by Kayla Krantz
A girl lunges for us but we dodge and her fists land on a different girl behind us and then Hell is born. No longer are the demons just going after us, they’re hitting each other with such force that it’s hard to believe they’re not breaking bones. I back away from the thickest part of the fight, looking for the easiest escape route when the “friendly” demon from before grabs my arm and looks me in the eye.
“Ready to go now?” he asks.
Every instinct to argue has been wiped clean by the dozens of unfriendly eyes in the bar. I don’t know why he’s helping me, but he seems to be the only one who will. I don’t argue as he pulls me outside into the night, leaving the bar full of angry, blood-thirsty demons brawling it out behind.
4.
WE RUN AND run and run. Blocks, streets, miles, and he doesn’t seem any worse for the wear. I’m panting, heart pounding, the edges of my vision are starting to blacken giving me one of the worst cases of tunnel-vision I’ve ever had. I swoon over my feet and finally, the demon stops running, ducking into the cover of a nearby alley. I gladly take the opportunity to sit down beside a dumpster and I look up at him through the shadows.
He doesn’t look at me, his gaze focused out toward the street as if he’s ready to knock out every demon that’s decided to follow us this far. His face looks just the same now as it had in the bar even for the fight and the long sprint that had happened in between.
“Looks as if we’re in the clear now, witchy,” he says, black eyes finally finding me in the shadows.
“Why did…you save me?” I ask, panting for breath as I hold a hand to my side, pushing away the pain that’s throbbing there.
The demon sets his fingers to the wall, glancing out into the street again before looking back at me. “I don’t know. It just seems like you have a great story to tell and I’m a sucker for a good tale.”
“I don’t even know your name,” I say.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he says with a wink.
I glare up at him, still trying to get my head to stop swimming. The last thing I want is to pass out.
He holds his palms up. “Alright, alright. Don’t look at me like that. It was just a joke. I’m Marcus.”
I stare at him. Such a normal name for a supposed monster.
He stares back, widening his eyes a bit. “This is the part where you tell me yours…?”
“Talia,” I say, finally finding the strength to stand to my feet. I lean heavily against the wall, testing out my legs to make sure the worst of the cramps have all but disappeared.
He bobs his head in approval. “Not a bad name at all, my dear.” Then he freezes and glances back out at the street, taking just one small step backward to conceal himself completely in the lip of shadows at the entrance of the alley.
“What is it?” I ask, eyes wide as I try to disconnect myself from the wall.
“We’re not safe yet.”
“Where do we go?” I ask, staring down the alley though all I can see is blackness the further on it goes. The thought of more running leaves me ready to collapse. I don’t know how much more I can take before my body will simply give out on me.
“Not far now,” Marcus assures, rushing past me down the alley and I follow him, knowing I have no other choice.
I would be no match for the crowd if it caught up to me here. Even if somehow, I was, we’ve run so far into the depths of demon territory that I don’t know how to get back to my Coven from here. After the incident in the bar, I have no doubt that the entire town will be searching for me. It doesn’t help that nearly all of my features are distinctive. If Marcus decides he’s tired of me, then I’m in some real trouble.
Can’t think about that now! Then I pause, considering. Abigail, can you hear me?
No response. Not that I expected there to be after I cut off communication earlier. Marcus comes to a stop at the end of the alley where a patch of mud and muck has been sloshed against the bricks on the wall.
“We’re here,” he says, tapping his finger to the dirty rocks.
“It’s a dead end,” I say pointedly.
“Maybe to you witches,” he says and pokes me in the nose before he sets his other hand to the grimy wall.
I scrunch my face, knowing he couldn’t pay me to touch that wall, and watch as the “mud” on the wall begins to change colors under his hand. It lightens to a purple similar to my eyes before it rises up, the bricks disappearing beneath the muck, and a light appears, a sliver of brightness before it disappears all at once and a door stands in place. I stare at it dumbfounded, unsure of what I just witnessed.
Marcus removes his hand from the wall and grasps the knob, pulling it open to reveal darkness on the other side before he looks at me and smiles. “After you, m’lady.”
Not a phrase I’ve ever wanted to hear from a demon, really, but when I glance between the darkness of the pit and Marcus’ calm face, I know that I don’t have any other choice. A drunk demon is better than no ally at all. He proved that much in the bar.
Without him, I’d most likely be tied to a stake and burned right now.
Like I’m about to dive into a pool of water, I hold my breath and rush into the darkness, not sure what to expect on the other side. Marcus follows behind me, his laughter following me as he closes the door, submerging us momentarily in darkness.
“I can’t see.”
“Hold on,” Marcus says and I hear the tug of a pullcord before a single bare lightbulb fills the room.
I look around—expecting what, I don’t know—but I’m surprised when I don’t see it. The place we’re in is simple, a small room with a sofa and a table. There’s a window on the wall opposite from the door but it’s been sealed in with bricks. Past the “window” is a dark hallway that I’m not curious at all to see where it goes. I turn to Marcus as he plops down on a sofa, slinging his jacket across the back before he stares at me expectantly to do the same.
“Where are we?” I ask as my eyes finally come to a rest on him.
He laughs. “What charming naivety! My house.”
That’s such a normal response in these unusual times that I shake off the insult. “Are we safe here?”
“Safer than out there,” he says with a shrug.
I can’t resist another glance to the brick-filled window and with that, my body cries out for rest. I sit down on the floor in the place I had been standing, feeling the instant relief in all of my screaming muscles.
Marcus raises an eyebrow and glances quizzically at the expanse of empty sofa beside him. “Well, we’re most likely going to be here for a while if we’re going to wait out that crowd so I think it’s story time.”
I run a hand through my curly black hair, peeling off the single strands that had been plastered to my neck with sweat. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
“You said at the bar that you were looking for somebody,” Marcus says, sitting forward to set his hands on his knees.
I bob my head and look down at my nails, trying to decide the best way to explain from here. “Yes.”
His eyes stretch wide as he waits impatiently for me to continue. “And?”
“Who was the other witch? The one dabbling in black magic?” I ask, avoiding his question.
Understanding dawns across Marcus’ face. “Ah. Friend of yours, was he?”
“Possibly,” I say, wondering just how much of Ian’s fate Marcus actually knows. “What did he look like?”
Marcus shrugs. “At the bar, he always disguised his appearance using magic so he looked like just another demon.”
I scrunch my face. “Then how do you know he was a witch?”
“He was a regular and really, that kind of disguise can’t fool me. Plus, he always went by the same alias. Shadow,” Marcus replies. “In my opinion, if you’re going to go that far with magic, at least change your damn name once in a while.”
Marcus’ words are little more than background noise. My heart could stop beating and I don’t thi
nk I’d notice. Shadow. That was the name I always called Ian and I thought just me alone.
You are the light to my darkness and I am the darkness to your light because without one, there cannot be the other, he had said.
Like an idiot, I had eaten it up without thinking twice of the possible meaning behind it. “That’s him,” I say stiffly.
Marcus picks up on the reaction and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Doesn’t seem as if you’re too happy with even the thought of him. Why come all this way for a witch you hate?”
I stare at him but don’t know how to answer. People do crazy things for love, it’s true, but I don’t want to admit that out loud. If Marcus knows about Ian’s business on this side of the border then he might have known him better than I had. The thought stings and I pinch the inside of my left wrist to distract my mind from spiraling too deep while in Marcus’ company.
“He was murdered,” I say at last, for once not picturing the memory. “And his body was left on my doorstep.”
Marcus breathes in deep as if he had expected that answer. “Look, I know what you’re probably thinking but I promise I had nothing to do with that. The only time I ever saw him was at the bar. Never before and never after.”
For some reason, I believe him. A cynical voice in the back of my mind tries to convince me that it’s because I looked into his eyes, that he’s brainwashing me like my Elders have always told me demons will do if given the chance.
But he hasn’t. I know he hasn’t. He wouldn’t have risked everything to get me out of that bar if he was the bad guy, right? He would’ve just let the others tear me apart or would’ve been the first to do so. I hold onto that thought, tightly and desperately, and hope that all the cynicism in the world won’t make me lose that grip.
“What did he do in the bar?” I ask, voice raspy with hesitation.
“He’d get a drink or two and talk to a guy named Reddick,” Marcus continues and I fall out of my internal musings to stare at him.
“Who’s that?”
“Witchy, if you’re in the market to get messed up in the same things as your friend, you’re not off to a good start.”
“You don’t say,” I spit, waving my arms to showcase the situation I’m currently in.
“Well, Reddick, in my opinion, he’s scum, but officially he sells supplies. Bones, plants, spellbooks, you know, all the bullshit for black magic. A lot of it is just junk really, fakes he sells to make a little extra profit.”
I send him a scathing look.
“What?” he asks and shrugs. “Like I said, the guy is a scumbag. If your friend had the real stuff…well…it never comes for cheap.”
“That…sounds about right,” I admit and hang my head. I don’t know what about his tone that leaves me feeling ashamed but it does.
Marcus grins. “You knew? What kind of spells were you in the market for?”
“I’m not…” I swallow and trail off.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” he jeers. “What is it with you witches coming to the dark side?”
I look at him but don’t speak right away. “I don’t know. I’m not here for supplies, or black magic, or anything that Ia—Shadow—got himself into. I’m just…”
“Here for answers?” he guesses.
I nod, glad that I won’t have to explain much more than I already have because really, I don’t think I have it in me to do so. “Do you know Reddick?”
“Not personally,” Marcus replies. “I’ve seen him around and I know what he does but for the most part, I’ve kept our conversations limited.”
“Oh,” I reply, “But you know how to get in touch with him?”
Marcus sighs and sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe but with the bar knocked out, I’ll have to think of another way to approach him.”
5.
THERE’S UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE in the house for a time period that lasts too long for my comfort. So, I get up, skirting the edges of the room and looking at everything the place has to offer.
“We’re in for a long night,” Marcus admits, watching me from his place on the sofa. “Do you want something to eat? I don’t have much but maybe we could go out and grab a bite while we figure this out? Maybe get a coffee? Caffeine could do you some good.”
I rub at my eyes, feeling the bags that must be obvious at this point. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept and while caffeine does sound like Heaven, I wonder if it’ll really be able to help me in this state. After all, caffeine does not cure existential exhaustion.
“How can we go anywhere? Won’t they be looking for us? For me?” I ask, turning to look at him.
Marcus considers it, staring at me for the longest moment. “I doubt it. They’ve probably already forgotten all about it and gone back to drinking and whatever the hell else it is they do.”
I stare at him, drawing my eyebrows together. Somehow, I doubt it could be that easy. “I’m a witch,” I remind him.
Marcus shrugs. “And? The treaty has never been as big of a deal to us as it is to your kind.”
That explains their less than apparent concern for Ian’s trips.
“Okay,” I sigh and my shoulders slump.
Who am I to argue with him? For a demon, he has extended more kindness to me than I thought they were even capable of and I’m still not really sure why. Is it possible that the stories of them enjoying fighting are so true that they’ll swoop on any opportunity they get to do so? I lift my hand to press at my temple feeling in no mood to try and figure it out.
I’ve got enough other problems on my plate and if I’m going to get to the bottom of Ian’s mystery, I need to forget everything else. Despite Marcus’ assurances that the other demons will have lost interest, I’m uneasy as we leave his house. He leads the way without being asked to do so, keeping me cloaked in his own shadow as we travel across town. I’m constantly searching over my shoulder, convinced there will be demons waiting for us, but no one says a word as we approach a diner that looks abandoned from the parking lot. I pull my hood back up over my head as we approach the door. Inside it’s calm and quiet, reminding me of a scene straight out of the ‘50’s. Marcus leads us to a booth in the back and insists I sit nestled against the wall with him on the other side of me.
He must think I’m a fool if I don’t recognize the signs for what they are—he’s worried which means we aren’t out of the clear just yet. Marcus doesn’t say anything about it, pretending that it’s just a typical day. He orders two plates of food and when he sets mine in front of me, I just stare at it.
He’s already wolfed half of his own portion down before he even notices my hesitation. “It’s not poisoned,” he assures me.
I don’t feel any better. I peer at him from under the edge of my hood. “How can you be so sure?”
“These are good people here.”
I snort before realizing that he’s serious. That’s a hard thought for me to accept. Demons? Being good? He blinks at me, looking fairly insulted until I pick up my fork and stuff a bite into my mouth. Marcus bobs his head approvingly and puts the last bite of his food in his mouth.
The pancakes are warm and moist and my stomach accepts the offering with a greedy growl. Not only has it been a while since I’ve slept, I can’t remember my last meal. I take another bite, encouraged by the fact that Marcus got through his portion without complaint and he looks even happier for it. Marcus stops chewing abruptly, eyes caught on something across the café before he stands up, pushing away his empty dishes with a clatter. I stop, mid-bite as if someone had pressed the pause button on me.
“I’ll be right back,” he says without further explanation and hurries away before I even have the time to set the fork down.
In that moment, I find myself questioning every life choice that I’ve ever made that’s led me to this point in time. I feel stupid, sitting in the booth alone, surrounded by my worst enemy, eating the food they’ve given me. I don’t know where Marcus is going and as
such, I don’t know if he’ll come back. What if the riot from the bar finds me here before he returns?
My anxiety eases when he reappears less than a minute later but when I see that he’s not alone, I want to throw up everything I had just eaten.
6.
I MUST LOOK as feral as I feel because Marcus holds his hands out, a peace sign to both me and his companion who is staring at me with the same expression I imagine myself to be using while staring right back at him.
“It’s okay, everybody’s fine,” Marcus says, sliding back into his seat beside me. “This is Talia. Talia, this is my friend, Alec.”
The word “friend” should ease away any uncertainty I feel but it doesn’t. Alec is a big hulking thing with short brown curls and a face that looks battle ready. He slips into the seat across from me and we take a long moment just to stare at one another.
“You’ll pardon my friend for staring. He’s never seen a female witch before,” Marcus whispers in my ear.
Alec frowns at him. “Not true. I’m just not used to seeing them, that’s all.”
Marcus laughs and sits back in his seat. “Tomato, tamato, really.”
“Does he know Reddick?” I ask and the good cheer disappears from Alec’s face immediately.
“She knows Reddick?” he asks Marcus. “How does she know Reddick?”
The panic on his face should concern me but it doesn’t. All I’m focused on is the fact that he knows this mystery demon, the one I need to track down in order to figure out what happened to Ian the final time he crossed the boundary.
“How do you know Reddick?” I retort, catching and holding his eyes despite every cautionary tale I’ve ever heard in my life.
“I-I…” he flounders for words and I realize that despite his exterior, this is not a tough man, not a fighter. He’s sensitive and pinned under my stare, he’s panicking. That tickles me in the same way Marcus’ words had when he said “good people.”
