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We arrived at the crossroads right before dusk. The black Escalade tailed us the entire way, even creeping along behind us on our walk to the motel to pick up Bubonic. Caleb could’ve given us a ride, but I wanted him clear of this mess as soon as possible. The less demons saw him hanging around me, the better.
We’d made plans for Caleb to catch up with us at the motel later. Like me, Araceli didn’t carry a phone. I didn’t ask her why she also shunned technology. But when you can do much of what a smartphone offered with the right incantations, it becomes less of a necessity.
Besides, I felt a little less naked. Strapped, sheathed, I could put another medicine bag together if needed. Having the blade and bullets suited me just fine for now.
That breastplate though...I felt a cold circle of emptiness where it should be. The Deputy had sent the bag off for lab work. They would likely try to apply civil forfeiture to the gold plate. I might just have to add breaking and entering into an evidence locker to my growing rap sheet.
Araceli hadn’t said much. I had the feeling she wanted time to think through her part in all this. Maybe scheme about how she was going to get to the sword first.
Demons wanted the sword bad. They’d probably destroy it if possible. Araceli made it sound like she had some sort of religious duty when it came to the blade. Wield it against Armageddon? Who talks like that except warrior nuns of royal blood out to avenge their fathers?
This was the deeper, more complex world of magic I’d wanted to search for cures. But I’d have preferred it to be on the down low. I didn’t want to get dragged into any of the complications.
Being too involved seemed kind of like the difference between these rural cops and a Fed. Jurisdiction and bureaucracy both multiplied into an unwieldy anchor. Any freelance search for personal gain would fall under serious scrutiny. Araceli could have her sword and her righteous battles. I wanted one thing and then I wanted to be done with it all. For good.
I brought Bubonic to a slow stop and let her idle. “We’re here.”
Araceli scanned the intersection then peered skeptically into the thick undergrowth. She ducked and twisted to try and see the Escalade through the curtained rear glass. Headlights dimmed behind us in the growing darkness.
“And why here?” she asked.
“More of that stick magic,” I said. “That’s what Atofo says the Spaniards called his beliefs.”
“Palo,” Araceli chimed. “Vudu. Hoodoo. All of it very primitive, much like this place.”
I cranked the column shifter into park and got comfortable. “You in the jungle, baby.” I laughed but didn’t earn a smile from her. “Yeah, I never thought I’d be creeping around the woods at night trying to talk to spirits or whatever. A place needs more concrete to be real. Corner stores with chicken boxes and the nearest liquor store not a full county over in some booze DMZ.” I glanced out the window at the woods. “Too far from a streetlamp and I get creeped out.”
Now she laughed. “Worse things than the dark await you.”
“Me?” I said, sitting forward to lean on the wheel. “Like me, personally? If you’re trying to predict my future, I’ve already heard all the bad omens.”
“Not just you, this whole country. This New World. Traditional magic never had a chance to establish here.”
“Plenty of magic ‘round here before Europeans arrived.” I slunk back into the seat. I didn’t need the traditional versus native noise. I understood that better than she or even Atofo could seem to understand.
Araceli clenched her jaw. She was likely remembering her commute with Atofo again. “Yes, there was magic. And it could not keep back the tide.”
“Tide of what?”
“Evil.” She saw me frown in disagreement and only spoke faster. “True evil exists. If you believe me that there are ancient schools dedicated to the practice of magic, believe me that there are entire organizations intent on using that power to subjugate the mortal population and control them for dark purposes.”
“This your Armageddon we’re talking about? You know how many crazies with cardboard signs I’ve rousted off corners spouting the same nonsense? Or how long religions have been talking about the end of the world?”
She bit her lip and readied another salvo of Truth. “The end won’t come in a big flood or a rain of fire. The end comes slowly, stealthily. I told you how time for the magical world runs on a different scale, no? These forces have been planning and shaping the end since the very beginning. That is why you have heard of Doomsday, the End Times, Armageddon, so often.” She withdrew, growing quieter. “It is a persistent event, one we are constantly edging toward until one day, we’re falling and don’t know how it happened.”
I couldn’t deny her passion. I couldn’t accept her truth either. If I did, it meant my own small piece of this world and dreams for a future had already been lost.
“You say it that way, maybe The End has already happened?” She shook her head at the idea. “How do you know?”
Her gaze intensified as she peered through the windshield. “If it were over, I wouldn’t be here to fight.”
Nothing but respect for her certainty. I wanted to believe, ask her more about her world. Understanding why these demonic freaks were in my backyard wouldn’t be a bad thing. But then I’d be drawn into somebody else’s war. Another shoot out on the streets when all I wanted was to go home.
In the wild, in the trenches, you had to take sides to survive. As a cop, I’d chosen just another faction in a never-ending war. Yeah, we were sworn to uphold the law. But that law always belonged to somebody else, not me. I wasn’t proud of everything I’d done, but all of it had been to stay alive, protect my family, do what I felt would be right for the neighborhood where I grew up, not for those who wrote the laws from the safety of their gated communities. Unlike Araceli, I knew better than to pledge an oath to any kind of fraternal order ever again.
“Come on,” I said and popped open the door. “Let’s do this.”
We were both standing just behind Bubonic’s open doors when headlights approached from the direction of the manor. I waited, keeping several inches of Detroit steel between myself and the newcomer.
Hallewell’s police cruiser rolled to a stop. Window down, he rested cockily with his thick arm propped on the door.
“I heard you got Deputy Gardener to release you?” He smiled as he said it, cool and casual. “I might need to reconsider his appointment.”
“He’s only doing his job. Want to do yours?” I motioned toward the Escalade down the road. “I’ve got a stalking complaint.”
The Sheriff tilted his hat and leaned out the window. “Don’t see nothing.”
“Right.”
“You’re a bit late to tamper with the crime scene. Seems we got some hair and fiber that might be interesting.” He pushed a finger under the brim of his hat. “Darker than my brother’s.”
“You better get that into evidence then, huh?”
He smiled. “I’d ask you to stay close,” his eyes wandered up the road toward the SUV, “but I’ll know where you are. And if you find anything of interest, best you return it to me, or you’ll have ten counties of lawmen searching for you.”
I gave him a perfunctory head twitch and watched him drive off. He stuck out a hand and waved at the Escalade as he passed.
“You believe this clown?” I turned to look at Araceli. She kept staring intently after the retreating taillights. “What?”
“The car, did you see the emblem on the door?”
I shrugged. I’d noticed it, sure. Standard star-shaped badge sheriffs have been using since they rode horses. Nothing stood out.
“I’ve seen it up close. Got a ride to the station in it. Backseat is a magic dead zone. They’ve got holding cells and interrogation rooms set up the same way.”
“Marked on the side like that and you got in?” She quirked her head in disbelief and slammed her car door. “How are you still alive?”
“Wasn’t a problem.” I closed my door more carefully. I’d make sure to skip the part where I figured out just how bad it was only after I’d been booked. “They need me to find this sword. Just like you do, you feel me?”
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, walking toward the intersection.
Up the road, Fortune’s house remained dark, his stoop, empty. I caught up to Araceli and stopped her before she entered the crossroads itself. For a second, I thought she might Judo throw me.
“Stay clear. This is hoodoo not even I’m familiar with.” I extended a hand, requesting her dagger. She slipped one out, spun it effortlessly on her fingertips, and set the grip in my palm. I’d expected to feel the clunkiness of that flat handle, but it settled against my palm smooth as butter. I nodded a thanks and moved forward, happy for once to showboat in front of the so-called professional. “Why can’t you cast your own sword location spells? All that training you guys just never lose stuff?”
“Divination isn’t my field of expertise. I’m an alchemist. I make blades, not find them.”
“Field of expertise? Out here, My Lady, we gotta know it all. Divinate,” I said, rolling up my sleeve. “Exterminate. Propagate. Atofo and his people never made up reasons why they couldn’t cast a spell.” I held her dagger over my forearm, ready for the cut.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
Fortune said the sacrifice had been given. The first night I’d tried this though, I hadn’t seen or felt anything. No weakening of the pathways into the Above or Below, no magical surges. Sometimes you needed to improvise. Or so my informal schooling said.
“Donating a little blood. Gotta get the energy flowing.”
“People don’t feed magic that way anymore! They haven’t for centuries.”
“What are you talking about?” I let the blade fall and pointed toward the scattered scars on her forearms. “I’ve seen the way you let the forge sear into your bare skin.”
Araceli suddenly looked away and tucked her arms close. “It isn’t about that.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I said, and readied the blade again.
“Light pressure,” she warned. “You’ll take your arm off or cut an artery if you use too much. I don’t think the sheriff will send an EMT.”
I grasped the blade between thumb and forefinger to placate her. Slowly, I lowered it to my arm, exaggerating the amount of caution. When the edge contacted my skin, I didn’t feel anything, only saw thick blood suddenly welling up from a deep cut.
“Damn,” I said, examining the blade. “You could split atoms with this!”
“Cuts Damascus steel like grass,” she said. “Pure silver, of the kind only alchemical processes can produce.”
I measured the weight again in my hand. Strong yet perfectly balanced, I could’ve tossed it into the Earth from hip level, but it might not stop until it killed an unsuspecting Australian. Respectful, I knelt and traced a circle. Instead of drizzling blood into the channel for a circle of protection, I dribbled a little puddle directly in the center and pierced it with the knife. A calling. An opening puncture between the worlds.
Darkness had started to fall, the treetops melding into the blackness. Our discreet tail blatantly flicked on their headlights to see what we were up to. Far enough away, the edge of their beams just caught us. My shadow projected into the greater sea of pitch black. I felt unnerved. Not spiritually but because of the lack of concrete and brick on all sides. So far, no mojo. I turned to Araceli to shrug.
She drew her dagger.
Surely, she wasn’t about to cut me. I followed her gaze up the street where my shadow towered then merged with the ragged tree line. A single red orb glowed right beyond the beams from the SUV. From there emitted a low, menacing growl.
I heard the rhythmic creak of a rocker on Fortune’s porch. Light not reaching him, I couldn’t see the smile I knew would be on his face.
“You done pissed off the plat-eye,” Fortune cackled.