FOR A MOMENT I did not move. Could not. Then I pivoted slowly at the waist, revolving a few degrees, terrified of taking my eyes off the hyena in the doorway, but desperate to see the one that was already in the kitchen.
It slunk out from behind the stove island, head low, eyes watchful. There was another behind it, skittering out where it could see, and producing that unnerving giggle. It was a chilling sound, and it spread through the pack like madness. There were at least three more outside.
I could smell them clearly now, a rank musk that shifted in the hot air.
I had to get out.
I inched back toward the door through which I had come, but the hyenas responded, circling back around me. Two more came in from the yard, trotting almost casually, though their eyes were fastened on me. Suddenly unsure I could reach the door without a fight, I let my gaze rake the countertops for something I might use as a weapon. I had left my satchel of tools in the sitting room. The knives were agonizingly far away, heavy handles sticking out of their blocks over by the ovens. If I went around the island …
Before the thought could complete itself, the nearest hyena shifted, cutting off my route as if it had read my intent. It bared pointed teeth crowded behind thin black lips. The chuckling began again.
My heart was hammering, and the blood sang in my ears. There was a coppery taste in my mouth, and my knees felt unsteady. I had no idea what to do.
Another hyena, leaner than the others, edged in from the darkness, turning its striped flank on me as it moved to the wall. They were spreading out, surrounding me, noses held high, drinking in my terror.
I had to move, but my feet refused to shift. I considered shouting, but had no idea what that would do. It seemed more likely to incense them than scare them off.
The pantries.
If I could get out of the kitchen and get those larder doors open, surely all that aging meat would hold their attention while I got behind a lockable door.
The idea was what I needed to stir my legs into action. I began to move slowly, but even my fractional start alerted them. For a split second they froze, staring, calculating, and then the yipping chuckle began again. I could stand it no longer.
Thought evaporated.
I sprang for the door. Three long strides and I was smashing it open, racing out into the orange glow of the corridor, knowing they were at my heels. I dragged one larder door open, but dared not wait to do more, as the first hyena gave chase. It hesitated only a second at the open pantry, then came galloping after me. The others followed.
I ran, bellowing Willinghouse’s name.
Down the corridor I pounded, exploding through the swinging door into the open lobby with the staircase, and into the front hall. I could hear them coming after me, gibbering hysterically, blundering through the doors. I saw the main entrance directly ahead, no more than fifteen yards away.
It might as well have been a thousand.
It was fastened shut with two heavy bolts, and there was no key in the lock. If I got to the door and couldn’t get it open, I would be trapped. I needed to buy myself some time.
“Willinghouse!” I shouted. “Dahria!”
I tried the nearest side door and found myself in another elegant sitting room. The windows were high and small, but I ducked inside, pulling the cord that released the shades on the luxorite chandelier so that the room was instantly bathed in hard white light. I closed the door behind me, making sure it latched, then moved quickly to the hearth, where I selected a brass poker with a pointed hook that swept out just below the tip. Not much of a weapon against the jaws of a hyena, perhaps, but it would have to do.
The room was decorated in cream and ivory, the prim chairs and sofa trimmed with lace and brocade. There was a pair of decanters on a highly polished sideboard, a tray of crystal goblets, and a silver flask with a bulb, but the chamber was otherwise sparsely decorated. There was nowhere to hide.
Maybe they would return to the pantry, or even to the kitchen door and out into the night. I just needed to stay still and quiet until they gave up looking for me, and that, I thought, couldn’t take long.
There was a distinctive creak from the door. It was a familiar sound, but my mind didn’t process it until I saw the handle move.
No.
It snapped back into position, and I heard a grunt from the hall. Then there was the muffled thump of weight being thrown against the door and the handle shifted again. More this time.
I stared, hardly able to believe it. The door handle was the long, bar kind, not the round knobs that would surely have defeated an animal’s paw.
It flicked back into place once more, and now I heard the mad giggle of the hyenas echoing down the hallway.
The handle began to move again.
There was nowhere to go. If only one of them got in, we could chase each other around the couch a few times, but if there were more than one of them, even that brief absurdity would be prevented. They knew how to hunt as a pack, and they would have caught my scent by now, even if they hadn’t actually seen me come in.
Scent.
I looked wildly round the room, and my eyes focused on the silver flask on the cabinet. The bulb where its stopper might have been was the size of a small lemon, covered in glossy fabric. I strode over and snatched it up. Liquid swilled inside it. Then I moved behind the door as the handle twisted again, stuck for a second, then tipped all the way down. The latch snapped, and the door juddered.
For a moment it just cracked a little, and then the black nose of the lead hyena nudged it open. It entered cautiously, shoving the door wider with its striped shoulder. I braced myself, the perfume bottle in one hand, the poker in the other, not breathing as the beast committed to its search and moved all the way into the room. My body ached and twinged from my fall into the river. I was not ready for a fight.
The sense of being inside a dream came back like a heady aroma as the great hyena, tawny and black striped with a pale splash across the ridge of its spine, moved around the elegant, cream-colored furniture. Everything in the room denied the wildness outside these walls, yet here it was, moving with low menace between the end tables of crystal decanters.
I waited till it was as far from the door as it would get before making my break, but it saw me. It turned snarling, lips fluttering as a deep rumbling growl came up from its throat, eyes narrow and fixed, ears flattening to the sides of its head. It was less than ten feet from me. Its haunches rippled and flexed as it prepared to spring—
I sidestepped around the door, hoping against hope that there wasn’t another hyena poised to come in, leveled the perfume bottle, and squeezed the bulb. It sprayed a fine mist, finer than I would have liked, but the scent of roses and lavender filled the air, and the hyena flinched away, eyes stinging, nostrils momentarily overwhelmed. In its instant of hesitation, I slid out of the door and slammed it shut.
I knew that wouldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds, but that might be all I needed to get the front door open. I checked the hall for the other animals, but there was no sign of them. I didn’t pause to examine my good fortune and flew along the hall to the entrance.
The scream came from above. A female voice.
And at once I knew where the missing hyenas were.
They had gone upstairs.
I hesitated for a second, feeling the inadequacy of the poker in my hand, and then I turned sharply and ran back into the house. I was halfway up the stairs before I heard the second scream.