. “This water has become extremely hot.”
“Mop the walls,” Hilary said, turning her attention back to the first wall. “But if the water’s too hot, stay out of it.”
“Mistress Hilary, spray the hangings,” Samgan called.
Hilary directed the hose over the material before turning her attention to the corner. The shadows remained but they were shrinking. “Get out!” she snarled, aiming her hose directly into the corner. The water spilling over the floor felt uncomfortably warm under her feet, but she didn’t flinch. “Get out now!”
Outside a loud bang echoed, followed by claps of thunder racing nearer the house and into the house. Crashes rumbled around the room, almost knocking Hilary off her feet, and a spark of electricity shot painfully through her bones. Waves of cold and heat ricocheted wildly around the room, leaving Hilary staggering helplessly before the thunder faded and the temperature settled.
Then the light came on. Hilary stared at Bracken and Samgan before looking around. There was no sinister force lurking here, not anymore. This was just a plain room, with a muddy floor and some faint marks on the walls.
“There is much cleaning to do here indeed,” Bracken said.
Hilary took a moment to sense the flow of power in the room. It was stronger than most places but now it was calm, like a smooth, deep flowing river. The snarls and malice had gone, along with the wild whirling eddies that had caused so many problems. “It feels pretty clean to me,” Hilary said.
