Page 236 of The Seven Rings
The newly installed pinball machine rang and clanged. Gorgar’s throaty voice shouted:Beat you! Beat you!
Sonya might have run, but Trey held her arm and walked at an easy pace toward the steps.
On the steps, tendrils of smoke curled up between the treads. Sonya heard the wood sizzle as the servants’ door swung open, slammed shut.
“It’s not real,” Trey murmured to her. “They’re your steps, in your house.”
She hesitated when she saw a flame lick up between the treads. Then she heard Cleo scream. That was all it took to have her bounding up.
At the top, Trey outpaced her.
From the library came the screams and wails of the tortured and books flew like missiles. All the doors bowed out, and behind them roars sounded. Both dogs scrabbled at Cleo’s door, issuing guttural warning barks.
Blood trickled through widening cracks in the walls.
Just ahead of her, Trey shoved against Cleo’s door. Through the terrible sounds inside, Cleo screamed again.
“Don’t touch the knob!” he snapped when Sonya reached for it. “She’s iced it. I’m going to try to break the door down.”
As he stepped back to kick, everything stopped.
“Wait!” After yanking off his shirt, Trey wrapped it around his hand, turned the knob.
The second the door opened, Sonya ran through.
Cleo lay on the floor, the cat caught in one arm. Sonya all but dived down to her.
“Cleo, Cleo.” Sonya pulled her up to cradle as the dogs milled around them, whining, licking.
“Give her some room. Come on, boys, get back.” Trey crouched. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, but the gesture was more confusion than denial.Her gorgeous face had gone sick and gray with her eyes too wide and bright against it.
Her windows, all opened, let in the blowing chill of late October. Trey straightened, pulled a blanket from the bed. “Put this over her.”
He tossed the blanket to Sonya, and despite the stench in the room, shut the windows.
“Let’s get you up on the bed.”
Curled into Sonya, she shook her head at Trey. “No, God, the smell. Downstairs. Hot drink. So damn cold.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got her,” he said to Sonya as he lifted Cleo into his arms. “Go down, get some tea going. Strong. Can you tell if you’re hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” But she let her head fall onto Trey’s shoulder. “Cold. Winded. Shaken up. It—it sounded like the house was falling down around me.”
“It’s still standing.” He pressed a kiss to her hair.
“Everybody’s okay. Nobody’s hurt. I don’t even know what time it is.”
“Just after eight.”
“God, one more thing to hate her for.”
In the kitchen, Sonya had the kettle on, and a mug of coffee waiting.
“To warm you up until the tea’s ready. In the dining room, Trey. The fire’s bigger there.”
When Trey set her down, the cat settled in her lap, and the dogs flanked her chair.
