House of the Angels

Life in Angel Manor went on as usual with people coming and going from Sybilla’s house to see the voodoo priestess.

Ceremonies took place every few days while studies had to be kept up. Grey was vastly improved in his powers which had been suppressed by Sally for longer than many of them had expected. In those short two weeks he had learned to levitate, draw objects to him and even learned how to light and put out candles without the use of matches or a lighter. His potion skills were still a bit rusty, but his resurgence powers soon matched those of both Floyd and Eve.

Finally the day came. A plan was in place and everyone had a task that was to be carried out. Dylan, Rachel, Kyle, Eve, Francis, Ash and Gwen were all to go with Sybilla to Mason Noir to carry out the mission while the others stayed behind and held down the house.

“And remember,” Sybilla instructed. “The key is to be discreet and not make anything look suspicious. Ya’ll make a mess you make damn sure you clean it up.”

“Will do Sybilla.” The seven answered before setting off to make themselves presentable.

“Ya’ll might wanna wear something black too.” Sybilla told them. “Blood don’t show up often on black.”

Neither one of them had really heard what Sybilla had told them to do, but they knew enough. Rowena, Eve, Rachel and Gwen all took the longest to get ready, making sure their hair and makeup was absolutely perfect before leaving their mirrors. The boys on the other hand were a completely different story. All they had to do was shower, throw on some AXE and their best clothes and all was done.

“C’mon ya’ll.” Sybilla said. “We’ve got work to do.”

Out the door they went, walking up the street just as they had done on the day Sybilla had taken them to Bijou Square and even following the same route over Pelican Bridge until they came to the gates of Mason Noir.

“Remember what ya’ll are supposed to do?” Sybilla questioned.

“Be discreet.” Kyle said.

“Don’t make anything look suspicious.” Francis added.

“And if we make a mess, clean it up.” Eve piped in.

“Good.” Sybilla said. “Look sharp, keep your eyes open and if anything tries to kill you, you kill it.”

Sybilla and the angels all strode up the cobbled walk through the canopy of drooping mangroves, oak and cypress trees until the front doors of Mason Noir were opened.

Inside the house was a scene that could only have been described in one of Rowena’s vast collection of F. Scott Fitzgerald novels. None of them had ever seen such a spectacular display of wealth and fashion right before their eyes. Well-dressed young women vainly displayed their jewels around their necks and on their wrists while men wore neatly pressed silk suits and designer watches. People danced to the pounding music in the old ballroom, paying hardly any attention to the comings and goings of other guests. The chatter and lively atmosphere brought a bit of life back into Mason Noir, but underneath everything the angels knew that something rotten was lurking about, waiting for its moment to rise to the surface and manifest before them.

“Everybody fan out.” Sybilla instructed.

Rowena, Kyle and the others all fanned to different parts of the crowd, trying to remain inconspicuous and doing everything in their power to attract as little attention as possible. Rowena, ever the impish little charmer, had somehow managed to make small talk with a rather vain looking woman who was as chatty as a magpie. Francis was trying to play it cool with a girl who appeared no older than seventeen or sixteen while Dylan and Rachel kept a fresh eye out for trouble.

“Can I trouble you for a beer?” someone asked Kyle.

Kyle was suddenly shaken from his concentration and hadn’t realized how long he had been standing around until a middle aged man had asked him the question. “Oh sorry about that, just one if you don’t mind.” He said to the man.

The man reached into the beer cooler and handed Kyle a fresh cold one that had been chilled to absolute perfection. “Good stuff.” Kyle noted once he had taken the first sip of the beer.

“You drink often?” the man asked.

“Only when the occasion calls for it.” Kyle joked.

The man and Kyle both laughed a little and soon they were both beginning to speak as though they were old friends.

“Sorry if I forgot to introduce myself.” The man apologized. “Name’s Lawrence McDermott by the way.”

“Jeremy Sendler.” Kyle answered, shaking Lawrence’s hand.

“You look oddly familiar.” Lawrence noted. “Do you by any chance go to Tulane?”

“Oh no, no I’ve never been to college.” Kyle answered. “I’ve been homeschooled my entire life.”

“Really?” Lawrence said with shocked surprise. “You seem very intelligent for your age Jeremy. The only reason I had asked was because my daughter has a boyfriend who looked just like you.”

Kyle was humorously flattered to say the least. “Does she go to Tulane?”

“Oh yes she’s a freshman.” Replied Lawrence. “Going for her degree in education and language arts. Pardon my asking Jeremy, but where exactly did you say you were from?”

“Baton Rouge originally.” Kyle half lied. “I wasn’t much of a city kid to be honest.”

“Well neither was I but when I started getting into the judicial system we had no choice but to move to the city.” Lawrence chuckled.

As Lawrence chattered on, Kyle spotted Rowena across the room, casting him a look that beckoned for him to speak with her. He excused himself from the conversation and made his way through the crowd of people until he got to Rowena.

“We’ve gotta act fast if we want to know what the hell the Caulfields are up to.” She told him.

“I’m doing the best I can ok?” Kyle explained. “You think following Sybilla’s instructions is easy?”

“Hey I’m doing the best I can too.” Rowena said in her defense. “You try listening to some elite, A-list actress talk about her million dollar Jimmy Choo shoes for an hour.”

“Ew, really?” Kyle groaned in disgust.

“Yeah she wouldn’t shut up about them.” Rowena said. “I swear the only thing she’s smart at figuring out is the best designer labels to wear to these events. Although I will say she looks fabulous in Versace.”

Girls…..Kyle thought, rolling his mismatched eyes. Always nitpicky with the labels….

“Just keep watching for any signs of trouble.” Kyle told her. “I’m thinking we’re bound to run into something sooner or later.”

“Ok.” Rowena replied. “You do the same and be safe.”

“Ok.” Kyle said. “Oh and Rowena?”

“Yeah?”

“Quit eyeing the Versace. You know you’ll never be able to afford it,” Kyle said with an impish smirk.

Once Kyle’s back was turned, Rowena silently cursed under her breath. “Damn him.” She hissed.

Kyle wandered about the halls of Mason Noir, looking for a small shred of privacy to clear his head and get some air. The heat and humidity was driving him insane and the fact that he had worn a black suit and white shirt did nothing to help the matter. There was only one place he could go and not possibly be disturbed.

He shut himself up in the bathroom and cracked open the window to let the cool breeze in. How the hell could people live in a hothouse like this? Now he knew why Grey had been so eager to go swimming with him and the others the day he had arrived at the house.

Kyle splashed some freezing cold water from the sink onto his face and the back of his neck to cool himself down, removing his jacket and hiding it in a secretive place. Once he loosened the tie around his neck and rolled up his sleeves, he felt nothing but relief.

He splashed his face one last time with the sink water to get rid of the last shreds of hotness in his face but when he looked up into the mirror on the medicine cabinet, Kyle was startled out of his wits. Staring back at him in the reflection of the mirror was Mallory’s puggish face, twisted and contorted into a nasty scowl full of hellish hate and malice.

“Well, well look who just fell into the trap.” She chortled wickedly. “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to walk right under our noses.”

“Same can be said of you.” Kyle retorted.

Mallory threw the first punch which Kyle caught and swiftly yanked away, wrenching the girl’s arm behind her back until she screeched and cursed and the joints emitting an audible, ear grating *CRACK!*. Mallory kicked him in the knee with the sharp heel of her shoe and a loud yelp escaped Kyle’s mouth as he stumbled to the floor. If Mallory thought she could get away, she was sorely mistaken. Kyle reached up and grabbed her by the ankle, dragging her down and pinning the brat right underneath his body where she writhed and squirmed.

“If you think you’re getting out of this alive you’ve got another thing coming.” Kyle growled as Mallory writhed beneath him.

The two of them rolled and roiled on the hard tiled floor, one trying to outdo the other until they sprang to their feet and began a wild fistfight. Elbows, arms, knees and legs flew from one to the other as Mallory and Kyle both fought like mad in that confined room.

“Give up while you can.” Mallory hissed, coiling her arm around Kyle’s neck. “At this point you’ve already lost.”

“Says you.” Kyle croaked.

Using all of his dead weight, Kyle shifted his feet and rolled, sending both himself and Mallory into the bathtub full of warm water. He shot upright out of the water, his hands wrapped around Mallory’s throat and his knees pinning her shoulders with no hope of release. She clawed at Kyle’s hands in a desperate attempt to release herself but it was no use. Small clouds of steam rose up from under the water and chunks of Mallory’s skin began to break away from her body. Soon, all was done and her last gagging breath escaped and she began to fall apart in the water.

Kyle, horrified at the sight, climbed out of the bath and sank back onto the floor in a soaked heap. Dark, wet tendrils of his red gold hair clung to his forehead, his shirt translucent; clinging to his skin from getting wet and his heart beating violently in his chest. Thank God that’s over…..he thought, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes. Thank holy God that’s over….

Out of nowhere a hand suddenly clamped onto his mouth to keep him from screaming, startling Kyle half to death. “If you try to escape,” hissed the hideous voice of a young lady. “I will wring your neck!”

Kyle felt the jagged tip of Hillary’s knife against the small of his back as she forced him to his feet. As he staggered to his feet, she kept her hand clamped right over his mouth and the knife pointed into his back, threatening to dig into him if he resisted. When she shoved him out into the hall, Damon, Heloise and two of Hillary’s other ugly companions took turns lashing Kyle with fists, feet and a long rod with a blunt end. Every blow hurt worse than the last, the shock ringing in Kyle’s body like a powerful wave until he fell to the floor and they bound Kyle with a long coil of rope.

“Get up!” Damon ordered, picking Kyle up by his shirt collar. “The lady of the house would like a word with you.”

The five of them dragged Kyle up to the darkened attic where sure enough Sally was there waiting for them. The lanterns that hung from the ceiling cast their dim shadows all over the room onto all sorts of horrible looking devices that Kyle had only seen in his worst nightmares.

“Well well,” Sally sneered when Hillary and her comrades presented him to her. “Seems as though we managed to lure at least one rat into the trap.”

“Too bad Mallory didn’t live to see this.” Hillary sighed wistfully. ’She would’ve loved it.”

Sally rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Kyle, staring right into his mismatched eyes with red marks beginning to form beneath them. “Still think Sybilla can save you now?” she chortled wickedly.

“She’ll know.” Kyle growled defiantly. “Sybilla always knows.”

“But this time she won’t.” Sally spat. “I’ll see to it that your house and everyone in it is burned to the ground before you’re rescued.”

Kyle spat right in Sally’s hateful face, his bruised and battered features contorted into a frightening scowl that would have made even the devil flee in terror.

“You’ll pay for this you filthy, mud sucking mongrel.” Sally sneered.

Hillary, Sally and the rest of them all cut the rope that bound him and stripped Kyle to the waist, tossing his shirt, tie and shoes aside. His wrists were tied together when his arms were stretched around a thick, rough wooden post, his body prickling from the scratchy wood that scratched his tender skin. His heart hammered against his ribs and the wood of the post as the attic filled with the jeers and cackles of the Caulfields. Kyle shuddered when Sally ran her cold, dead fingers along his back, his wings suddenly opening right up before their eyes, a brilliant silvery white just like the stormclouds.

“Consider this a fair warning to those brats living in your house.” Sally hissed.

From her daughter’s hand she took a curved iron hook and began dragging it along the skin in Kyle’s back, digging deeper and deeper until hot, crimson blood seeped its way out from the wound. Kyle let out an agonized, terrified cry that rivaled that of Erin’s. It was as though an iron beast was sinking its claws further and further into his back, his own hot red blood running from his wounds in long red streams. In his agony, Kyle threw back his head and let out an ear splitting cry before Sally continued her work.