As Call got closer to Mrs. Tisdale’s house, he realized that something was wrong. Light was spilling out of the farmhouse, not just from the windows but also from the whole front. The door and part of the wall was missing. Wires and wood hung in the gaping hole that remained.
Aaron ran up the steps first. “Mrs. Tisdale!” he called. “Mrs. Tisdale, are you all right?”
Call followed, leg aching. The furniture was knocked over, a coffee table splintered. A love seat was on fire, flames rising from a blackened corner. Mrs. Tisdale lay on the floor, a terrible gash across her chest. Blood soaked the rug under her. Call stared in horror. Mixed in with the blood were gleaming bits of metal.
Aaron dropped to his knees. “Mrs. Tisdale?”
Her eyes were open, but she didn’t seem to be able to focus her gaze. “Children,” she said in a whispery, awful voice. “Children, they’re after you.”
Call remembered a little bit about healing magic. He’d seen Alex use it to heal Drew’s broken ankle once, drawing up binding and healing powers from the earth. He bent down next to Aaron, trying to summon up what he could. If he could heal her, then maybe his magic was good for more than Alastair thought. Maybe he was good for more than Alastair thought.
Maybe he was good.
Pressing his fingers gently over her collarbone, he directed energy into her. He tried to feel it coming up from the ground, tried to think of himself as a conduit. But after a moment, she pushed his hand away.
“It’s too late for that,” Mrs. Tisdale said. “You’re the ones who can still get away. You need to run. Call, I was there the night you thought you lost Havoc. I was the one who chained him up. I know what’s at stake.”
Call pulled back from her, reeling.
“What is she talking about?” Tamara asked. “What are you talking about, Mrs. Tisdale?”
“It’s just an elemental,” Aaron said. “We can get rid of it. We can help you.” He looked up wildly at Tamara and Jasper. “Maybe we should call for help from the Magisterium —”
“No!” the old woman gasped. “Don’t you know what that creature is? Its name is Automotones — it is an ancient and terrible monster — it was captured by the mages of the Magisterium hundreds of years ago.” Blood had appeared at the corners of her mouth. She drew a ragged breath. “If it is here now, it’s because those — those — mages released it to hunt you down. To kill you!”
With a shudder, Call remembered Master Rufus’s lecture on the elementals trapped beneath the Magisterium. How terrifying they were. How unstoppable.
“To hunt Alastair down, you mean?” Jasper asked.
“It broke into this house,” she hissed. “It demanded that I tell it where you were. Not Alastair. You four.” Her eyes fixed on Aaron. “You had better run, Makar.”
Aaron’s face had gone blank with shock. “Run from the Magisterium? Not the Enemy?”
Her mouth curved up into a strange smile. “You can never outrun the Enemy of Death, Aaron Stewart,” she said, and though she seemed to be speaking to Aaron, she was looking at Call. He stared back at her as her eyes went blank.
“Look out!” Tamara screamed.
The metal monster — Automotones — lurched into the house through the broken wall. It was truly huge now. It smashed upward with its flat, manhole-size hands, ripping away at the ceiling, tearing a hole between the upstairs and the bottom floor to clear a space for itself. Call yelped and fell sideways, narrowly missing being smashed by a falling dresser. The piece of furniture broke open on the floor, scattering clothes.