Thief of Always by Clive Barker

whole House is a box of tricks," Harvey reminded him. "The seasons. The presents. They're all illusions. We have to hold on to that."
          "Harvey? Look."
          Wended pointed ahead of them. Harvey knew the street at a glance. Thirty-three days ago, he'd stood here with Rictus, and listened  to the tempter tell him what a fine place lay on the other side of the mist wall up ahead.
          "This is it then," Harvey said.
          It was strange, but he didn't feel afraid, even though he knew they were walking back into their enemy's arms. It was better to face Hood and his illusions now than to spend the rest of his life wondering about Lulu, and mourning the years he'd lost.
          "Are you ready?" he asked Wendell.
          "Before we go," his friend replied, "can we get just one thing s straight? If the House is all illusions, then how come we felt the cold? And how come I got fat from eating Mrs. Griffin's pies, and-"
          "I don't know," Harvey cut in, doubt running a cold finger up his spine. "I can't explain how Hood's magic works. All I know is, he took all those years away to feed himself."
          "Feed?"
          "Yeah. Like...like...like a vampire." This was the first time Harvey had thought of Hood that way, but it instinctively seemed right. Blood was life, and life was what w Hood fed upon. He was a vampire, sure enough. Maybe a king among vampires.
          "So shouldn't we have a stake, or holy water, or something?"
          "That's just in stories," Harvey said.
          "But if he comes after us-"
          "We fight."
          "Fight with what?"
          Harvey shrugged. The truth was, he didn't know. But he was sure that crosses and prayers weren't going to be any use, in the battle that lay ahead.
          "No more talk," he said to Wendell. "If you don't want to come, then don't."
          "I didn't say that"
          "Good," said Harvey, and started toward the mist.
          Wendell followed on his heels, and just as Harvey stepped into the wall he snatched hold of his friend's sleeve, so that they entered as they had exited: together.
          The mist closed around them like a waterlogged blanket, pressing so hard against their faces Harvey half thought it intended to smother them. But it only wished to keep them from changing their minds. A moment later a tremor moved through its folds and spat them out the other side.
          It was high summer in Hood's kingdom: the lazy season. The sun, which had been hidden by rain clouds on the other side of the mist, was beaming down on the House and all that prospered around it. The trees swayed in a balmy breeze, the doors and windows of the House, its porch and chimneys, all gleamed as if newly painted.
          There were welcoming songs in the eaves; welcoming smells from the kitchen; welcoming laughter through the open door. Welcome; everywhere welcome.
          "I'd forgotten..." Wendell murmured.
          "Forgotten what?"
          "How...beautiful it is."
          "Don't trust it," Harvey said. "It's all illusion, remember? All of it."
          Wendell didn't reply, but wandered away toward the trees. The honeyed breeze gusted around him, as if to pluck him up. He didn't resist, but went where it led, into the dappled shade.
          "Wendell! " Harvey said, following him across the lawn. "We've got to stick together."
          "I'd forgotten about the tree house," Wendell said dreamily, staring up into the canopy. "We had such fun up there, remember?"
          "No,'' said Harvey, determined not to let the past distract him from his mission here. "I don't remember."
          "Yes, you do," said Wendell, smiling from ear to ear. "We worked so hard up there. I'm going up to see how it looks."
          Harvey grabbed his arm.
          "No you're not."
          "Yes I am," he snapped back, wrenching his arm from Harvey's grip. "I can do