Blood Ties

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  Somewhere there was probably a worker in case of problems, but we saw no one, just the bank of self-serve token machines scrawled with graffiti on one side and rows of lockers on the other. Garbage collected in the corners and a subway whistled by in the distance, a fresh breeze making its way down the corridor toward us.

  Melinoë fished a small key from the pocket of her jacket and led me to the lockers. I leaned against one and glanced at my phone again while she scanned the locker numbers. Nothing further from Tanvi. I nearly texted her but she’d put herself at risk to warn me to begin with; if she still had the burner phone on her while working, I’d ruin her life if she was caught. I may be a serial killer but I’m not that kind of petty.

  There was an uncomfortable knot of guilt in my gut, but I tried to shove thoughts of it from my head. I returned the phone to my back pocket and glanced around while Melinoë opened her locker.

  “He left behind a duffel bag,” she said. “You might make more sense out of the supplies than I did.” The thing was wedged in the locker pretty tightly and she wiggled it free inch by inch.

  Another subway rushed by in the distance, and beyond it, a clicking noise drew my attention.

  I stood straight, turned in the direction of the subway while Melinoë muttered a curse and tugged at the duffel bag. A shadow moved across the pale tile floor in the corridor, like the lights might be going out, but there was no crackle of electricity in the air.

  Just as the darkness crawled across the ceiling toward us, the stink of sulfur hit.

  “Mel...” I backed up, nearly bumped into her. Called magic, and the answer came with a wash of ozone through the air. Electricity danced across my skin in preparation with a speed I might not have been capable without Dad’s healing.

  “Son of a...” The duffel popped free and she slammed the locker shut just as the chittering swarm flowed across the ceiling. The creatures began to amass in the center and then drip down, forming a column of their bodies that hit the floor and spread. As they transferred themselves from floor to ceiling, they parted to reveal a human-shaped figured draped in black in their center.

  Hair stood on end across the back of my neck—I was not about to wait around and make introductions. “Run!”

  I sent magic crackling toward the figure and his swarm, the electric blue energy sizzling and frying the creatures that started toward us.

  Melinoë jerked out her gun and fired at the figure; it dropped into the pile of swarming demons like it was made of them.

  We turned and ran.

  Any sound of our steps beating across the tile was lost under the onslaught of chittering and thousands of tapping feet. The reek of sulfur and squealing demons followed as we raced to street level; they surged up the stairs after us, like every creature my magic had fried was replaced by three more. I had no idea where Melinoë was parked but we both went for my car anyway, and I floored it before she’d even gotten her door shut.

  Melinoë dropped the duffel bag at her feet and got her seatbelt on. “They’re everywhere.”

  “Common denominator at this point is Dev—his apartment, his stuff in the locker. What’s in there?” The streets flew by and I was thankful for the lack of traffic so I didn’t risk causing an accident by doing ninety.

  She unzipped the bag. “Clothes. No toiletries—he was using what the motel provided. There’s a box of what I assume are spell supplies—some stones, herbs, things in jars.”

  No idea, then, if there was something specific in the bag that might’ve signaled it was Dev’s, but his magical signature could be on anything in there. Without knowing for sure, it wasn’t like I could just dump the item in question and be free and clear.

  “No pendant,” she said, likely knowing I’d been wondering.

  “Laptop?”

  “No. His phone had been in there before I took it. No wallet.”

  “Realistically, we have to expect the swarm to follow. We’ll hit the motel as planned and see if we can pick up Dev’s trail. If Dad couldn’t identify the swarm, I don’t think anyone else will, but I’ll see if I can’t come up with some kind of generic demon warding.” They’d come right through what Dev had in place at his apartment, though, and I wasn’t sure how. Too many variables—I was flying blind with this.

  The helpful GPS voice on Melinoë’s phone directed me to the highway, and I took the turn without looking back.

  Part Two: Search

  Ten

  Rooms Available

  St. Philip Point was a small rural community that used to be a stop just off a main highway, but when the road was moved about eighty years earlier, the population took a major dip. It was greener—or would’ve been, if not for the orange and red of autumn dotting many of the trees—and darker than the city we’d left behind. Even with the encroaching dawn, faint stars and the moon could still be glimpsed on the horizon where light pollution would normally drown it out.

  The motel was on the outskirts of the tiny community—Twin Pines Motel, so named for the pair of pine trees growing together out front where the sign waited. There was no flashing vacancy sign—just a small square of cardstock in the window of the main office that said ROOMS AVAILABLE.

  As if the completely empty parking lot didn’t tip everyone off to that.

  A single light was on in the office, shining through a pair of windows that flanked the weathered red door, but there was no sense of someone at the desk. The building behind it seemed to go fairly deep and I assumed it was an apartment or something back there for the manager.

  “What about Dev’s car?” I asked.

  “There wasn’t one when I got here, so I guess he took it. I traced the license plate for any signs of it being abandoned somewhere and came up with nothing.”

  At least I hadn’t missed anything by not being able to ask Tanvi.

  We climbed out into the chilly air and I shivered in my hoodie—goddamn the cops for being at my place before I could get a jacket. Melinoë led the way to the third room, the duffel bag in one hand and room key in the other, while I collected what remained of the food Aunt Roo had packed us.

  The motel room was cleaner than the dilapidated exterior had me expecting—they must not have much money to renovate and keep up the building, but inside there were fresh floral-patterned sheets and a laminate floor that had either been installed in the past couple of years or simply hadn’t been used in much longer to make it seem so new. Given how out of the way the place was, I leaned toward the latter.

  A pair of twin beds waited with deep green comforters turned down, and the wood-panelled walls were adorned with what had to have been local photos and paintings—more countryside, forests, and pine trees featuring prominently. At least everything had been dusted.

  I paused before a print of Jesus—like the classic white dude type of popular in the 1970s—and felt even more unsettled than I had being chased by a swarm of demons. If we were here long and he kept staring, he might find himself hanging in the closet.

  Melinoë locked the door behind us, closing off the last of the fresh air. I appreciate the warmth of the room but it wouldn’t take long for the potpourri scent to get to me. She set Dev’s duffel bag on one of the beds under the yellow overhead light. The room’s temperature was comfortable enough that she slipped off her leather coat and hung it on the back of one of two chairs around a small round table in the corner. The shoulder holster and gun followed. Her own luggage sat tucked under that table, a small overnight bag that likely didn’t hold much.

  I unzipped Dev’s duffel and began pulling items out. A change of clothes—clean by the look of them even though they were rumpled, so he’d come here for a few days but never bothered changing? Or was this one of multiple bags? Weird. The box she’d mentioned was a wooden one with a tight-fitting lid, about twice the size of the one that had housed the pendant. Within I found what Melinoë had said: a few small jars with liquids I’d probably be able to identify with some study, various stones, human finger bones�
��aged, so not from some recent murder—and runes. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Everything set on the bed, the duffel looked to be empty—but I lifted it and found it still heavy.

  From there I felt along the inside, searching the lining until I came across a hidden pocket. Within was a dagger in a sheath, an unadorned handle of polished dark wood and steel. I pulled the weapon out—scratch that, it was a double-sided athame rather than a dagger.

  “I hadn’t seen that,” Melinoë commented. “What would it be for?”

  I studied the clean, polished silver blade and pressed the pad of my finger to the tip—with enough pressure, it would hurt, but likely wasn’t a weapon. “Any number of things. Casting a circle, dispelling it. Opening dimensions, maybe—I’d have to see if the rest of his supplies would support that possibility. Blessing the blade for defence, as well.”

  “Like against demons.”

  “Right.” What the hell were you into, Dev? If it was whatever the fuck we’d encountered in the subway that he was protecting himself against, he’d need a lot more than an athame and some supplies—he’d need a fucking arsenal. “How have you not learned any of this? Wouldn’t your grandmother have been some kind of a witch?” Witches were the ones capable of summoning the high-ranked Oblivion demon that fathered Dev’s and Melinoë’s mothers, after all.

  She gave me a side-eye. “Practices vary across cultures and even then my mother wasn’t raised like that—all she could teach me was a bit of demon magic.”

  Peri echoed in my head, but I didn’t repeat the name. First thing she’d said about her mother—I could ask Dad to verify, if I wanted to risk worrying him again. “Even then, you’ve been working with Dev on this for a while.” Or so you said.

  “I told you, it was a lot of old-fashioned legwork and tracking. I was better at that than he was.”

  That was fair—I couldn’t see Dev having the patience for the process of searching she’d described. “Did you mention a security camera earlier today?”

  “One in the office.” She stepped up to my side and peered down at the weapon. “I checked, it faces the door but doesn’t show much of the parking lot. It’s mainly to record visitors. Dev checked in and that was the only time he appeared on it.”

  I returned the athame to the sheath and set it next to the other supplies. “Did you check the garbage in his room?”

  She shook her head. “They’d already dumped that. I was watching the room and when they emptied out his things a few days after he didn’t come back, and I offered to take the duffel.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “I’m persuasive.”

  The motel wasn’t doing well—they were probably easy enough to bribe here. “I’d like to check his room myself after I get some sleep—will the motel owner notice?”

  “The place is pretty dead—I think after they do their rounds to clean and make the bed, that’s it unless someone else shows up.”

  Excellent. “Do they do breakfast?”

  She pulled a sheet from the bedside table. “Continental, eight a.m. if I check off that I want something—they’ll be by to pick it up in an hour.”

  “See if you can get some for two.” I pulled off my hoodie and went for the bed on the far side of the room. “I’m going to nap. Wake me if a demon swarm shows up.”

  I was not gifted with the ability to sleep anytime anywhere, but I did have a spell that hit suddenly and hard the way trucker sleeping pills did. I curled up on my side facing the door, my hoodie draped over my side, and closed my eyes. With a few whispered words I was out cold.

  *

  There’s no real time limit on the spell unless I place one, and I’d just set it to knock me out while trusting I’d stay asleep for a bit. That worked, and I opened my eyes about ninety minutes later feeling marginally more refreshed.

  Melinoë was leaning over an open overnight bag on the other bed, rifling through clothing. Her black hair was damp and combed back slick, water droplets glossy on her skin, and the humidity in the room confirmed a shower. She’d changed into a fresh white t-shirt and the same jeans as earlier, and already had the shoulder holster on.

  Although she’d taken her jacket off last night, I hadn’t really paid attention, but now daylight caught the handful of scars along her well-toned biceps. A few slashes of waxy pale skin and a puckered circle that looked like it might’ve been a bullet hole.

  She slid back and forth wildly in my estimation of her character—all badass bravado in one breath and then aloof vulnerability in another. The scars, battle wounds from something in her past, just enhanced both sides of her rather than firmly place her in one or the other.

  “There’s breakfast on the table,” she said without looking my way. “I asked the motel owner about Dev again when the food was brought over and didn’t get anywhere beyond where I had before—he checked in then wasn’t seen again.”

  Whether she knew I’d been staring, I couldn’t say. I sat up and yawned, stretching my arms high above my head. My right shoulder twinged in warning and I immediately eased it down—Dad’s spells were miraculous, yes, but had their limits. He sped the body’s natural healing capabilities, and for a soft tissue injury that meant it would still be a while yet before I had normal range of motion.

  The sleep would be enough to keep me going for the day provided I got a decent amount of coffee in to kickstart my body. I’d slept in my boots in case I had to run in a hurry, and they thumped heavily on the floor as I rose. The tray of food waited on the small table, including a carafe of coffee and pair of mugs, rye toast and jams, scrambled eggs that looked a little runny. There were also little boxes of cereal and instant oatmeal; a kettle plugged into the wall on the sideboard would accommodate the latter, I supposed. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, Melinoë had eaten, though I found one of the white mugs had tea in it.

  I poured coffee and took a few searing gulps of it before I properly sat in front of the food. I found a small homemade jar of almond butter among the food, the label suggesting it was produced locally, and slathered some on a piece of cold toast.

  She took the seat opposite me and scooped up her mug to sip it. The tea smelled like jasmine, a faint pleasant scent. She must’ve brought her own, as I didn’t think this place went beyond Earl Grey. “I went to list you as a room occupant and get you a key but the sign on the door said the manager was out.”

  “I can get in the room without a key, obviously, but for the sake of appearances and not getting arrested”—while the police are indeed looking for me back in the city—“I’ll pretend to be human and not magic the door open unless necessary.”

  “Appreciated,” she said dryly, still staring at the window. She took another long sip of her tea. “It’s...a weird little town, at least when I drove through it.”

  I gestured at the Jesus print behind us. “Religious?”

  “You’d think that, but I didn’t see any churches. I expected too many for the population rather than none at all.”

  Humans were weird in general. “Have you asked around about Dev?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet beyond the motel owner.”

  “Next step is to ask around town, then. A lot of legwork but someone might’ve seen him. Do you have a recent photo?”

  She smiled wryly at me. “Probably on my phone. I guess you don’t?”

  “Nope.”

  “What happened between you two?” She set her mug down and glanced out the window. The curtains were open, revealing a crisp, sunny fall day beyond, full of dry colorful leaves and a stirring breeze. Parking lot was still empty except for my car and I didn’t see a single vehicle pass the road in the distance.

  “The usual sibling disagreements, I guess.” I shrugged, took a bite of my toast and chewed thoughtfully. “There was enough of a gap in our ages that we weren’t super close as kids. He had some tension with my mom, too. She died when I was eleven and it kind of went downhill from there.” And it was basically the t
ruth—there was no single incident, no big fight or betrayal. There were a lot of years of strain and then he moved out, I eventually moved out, and there was no reason for us to have contact anymore.

  “Why are you here, then? Why look for him?”

  Beyond the fact that it gets me away from the police right now? “I’m curious. And now my dad knows something is up—I’d rather look myself than put him through the stress of it. Not to mention, you did ask me so nicely.” I smirked and she returned the smile over the rim of her mug, though her grin was shier, and a faint blush rose in her cheeks.

  “Sorry. I didn’t know who else to go to. He doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends.”

  He never did have much use for people, beyond a girl he was crazy about some years ago. Otherwise Dev was a pretty standard misanthrope. It could be why he didn’t like me much as well—he didn’t like anyone. “He never has. I see your point—family is likely to show up no matter how much time has passed.”

  Tied by blood, tied for life, apparently—no matter how I wanted to pretend otherwise.

  Eleven

  Trusting

  Melinoë didn’t eat, but it only took a few bites for my appetite to be sparked. I finished the eggs, toast, and coffee, brushed my teeth and cleaned up, and we headed off for town.

  The sleepy community was just waking as I drove the Mini Cooper down the main street—or only street, basically, though I spotted a couple of others that bisected it. I parked on the street as there were no meters to worry about, Melinoë pulled out her phone, and we started canvasing.

  In a larger town, it wouldn’t’ve been possible—not in a short timeframe—but St. Philip Point had a population of six hundred, and most of them lived or worked within the main street. We focused on businesses, starting on one side of the street and going from shop to shop with the same questions. Do you recognize this man? Where and when did you last see him? What did he say or do? Given that it was such a tiny hamlet without any tourists who ever visited, and Dev was a good-looking young man who tended to turn heads, he was memorable for anyone who encountered him.