Part XI: The Wall “The house remembers. The wall waits. Blood is only the key.” -- Chapter Sixty-Three: The House of Nails -- The house breathed. At least that was how Brett felt as Doreen shoved him inside, her voice rising over the gale-force winds rattling the walls. Every window shivered in its frame, every floorboard groaned as though remembering the weight of a hundred feet marching in unison. The teeth-on-glass screech of claws raked across the siding. Something outside wanted in. Something ancient, patient, and starving. “Do you really think you can control them?” Brett shouted, though his words seemed to vanish into the roar. Doreen’s reply was a smile stretched too wide, too confident. “Not control,” she said. “Command.” She herded him up the stairs. The banister shuddered under their grip, splinters flying loose as the house quaked harder. Upstairs, the library door waited — the air colder, heavier, as though it held its breath. Inside, the pentagram was already waiting. Can...
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