We hadn’t put out a request for breakfast, and both would’ve slept through it anyway, so while I headed into the shower, Melinoë went out for food. She came back with nachos the diner boxed up for her—one needs chips and cheese to soak up the remnants of alcohol—a cardboard tray with coffees, and a six-pack of ginger ale with labels advertising a brand I’d never heard of and in old-fashioned glass bottles.
She set everything out on the table and, after a cup of coffee in her and food in her stomach, seemed almost human again.
Human being relative, that is.
“Sorry if I was bitchy this morning,” she said, twisting open the cap on a bottle of ginger ale. “I don’t drink often.”
I laid out all of Dev’s supplies again on my bed and chewed the corner of a corn chip while I stared down, pondering spells. “You at least slept well?”
“I don’t actually remember and I think I’m still a little drunk.”
“You were completely out when I came in.”
“Didn’t we...” She was frowning as I glanced over at her. “Oh fuck. You were going to check Dev’s room? I think I passed out—”
“You did. I checked Dev’s room eventually, but first I went out to play bait and lead our harasser from the bar, Jim, down the road a ways. Then I killed him.” I finished the corn chip. “Not like Dev is going to need any of this now, so I might as well make something useful for us to have on hand.”
Silence descended upon the room. I knew without looking that Melinoë was staring at me.
“You killed him?” she said at last.
I stepped over to pluck a few more chips thick with cheese from the box. “Yep.”
“Just...like that?”
“I agree it lacked finesse, but he was an asshole who was following us home, so.” I shrugged and shoved back some disappointment—I’d been all up in my head last night with this wild sense that she accepted me and liked me, and clearly that was the alcohol talking if this conversation was any indication. That should teach me to let my guard down. “And I didn’t make you party to it, so relax.”
She frowned further and shook her head. “No, I mean...it’s a small town—no one said anything while I was out picking up food. No gossip. No one mentioned it.”
“I left the body in the ditch—maybe no one found him.”
“But I would’ve seen a body when I went to pick up the food—it’s sunny. Bright. You’re sure he’s dead?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I do this enough—motherfucker was dead.”
“Very weird.”
Weird but no longer my problem, and I felt lightened a little when I realized her questions were to verify his death, not because it bothered her.
“Did you find anything in Dev’s room?”
I shrugged and ate another chip. “Sort of. He’d warded it like I did this room—there were impressions from everyone who had entered and exited in the past week but not beyond. So you, then a lady I presume is from motel housekeeping, and then I saw Dev leaving with someone.”
She stopped chewing and regarded me. “Who?”
“I don’t know. The impression was degraded with the amount of time that had passed. Female, about this tall.” I gestured a little above my shoulder. “Long hair. Dev was in a rush to leave and she followed. Had he mentioned anyone?”
She shook her head. “Could be anyone. Someone from town?”
“Maybe, but she seemed...young, I guess?” I shrugged. “Again, a few brief flashes, didn’t even get colour. She was petite and her hair was straight. Dark, maybe black or brown. I didn’t see her face, they rushed out quickly.”
“I have no idea,” Melinoë said. “He never mentioned anyone to me.”
Another dead end and really big question mark, then.
Melinoë pulled out her phone while I went back to Dev’s stuff. The athame was an obvious choice for defence, though I wasn’t entirely certain what it would do if the swarm found us here. Instead, I set it aside for the time being, and focused on the other ingredients.
“Did you see all the woods around the cemetery?” she asked.
I leaned over her shoulder to glimpse the satellite images on her phone. “Didn’t get that far last night.”
She opened a new tab to search, her thumbs tapping swiftly on the screen. “Looks like it used to be a provincial park. There were trails at one point, and a boat entrance the next town over by the lake, but it’s no longer protected land.”
That was unsurprising—a previous conservative provincial government killed a lot of those programs years ago. They’d shifted their focus from gutting social programs to dealing with demons and dimensional tears, at least until they were voted out, but even more recent governments hadn’t restored all those previous cuts having to deal with all the apocalypse fallout as well. Conservatives: literally the reason why we can’t have nice things.
“So it might not have been the town or the cemetery he was here for, but those woods,” I said.
She shrugged. “Looks like.”
Great—let’s go traipsing about the forest! Surely that would end well.
Melinoë and I had both finished a bottle of ginger ale each; I rinsed those out and started throwing items in them. She watched silently from her perch on one of the beds, chewing cold nachos and not interrupting as I focused and whispered incantations over the bottles before capping them from my seat on the floor.
“Molotovs?” she said at last.
“Of the magical variety. It’s a pretty all-purpose spell, has a good reach, and now doesn’t have to be crafted on the fly. We toss one of these at the swarm and it should disrupt them, as long as the glass breaks. Not great for close combat—you’ll want to be six or more feet away.”
“It’ll affect us too?”
I nodded. “I don’t want to get too specific and risk it not harming the swarm by weaving in a bunch of exceptions. Also try to avoid pets or adorable woodland creatures.” I wrapped one bottle in a hand towel from the bathroom and set both of them in the messenger bag I’d grabbed from home then offered the strap to Melinoë.
She looked at it like it might bite her. “Why am I the pack mule?”
“Because all you’re bringing to the table is a gun and it’s not useful against the swarm.”
“I’m part demon! Like...one-eighth, okay, but still.”
“And why didn’t you unleash some demon magic during either encounter with the swarm?”
Color rose in her cheeks.
I wasn’t looking to embarrass her, per se, but just make a point. “You have raw witch power, I just wouldn’t even know how to begin teaching. I don’t remember being taught myself. What can you do in terms of demon magic?”
“Nothing...nothing like Dev. I can see residual energy and track particular demons but not all. Dev said it would amplify any magic I had as a witch but I’m useless there. So I can handle a variety of firearms and explosives, if that’s helpful.”
I thrust the bag at her again. “That’s why you’re perfect to take the magic molotovs.”
As she took the bag, I considered, briefly, whether I could actually teach her anything myself. I had a formal witch education, sure, but it was based on the substantial foundation I was raised with. Magic was never not taught in my household growing up, spells wrapped around my earliest memories. If Melinoë didn’t have the basics, I probably wasn’t the best person to teach her because I wasn’t sure if I could unravel what the basics actually were.
But I like a challenge.
I shifted my ass to make space in front of me. “Sit.”
She peered down at me skeptically. “Why?”
“I don’t know if this will work or be of any use? But it might buy us a bit of time if you can do it.” I patted the floor.
After another dubious look, she set the bag on the bed, folded her legs, and sat before me. Her shoulders tensed and hunched a little, and it was abundantly clear she was uncomfortable with the process.
“It’s small,”
I said. “But good practice.” I reached my hands out, palms up.
Tentatively she pressed her fingers down on mine, her skin cool to the touch.
“So...what, is it setting fireballs off or something?”
“Does that sound small?”
She made a face at me.
I straightened my spine and threw my shoulders back. “You’re going to learn to put up a barrier.”
“Oh yeah, simple, I’m sure.” Her fingers flexed like they might release so I clasped her hands fully and held her in place.
My eyes closed and I trusted her to do the same—once she felt comfortable and wasn’t worried about me staring at her. “This barrier spell is basically a wall of energy that will stop anything that runs into it. It relies a lot on intention combined with ability—I can throw up a fairly big one approximately where I need it.”
“Like...right in the middle of the room?”
“Right. And even I wouldn’t be able to get through it without dispelling, and it’s invisible, so you’ve gotta remember where you put it if you do it that way. But for starters, it’s easier to use an existing structure—like a door. So picture the hotel room door. That’s where you want your barrier to go.” Now was the particularly tricky part—how do you explain magic to someone who didn’t grow up feeling it? “You need to visualize magic next, and that’s highly individual. Most teachers suggest seeing a white light coating your skin.”
Melinoë was silent for a moment and I wasn’t sure if she was trying to picture it or actually mocking me. “White light isn’t going to work for me.”
“So picture something else.”
“What do you see?”
I didn’t need to picture it at all anymore, but it wasn’t like I’d forgotten. “Lightning. It’s why you see me use it now, it’s the most common way I see my own magic. So picture fire, picture colourful threads, picture—”
“Got it.”
“All right. Think back to the door and visualize the energy representing your magic gliding past you to seal the door shut. And you’re going to say parietis when you think you’ve got it.” I released her hands and opened my eyes; suddenly her own eyes flew open as well.
“Don’t you need”—she wiggled her fingers—“kumbaya handholding for this to work?”
“No, I just thought it would set the mood.” I grinned. “A witches’ circle, like in the movies.” I set my hands on my knees. “Go on. Give it a try.”
She gave me a little glare and squeezed her eyes shut again.
A prickle filled the air and touched my exposed skin.
The rush of magic was strong, tinged with a darker edge that reminded me of my brother. Hesitant, raw, invisible to the naked eye but I could feel it enough that my own energy whirled around my shoulders and down my arms, prepared for an attack even as I willed it back. Sparks of blue spat harmlessly against my skin in preparation, but Melinoë’s magic moved on, weaving around the room.
“Now you’re going to say parietis.”
“Why?” she asked.
I’d asked that umpteen times in my youth, and stifled a smile. “Because you’re unpracticed and it helps direct the spell. Magic is old and new and endless and intertwined with everyone. When you use words and phrases of a spell that many have used before, it’s sort of like cruise control—magic understands what you want.”
“Got it.” A minute of silence passed. “Out loud?”
“Preferably, yes.”
“Okay. Uh...parietis.” None of this had her relaxing at all and I figured she’d do better if I wasn’t in the room.
But then I wasn’t entirely sure this would work right now—what I expected was that she’d go on her own later and practice, and that was when she’d make strides.
The wall to my right suddenly vibrated with a slammed door.
Melinoë startled and opened her eyes, her expression flashing wariness like a child woken from a nightmare before setting into the adult who knew how to fight it. There was something I recognized there, not from myself but in others.
She settled back again, though frowned. “Motel owner, I think. The walls are thin and they fight a lot.”
“They?”
“It’s a couple. I’ve only seen the woman working, though. Guy seems like a dick.”
I peered at the wall beyond which I’d heard the noise. It would take a lot of force to feel that door slam all the way in here. I pressed my palm to the floor, flicking invisible energy forward. More vibrations of heavy steps, a loud voice. Hmm.
Silently I rose and stepped around Melinoë for the door.
“Elis...?” Her tone was both cautious and curious.
I flipped back the lock and tried the knob. It wouldn’t budge and for a moment I stared at it in confusion before it dawned on me. “Hey, your barrier worked!”
She stood and came to the door. “Seriously? You’re not...?”
I stepped back and gestured at the door. “It’s all you, babe.”
After giving the knob a tug, she grinned at me. “I did it. But...how do I undo it?”
“You don’t. Yet.” I pressed my hand to the door and gave a pulse of magic that dispelled hers. Normally that wouldn’t be so easy, but her spell was built with raw energy and not much else, and only needed a little nudge to dissipate.
A cool breeze drifted around us through the doorway. Across the parking lot, a man walked—those same stomping footfalls. Angry steps, the sort that make noise to make fear, to remind everyone of their weight and presence. His back to us, I saw nothing but worn jeans and a flapping plaid shirt, thinning brown hair. He was heading toward town after whatever argument occurred with the wife.
“Want to see the same spell in the middle of the road?” I asked softly with a raised brow at Melinoë.
She grinned. “Yes.”
I focused about ten steps ahead of him. “Parietis.”
The familiar energy of the spell swept through me, through the ground, and though there was nothing to the naked eye, I felt it weave and coil in the air at the end of the parking lot. I wondered if Melinoë could as well—I might ask her later. For now, I remained silent as we watched.
Mr. Angry Steps smacked right into the barrier.
Usually slapstick humour isn’t my thing, but it put a stop to his stomping as he stumbled back and landed on his ass.
Melinoë clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle as we watched him cautiously rise again and reach out, feeling around for the barrier—which I’d dropped again, so he simply looked the fool warily walking around something that wasn’t even there.
We stepped back again and I closed the door while we loaded up what little supplies we had.
“Would that work with the swarm?” she asked as she took the messenger bag with the magical molotovs.
“Problem there is twofold.” I didn’t have a belt to thread the athame’s sheath through, so I wedged it in the back pocket of my jeans as far down as it would go, my hoodie covering the hilt. “One, it takes a toll to hold it in place—you have to constantly feed the spell with your energy. The amount of pressure from the swarm would make it difficult to maintain—you’d be depleted quickly and then be unable to fight them off when it fell. And two, it affects everything, even you, and something like the swarm can overwhelm from all directions. I wouldn’t try it in a building without multiple exits.” I glanced around again, but nothing more magically appeared to help us. “Ready?”
She pulled out her phone again to double check the satellite views of our destination. “Ready.”
It was time to see what Dev might’ve been searching for in the woods.
Sixteen
Let’s Get Lost
“Woods” was a bit of a misnomer—it was a fucking forest.
We could see that the moment I turned the car onto Cemetery Road under the fading autumn sunlight. Sure, the satellite view suggested a lot of greenery but it just went on and on and on. Hills rose and fell in the far distance over the treetop
s, all of them the same mix of green, red, and orange. If my brother took off for the “woods”, maybe he just got fucking lost.
There was no proper entrance to it and I wasn’t about to park somewhere randomly on the road and leave my car, so we headed for the town’s cemetery.
It definitely had a greater population than the town itself. Open cast-iron gates that broke the length of fencing led to a vast cemetery with massive red oaks shading rows and rows of stones. Some markers were tall and weathered, others the more contemporary kinds. I drove slowly toward the back, watching for any mourners.
“There are no flowers,” Melinoë said after lengthy silence.
I glanced around, lips parted to point some out as I expected to see something, but she was right. Even accounting for the rising dusk, there were no bright spots of color on any of the graves. Not even the newer ones.
“I’ll be glad to figure out where Dev went and leave this weird little town.” Ahead it didn’t look like there was so much a fence ringing the cemetery as there was the back of the forest we sought. They must’ve done regular cleanup to keep that line of trees from extending any closer to the graves as they were thick like they’d been growing years and then several empty meters before the tombstones started.
Melinoë pointed out a break in the trees and what looked like a path, so I pulled the car off the narrow gravel road. We climbed out, her carrying my messenger bag, and looked around as we wandered toward the trail.
The air was crisp and smelled of freshly turned dirt, although none of the graves looked recent. The opening to the forest was oddly quiet, no rustle of leaves, no birds or scurrying animals. Though the trail was wide enough for two, I stepped through first and peered around.
It felt like a needle/haystack situation. I was shit at any kind of divining, but relying on two possibilities out here: one was that Dev couldn’t go far without casting, so I or Melinoë might sense his magic; two was that the Aanzhenii always left a trail, so we might yet encounter remnants of them if that was what he’d been looking for out here.
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