Speak of the Devil - 05 Read online

  SPEAK OF THE DEVIL

  A RAINE’S LANDING NOVEL

  TONY RICHARDS

  Praise on Amazon for the Raine’s Landing series.

  “If you love the fantasy genre, like The Dresden Files, you will love this series as well.”

  “The Raine's Landing novels are page turners. Not a boring part in the whole series.”

  “I've been a fan of Raine's Landing since I purchased the first novel, and they just keep coming, each one as satisfactory as the last.”

  “This superb fantasy just hums along, taking you at high speed to places of which you will never have dreamed.”

  “Be once more transported to Raine’s Landing and enjoy the magical battles, mental and moral struggles, and hopes for a steadier future. “

  “I absolutely love this series. It has plenty of supernatural creatures, along with some great heroes & heroines.”

  “Action packed and constantly keeping the readers on the edge of their seat.”

  “This is a modern day gothic urban fantasy that mesmerizes the audience into a one sitting read.”

  “Very interesting premise, and he is a very good story teller.”

  “Urban fantasy fans are sure to enjoy.”

  “It's such a great concept. Very cool.”

  Copyright © Tony Richards, 2013.

  Cover art by Steve Upham of Screaming Dreams. Cover art copyright © Steve Upham, 2013.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents and places are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  www.richardsreality.com

  www.screamingdreams.com

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  PROLOGUE

  It was only the first week in February – way too early for the weather to start heating up. So what was causing this unseasonable thaw?

  Willis Congdon – a long-time inhabitant of the Clayton district of Raine’s Landing – was walking his dog, Monty, by the municipal borderline. Evening hung around them like a deep gray shroud. The town’s lights glittered to one side. And to the other lay the dense New England forest, an almost solid barrier of trunks and branches that surrounded nearly the whole of the Landing, shielding it from the view of the outside world. A full moon was up, its glow attempting to illuminate the woodlands.

  And there was still a load of snow and ice out there, for sure. But it was melting.

  Willis sniffed. The air smelled musty, with the strong odor of leaf mold, and that simply wasn’t right. At this time of the year there should be freshness, crispness, not decay. A steady patter was emerging from the forest, moisture dripping down. And as he watched, a lump of whitened hardness dropped loose from a pine’s vertical trunk, exposing a length of bark.

  Monty – a fat Labrador of advanced years – whirled around and let out a loud whuff at that. The dog had looked a touch uneasy ever since he’d been let off his leash. And Willis trusted Monty’s instincts.

  “Only a little bit of snow, boy,” he murmured, trying to calm both of them down. He reached across and tickled his pet behind one of its floppy ears.

  But then he walked further along the border, being careful not to cross it and so fall foul of Regan’s Curse.

  Willis worked at one of the town’s banks, and regarded himself as merely an ordinary man. But – like the majority of people in Raine’s Landing, Massachusetts – he practiced a little magic when the need arose. It was simply a part of this place’s strange history. The real, genuinely empowered witches of Salem … they had fled here back in 1692, before the Witchcraft Trials began. They’d married in, and left their imprint very strongly on this town. And so most people who lived here dabbled, occasionally, in the unnatural arts.

  On the middle finger of his left hand was a ring his Gramps had given him not long before he’d passed away. It was a dull bronze color, had an opaque greenish stone set in it. Willis held the thing up, so it shimmered dully in the moonlight. Memories came drifting back.

  “What does it do, Gramps?”

  His grandfather, lying crumpled on his bed, had favored him with a mysterious smile.

  “It gives you wisdom when you really need it. Learn to use it well, young man.”

  Which was something he had tried to do, down the prevailing decades. Willis felt that he had generally succeeded. So he used it now.

  He passed his right palm over the green stone, whispering a magic word. A portion of the air in front of him abruptly turned into a glowing patch of golden mist that hovered there for a few seconds before moving closer. It filled up his eyes momentarily before vanishing inside his head.

  Monty watched that whole process and then let out another whuff.

  “Quiet, boy,” Willis muttered. But he grinned gently when he did that, his moustache crinkling up.

  He tipped his head to one side, and a heightened sense of awareness immediately began to fill him. His thoughts started to become extremely clear and vivid. Even his eyesight improved massively, which was a genuine blessing at his age. He could see far deeper through the tree line than he’d been able to do before,
and could make out a whole lot more detail.

  When snow melted at this time of the year, it generally reformed as small sculptures of ice. But nothing of that kind was happening. The water coming down from the high trees was speeding up the process, making the remaining snow melt faster. A good deal of the forest floor was already back to its natural color. Roots were visible, colonies of woodlice scuttling between them. And that ought not be the case in February.

  One of the branches out there abruptly trembled as a chipmunk, woken from its winter slumber, went scurrying by.

  Willis closed his eyes and let his deeper instincts take him over. He tried to sense vibrations on the air, and find anything that ought not be there. And he managed to turn up nothing specific, but …

  There was a feeling of imbalance all around him. Nothing you could really put your finger on, but there was definitely something out of whack. There was no single spot that it was centered on. No, it was spreading out across this entire town.

  Whatever it might be, it was the cause of this unseasonable thaw. Willis’s eyelids sprang back open, with his pupils gleaming.

  Something new was happening. He knew that for a certainty. Something quite peculiar was coming down upon this place. He’d no idea what it might be, but understood one thing for certain. The authorities needed to be told, and now.

  He was already turning away, heading back toward his home, calling Monty as he did so. But he noticed, after half a dozen or so hurried footsteps, that his dog had other ideas on the matter. The big old yellow Labrador had scented something in a pile of dead leaves on the far side of the border, and was barking at it furiously. A rabbit, or a gopher, maybe? Or else something small had died in there.

  Willis backtracked, feeling impatient and frustrated, since he didn’t have the time for all this canine nonsense.

  “Monty? Heel, boy! Cut that out!”

  The dog glanced back at him across one tawny shoulder, but then sprang across the border and started digging at the leaf pile with his forepaws. Willis’s hands formed tight, trembling claws.

  “Monty, come over here, right now!”

  Except his pet ignored him, which was odd. Monty was not usually this disobedient.

  He’d have to go and fetch him, and Willis was not in the least bit pleased by that idea. This town was burdened underneath an unbreakable curse, cast three hundred years back by a witch called Regan Farrow. No one who had been born here could ever leave. That is, they could step across the border, but they’d never reach another town, or get to meet a single human being from the outside world. And – once you were across the line – your surroundings went very bleak and lifeless. Willis hated that.

  But he couldn’t leave his dog out there. And so he steeled himself and stepped across.

  As he’d been expecting, the scene around him faded just as soon as he’d done that. The night’s darkness took on a tepid quality. The bright harshness of the remaining snow was filtered away to a bland off-white. Even the high moon looked further off than it had been, an echo of its former self. Willis shuddered, but continued on.

  And by the time he’d reached the pile of leaves, a bare foot – a human one – had been exposed by Monty’s digging.

  “Oh my good Lord!” Willis blurted, shocked.

  Had someone come out here, then had an accident? He went down on his knees and began clearing more of the mulch off. And before much longer, half of a dead body was in view.

  When he got a proper look at the condition it was in, the horrible wounds on it, he pulled his hands back sharply, one palm rising to his mouth and his eyes going almost round. He’d never seen anything so ghastly, not in his entire life.

  Willis managed to suck in a stifled breath.

  Then whispered, “What the hell’s been going on?”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Ross! There’s nothing wrong with me!”

  Which would have sounded a good deal more convincing if Cassie hadn’t been sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, wearing one of those blue gowns that tie up at the back. Her face was pale, but then it usually is. Her black irises were glimmering with their usual hard defiance. The bump in her belly had become quite prominent during the course of the past month. She was pregnant with the child of a dead adept … one who I happened to know was still around in spirit form, and still hanging out with her. But I’d kept quiet about that so far. If she wanted that to be her little secret, well, so be it.

  The noises of Raine General were a background echo around us, soft shoes slapping on tiles as the staff went about their business, the wheels of a gurney rattling by, some kind of electrical device humming in the distance. I could hear a speaker off there too, a doctor being called.

  But none of that intruded all that much, since I was staring at Cass Mallory with real concern.

  She’d come in earlier today for one of her regular check-ups, the child that she was carrying being more than four months off from being born. She’d gone through ultrasounds and all the usual hoopla. And the doctors had found … what exactly? I wasn’t quite sure I got it.

  So Cassie tried explaining it again, folding both her hands across her swollen belly. Knowing she was due a daughter, she’d already given her a name.

  “May is just developing a little faster than she ought. Nothing to go getting all worked up about. They simply want to keep me in a while and run a few more tests.”

  And I still wasn’t too sure I liked the sound of that. But when you considered who May’s father was …

  Way back in October, Cass had fallen for one of the most powerful adepts that this town has ever known. Quinn Maycott, he was called. They’d only spent a few brief days together, and he’d died saving the Landing from a ravening and soulless monster. So his body was entirely gone, but not his essence. His great powers had kept his soul intact. His ghost was watching over her.

  And so my eyes left hers and searched the shadowier corners of the room. But I could make out no faint outlines, no unusual shapes. So I guessed he only visited her when she was alone. Surely he’d be here right now, if something bad was going on? He might be a dead one, but was still an adept, and would sense if anything had gone wrong with his unborn daughter.

  Perhaps that meant everything was going to work out after all. I peered back at Cassie, trying to look confident and reassured. But apparently, I didn’t even manage that, because her eyebrows clenched together.

  “Will you stop looking so all-fired worried? You’re freaking me out, Ross!”

  It fell on largely deaf ears, I’m afraid, since I was far too bothered by the news I’d heard. I’m something of a sucker when it comes to tiny, helpless little babies and their Moms.

  “Maybe that first doc has got it wrong?” I tried. “You ought to get a second opinion.”

  All that got me was a tightening of her jaw.

  “Ross, will you please leave this alone? The last thing that I need right now is you fussing around me like some mother hen.”

  “Can I fetch you anything?”

  “Get out!”

  And the message finally sank in. It wasn’t going to help to get her overheated. So I stood up, nodded, turned around and made my exit. And was heading glumly down the corridor when a familiar blond head came bobbing up toward me.

  “Lauren?”

  I remembered – this was Wednesday. Boston-based police lieutenant Lauren Brennan – one of the very few good individuals who has ever gotten in here past the barrier of Regan’s Curse – had some time off from work and was due to visit Cassie for a while. She’d stayed with her the whole of Christmas, returning for New Year’s Eve. And now, she was back once more.

  She spotted me and came hurrying across. She was dressed in her usual black suit pants and boots, but had on a new-looking tan suede coat. Her bright blue eyes were watery and anxious, but she forced herself to smile and hugged me all the same.

  “Hey, Ross. You okay?”

  “I’m fine. But then, I�
��m not the one in hospital.”

  Lauren glanced unhappily along the hall. “Her house was locked up when I got there, and a neighbor told me where she was. What’s wrong?”

  “According to her, absolutely nothing. And a word to the wise – she gets a little testy when you try to suggest otherwise.”

  Which brought a little pinkish warmth back into Lauren’s cheeks. Her smile was much less forced this time

  “Still her old self, then? Well, that has to be a positive sign.” Then she did a brief double take. “You’re going home already?”

  “Not so much of my own free will. More like I’ve been banished.”

  And that got her grinning. Both of us knew, only too well, just how stubborn Cass could be. We caught up quickly on each other’s news, and then I showed her which door Cassie’s was.

  Delighted whoops burst out when she went in there. Cassie and Lauren might not have gotten on too well when they first met, but these days they are like a pair of sorority girls.

  The racket they were making kept on getting louder, but it was the hospital’s problem now, not mine. And so I left them to it.

  It was practically nine in the evening. I emerged through the big sliding glass doors onto a shining, dampened pavement. There was barely any snow in sight, and there’d been plenty of it yesterday. I’d never seen this happen before – not so fast, so early in the year – and I could not figure it out.

  There was melt everywhere. Trickling through the drainpipes with a heavy and insistent gurgling. Dripping down the walls around me. The street’s gutters were full of slush, eddies starting up around the openings to storm drains.

  The pedestrians going by me were all dodging puddles. And the air was pretty damp. There were a load of passing cars, thick plumes of exhaust smoke lifting from their tailpipes.

  Then it started raining gently. And the tiny drops felt warm against my skin – in February? I pulled up the collar of my coat and headed back in the direction of my office, where my car was parked.