Screams of misery tore through the boiling, surging people—the non-fatal gunshot wounds had started expanding, skin unraveling like someone was pulling a thread in a knit sweater. That someone was me. Oops.
Like eddies of water, the crowd backed away from the growling, claw-swinging basajaun and around the miserable sods who were unraveling before their eyes.
More intruders than my dad could handle surged onto the property. Ivy House took up her mantle as protector.
Huge metal spears popped out of the grass and from under the cement walkway as spotlights pushed up near the base of the house and clicked on, flooding the scene with bright white light. The intruders ripped their arms up in front of their faces, shielding their eyes, and the large arrow points at the ends of the spears gleamed.
I heard my dad say, “Martha, look at that! Booby traps!”
A body flew up over the crowd as the spears launched forward, the metal rods collecting bodies two and three deep before the cables that tethered them went taut and yanked backward. The bodies slid off as the spears locked back in place, passing through two metal rods obviously for that purpose, ready for another release. Another body sailed overhead and gas released from the grass, so thick that the light almost couldn’t penetrate it. Those caught in it began to cough, clutching their necks and chests.
“Basajaun,” I yelled, making a let’s go motion with my hand. Ivy House would alert me if anyone got past.
“Make sure he is protected through the fog,” she said to me, as though hearing my thoughts. “Don’t worry about your parents. Should the worst happen, I will force them away if necessary.”
“Wait, what?” I threw a protective bubble around the basajaun as he charged through the crowd. Going around would’ve been easier, but whatever. “I’ve never done a bubble against gas!”
“That’ll do, pig.”
I furrowed my brow at her antics as someone foolishly swiped at the basajaun with their sword. The sword dinged off the bubble I’d created, a force field on the outside, and the wall penetrable from within, ensuring he’d be safe from the gas unless he stuck his head out. He grabbed the woman’s arm, wrenched it off, and smacked her across the face with it. Insult to injury.
He continued forward, waving his great arms, throwing people onto the grass. Their shouts of pain turned to wails of agony amid their coughs, whatever Ivy House had cooked up for them not for the faint-hearted.
The basajaun himself stopped just before the grass, eyeing the fog.
“You’re safe.” I motioned him closer. “Come through, you’re safe!”
The battering ram hit the curb, these modern-day issues impeding the usefulness of old-school machines. Even if they got it over, or went across the driveway, they’d have to get around the fully functioning, enormous spears positioned on some sort of javelin machine that had ruined Edgar’s perfectly tended grass. My front door wasn’t going to feel the wrath of that machine today.
“You are protecting me from the poison fog,” the basajaun said as he reached me.
“Yes, hurry. Ivy House can handle these people for now. It’s the people in the back who are going to be the problem.”
“It is good to be on your side.”
“Not really, since we’re vastly outnumbered and the house can’t help us with these guys. Not yet, anyway.”
“This house is amazing.”
I didn’t feel like he was hearing anything I was saying, but I also didn’t feel like there was any point in persisting, so I started to jog, finding Austin and the other shifters at the tree line, smushing the flowers as they peered into the darkness. The host of dolls waited off to the far right, standing because of Ivy House, but immobile since she didn’t know where to direct them.
“Hey.” I stopped beside Austin and put a hand on his furry shoulder, about level with my head, feeling him tense under the touch. I took my hand away. “Anything?” I whispered.
The basajaun leapt over the flowers, directing dirty looks at anyone standing on them, and pressed his large hand to the nearest tree trunk. He bent, crouching down, looking under the trees. “They’re here,” he whispered.
I crouched in my location, frustrated at their magic, and looked into the woods. Lines in the darkness, the trunks of trees standing sentinel. Bushes crawled across the ground, behind ferns. I couldn’t see any movement. Could they see me? Did they know we were waiting?
The cover of darkness was hurting us as much as it was helping us.
I reached up to tear the darkness away on this side of the house, then I spied it. Further back than I’d been looking, about fifty feet, I could see the soft blue glow of the spell keeping Ivy House and me from feeling the second group’s presence. Here to a basajaun had a different interpretation than it did for me.