by Jenn Bennett
“What are you doing?” Lon asked.
“Looking up Hotel Guinevere. Have you ever heard of it?”
His blank expression told me that he hadn’t. I hadn’t either. Not that I knew every hotel in the city. A million people lived here. “Hotel Guinevere,” I said, reading from my phone’s web browser, “closed in 1990. It was one of the oldest hotels in the city.”
Lon’s eyelids fluttered in disbelief. “How did I not know?”
“How did I not know? This must be what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Jupe’s knack.” My head still throbbed. “I wonder if he was lying about the possession details? He wasn’t possessed himself—we’d know, right?”
“I wasn’t touching him the entire time,” Lon said despondently.
“Yeah, that’s when I started trusting him—when he touched me.”
“I think he was telling the truth at the beginning. Before his thoughts became muddled to me. But I don’t know . . . I just don’t know.”
My mind flipped through everything he told us, then I suddenly remembered what had caught my attention before the magical explosion stole it. “Mark Dare.”
Lon grunted.
“He jumped off the float less than a minute before Merrin’s explosion.”
Another grunt.
“He was at the carnival the night that the third kid was taken.”
That got his attention.
“Mark and his father don’t get along. Dare said they’d recently reconciled, but he’d also called his own son a prick—maybe Mark feels the same way about Dare.”
“There’s bad blood between them,” Lon confirmed. “But enough for Mark to team up with Merrin?”
“They must know each other—if Merrin remembered you, then surely he remembered Mark, too. And teaming up certainly would allow Mark to get revenge on Daddy, by making it appear that Dare couldn’t protect his own cubs from predators. If members were scared and pissed off, it might even get Dare impeached from the Hellfire Club and put Mark at the helm.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Cady.”
“You were right to begin with—Merrin set that fire as a distraction. And it wasn’t for the Halloween protesters. That was a load of crap.”
Lon didn’t answer. He just pulled me back into the moving crowd, and we plowed our way through to the float.
Police lights flashed red and blue on the parade route where the fire truck had been parked. But not all of the police were investigating the Little Red Riding Hood crime scene—several surrounded the Dare Energy float. A fresh rush of panic swept over me as I quickly inspected the area. The kids were all huddled at the front of the float with two police officers. Adults were being questions by other cops. I was searching for Mark Dare when his father stepped into our path.
“Where the hell have you two been?” Dare snapped. His face was red. His halo was bright and big, practically crackling. He wasn’t happy.
Lon was unfazed. “Chasing after Merrin.”
Dare was momentarily confused.
“I told one of your guards when we left,” Lon added. “The fire on the float was magical—not real. Merrin’s spellwork. We saw him and chased him down.”
“Well, where is he then?”
Lon didn’t answer.
“You fucking let him get away—again?”
“He used magick,” I said. “He turned Lon’s knack around on us.”
Lon quickly explained what happened with Merrin, but his eyes were on the float the entire time, watching the cops. He finally stopped midsentence. “What’s going on here?”
“Juanita and Ben’s kid got taken right off the fucking float.”
“No,” I said weakly.
“That’s right,” Dare said, barely containing his anger. “Fifteen minutes ago, while you two imbeciles were being bamboozled by Merrin.”
“But the guards . . .” Lon said. “How?”
“Everyone was watching the damn fire truck and the damn police cars and the exodus of the people from the Little Red Riding Hood float. The boy was standing near the back of the float. One of the guards felt movement behind him. By the time he turned around, the boy was gone. Right under our noses!”
I wanted to throw up. My voice was almost a whisper. “It wasn’t Merrin, then.”
“Where’s your son, Ambrose?” Lon’s voice was even and cool as ice.
Dare stared at him, not answering.
“I asked you a question. Where’s Mark?”
“He was at the carnival the night the third teen was taken,” I said quickly. “He slipped off this float right before the explosion. Merrin told us that back in the eighties, Duke Chora only possessed him for short periods of time. The person possessed this time around . . . you might not even realize . . .” I faltered as I watched Mark Dare approaching us.
“One of the police signaled him off the float,” Dare said slowly. “He was asking about our weapons permits for the guards when the explosion happened. He returned immediately, and helped the guards search the barricades with the help of the police when the kid was snatched. My son has been right here the whole time, Ms. Bell.”
My heart sank as Mark stopped in front of me, all blond hair and blue halo. He didn’t look possessed. He looked royally pissed. Like he hated my guts.
“It was a logical leap,” Lon said. “It looked suspicious. So let’s all calm down and figure things out. No one saw the kid being dragged into the crowd? No one at all?”
For a moment, Mark continued to stare at me like I was trash, then he finally spoke. “Not a damn thing. It’s as if the child just disappeared. No one spotted anyone with mismatched eyes, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Lon shook his head. “We chased down Merrin. It couldn’t have been him.”
“Tell me what happened. In detail, if you would,” Dare said.
Lon doesn’t do detail well. I listened to him recite a bare-bones account of what happened and had to stop myself from interrupting to add things, but the Dares got the gist of it well enough. Lon tried to pinpoint the exact points in Merrin’s interrogation that he had trouble “hearing” him.
I thought about it, trying to make sense of it all.
If we assumed that the beginning of Merrin’s story was at least half true, then maybe Merrin really hadn’t been aware of the duke’s final plans for the “vessels” when he was puppeted into snatching the kids for the demon. But Merrin was a talented magician; an experienced magician. And he’d snooped around after the Buné spell failed, asking other Æthyric demons what the duke was up to. He found out that the veil had been pierced by the spell, and knew that the duke could come back in thirty years to try again.
And if I were unscrupulous and egotistical, like Merrin, and an Æthyric demon had not only used me to kill a bunch of kids but had also nearly killed me from the inside out after it was over, I would want revenge against the duke. I would do whatever it took to kill the duke, or at the very least, banish him permanently. I would want me and Lon to track him down and help me get rid of the demon.
So why didn’t Merrin?
He had to be working with the duke again. It was the only thing that made sense. He set the magical fire on the float to divert attention away from the Dare float. He was helping whoever was possessed. The getaway driver, so to speak.
I knew damn well that I didn’t trust that asshole the moment Lon pulled him out of the restroom stall. I should’ve trusted my instinct and used Moonchild right then. But I didn’t. And now look what happened. Another kid gone.
Dare’s fury-laden voice plowed over Lon’s account of what transpired with Merrin in the restaurant. “What you’re telling me, then, is that you don’t know jack shit. Merrin may or may not have lied the entire time.”
I’ll admit, Lon’s account sounded pretty dubious even to me. And I could see that it was killing him to lay the whole messy thing out in front of Dare. It was killing me, too. But all I could think about—what repeated over and over in my hea
d—was that another kid was taken. This was my idea, bringing the kids here. It could’ve been Mark Dare’s kid here tonight; could’ve been Jupe. In the end, the kid who was taken tonight was innocent, just like the others, but this time it was my fault. I forced Dare into the baiting plan. Me.
Tears welled. I couldn’t stop them. I was shaky and exhausted and I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But I couldn’t. I had to fix things. I needed to get home, or someplace private, where I could try to summon Duke Chora again. If he was riding someone right now, and if Bishop had been telling the truth about the possessions being timed and temporary, then maybe I could summon him in a few hours. At dawn. A long shot, but it was all I had.
“This is a disaster,” Dare said, looking between me and Lon. “And tomorrow is Halloween night, so let me tell you what’s going to happen. All of the remaining kids are going to be locked up in a room inside my house at noon. I’m putting a hundred armed guards inside and outside that room. And tomorrow night, I’m going to send a hundred more people to patrol the streets of La Sirena. The two of you are going to help them. And you’re not going to sleep until you bring me back every single one of the missing kids, and Merrin’s head on a fucking pike.”
Lon and I said nothing. Mark Dare turned and shook his head as he walked back to the police officers near the float. His father marched toward me until he stood an inch away. I tried to step back, but he got in my face and spoke in an angry whisper—“I am not happy”—so close I could feel his hot breath on my face. “You have failed me, and you are now mine. I own you. You will spend the rest of your life repaying me for the lives that have been stolen from my community under your watch.”
My heart was beating so fast I thought it might break through my chest. I could hear Lon behind Dare, telling him to leave me alone, but his voice might as well been a mile away.
Dare’s head dropped lower. He spoke directly in my ear. “A lifetime of service. I own you now. Me, Ambrose Dare, and the Hellfire Club, not your occult order, the E∴E∴ Do you understand me . . . Sélène Duval?”
My skin grew cold. My pulse was faster than a hummingbird’s wings. The sound of the crowd receded. There was nothing but Dare’s voice in my ear, even as it lowered to the barest whisper: “I know who you are now.”
Halloween.
Our busiest night at the bar, and I wouldn’t be there. Kar Yee wasn’t happy. Neither was Jupe as he dumped Mr. Piggy’s crate on my coffee table late that afternoon and shrugged his backpack off his shoulder. “Worst birthday, ever,” he grumbled.
I had to agree. I pocketed my phone and ran a hand through the back of Jupe’s frizzy hair. Foxglove’s sleek black form trotted around my living room, sniffing every corner and cataloging all the strange scents that her keen Lab nose encountered; it was her first visit here. Last night after the parade disaster, Lon and I drove back to La Sirena and took turns checking on Jupe while he slept. Today we made a new plan and filled the SUV like Noah’s Ark, loading up every person and beast, minus the Holidays, and drove here to my place.
I hadn’t slept or eaten. My stomach was still twisted in knots from an attempted summoning earlier in the day. Two attempted summonings, actually, both of them failures. Chora didn’t appear, which meant that he wasn’t in the Æthyr during the daytime. Merrin had lied. Big surprise. I wondered if he really had an Æthyric spell that could call Chora on this plane, or if that was just a lie, too.
When I caught my reflection in the window, I couldn’t believe it was me. Then again, maybe I didn’t recognize myself because I didn’t really know who I was anymore. Sélène was supposed to be buried in my past, along with my dead parents. The only connection I had to that life was through E∴E∴, and that was minimal at best these days.
Hadn’t I suffered enough? I just wanted it all to go away. I wanted a nice, normal life. No Moonchild, no FBI, no serial-killer parents. No looking over my shoulder and being constantly afraid. But Dare wouldn’t let that happen now.
“Trick-or-treating is banned throughout the entire county? How can that be legal?” Jupe complained.
Lon ignored him. “There are too many windows in here. The house ward will keep Merrin from coming inside, but it won’t stop a bullet if he shoots through the window.”
“Your place has twice as much glass,” I argued.
“Either way, I’m not going to Dare’s house,” Jupe said as he opened the door to Mr. Piggy’s crate and pulled out the hedgehog. “No way. I hate all those kids. I’m not gonna sit around in some rich guy’s panic room all night like a sitting duck.”
“I already told you that you didn’t have to,” Lon said. “He can kiss my ass.”
“Good,” Jupe said. “Besides, Foxglove will warn us if anything comes. If she can see ghosts, she can see anything.”
Lon smoothed a thumb down one side of his mustache. “We could leave town. We’ve got a good four, five hours of daylight left.”
“You know I can’t do that,” I said. “And I don’t want you and Jupe to be unprotected halfway down the coast. We stick to our plan—you stay here with Jupe, and I’m going to get far away from both of you and meet up with Dare’s people.”
“And then what? I know you’re planning something.”
I darted a glance at Jupe.
“Go to the kitchen,” Lon said. “Cady and I need to talk in private.”
“I can hear you in the kitchen,” Jupe argued. “It’s still daytime. I’ll just go outside.”
“No,” Lon and I said in unison.
He crossed long arms over his chest. “I’m the one who’s the damn target. You might as well say what you’re going to say in front of me.”
“He’s right. No secrets,” I said, giving Lon a soft smile. I wilted onto the couch and curled up on my side like a cooked shrimp. “I’m taking Hajo with us to track down the kid who was taken off the Halloween float last night.”
“Hajo?” Jupe said. “Who’s Hajo?”
“Are you kidding me?” Lon said. “Absolutely not. Is that who you were on the phone with earlier?”
“No. I was on the phone with Bob and then Dare. Bob already arranged things with Hajo. He’s coming here to pick me up—”
Every muscle in Lon’s neck strained in anger. “You’re inviting a junkie into your house—”
“Junkie?” Jupe said.
“—who wants to get in your pants—”
“Wait, what?” Jupe’s interest was now fully piqued. “Who wants to get in your pants?”
“Will both of you please shut up?” I said in exasperation. “Bob is coming to take me to Hajo. He will stay with me the entire time, along with a couple of Dare’s men.” I glanced at Jupe. “No one’s getting in anyone’s pants. Your dad is being dramatic.”
“My dad? Dramatic?” Jupe snorted. “The Æthyr just froze over.”
“Cady,” Lon pleaded.
“I don’t want to do this—believe me. But if there’s a chance that Hajo can track the kid’s energy—”
“He tracks dead things. How do we even know he can track someone alive? What if he was just bragging?”
“He says he’ll try. Do you have a better idea? Because if you do, I’ll call him back right now and cancel the whole thing.”
“What about Cindy Brolin?”
I looked at him in confusion.
“At Starry Market. She said she was having nightmares, remember? Maybe they weren’t just old memories. She was the one who got away—what if Chora has been possessing her against her will, without her knowledge?”
Jupe gave Lon a questioning look. “Cindy Brolin could be the Snatcher?”
“She works night shift at the market,” I said. “Which means she sleeps during the day. The demon is possessing someone who’s taking the kids during the night—when she’s at work.”
“Maybe she did it on her days off,” Lon said, but without much conviction.
“Call the market and give the manager some legitimate-sounding reason for him to tell
you when she worked the last two weeks,” I said. “If her off-time overlaps with the snatchings, then Hajo and I can start looking there.”
Silence fell.
“What does he want in payment this time?” Lon asked quietly.
“I didn’t ask.”
After a few moments, Lon walked around the sofa and slouched next to me. He pulled me closer. I laid my head against his chest and closed my eyes. “Think about boarding up some of the windows or holing up in the basement. I need to rest now. Wake me if you discover anything damning about Cindy Brolin’s schedule.”
Lon agreed and I took a restless nap on the couch. He didn’t wake me after calling the market; Cindy Brolin had worked during all six kidnappings—she wasn’t involved.
Bob was late. He pulled up in my driveway just before twilight. Foxglove barked her head off, circling his legs. “Oh! I don’t like dogs,” he said, jumping to the side.
I tugged Foxglove’s collar. “Dogs don’t seem to like you either. Get inside.”
Upon entering my house, Bob greeted Lon in a cheerfully strained voice. “Mr. Butler.”
Lon didn’t answer.
Bob’s smile cracked. He looked beyond Lon. “This must be your son.”
Jupe paused The Mummy—“The good one from 1932, with Boris Karloff,” he had told me, when I mistook it for the newer franchise—and inspected Bob with curiosity. “Are you the junkie?”
“No, this is my friend Bob,” I said. “I know him from Tambuku. He’s a healer,” I added, just to make sure Jupe disconnected Bob from the junkie thing.
“Oh, cool,” Jupe said. “I like your shirt.”
More hula girls. At least it was PG and not an R-rated one—Hawaiian leis covered their breasts.
“It’s vintage,” Bob said.
“That’s pretty cool. I like old stuff.”
Bob cleared his throat. “Uh, Cady said it was your birthday. I brought some Halloween candy.” He offered Jupe a plastic bag shaped like an upside-down witch hat.
Jupe gave him a toothy smile. “Wow! Thanks, man.”