(13) Pandemonium
Carter normally despised the inherent laziness of a nap. She hated it even in babies. But for her severe lapse in judgment there was no time for forgiveness or punishment. Even as a small child she would avoid being in her mother’s office when the bell chimed. It was so obnoxious, and disruptive to one’s thoughts.
So, it was with a mixture of stunned and horror that Carter jolted awake at exactly six to the sound of the chimes so closely above her head. As she came to her senses, her head snapped to the window. She let out a gasp as she watched the house across the courtyard on the hill get up and move.
It resembled a depressing, flightless owl. Little stubby legs, barely visible from underneath the skirt of the house. But it was fast. Wickedly so, and with so little of the legs showing it appeared like it was skating on ice. It moved with purpose towards the nicest houses in town. Carter found herself moving to the window against her will.
She was enthralled, fascination and terror on her face. As if to answer her unasked question the house sprouted stubby little arms to match its legs. Though small, they were still more than enough to do the job. In just a blink it reached out, crushing the nearest house and shoveling the broken bits at its front door, like a two-year-old let loose on a cake. It moved along to the next house, the Roarke’s, and into the front door it went. Then two more houses crushed and smushed.
One of the houses must have had people in it. Crazed individuals who chose neither flight nor cowering with the masses in the temple basement. Or maybe they just didn’t believe there was anything really going on. They didn’t believe anything anymore. The house moved a couple of stumbling steps, and then for a moment its legs disappeared.
Carter held her breath, hands pressed against the glass window. Maybe the house had gone dormant again. But no. There was thunderous sound, and then the house was moving again. And left behind where it had stopped was a pile of mangled bone, guts and assorted viscera. A writhing screaming mash of maybe four or five people, and Carter had to look away before she vomited.
The monster was moving its way around the courtyard eating houses and Carter, who had never prayed to the gods in her life, began to whisper. “Go back to sleep. Please go back to sleep. Please.”
Although there was no way it could have the house turned as if it could hear her. The front door was facing the temple now, and if Carter had thought its gliding was creepy before it was a completely different story to watch a massive Victorian home slide smoothly across the courtyard directly towards her. Her knees buckled and hit the floor with a thud. She crumpled down into a heap, and continued to pray, “Please.”
And thankfully enough for her, the house had no stamina. It only made it a few lurches across the village, not even all the way to the square. It stopped, and then gave a few more steps, and then stopped again. Carter let out a strangled noise. But the house had deemed the temple too far away. It turned east again, eating two more houses from there, and then sat back down. Officially dormant again. For now.
Carter sat on the floor and stared for quite a while. Barely breathing just in case that woke it up again. Eventually she was satisfied it was going to stay still, and yet she stayed on the floor staring out the window with a wide-eyed gaze.
After a minute she started to laugh. At first it was manic, a mix of adrenaline and hysteria. But then it shifted. She sat up, back to the window, and her face focused with clarity. Watching the house move had switched on a light for her.
Where grief and fear should have lived, Carter felt the familiar relief of structure clicked into place. If the gods were going to offer her a miracle, who was she to refuse.
Carter turned around to look with fresh eyes. The house had cleared out around itself already, so they wouldn’t even have to worry about the arms.
If she could deal with the legs then that stupid magical house could be something incredible. It represented so much magic Hillcross would be the most powerful village in the region. And Carter would be the Magic Keeper for it all. It was more than even her mother had ever done. She looked at the poems all around her with renewed vigor.
She looked at the house again, purposefully avoiding the pile of bodies behind it. The legs were going to be a problem. They weren’t going to be able to do anything about those from the outside when it was moving around. But the legs had to be somewhere inside when the house wasn’t moving.
Carter got up, and had to catch herself when her legs were looser than she expected. She had to push through. She got her coat and headed towards the stairs. She had to work quickly, before the house moved again or any of the people who she needed got themselves killed.
That started with the Marquis. On the stairs she passed a young man that she vaguely recognized from the stables. He was headed up the stairs, and since her office was the only thing up there, she stopped him. “Excuse me young man, where are you going?”
He dipped his head, “Excuse me, Miss Bonner. I am going to cut the rope to the bell.”
Carter looked him up and down. “Of course. Well done.” Then without another glance, she continued on her way.
