An immediate and healthy fear of alligators sent me gasping for air along the algae-speckled surface. I opened my eyes to find what little sun we’d had blotted out by the sheer enormity of a very displeased Bridge Troll.
“Uh, hey,” I said as I wiped the goo from my face. “How’s it going?”
The monster’s hand slammed into the murky water and grabbed the front of my shirt with all the delicacy of a front-loader. In seconds I was flopping above the filth like a noodled catfish.
“Don’t hurt him,” Little Ed’s mother said, although her tone wasn’t really conveying much in the way of non-hurting conviction—to say she appeared displeased was a mild understatement. “What are you doing in my swamp?”
“I’m really not sure. Your son brought me here after his dad and the rest of Team Peanut cuddled up with the Eternal Shame and got themselves turned into Midnight Riders.”
The Troll gave me the same once over I would have used on an insect moments before I introduced it to my shoe.
“Hi there,” I said, waving to the Bridge Troll and trying desperately to keep the few peanuts I’d snaked from my old roommate’s supply in my stomach. The Bridge Troll’s earthy bouquet was making that immensely difficult.
“Mom!” Little Ed popped up from behind the palmetto blind, waving to his mother. “It’s true. This is Eugene Law, he’s a friend of Dad’s.”
The ginger women shifted her hips and pursed already displeased lips. “Great, just what I wanted to do today… Meet one of your father’s friends.”
“Uh…”
“Kaylee,” the woman said, frowning at me beneath her ball cap.
“Great. Kaylee, any chance you could direct the shambling mound of unpleasant here to put me down?”
“You got it.”
At least that’s what I think she said. Hitting the swamp water a second time made it really hard to tell.
13
Modern Magick
I scrambled for the surface, breaking through the muddy water to gasp for breath only to be pulled up into the air.
“What the—”
The Bridge Troll nodded, then dumped me right back into algae-laden sludge.
“Mom!”
Ed’s ex-wife said something to the Bridge Troll in a language that sounded like a mixture of grunts, sniffles, and beatbox, and in turn he dumped me onto the muddy bank.
In a show of strength, I wheezed like an old man for a few seconds, then vomited up the peanuts and a fist full of greenish swamp-water.
“Gene, are you okay?” Little Ed asked, sloshing his way through the shallow edge of the Troll pond.
“If he’s one of your dad’s friends he’ll be fine. Every last one of them has a head as hard as Stinkstone here.”
“Mom! He saved my life, and he’s going to help me save Dad!”
I am?
I finished coughing up The Swamp Thing’s younger brother and rolled onto my back, giving myself an excellent view of Stinkstone and his fervent environmental protector.
“I’ll try,” I said, my words intermixed with coughing fits. “I have my apprentice to look out for too.”
“Apprentice? You’re a Magician?” Kaylee leaned over to look down on me from her paper-wood tree stump.
“I… it’s a long story, but yeah I’m a—”
I didn’t get to finish my response, as the junior Demon Hunter’s mother said something to Stinkstone and his fiery red eyes cut me off mid-sentence.
The Trolls fist came down with remarkable speed and I’m not ashamed to say I did what any newly non-Magickal middle-aged father of two would do when faced with near-certain annihilation. “Not in the face!”
Boom!
Stinkstone’s fist rammed into the ground beside my head, kicking up a minor shockwave of mud and costing me at least two of my remaining lives. The Troll said something to Kaylee in his native tongue then shuffled off into the murky water.
I wiped the muck away to find myself face to beak with a plastic pink flamingo, its sharp metal skewer legs only inches from my cheek.
“He doesn’t like strangers in his swamp, nor does he care very much for Magicians.”
“I get that.” I propped myself up. “I don’t care much for them either.”
Little Ed pulled me up out of the mud with a very undignified pop. “Sorry about that, Gene.”
I brushed at the swamp bits on my pants and jacket, but that only made it worse. “It’s fine. Listen, I’m sort of burning daylight here. The Darkling, your dad, and Donnie the peanut hauler are on their way to Tampa, ostensibly to collect what they need to remove me from the circle of life, and if they can knock off my apprentice in the process, they’ll consider that a bonus.”
“Donnie?” Little Ed’s mother asked, her voice abruptly sliding up an octave. “What happened to Donnie?”
“I’ll explain, Mom. First, we found Gene here at Sal’s and—”
“Sorry, kid,” I said, jumping ahead to the bad parts. “Short version. Donnie wears the Eternal Shame like a summer frock. He’s become a Midnight Rider under the control of—”
Kaylee jumped down from the stump. “Sear Spit? That goddamn Imp has been a thorn in my side since…”
The ginger woman realized she had both of our attentions and let her words trail off.
Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all.
“No, it’s not Sear Spit. Gene killed him.”
“You did what?!” Kaylee advanced on me like a water moccasin, the whites of her eyes showing like that cotton mouth snake. “You killed an immortal Demon in my backyard?”
“Okay.” I held my hands up in defense. “It would appear that is really pissing a lot of people off. I can’t say I understand why, as he was a slimy, bat-winged pain in the ass, and I was doing the whole community a favor by taking him—”
Kaylee didn’t let me finish; instead, the naturalist put herself a few inches from my face. She wasn’t tall, maybe a few inches shorter than Porter, but she had that same passion—plus she carried a long oak staff. That stick was doing a great job getting her point across as it pressed against my chest.
“Doing us a favor? Goddamn city Magicians. They come out here and ‘do us a favor,’ and end up turning everything sideways. Then they shuffle on out like they were never here. Oh thank you, Mr. Big Time Magician, thank you for coming here, screwing up my swamp, and putting my son’s life at risk.”
I took a small step back to remove the staff’s pressure from my chest. First, it wasn’t hard to see Little Ed’s mom was on tilt, and I wasn’t sure she wouldn’t decide to show me the business end of that staff. Second, the amount of Magick rolling through her bang-stick was enough to curl my already wavy chest hair in unpleasant ways.
For a girl who doesn’t like Magicians you’ve got a decent amount of Magick. I wonder…
There’d been rumors of a Witch taking up residence in the center of the state. Somewhere along the way she’d picked up the wildly original and well conceived moniker, ‘Swamp Witch.’ Could Ed have married then summarily divorced one Kaylee the Swamp Witch?
That did sound suspiciously like Ed Lovely.
“Got it. Like I said, I’m going to head back to Tampa. I have an apprentice to save, and a House to confront. If you’d just point me back to the main road, I’ll get a move on.”
Little Ed jumped in between us. “Mom, Gene knows how to find Dad and Donnie, plus he kept Maurice’s ghost from being eaten by a Sobek Demon before—”
“Maurice is dead?”
Little Ed, we need to work on your communication skills.
“Right, like I said, if you’ll just point the way to the main road I’ll be out of your swamp and your life ASAP—Magician’s honor.”
“He is,” Little Ed said, letting his shoulders droop. “We used the Viewmaster on Gene.”
Kaylee gasped. “You created a Darkling.”
Little Ed frowned. “And that thing killed Maurice.”
Kaylee staggered a little before com
ing to rest against the creme-colored trunk, the tree’s paper-like bark breaking off in large chunks. “Maurice is gone…”
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t plan for any of this to happen.” I gave the fiery Kaylee a wide berth. “I’ll level with you. I made a deal with… Well, let’s just say I made a really stupid deal to save my daughter from the fires of Hell. Now, as it turns out, I may have been duped, and to make matters worse there’s a really good chance my daughter is still in Hell. I’d go find her myself, but your husband—”
“Ex-husband.”
“Right, your ex-husband and his Demon Hunting crew split my soul and took my Magick along with it. So as you can see, I’m about as screwed as humanly possible. I’ve got no Magick, a supernatural deal in jeopardy, a teenager in Hell, and an apprentice who is most likely going to become target number one for a high-powered Darkling.”
“He’s not lying, Mom.”
Thanks, kid.
Kaylee wiped her eyes with the back of her hand then adjusted her ball cap, brushing her hair back underneath it and trying to keep me from seeing the glint of tears in her eyes. “Goddamn Magicians.”
“Right, like I said, I don’t want to cause you two any more trouble than I already have. So if you’ll just angle me toward civilization, the trail, path, or whatever you call it, I’ll hike my non-Magickal butt right out of here. I’ll square up my Darkling and in doing so find a way to untar Donnie and Ed. You have my word.”
Kaylee reached down and picked up the pink plastic flamingo. She tucked it under her arm and shook her head. “Nope, you aren’t going anywhere.”
“Uh—”
“It’ll be dark soon—evening comes fast in the Green Swamp. In here you’re likely to drown, be eaten by an Alligator Man, or worse,” she said. “Besides, you smell worse than Stinkstone. I think I’ve got some of Ed’s old clothes that would fit you. You’d be doing me a favor getting rid of them.”
“Wait, what about my apprentice? I need some way to contact him. I’ve got to warn the kid. I can sense the Magick coming off that staff. Do you have anything I could use, maybe a scrying pool?”
“Nope.”
“What about some sort of messenger animal? Scrub Jays are chatty, but they’ll get the message across.”
Kaylee shook her head and walked deeper into the dense palmetto brush. “I don’t do birds.”
“Okay, okay. Let me think… What about seeing-stones?”
“All we have here is limestone.”
“Damn it. I’ve got to get a message to him.”
Kaylee pushed aside a frond with her staff. “Fine. I might have something you can use.”
The ginger’s face faded in the diminishing light making her a difficult read.
Is she smiling?
“Really? What? There’s not a lot else I know of, but if you’ve got something Magickal we can use to get a message to him that would be huge.”
“I’ve got something.”
“What is it?”
“They call it ‘the internet.’”
14
Email Meltdown
Kaylee and Little Ed led me deep into the Green Swamp, past thick copses of towering cedar, and around the muddy banks of suspiciously dark watering holes. We traveled until the sun slipped below the uneven tree line, Ed’s ex-wife directing me to a set of uneven planks rising up out of the muck.
“Ed put them in years ago,” she said with more than a hint of frustration in her voice. “God, he’s terrible with his hands.”
I took a few steps on that rising deck and immediately understood what she meant. Not only were the boards uneven, they were also not well secured, nor particularly balanced. I had to keep my eyes down to avoid falling through and ending up in the watery muck beneath. The deck gave way to stairs, the petite woman taking them with almost dancer-like precision as her slender feet found the strongest spots in the otherwise decaying wood.
I was not nearly as precise, but thankfully I had Little Ed behind me to keep me from falling in the deep water.
“We’re here,” he said, helping me up the last step.
Their house was small and less-than-inspiring, with a crooked cedar shingle roof unlikely to hold back the rain. A wide front porch ran the length of the tiny home and slanted terribly to one side. Taking a fall on it was sure to put you in the murky water.
“What do you think?” Little Ed asked, pride in his voice.
“Kid, it beats the pants off sleeping in my car.”
Kaylee dumped the plastic flamingo on the front porch alongside a growing pile of identical yard ornaments, then leaned her staff against a narrow cedar bench. I paused, half expecting the entire flock of plastic to slide into the swamp, but it only rustled slightly in the cool evening air.
Maybe they’re just yard art?
Kaylee pulled open the weathered screen door and walked inside, holding it open for me.
“You don’t lock your door?”
The Demon Hunter’s mom shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t get a lot of visitors.”
The last rays of a setting sun snuck between the gaps in the sheer curtains that lined the tiny house’s few windows.
“Give me a second.” She fiddled with a glass hurricane lamp on one of the tables. It was one of the old types with a curved top and wide base full of a bright green fluid. She removed the smooth cover and fumbled with a plastic lighter until the filament ignited. The wick burned bright, filling the home with a warm and inviting glow.
“Gah!” She pointed to the muddy prints my shoes had tracked into her house. “Outside, now! Take those nasty things off and try coming back in like a civilized person.”
This from the woman that talks to Trolls?
Little Ed’s shoes were already outside the door.
Thanks for giving me the heads up, kid.
I returned in socks to find Ed’s son sweeping the dried mud into a hole in the floor that led to the murky water below. Once he appeared satisfied with his work, he flipped the cover back down and returned the floor to normal.
“Here.” Kaylee shoved jeans and a plaid shirt into my hands. “These should work. Don’t worry about the peanut oil stains. It’s impossible to find anything of Ed’s that doesn’t have them.”
“Uh, thanks. Where do I…”
“Change? Wherever you want. I’ve seen it all before.”
I rejoined my shoes on the front porch and clawed my way out of the mud-covered clothes. I clenched the photo wheel in my teeth, but not before stealing a glance at the images another time.
Even.
Eight pictures for the Darkling, and eight pictures for me. That meant I hadn’t done anything stupid—yet.
I took a deep breath and enjoyed the relief that came from dumping wet threads on the edge of Kaylee’s porch, but unlike the flamingos, my wadded-up duds slid down the deck and splashed into the water below.
Great.
That free feeling of standing practically naked in the dusky evening lasted all of ten seconds before the first mosquito found me. Ten seconds after that, one bug had become a few hundred. All of this was perfectly in line with the first law of vampire insects—there was never just one. I swatted at the troublesome mosquitos as I forced my way into Ed’s old clothes. Kaylee was right, they ‘fit,’ but only in the loosest term of the word. Ed was thinner than me in some spots, and thicker in others. The end result left me with jeans that looked suspiciously like capris, and a plaid shirt whose sleeves I must have rolled up a half dozen times before I gave up.
Without waiting to see if I had pants on, Ed’s ex-wife burst through the screen door and grabbed the latest plastic flamingo off the pile. She turned it over in her hands a few times before sighing and shoving it under an arm.
“You said you had internet here?” I asked, swatting at a small festival of mosquitos enjoying themselves on my exposed ankles.
“Inside.”
Kaylee held up the yard ornament briefly, almost as if she was going to ask me
something, but then thought better of it.
I tucked the picture disc in my pocket and headed back inside the tiny house leaving Ed’s ex-wife outside. Inside, her son was busy setting up a small grey box that looked suspiciously like a typewriter on the table.
“Eddie?” I asked, eyeing the very non-technical device.
The junior Demon Hunter smiled. “Give me a second, I almost have the Mailstation set up.”
“Mailstation?”
“I got this for my mom for her birthday.”
“When? In the 1800s?”
“Very funny,” Little Ed said, popping a switch on the side of the device and filling the room with a faint hum. “It’s a dedicated email machine. You type here and it appears on the screen there.”
The Mailstation’s screen couldn’t have been larger than a hardback’s spine. It lit up with a bright green flashing cursor.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Little Ed shook his head. “No, listen, it works. I mean, you’ll have to use Mom’s email, but you can send a message to your apprentice.”
I took a seat at the small table, Ed’s Capri pants hugging my calves.
“You don’t have a phone, eh?”
“Nope. Mom says they can give you brain cancer.”
“I see… but you have the internet?”
Little Ed pointed up. “Satellite.”
“I… Never mind. Thanks for getting it set up.”
The junior Demon Hunter beamed. “Sure thing. I’m just glad it's getting some use. Mom never sends any emails.”
Really? I find that shocking.
“I wonder why?” I said, my fingers over the keys.
“I know, right? I hear it’s a great way to keep in touch.”
Obviously sarcasm was not something the Lovelys had spent a lot of time teaching their son in between lessons on Demon Hunting and avoiding brain cancer.
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