“Well, it’s part of it. That thing there is the gate,” I pointed at a broken squiggle, “and this over here is the first line of markers.”
The kid pursed his lips. “I guess I see it. Drawing isn’t really your thing, huh?”
“No, I’m more a saving-your-dad sort of guy.”
“Oh, right.”
I sighed. “Can you see where I want the salt?”
“Yeah.”
“Then get to it, Picasso.”
“Wait, where are you going?” Little Ed folded the directions up and put them in his pocket.
I opened the passenger door and grabbed the duffel, satisfied Michael’s saber and bird were still safe inside.
“I’ve got a few people I need to talk to.” Cold tendrils of supernatural Thinning snaked their way between my legs. “And it looks like I’m going to have just enough juice to make the call.”
* * *
The iron gate pulled against its chains in the wind. It was locked, but I found the dug-out spot we’d slipped under a few days ago pretty quickly. I shimmied beneath the black metal rail and thought about just how far I’d come without my Magick: I’d survived a run-in with Alligator Men, Grundel, a pissed-off Delia, and a couple of undead panthers. That wasn’t bad for a guy who didn’t have enough Magickal reserves to light his own farts on fire.
The temperature dropped on the other side of the gate. Not everything that prowled those grounds were happy to see me, and the Thinning wasn’t helping.
For a moment, I wondered if my Darkling and the Blood Queen were right. Was there really something big going down? Was I making plans at seven minutes to midnight with no idea of the bigger picture?
I brushed those thoughts away and unzipped the bag. My hands found the flamingo out of habit, but I pulled them back quickly. The lure of the Flock was strong, and even though this bird and I weren’t the bosom buds I’d been with Gertrude, it didn’t stop the attraction.
Not now, Gene. Stay focused.
I paused for a moment and considered removing the saber, but then thought better of it. Michael hadn’t been allowed in this cemetery, and I wasn’t about to make a show of bringing his sword in here—not when I had spirits to enlist.
I followed the main path, turning back periodically to check on Little Ed. The kid could follow directions and had already used some bolt cutters to get the gate open. I just hoped Evil Gene was as lousy as I was with geometry.
Sorry, Mrs. Wilson. If it makes you feel any better, you were right. I did wind up needing Geometry 202 one day.
The wind kicked up again and sent broad maple leaves rolling across the paved path. A snapping branch froze me where I stood. The rows of grave markers spread out beyond the asphalt in perfect rows, and I felt my stomach tighten.
Since when do the dead bother you?
Sickly Wild Magick oozed around me, rolling between my legs and brushing against my rolled-up sleeves.
Oh that’s right, since you’re depending on Wild Magick to save your bacon—no pressure!
I set the duffel down on the path and bent down to untie my shoes. I wasn’t sure what the decorum was for what I was about to do, but tracking mud in anyone’s house would most likely be considered bad form. Satisfied my shoes and mud-caked socks were a sufficient distance away, I stepped out into the cool, damp grass.
I didn’t need my Magick to feel the pride that swelled in that deep earth. I was treading on the ground of heroes and I knew it.
Deep breath, Gene.
I knelt down and placed my palms on the short grass, digging my fingers into the rich earth. I pushed past the blades, and through the roots, until the cold loam sifted between my fingers.
The Thinning rolled over my hands and slid between my legs. It was like that time as a kid I’d tried to sit at the end of a waterslide. Like the water had back then, the wild power pushed against me now, and with each second it gained strength. At some point the swelling force would knock me over.
It’s now or never.
I reached out to the untamable Magick and tried to coax it like the Swamp Witch. I gently directed it where I wanted it to go. I gave it subtle directions, and mental words of encouragement, but I wasn’t Kaylee. The Wild Magick pushed back, hard, and instead of going where I wanted it to go, it caught in the grass roots and pulled my hands deeper into the soft earth.
Oh no you don’t. Looks like we’re going to have to do this my way.
I squeezed my fingers harder, grabbing hold of the Wild Magick and telling it exactly where to go. The Thinning’s power got tangled up between my hands and I seized the opportunity. I pushed the chaotic power out across that sacred ground. Like the roots of a massive oak, it split and splintered, seeking the hallowed souls still waiting deep within the quiet earth.
“Surge Sursus…” I whispered, letting my words ride the Wild Magick and hoping against hope I hadn’t just made a bad situation a lot worse.
More lightning split the sky and a few stray raindrops stung my face, but still I wrangled with the Wild Magick.
“Surge Sursus,” I cried as the first tugs against my lines appeared, trying to mask the fear in my voice. “Rise up, damn it!”
The wind picked up again and threw large clumps of Spanish moss from the trees like old netting. I dug my hands in further, giving into the Thinning and letting the Wild Magick pull me along.
“Surge Sursus!”
“We heard you, damn it. You don’t need to shout.”
A single spectral soldier appeared among the grave markers. He was tall and well muscled, with a wide mustache and more than a few tattoos. He walked toward me with a military precision, then stopped as if catching the scent of something on the air.
“What do you want, Magician?”
Boney digits wrapped mine from below and like a terrifying child’s game of finger wrestling those hands dragged me down—in an instant I was up to my wrists in the rich earth.
“I need your help.”
“And why should we help you?”
I had had a feeling this was coming. The dead do not suffer the living, and it appeared they certainly weren’t very happy to see me either.
“You smell it in the air.” I pulled back against the bones beneath the ground. “You know what’s coming.”
“It doesn’t concern us. Those things cannot enter this sacred field.”
Here it goes—no going back now. I’m coming Cathy, one way or another, I’m coming.
“Actually,” I said, squeezing the boney hands that held mine. “I think you’ll find I just undid your protections…”
The wind shifted, and the spirit was on me in an instant. His spectral eyes were only inches from mine and channeling a well of anger I knew would be coming.
“In no time two Midnight Riders are going to come down that road and drive right past your desecrated gate. When they do, they’re not going to stop with me and the kid. They’re going to destroy everything you hold dear: your loved ones, the spouses buried here alongside you, and those that came after you.”
The boney fingers dug into mine and I knew my blood was mixing with the sacred ground. I wasn’t a full soul—my very nature was unwinding the protections of this consecrated space.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drag you to your death right here,” the soldier said, anger evident in his ghostly eyes.
“Because,” I said, swallowing hard. “If you do this, the land will never recover. I am cursed. You know that. You want a cursed Magician with a tarnished half-soul bleeding out on your ground?”
The soldier froze and I could almost see the ghostly gears grinding to a halt. “No.”
Whew.
“Right, so you’re going to help me stop these guys, and in turn you have my promise I’ll never set foot here again.”
Please take it, please take it…
The ghost turned away, his translucent form conferring with the multitude of solemn markers behind him. “We accept your terms—”
> “Hot damn. All right, first thing we need—”
The ghost didn’t let me finish. “With one caveat.”
“Yes?”
Images flashed in my mind, too many to count, but the general theme was easy enough to pick up on. “I’ll do what I can…”
The boney fingers squeezed and my eyes stung as the sharp nails dug into the flesh of my hands. “You’ll do it, or you will never find rest the remainder of your days.”
I squeezed back, not breaking my gaze with the old jarhead. “Get in line. My life has been an almost nonstop suck-fest punctuated by brief periods of joy, and since all those are gone now there’s really nothing left to threaten me with. But I promise you now I’ll do my best to do what you ask. Do we have a deal?”
“Oorah.”
41
Get Down
I collected the last empty bag from Little Ed. “You got it all down?”
“Yeah, I think so,” the world’s most impressive golem said without looking even the tiniest bit worse for wear. “Do you think we’ll have to wait long?”
Lightning chased clouds across the sky, followed by the distant rumble of heavy bikes.
“Nope.” I pointed to the first beams of light breaking the horizon. “That’s my car.”
“How do you know?”
The right bulb flickered a few times before returning to full power. “I just know. Is everything in place?”
“I think so.” The clearly nervous junior Demon Hunter’s hands found their way to the machete at his waist. “How am I going to separate my dad from the tar?”
“You let me worry about that. You know what your job is, right?”
Little Ed nodded and turned toward the tree line. “I think so…”
The Dad Wagon cleared the horizon, with two devilish choppers running alongside it.
“Just wait for my signal.”
“Which is?”
“Trust me, you’ll know.”
The golem nodded and disappeared into the dense palmetto scrub that crowded the edge of the road.
Here goes nothing…
I stepped into the middle of the highway and placed the duffel bag at my feet, unzipped and open. The plastic flamingo’s coal-black eyes shined up at me in the streetlight’s muted orange glow.
Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault the last one of you I carried shattered against a patrol car. I was kinda busy at the time. Yes, too busy to see a four door squad car with its lights on.
In seconds, I found myself bathed in the bright light of the Dad Wagon’s head lamps.
Hold your ground, Gene.
The old Mazda slowed its approach, but even as it did the two, glistening tar-covered motorcycles shot past. Those choppers circled me and provided no indication of my old friend or his dedicated partner in Demon Hunting.
Come on, Ed. You can fight this…
The Dad Wagon rolled to a stop a few yards away from me.
Damn it, you couldn’t have rolled forward a few more feet? Make it work, Magick man…
The driver-side door opened and creaked in the damp air. It was somewhat heartening to know my evil half hadn’t figured out how to keep the door from making noises in the time he’d had the car either.
A sharp-looking jet-black oxford shoe hit the pavement, followed by tailored black slacks and a dress shirt. I shifted uncomfortably in my borrowed denim and peanut-oil-stained plaid shirt. I could say a lot of bad things about my evil half, but I had to give it to him: he knew how to make an entrance.
“Gene,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of a well-cut dress shirt. “Great to see you. Wow. Looks like you’ve been rolling in the mud.”
I used my foot to push open the duffle just a little more, and I swear if such a thing were possible, the little bird smiled.
“It’s all part of the excursion I’ve been on over here. Something about getting back to my roots—and twigs, and mud, and sand. You get it.”
My evil half nodded. “I knew there was a nature-streak somewhere inside us, I just didn’t know it extended to swamp rats.”
Sharp-dressed Evil Gene pointed to the tree line and whispered a few words of Magick under his breath.
Little Ed made a run for the street, pushing a wheelbarrow as fast as he could. He didn’t make it to the pavement before he collapsed forward, sprawling into the tall grass and losing the thirty or so pounds of salt that had been meant to close the trap.
No, Little Ed!
“He’ll be fine.” Evil Gene held his wrist and clicked the button on an expertly crafted gold watch. “Well, no. That’s a lie. He’ll be fine if he can survive having his heart stopped.”
The young demon hunter lay motionless in the tall grass.
“Son of a—”
“This is so pointless. We’re the same person, Gene. You think you can outsmart me? You are me. Let’s wrap this up right now.”
“The mirror is gone.”
Evil Gene slammed the Dad Wagon’s door shut. “Damn it. Now, I’ll admit I didn’t see that coming. Kind of crazy to destroy the best option for you getting your Magick back.”
“I didn’t. Delia took care of that.”
That caught the Darkling off-guard. “The Blood Queen was here?”
“Was being the operative word, yes.”
My Darkling smiled. “Gene, look at you. You’re finally figuring it out. I leave you for just a couple days and look at how much you’ve grown.”
“I’m a quick learner.”
Thunder rumbled.
“Is that a Thinning?” Evil Gene asked, watching the lightning cut across the sky.
The pink flamingo’s neck twisted in the duffel at the sound of my Darkling’s voice. I did my best to use my hand to call it off.
Not yet…
“Yeah, it’s a Thinning.”
The Darkling took a deep breath. “Wow, yeah, that’s one hell of a Thinning. Nice timing. I assume you’ve gotten a handle on how to pull Wild Magick from a Thinning.”
“It’s a work in progress.”
“I’d say you’re doing pretty good—all of your organs are still on the inside. That’s not half bad.”
More lightning erupted and its flash bulb reflection in the windshield revealed creeping Midnight Riders with swords drawn.
Just a little closer…
“So is this it?” I asked, keeping one eye on the approaching Riders. “Are we going to stand around and talk?”
“Well I’d love to catch up with you more, but I’m ready to get put back together. I’ve got a plan for the House and I’d like to see it through.”
I had been prepared for a lot of responses from Evil Gene, but that one caught me completely offguard. “What plan for the House?”
“I’m sure it’s been visiting you. I find those visits so damn annoying, don’t you? Of course you do. I’m going to guess by the look on your face that I’m right. I’m also going to guess it’s been pushing you like crazy to get your Magick back.”
The flamingo twisted in the bag, again trying to get a look at the Darkling.
“Maybe…”
“Ha! You really do suck at lying. Don’t worry, when we’re back together I’ll run point.”
“Like hell you will,” I said, crouching down to scoop up the bird. The tiny, plastic yard art, however, had other ideas. She shot out of the bag and away from my grasping hand.
Evil Gene whistled, and the bird dashed across the damp pavement to him on sharp metal legs.
“Hey!”
My Darkling placed a hand on tiny bird’s head as it nestled its beak against his stupid dress slacks.
“The Flock likes winners, Gene—take him, boys!”
The Midnight Riders approached, their hands outstretched.
“Wait, you can’t get the tar on me!”
My Darkling sighed. “Did you think I forgot?”
“Well, I just wasn’t going to risk it.”
Evil Gene chuckled. “Sure, I get that.”
/> The Eternal Shame peeled back from the closest Rider’s hands like the receding tide, revealing the rough fingers of my old friend.
You do this and there’s no going back…
The Thinning’s Magick swam around us, and I fished a small button from my shirt pocket.
“I’m sorry, Ed!” I shouted, grabbing his hand and exposing his palm. “I’ll find you, I promise.”
Before I could get the Lost Button to him, a pair of muddy capris broke the tree line with a rubber wrestler in the driver’s seat. “Rumble, rumble in the jungle!” the angry little action figure shouted.
Ed yanked back his hand, the tar covering it once again and taking away my best chance to separate my old roommate from the Eternal Shame. Animated pants raced across the swale and out onto the road, the little rubber golem bouncing along atop them.
“What in the hell?” My Darkling said with more than a little confusion in his voice.
“What, you’ve never seen animated pants?”
The Darkling snapped his fingers and a lunging Midnight Rider’s blade separated the golem’s top half from his bottom, the former bouncing across the pavement, and the latter falling somewhere into the nether reaches of the mud-covered denim. “No, I haven’t.”
The muddy pants stopped and turned around to face the tree line.
“Nice work, pants.”
Evil Gene shook his head. “Well, that was nothing if not entertaining, but I—”
My animated denim broke into a dance, an epically cringeworthy display of hip-thrusting and butt-shaking that was, at the same time, nearly impossible to look at or turn away from.
I didn’t think you had it in you.
“What are they going to do, Gene? Dance me to death?”
I pointed to the opposite side of the road, where a dull rumble echoed in the dense cypress. “Nope, that dance isn’t for you.”
“Lovely. Then who is it for?”
Alligator Men by the dozens crashed through the tree line, spears raised, their hissing cries bone-chilling in the humid dark.
“Them.”
42
Scaly Balance
Beaten Path Page 23