Come, Seeling Night

by Daniel Humphreys

  After exchanging fist bumps and handshakes, I promised the bros I’d bring my girlfriend to their next keg party and left them to finish their own trip. Hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt, I started walking before they pulled onto the on-ramp. I wasn’t much concerned about them spotting my face on the news and reporting that they’d given me a ride—I wouldn’t be here for long.

  Returning to Kent’s subdivision was a surreal experience. Had it only been a few days since the De La Rosa brothers and I filled a cooler with drinks and ice at this gas station before heading to Upward Path? I’d crossed the country twice, and even though I’d grabbed snatches of sleep at every possible moment, I still had to hold back a yawn as I considered the street leading to Kent’s house.

  Rather than head straight in, I went south for another half-block, looked around, then turned invisible. From there I cut across a few yards until I came out onto my friend’s street where it curved down and around.

  I stood in front of the Sikora house for a few minutes to take it all in. The emergency vehicles were gone, and all that remained of the place my friend had called home was a sidewalk, a driveway, and piles of rubbled blocks. The wreckage no longer smoked, but the area still smelled strongly of fire.

  Someone had shoved metal bars into the ground to support long strands of yellow police tape. I ducked under the obstruction and walked slowly around the perimeter. Away from the road, I judged it was late enough that I could drop my cloak. The windows of the homes on either side were dark, and the shadows were deep enough to conceal my presence.

  “Stop stalling,” I muttered under my breath, then shook my head. I’d spent so much time focused on what I had to do over the last frantic hours that now, presented with the moment, I hesitated.

  Keeping myself from knowing wouldn’t change the truth. Coming back here seemed to clear my memories of that night a bit, and I remembered some discussion of survivors.

  But that didn’t mean that everyone I’d left behind had made it to that point. I took a deep breath, steeled my will, and pushed. “Is anyone there?”

  Ashes stirred in the breeze. I thought I heard the far-off barking of a dog, but I remained alone. Good.

  A girl stood directly behind me when I turned to head back to the street, and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight of her. She wasn’t the first ghost I’d ever seen or even the worst-looking, but her sudden appearance prompted an involuntary, high-pitched squeal of alarm. Big, bad wizard. I shook my head ruefully. Squeak like a chipmunk when you spot a ghost.

  She’d been short in life, maybe an inch over five feet, and stocky. Her face was classically beautiful—high cheekbones, full lips, and a dusting of freckles. Despite the breeze, her red hair remained perfectly still, without a single curl out of place.

  “I don’t know you,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I’m sorry to bother you. If you want, I can—”

  I know you, Paxton. Well—I knew your mother, I should say.

  I fought my fight-or-flight urge and tried to keep my tone even. “You’re one of … Mother’s little helpers, I guess?”

  She smiled a little at the joke. I’m Roxanne. We called it a coven, but we were never equals. She used us.

  “Not the first time she’s done that sort of thing, Roxanne,” I said. “You were here when it all went down?”

  Yes.

  “Are my friends all right?”

  I died before the house burnt down—I didn’t see that part.

  “What happened here?” Something about the ghost of the girl was off. Ghosts weren’t usually lucid. They’re the echo of a living, breathing soul; a psychic snapshot imprinted on the universe by the agony of a horrific death. There are various levels to it—individual definitions of horror do tend to vary from person to person—but as I liked to quip, ghosts weren’t all there. It could have had something to her being a witch, and wasn’t that a disconcerting thought? If there were ever reasons to wish to die in your sleep, not ending up as a ghost had to be one of the biggest.

  Helen used a tracking spell to find you. We came for the grimoire, but right as we arrived they attacked.

  “Who? My friends?”

  No, she shook her head. Helen said it was Division M. There was a, I don’t know, a werewolf or something. Plus some guy in a massive suit of armor. I took the werewolf out, but the suit of armor killed Giselle before the familiars could take it down. After that… She shrugged. I died. I watched the glowing man kill Kelsey, but I didn’t realize what I was until later.

  “Glowing man? Werewolf?” I shook my head slowly. The little voice in the back of my head whispered that I knew exactly who the glowing man was, but I pushed it down. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to find my friends.” I gathered my will. The ability to speak to ghosts works with the push and allowed me to pull back the curtain on reality. When ghosts learned the truth of their existence, their energy faded away. It’s a melancholy practice for me, but their pain seems real enough.

  If I had the power to relieve that while keeping them from haunting the living, is it so wrong to make use of it?

  As though she sensed what was about to happen, the girl ghost blurted, Wait! I don’t know where to find your friends, but I know where they took the motor home we came in. Maybe yours will be there, too.

  I cocked my head and gave her a suspicious frown. “How does that work? Did you follow them, or something?”

  I can’t explain it, I just feel it. She shrugged. Some of my things are in there, and I feel this connection to them, I guess you could call it. It’s been going away, but for now, it’s there.

  “I’ve got a partner already. You helped my Mother kidnap her,” I pointed out. “After you and your crew broke her out of jail.”

  Must be nice to have never made a mistake in your life.

  “That’s not the point. Losing a cell phone or getting into a car accident is a mistake. Turning frat boys into brainwashed clones is not a mistake. Throwing fireballs around and burning buildings down is a really poor life choice, to say the list.” I spread my palms wide, reminding myself to keep my voice down, lest I rouse the neighbors. “You and all your friends received a gift that millions of people out there would do anything for, and you squandered it. Do you know what my Mother wants to do with the grimoire?”

  Her silent voice, if it was possible, was very small. No.

  I reached for the words, flinching as the images I’d seen when I’d taken a glance at the spell popped into the forefront of my memories. “She’s going to end the world,” I said, finally. “The stuff I saw makes an Emmerich movie look like a fairy tale.”

  Then you need all the help you can get to stop her, right?

  “What’s in it for you?”

  What, you don’t believe in redemption?

  I stared at her partially translucent form and considered. It wasn’t like anyone else would see her. I’d have to watch myself more than her, to make sure I didn’t speak out of turn when anyone else could hear. Slap a Bluetooth earpiece in, no one will notice. I shook my head, holding back laughter at the thought, then shrugged. “Fair enough,” I agreed. The thought of heading back into town was annoying, but maybe I could find a similar deal that had gotten me up here.

  At some point, I was going to have to find a place to hole up to sleep, which complicated things. The night simplified my movements, but public transport didn’t run twenty-four hours a day. “Which way?” I asked, finally.

  The ghost—Roxanne, I told myself—hesitated, then pointed generally southeast.

  Well, that eliminates the west side of town, at least. I checked my watch and tried to remember the route schedule from the bus. The same route I’d taken north would be running for a few hours, and it was close enough to the Interstate for me to walk. If I could make it there before the last run of the night, we could head south and take periodic bearings. When her instinct told her directly east, or somewhere close, we’d start heading that way. Just thinking of it sounded tedi
ous, but I didn’t have much choice unless I wanted to resort to stealing someone’s car.

  There’s already a target on your back. Doing something like that is the equivalent of jumping up and down and screaming, “Hey, come and get me!”

  “I guess we’d better get going,” I said, finally.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paxton—Early Tuesday morning

  Phoenix, Arizona

  By the time I found someone heading south who was willing to give me a ride, we’d missed the last bus route for the day. But sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good.

  The guy who finally agreed to give me a ride, Marvin Donaher, had one condition. He was heading to his late shift at Honeywell, and he couldn’t drop me off on Happy Valley Road, where I’d caught my first ride. He did, however, take us further south to Deer Valley, his normal exit.

  Roxanne ‘sat’ in the backseat—though I suppose you could more accurately describe it as hovering in place. As soon as Marvin got off of the exit and headed east, she bounced in place. I’d never seen barely-restrained excitement from a ghost before. I had to force myself to look away to keep from laughing.

  Marvin pulled over in the parking lot of one of the Valley’s ubiquitous Circle Ks. “This work well enough?”

  “This is perfect, sir, thank you.” I dug a twenty out of my pocket and tried to hand it over, but he waved it away.

  “I can’t take your money, son. This is on my way as it is. I hope you track your friend down and get your keys back.”

  The comment threw me for a split-second before I remembered the little white lie I’d used an excuse for the ride. “Well, thank you again. This sort of thing never happens when you’ve got your phone. I appreciate the help—don’t work too hard tonight!”

  He winked. “There’s a reason I prefer the late shift, it’s nice and slow. Take it easy, kid.”

  I stayed silent until he’d pulled out of the parking lot, then said, under my breath, “What’s up?”

  The direction changed. It’s straight east, now.

  That was an unexpected boon, and I shrugged and went with it. The way things had been going the last few days, I figured the universe owed me a little luck.

  Following the sidewalk, I headed that way. This late, the streets were mostly abandoned, all the businesses shut down save for periodic fast food joints. My stomach growled at the sight, but I forced myself to push on. If Roxanne’s RV was in some sort of impound yard or evidence lockup, my best bet was to get to it before the start of the workday, so I could take my time to search without concern for anyone seeing me.

  The negative little voice in the back of my head chose that moment to bring up something I’d been trying not to think about. And what if my RV is there, too? That would mean that Division M had caught the guys, and I was well and truly on my own, save for a ghost of uncertain reliability. I crossed mental fingers. This will all be a lot easier if Carlos and the guys are somewhere waiting for me.

  If it was there, I doubted that I’d be able to retrieve my own vehicle. Even if I got the opportunity to do so, it wouldn’t make sense. The Thor was too slow and too obvious. What I did have, though, was a Kawasaki Vulcan 750 motorcycle strapped to a rack on the back. If my luck held out, the spare key I kept stashed inside my motor home would still be there, and I’d gain a set of wheels. The bike was common enough that it shouldn’t raise any eyebrows, even after my adversaries noticed its disappearance.

  “What would be in your RV, anyway?”

  Clothing and food mostly. That won’t be much help, but there’s a folder, a Trapper Keeper, with all the spells we were able to collect. I don’t know what you can do, maybe there’s something in there that will give you a better chance against Helen.

  “Trapper Keeper?” I chuckled. “That’s great—what kind?”

  My Little Pony—Twilight Sparkle. If a ghost could sound sheepish, Roxanne fit the bill. The tracking spell Helen used to find you might be in there, too.

  I shrugged. “I’m not getting my hopes up. I’ll be happy to throw together a travel bag and get my bike back.” After that, food, sleep, and in the morning, I need to get a phone and figure out a way to get in touch with the De La Rosa brothers.

  I’d half-hoped that I’d find some sign of their presence at Kent’s house—nothing so overt as a trail of breadcrumbs, but something to give me a clue where they might have gone off to. If Roxanne’s tracking spell panned out, that was an opportunity. If the authorities had taken the trouble to tow Mother’s vehicle to whatever lay in front of us, surely they’d gone through it looking for evidence. Would they have taken a Twilight Sparkle binder? I guessed yes and hoped not.

  Half an hour later and over two miles down the road, I was ready to throw in the towel. Gut feeling or not, there was no sign of anything like a police impound and the buildings were starting to become few and far between. I told myself I’d go a bit further, and if we didn’t find anything, I was turning around and hitting the Taco Bell by the interstate.

  Shortly thereafter, when I saw the building complex and the fence surrounding it, I had to resist the urge to slap my forehead. Even in the predawn hours, many of the office lights burned inside the glass-and-stone building. At first glance, I might have assumed it was an ordinary office building, albeit with better than normal security. Bits of metal missing from the stylized copper sign on the concrete pillar out front created a stylized fingerprint, and the legend on the sign read ‘FBI Phoenix Division.’

  “Well, shit,” I said. Glancing at Roxanne, I raised an eyebrow. She nodded and pointed to the rear of the building.

  Back there, somewhere.

  It didn’t change things all that much. I’d planned on going invisible until I was behind cover, anyway. Taking a look around to make sure no cars approached, I went ahead and threw up the cloak. I started walking again, but the need to hurry lent urgency to my steps.

  The parking lot on the west side of the building remained empty save for a few sedans. Another entrance lay on the west side of the building, and as I approached I stiffened. A well-lit guard station secured the entrance on that side of the complex, and two serious men sat inside. Slowing my steps, I eased around one of the arms in an unconscious pantomime of how I’d entered the Upward Path campus. I’d had backup then, but the lack of cavalry in my current situation didn’t entirely explain my discomfort. Tangling with cultists and monsters was one thing—I really, really didn’t want to pick a fight with Federal law enforcement. I didn’t like this whole ‘man on the run’ shtick. The fact that they’d started it meant that I might not get my choice.

  The road curved back to the west around the rear of the building. Roxanne had no problem seeing me despite the invisibility spell, and every time I looked to her for clarification, she’d nod or point onward. One way or another, I was on the right track.

  A secondary fence, interwoven with plastic strips to create a visual barrier, stood past a trio of loading docks. I didn’t need Roxanne to show me the way now—the familiar upper half of my RV was visible above the fence. “Damn it,” I whispered. “If it’s here, where are they?”

  There didn’t seem to be any obvious surveillance cameras in view, but I found a shadowed section of the fence before I dropped my cloak and phased through. The eclectic collection of vehicles in this secondary lot made me wonder if the other vehicles were from other crime scenes. You didn’t see a canary-yellow Lamborghinis parked between a Range Rover and motorhomes every day, after all.

  That’s ours, Roxanne said, pointing. I didn’t recognize the model off the top of my head, but it was a larger, more luxurious one than my own. A massive impact had punched the big window at the rear of the coach out of its frame. Familiar-looking streaks of black viscera surrounded the gaping wound. Someone had taped heavy plastic sheeting over the hole and the stained areas—to preserve any evidence, I guessed.

  From the looks of the impact crater, I really didn’t want to stick my head inside of the other RV to s
ee what sort of stomach-turning gazpacho the hit had made of the familiar. On the bright side, my sidekick of the moment didn’t have a sense of smell. “Can you check it out?”

  Roxanne stared at the rear of the RV for a moment before shrugging. She faded out of sight as she walked toward the vehicle. I considered waiting for her to complete her search, but I decided the less time we spent back here, the better.

  I moved around to the side and phased through the door. I’m no neat freak, but I keep things in their place. The piles of stuff thrown around inside told me that the Feds had searched the place. I hadn’t owned this vehicle long enough to add the same hidden storage that I had in my previous RV, so didn’t expect any of my backup weapons to remain. After a quick check, no pleasant surprises were forthcoming.

  On the other hand, pretty much everything else was still inside, though it took a bit of work to sort through the piles to find what I wanted. Checking the refrigerator, I rolled my eyes when I saw that someone had taken all the Mountain Dew I’d left in there. “Cheers, I guess,” I muttered. I popped open a Tupperware container I’d stashed among the condiments in the door and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that no one had taken my spare motorcycle key.

  After a few days with little more than the clothes on my back, I took a strange satisfaction in packing up my own toothbrush, miscellaneous toiletries, and outfit selections that would work in any number of climates. Shouldering my backpack, I munched on a Pop-Tart and took a final look around to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. Nothing else jumped out at me, so I grabbed my helmet and phased back through the door. Roxanne stood outside, but to my credit, I didn’t flinch this time.

  “You could have come in,” I said, forcing a grin. I headed around to the back and started working on the straps and pins that held the Vulcan to the tailgate rack.

  Didn’t want to impose, I guess.

  Straining, I had to find a balance between letting the bike roll down the ramps and keeping it from making too much noise. I usually didn’t pay much attention to the racket, and I winced now as metal rang off the pavement. The quiet of the night made it stand out that much more. I crossed my fingers and prayed that if the guards heard it, they’d pass it off as street noise. Propping the Vulcan on its kickstand, I went through the process of stowing the ramps and straps. If my luck held, maybe no one would notice the missing bike for a day or two. “Any luck?”