by Carla Rehse
The shaking in my knees increased as Zim started yelling, flinging his arms around, and kicking at the asphalt. A piece of gravel whistled through the air until it smashed through the front window of a nearby Ford Focus.
With the angels sidelined, the demonic attention would focus on the Gatekeeper. That meant Zim would want to take his time with me. Try to force me to open the Hell’s Gate. Which I couldn’t do. Wouldn’t do. But it should give Lawson and Chase a decent shot to escape. We all didn’t need to die.
A half-articulate prayer formed in my mind, but I stopped it. I’d turned away from God years ago. I wouldn’t insult Him now by begging for favors.
I stepped so close to Lawson, my breath rippled his hair. “Run. Find Sadie. Keep everyone safe.” The trembling in my knees now encompassed my entire body. Only I had luck bad enough to escape murderous drug-dealing gangsters to find a bloody end by a crazed hometown demon.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Lawson snapped. “Move slowly to the door.”
“You and Chase need to run,” I insisted.
Lawson started to say something that began with an “F” and probably rhymed with luck but shut up when Zim stopped hollering.
Zim exhaled noisily. “Spell. Controlling us. Can … cannot … fight it … much longer. Hide!”
Hellfire flames erupted under his feet—a far stronger sign of his strength than any of the other demons had shown. Guess he decided against conserving his power as the Seraphs were doing. Zim disappeared in a cloud of oily, black smoke that reeked of burning sulfur. The two bakery demons also disappeared.
“Chase, perimeter sweep!” Lawson turned on his heel in a nicely executed about-face. “Move!”
As it sounded like a sensible suggestion, I didn’t comment on his bossiness. The pain plaguing my joints had disappeared, though whether from zapping Kix or getting the crap scared out of me by Zim, I couldn’t say. But whatever it was, it gave me enough energy to jet my way through the door while dragging the duffle bag. Lawson stayed on my heels until we were inside, then he stopped to lock the door. It wasn’t as useless as it sounded since the bolted door initiated additional security spells. And they may or may not have been added after I went through a lock-picking phase as a teen. How could one become the best Hunter of all time if she didn’t practice?
“You need to stay out of sight,” Lawson said.
I swiped at the sweat on my forehead and attempted to regulate my breathing, so Lawson wouldn’t realize my lungs were about to explode. “You’ve turned bossy.” He used to be the perfect Beta. I wasn’t sure about this new Alpha behavior of his.
“And you’ve turned …” he trailed off.
I raised an eyebrow, daring him to call me a Soccer Mom. Which I wasn’t, as Sadie preferred softball. The thought of my baby girl out there with insane otherworlders caused an almost uncontrollable sense of panic. My lungs tightened as if all the air had escaped the building.
Lawson either didn’t see the signs of my impending panic attack or ignored them. “We gonna talk about squaring off with demons without angelic backup?” Lawson asked.
“I-I … uh … um …” The words refused to come out, no matter how hard I tried. Everyone needed to know the truth, but Sebastian had frustratingly sealed my lips. I’d never been more irritated with anyone than that winged pirate at this moment. And that included being married to a man for twenty years who never learned the skill of putting the toilet seat down.
Lawson eyeballed me. “I’m guessing that means you’re angel-locked? Nice. So, something’s happening to the Seraphs with the border closed, I gather. Going it alone would be so much more fun if we weren’t completely outgunned.”
I frowned. What else was there to say? Lawson had always been very perceptive.
It took two flights of noisy, metal stairs to make it to the basement-slash-human sanctuary. I had no idea what the Seraphs had originally planned for this room, but I refused to believe, with their talent for stunning architecture, that they meant for this to be a safe haven for us.
Grungy, gray paint peeled off the cinderblock walls of the medium-sized room while linoleum from the 1950s covered the floor. The place smelled like mildew, which was from either the sixty-year-old canvas cots scattered around or from a leak in the community bathroom.
Several people occupied cots, all elderly from what I could tell. Janice, Alana, Luna, and Delilah were in the far corner, organizing supplies.
Delilah gave me a small wave. “How’s the burn? I still feel awful about that. Do you need more salve?”
“It’s fine.” I’d actually forgotten about it. “Please don’t worry about it.” One of the three kids from Lawson’s quad took the much-worse-for-wear duffle bag from me, so I went searching for Mama.
She was asleep on a cot, with a conked out Mrs. Kennedy occupying the one next to her. Mr. Baker and Preacher Valencia completed their row. That wasn’t good. Mrs. Kennedy, an extremely skilled herbalist, was the closest to a doctor in Crossing Shadows. If she had been awake, undoubtedly, she could have identified what was wrong with Mama.
Actually, most of the elders in town were unconscious; it was hard to imagine they were sleeping in a brightly lit room full of activity. Unbelievably, a little less than an hour ago, these same people had squared off with the demons to protect the town. And now look at them. It had to be that spell that Zim had mentioned. Though, like everything else going on, I didn’t understand why only the older humans had been affected. Possibly dying.
But they’re breathing, I reminded myself fiercely to quell my rising panic. First Sadie, and now Mama. I couldn’t survive losing them both.
Mrs. Baker tugged on my sleeve. “Something’s wrong. My Damon went to sleep and won’t wake up now. I’m having some difficulty keeping my eyes open as well.”
I patted her hand. “I’ll get—” I stopped and looked around. We were way more shorthanded than I expected. Lawson and his two young Hunters were talking with the mayor. Janice and her crew continued to sort through supplies. Mrs. Baker and me. And that completed the tally of the non-comatose humans. Even worse. Mrs. Kennedy was the only one here who had any sort of medical training.
I jerked my thumb at two old men slumped in the corner. “Are those the other councilmen?”
Mrs. Baker let out a shuddering breath. “Yes. Bob Russo, Janice’s third cousin or some such, and George Tindell. That’s his little girl, Delilah, helping out the ladies. Delightful child. She was engaged to my poor Nickie before those vampires murdered him. Poor little darling has taken his death so hard. Oh, and there’s Robbie Leinbach over yonder. He retired last year. You remember him?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. He was an absolute tool and had been the leading voice in denying my Hunter application.
Mrs. Baker glared at Mayor Maxwell, then at me. “You had a chance to do something. Change the way this town worked. But you ran away like a beat dog, you useless slut.”
I jerked back. “Excuse me?”
Mrs. Baker shot me a kindly old lady smile. “What, dear? Oh, help me over to my Damon. I’ll watch your mama too, bless her soul.”
Wondering if stress had brought on a case of fast-moving dementia, I helped Mrs. Baker to her husband. For someone who’d worked at a bakery for so many decades, she sure weighed as little as a bird. Julie Baker had been Mama’s friend since they were toddlers. Mrs. Baker had even assisted Mama in the Archives until she married and had babysat me for years. Watching her mind deteriorate would be brutal.
That was if we survived angel nuking and demon attacks, of course.
After pulling over a free cot and settling Mrs. Baker next to her husband, I marched over to Lawson. We needed to get some battle plans settled. Er … created, then settled.
Mayor Maxwell looked terrible. Sweat dotted his forehead, and if his back weren’t to the wall, I doubted he’d still be standing.
“Mr. Mayor?” I said. “I think we need to gather everyone and have a conversation.”
The
mayor cleared his throat. “Sure, sure. I—” He pitched forward and would’ve face-planted if Lawson hadn’t caught him. One of the young Hunters carried over a cot. I helped Lawson settle Mayor Maxwell on it.
“What’s going on?” Janice yelled.
She appeared exhausted, frazzled. And frightened. Couldn’t blame her for that. With my daughter missing as well, I probably understood her better now than I ever had.
I shrugged. “I’ve no clue.”
Mr. Leinbach sat up on his cot. “It is done!” He tumbled to the ground onto all fours, coughed violently, then blood spewed from his mouth.
He was dead, face down in a growing pool of blood before I reached him.
How could things just keep getting worse?
TEN
That moment you realize you’re the adult in the room
I stepped back but still managed to slip in the spreading puddle of blood. Windmilling my arms, I fought to regain my balance. One of the young Hunters grabbed me around the waist to keep me on my feet. “Thanks. Uh … I don’t know your name.”
The kid, who barely looked old enough to shave, turned beet red. “Sorry! So sorry to touch the Gatekeeper. I’m Grady? Luna’s brother?”
“Just call me Everly.” I resisted the urge to pat his head. “The blond hair. I see the resemblance.”
Grady opened his mouth to say more but skedaddled upon spotting Lawson and Janice hurrying toward me.
“What is going on?” Janice repeated.
With a jolt, I realized the three of us were the oldest non-comatose people in the room. And since I was older than both of them by a couple of months, it technically put me in charge. Hol-ee shit. Plus, the whole Gatekeeper thing probably out rock-paper-scissored their jobs of a Hunter and whatever work Janice did. Something in IT maybe? What did Mama say the last time we talked about—and there I went again.
For the love of the Saints, focus, Everly.
“It has to be a spell or a spillover from a spell.” I pointed to the cots, filled with the town’s elders. None of them moved or snored or anything. They appeared less like they were sleeping and more like they’d died. Even Mrs. Baker was lights-out now. I stared hard at Mama, thankfully spotting no blood on her, and swallowed hard against rising panic. If I gave into it now, it would overwhelm me.
“A spell?” Janice spoke with the same skeptical tone she’d always used when responding to any of the statements I’d uttered since her birth. “How could a witch even be in town? Crossing Shadows would catch anyone using spellwork and forcibly expel them. This is beyond ridiculous. Where are the Seraphs?”
Lawson crouched and turned over Mr. Leinbach. “Not sure how a witch slipped by security, but a spell is my best guess as well. The demons are acting all kinds of squirrelly, and Zim did mention magic.” He reached over and patted his dad’s shoulder. Lawson’s left eye started to twitch, physical evidence that I wasn’t the only one under immense stress.
Janice snorted. “You agreeing with Everly? Oh, like that’s only happened a million or so times.”
“You got a better idea?” I asked.
I wasn’t being sarcastic, just desperate. I had a wary admiration for witches—humans with traces of demon DNA that lingered in the genetic code of certain familial lines from a time when demons freely roamed the Earth. Or more freely than they did now. But, in all honesty, witchpower frightened me, with their ability to do the uncanny. Some could even fly. It was one thing to fight an otherworlder with iron and salt. Witches, on the other hand, weren’t affected by iron. Well, unless you cut off their heads. On a side note, I really should’ve kept up with my sword training, or at the very least, hit a Pilates class on a regular basis.
Witches weren’t either Glittery Glindas or green-faced Wicked Witches of the West. First of all, witches weren’t just female. Secondly, they ranged on the good-to-asshole scale, just like any other human, and tended to police themselves. If one was causing trouble in Crossing Shadows, it meant either of two things. Bad option one: we had a rogue, dark witch on our hands. Really, really bad option two: the witches had banded together and were staging another uprising after nearly being annihilated four centuries ago. If that was the case, we were gonna get angel nuked for sure.
The Celestial politics surrounding the Marked tended to be convoluted, confusing, and notoriously resistant to change. Unless it involved keeping the Hell Gates and Marked secret from the rest of humanity. Rabbit-quick responses, all-encompassing, and bloody was their usual remedy to prevent exposure.
Janice glanced around the room as if the answers were written on the walls, then shook her head. We all knew the truth. Only dark spellwork explained what was happening.
Delilah had a smirk on her face, but when I caught her eye, she quickly looked away. Guess I wasn’t the only one who had issues with Janice. No surprise there.
“I need to go to the Archives.” I held up my hand at Lawson’s protest. “Look, I realize the demons are running around with their crazy set on fire, but who else awake knows the Archives like I do? Our only chance is to find the books on spellworks. It’ll explain how to stop the magic. Reverse it, maybe. Or something.”
Lawson nodded slowly. “All right. Let’s go. At least Chase can enter the Archives and provide backup. We also have one more Hunter quad-team out there, not that we can reach them with the phones and walkies down.”
“Your son?” I guessed.
Like me, Lawson had married an outsider. His wife had tragically died in a car accident fifteen years ago, so Lawson had returned to Crossing Shadows with his son. Linc Valencia must be twenty, twenty-one or so now. He’d been selected as a Hunter just last month. I wasn’t stalking my ex or anything. Mama gossiped about what she wanted to gossip about.
Lawson frowned, causing a deep “v” wrinkle between his eyebrows and his eye to twitch harder. “Yeah. Last I heard before communications got disrupted, he and his team were on the far side of town, checking out Lake Shadows.”
I shuddered. I hated that blasted lake. Evil lived under the murky, slimy water in the shape of a sea serpent. Or maybe serpents. It flung poison-laden scales off the end of its tail like darts, so no one hung around to investigate how many serpents infested the water. I nicknamed the thing Darty the Farty Snake in grade school. Maybe it wasn’t award-winning poetry, but it earned me plenty of laughs with the eight-year-old crowd.
“What about us, boss?” Grady pointed to the kid next to him.
“You and Boone make sure y’all don’t let anyone who’s not us come through that door. Things are heating up outside, so watch your six.” Lawson pulled the blanket off the cot and covered Mr. Lienbach’s body. “We’ll take my truck.”
“I’m coming with you.” Janice wiped her hands on her pristine-white pedal pushers, though she hadn’t touched anything.
I threw her a sharp look. While I might be out of kick-ass-and-take-names practice, Janice had always been, in the immortal words of Jack Dawson from Titanic, “an indoor kinda girl.”
Janice glared. “My daughter is missing, and I can’t just stand around counting cans of corn!”
Lawson and I exchanged glances, but he didn’t say anything. Now he decided to take off his bossy boots.
“Okay,” I said. ’Cause I understood. After all, it would be smarter for me to stay here, but that so wasn’t happening. Not with Sadie and Mama in danger. Perhaps that was why Lawson kept his mouth shut—he already knew he’d lose the argument.
“Alana,” I called out. “You’re in charge.” Which sounded silly and presumptuous, but someone had to say it.
“In charge of what exactly?” she asked, glancing between Luna and Grady.
Understandably, she seemed more concerned about her twins than anything else. Her question was valid, though. In a crisis, the Hunters took over. But Grady and Boone appeared more like overgrown puppies than fierce warriors. And Saints alive, when did I reach the age when people in their twenties looked like babies?
I gestured aro
und the room. “We need to figure out what stuff we have and what’s needed so we can make a supply run.” That was super vague, but Alana looked competent enough to figure it out.
She nodded, thankfully not asking additional questions.
I hurried over to my mother. She appeared shrunken, frail. Her sparkling vitality had disappeared from her face. Knowing it was useless, I still shook her shoulder, hoping to wake her. “Mama?”
Nothing. I kissed her forehead, reassured that her skin felt warm, then removed the necklace from around her neck. An old-fashioned cast-iron key hung from the iron box-linked chain. It opened the door to the Archives while also providing some protection against those inclined to have iron allergies. Never underestimate the practicalities of humans who lived with beings that liked to bite first and ask questions later.
Luna met me at the door, wearing an expectant expression. I shook my head, feeling like I kicked a kitten or something. “You need to back up Grady and Boone if things go down. Which seems likely with the way things are going.”
I hoped I framed it like I was giving her an important job—which I was—and less like I was ensuring she rode the pine. From her puppy-dog sad eyes as she held up my scabbard, it seemed like I failed at one more thing today.
“You keep the sword,” I said. “I trust you to keep my mother safe with it. And your mama as well.”
She brightened at that and reminded me I still had one of the infinite number of knives she carried. I nodded at Alana, who looked unhappy but resolved.
Grady and Boone had moved next to Mrs. Kennedy. Grady kissed Boone hard on the mouth, glared defiantly around the room, then moved toward his sister. “We’ve got this. Unless you have a problem with me now?”
Apparently, not only had the Council continued its misogynistic practices, it continued to be homophobic as well. If we managed to survive, real change needed to happen in this town. My first inclination was to give a “problem with what?” blow-off statement. But I knew better than that after witnessing the mean things Sadie went through after coming out her senior year in high school. I wanted to protect her, but she wanted to fight her own battles. My strong, beautiful, and stubborn baby girl.