Booke of the Hidden

by Jeri Westerson

  “Okay.” At least he was being civilized about it. I could work with that. I finished my coffee, rinsed the mug in the sink, and donned my coat. With keys in hand I motioned him out the door. “I know you aren’t used to it, but we mere mortals use doors and such to get from here to there.”

  “I use doors,” he said smugly, like a pilot might brag that he flies a helicopter.

  “Look at you,” I muttered. “With your door expertise.” I headed down Main Street, crunching fallen leaves under my boots. Hard to believe that under all that New England fresh air and fall color lurked a deadly creature. With each stride my shoulder ached, and I was pissed off royally by the succubus just now.

  Erasmus’s long strides caught up to mine. I was happily taking in the village; the market, the square with its old oaks and bell tower, the barber, the old church from yesterday, gift shops, clothing shops, and even an art gallery. We passed a man standing in his yard, leaning on his rake beside a small burning pile of leaves, and I inhaled some of the woodsy smoke. I waved and he waved back.

  “So what do you think of our quaint little village?” I asked Erasmus.

  He snorted and pointed to the village green. “Did you know that used to have a pillory?”

  “No. When?”

  “Early seventeen hundreds. It was used quite a bit. Women like you would be put there to humiliate them for gossiping. It was very amusing.”

  “Oh ha, ha. It would be to you.”

  He smiled, thrusting his hands into his coat pockets. “I assure you it was.”

  The hardware store was at the other end of Main Street, right next to the new and used bookstore. I climbed the steps and pushed open the door. It was stifling inside and I was soon unbuttoning my jacket and flapping it.

  “Be with you in a minute!” said a voice from behind a shelf full of plumbing fittings and galvanized pipe.

  “Wow, it’s warm in here.”

  “Yeah, that jeezly furnace doesn’t understand the new thermostat I installed.” The face that belonged to the voice popped up from behind the shelves, and a middle-aged man with a graying goatee smiled at me.

  “Perhaps you were ignorant in its proper installation,” said Erasmus unhelpfully.

  The man’s smile faded but I stepped in front of the demon and offered an apologetic smile. “Hi. I’m Kylie Strange and I’m opening up the Strange Herbs & Teas down at the other end of town.” I fished around in my pocket for a business card and handed one to him.

  He looked it over. “Oh! I heard about you. Sorry I missed you at the get-together the other day. Had to leave early. When you openin’?”

  “Tomorrow. Come on down for some free coffee and tea. There’ll be free scones and apple pecan loaf as well.”

  “From Moody Market? I’ll be in, then. Anything I can help you with? I’m Barry Johnson, by the way.” He offered his greasy hand to shake but I demurred. “Oops,” he said, reddening. “Sorry ’bout that. Hazard of the business.”

  “Well, I hope you have some lamps. I broke mine yesterday.”

  “Lamps are down on aisle eleven. Just thataway.” He gestured.

  We wandered down the aisles, and I slapped Erasmus’s hands a few times as he picked up breakable items to examine.

  We got to the lamps and there were many serviceable types. Nothing too exotic, but then again, the furnishings in the house were all fairly standard early colonial. I chose something that looked like a hurricane lamp only electrified and took it to the front cash register.

  “I hate electric light,” muttered Erasmus.

  “I know you do. But it’s my house, isn’t it?”

  Barry wiped his hands down his dirty overalls and ducked under the counter to get behind the register. “Is that going to do it for you, Ms. Strange?”

  “Kylie. Um…you don’t happen to have any pillows, do you?”

  “A few. Aisle two.”

  I left the lamp and hurried down the aisle, picking a reasonably firm pillow. I brought it up front and set it alongside the lamp. Erasmus and Barry were staring at one another.

  I all but waved my hand in front of them. “This will do, I think.”

  Barry snapped out of it and rang it up. “That will be $51.45.”

  I handed him my debit card and perused the colorful kitchen gewgaws hanging on the wall behind him. “Say, Barry, you don’t know of any caves hereabouts, do you?”

  “Caves? Plan on doing some spelunking?” He laughed at his own joke and I tried to smile. Erasmus frowned. Barry coughed to hide his silenced laughter. “Do you mean the old Indian caves up Falcon’s Point? They got those drawings in there. Petroglyphs or something. Old Indian paintings. County is trying to make it a preservation spot. That was Karl Waters’s bailiwick, but now, of course…” He shook his head. “Savage shame what happened to him. And curious, too. I heard the rumors, but…” He handed my debit card back and was suddenly looking below my chin. “That’s a mighty unusual necklace you got there,” he said, reaching for the amulet.

  Erasmus’s hand darted forward and grabbed him by the wrist.

  “Don’t touch it!”

  Barry froze, eyes round as he stared at Erasmus.

  “Erasmus!” He let the man go. “I apologize for my friend here. He’s just visiting me. From California.”

  “He don’t sound like he comes from California,” said Barry, rubbing his wrist.

  “Northern California,” I assured, took my lamp and pillow, and made a hasty exit.

  We got a few paces down the street before I rounded on him. “Do you have to act like a complete lunatic when other people are around?”

  “He was going to touch my amulet. He must not.”

  “Really?” My hand went to it automatically. “What would happen if he did?”

  He raised his chin, shaking back his long hair. “I would have to kill him.”

  “Oh, is that all. Nice of you to tell me that ahead of time. How come you aren’t killing me?”

  “The day isn’t over yet.”

  I snorted a laugh, though, come to think of it, it wasn’t very funny. “Hey, Erasmus, the succubus saw it, too, and it scared her off.”

  A car whizzed past and his eyes followed it, full of curiosity. I found my gaze following him and I metaphorically kicked myself. “Yes, she would recognize it as a demon’s amulet,” he said absently, still looking behind him at the retreating car.

  “And? She seemed scared of it. Can that help us in some way?”

  “Yes. Always keep it around your neck. It might provide a modicum of protection.”

  We walked back to my shop. This cave excursion was going to require the car.

  I opened the shop without a word, deposited my purchases on the counter, and gathered a few things: the crossbow, a flashlight, and a map of the area. Scouring the contents of the map, I found Falcon’s Point and I saw that the caves were mentioned. Erasmus followed me silently around the shop, picking up the flashlight and turning it on and off, before I hefted the crossbow and map and headed out the door again.

  I locked up and loaded the stuff into the back seat, taking the flashlight out of his hand and motioning for him to get into the passenger side.

  I took the highway and drove up the winding road. Because the foliage was still in all its splendor, there were a few leaf peepers on the road as well, driving a bit slowly for my taste as they hung their cameras out the window to take in the fall colors.

  I was able to snake past one particularly slow BMW and punched it going up the hill.

  “Must you?” rasped my companion. When I glanced at him he was looking a bit green.

  “I want to get this over with.”

  “By getting us killed? Brilliant strategy.”

  “Such a whiner,” I said, shaking my head. “When’s the next turn?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Look at the map.”

  With a world-weary sigh, he snatched up the map and glared at it. “I don’t see what you want?”
/>   “It’s upside down, genius.”

  He raised his brows and slowly turned it. “Ah. So I see. You are on this blue line?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you will need to turn on something called Falcon’s Point Road…oddly enough.”

  “Ever so helpful,” I sing-songed. Fortunately, a sign up ahead proudly proclaimed Falcon’s Point and its cave and I made the turn at the painted arrow.

  “Now just up the hill,” said Erasmus, pleased with himself as he folded the map into its precise rectangle.

  I wasn’t able to enjoy the view, even when the trees opened and imparted a breathtaking vista of undulating fall color and distant blue hills. I followed the road until it narrowed and finally became a dirt road. I threw the switch that put the Jeep into four-wheel drive and bounced over the washboarding until it opened to a wide expanse that served more or less as a parking lot. A sign indicated that we were at a trailhead.

  Only one other car was parked there—a silver Acura with a bike rack strapped to the back. The bikes were missing which might have meant the tourists were biking on the trails.

  I couldn’t worry about them. I wasn’t going to hide the crossbow. I needed it at the ready, and tourists be damned. I slammed the car door and grabbed the crossbow and flashlight from the back seat. Stuffing my keys and cell phone in my jacket pocket, I hid my purse under the blanket in the trunk and closed it up.

  With the crossbow on my shoulder, I looked up the trail. “Coming?”

  He was beside me instantly. I wished I could learn that trick. “Of course,” he rumbled.

  “Let’s go.” I marched forward, following the sign, feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu for poor Constance Howland. It made me ask, “So you’ve been here before?”

  His gaze slid toward mine for only a moment. “Yes.”

  “You never said. If you did chase her off the cliff.”

  “As it happens, no, I did not.”

  The cold weight that had borne down on me lifted. “Well, that’s…good.”

  I thought he might say more, but he just turned and looked straight up the trail, with something of an angry expression.

  “Why are you mad now?”

  “This lack of faith. Even as I’ve tried to help you. You do not trust me.”

  “I do. But only so far. Can you blame me?” And then it occurred to me. “Did you and Constance Howland…?” I didn’t want to think about it, even though she was long dead, almost three hundred years ago.

  He bared his teeth. “NO! Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

  “It’s not ridiculous,” I mumbled.

  He grunted and tossed his duster open, kicking the long tail of it out of the way of his stride. “Look,” he said grudgingly, “I don’t know why…I was…attracted to you. This…never happens.”

  “But you said you do this with human women…”

  “Sometimes. Not often. I…I don’t generally like…humans.”

  “So why me? Why do I rate special treatment?”

  His eyes raked over me hungrily. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, before he hurtled away from me up the road.

  “I’m going to kill that succubus,” I snarled, “and write about it in that damned Booke and then this can all be over. And you can go back to whatever place you came from and we can forget this ever happened. Okay?”

  His cold, angry expression dissipated. He looked back as if he wanted to say something but held himself in check. Instead, he continued on the trail with sure strides.

  I was getting a bit winded as the trail steepened. I kept looking around us for any signs of the succubus, but I saw nothing except birds, squirrels, and the occasional wary deer way off in the undergrowth.

  It would have been a pleasant hike under other circumstances.

  Erasmus wasn’t winded at all. I wondered again about his physiology. I recalled, with a blush, having seen and felt quite a bit of it last night. How human-like was he, really? “How’s your shoulder?” I managed to ask with a roughened voice.

  He reached for it involuntarily before he let his hand fall away. “It’s fine. Healed.” He snapped his head toward me. “And yours?”

  “Still hurts a little.” I rolled the shoulder. “I guess it will heal.”

  “Likely.”

  “So what’s with the tattoo?” I blurted.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said in that voice I was coming to learn meant “keep off.”

  I frowned. “You have a tattoo, a marking on your…” I made a vague gesture toward him. “Your body. What does it mean?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing important.”

  I’ll just bet. It was a strange marking, like nothing I’d ever seen before. I’d have to ask Jolene later.

  The farther we walked the more I wished I had brought some water. The air was dry and dusty from the trail and though the weather was cold I was working up a bit of a sweat. Erasmus didn’t seem to sweat or get winded. “Is it that you just look like a human or is that your real…um…body?”

  “It’s as real as it needs to be.”

  “Now that. See that right there. That is not a straight answer. Wholly unsatisfying.”

  He smirked. “Is it?”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re doing that on purpose. It’s a joke. Erasmus Dark, demon of the Netherworlds, is joking with me.”

  The smirk deepened. But he didn’t look at me and said nothing more.

  We hiked farther. My phone rang and I quickly grabbed it. Without thinking or looking at the number, I put it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Kylie, I just want to talk to you.”

  I stopped and glared into the middle distance. “Jeff, why can’t you just leave me alone? I’m four thousand miles away.”

  “That’s killing me, babe. That you’re so far. And we were together for so long.”

  “It was only two years, Jeff. It just seemed like an eternity.”

  “Kylie, this is seriously messed up that you thought you had to escape across the whole country to run away. You didn’t have to—”

  “I didn’t run away!”

  “Fine. If it makes you feel better to think of it like that—”

  “It was like that. You cheated on me both as a business partner and a lover.”

  “Kylie!”

  “I’m hanging up. Don’t call me again. I’m blocking you.” I clicked it off before he said one more word. I looked at the phone in my hand a long while before I slipped it back into my pocket. When I raised my head, Erasmus was looking at me.

  “Who was that?” he said in a deadly voice.

  I took a deep breath. “Just someone I used to know.”

  “Another of your paramours.”

  “Well…yes. But not anymore. Definitely not anymore.”

  “You dislike him.”

  I moved on, shielding my eyes from the bleak sunshine through the trees and looked up at the rocky outcropping ahead. “You could say that.”

  “I could…help you.”

  I stopped again. “What…what do you mean by that?”

  “I could stop him from ever bothering you again.” Smoke puffed up from his jacket.

  “Whoa. No, you don’t have to do that.”

  “But it would be my pleasure.” His bared teeth suddenly looked sharp.

  “Would you stop that! You’re going to start a forest fire. I don’t need that kind of help. Just…leave it.”

  “But—”

  “Leave it!”

  He pouted. There was no other word for it.

  “Look, it’s a kind offer, but humans these days don’t go in for revenge. Or shouldn’t. I won’t. I just want to leave him to his life and let me work on mine. That okay with you?”

  He shrugged, rolling his eyes. “As you wish.”

  I shook my head and we continued on before coming to a steep bend. The ground dropped away.

  “Falcon’s Point,” said Erasmus.

  “So you do remember it.
”

  “As I said.”

  I walked to the edge and looked down. The rocky ledge was only just that and cut straight down with no sloping, no hand holds. If you went over that, you’d go all the way. I wondered about poor Constance Howland. How long did it take to fall down it? Had she done it to herself? Were her bones still down there? Likely her remains were dragged away by some animals centuries ago. It still gave me a shiver and I stepped back from the edge, running into the solid body of my demon companion. He grabbed my arms to steady me. But for a fleeting moment, I felt the rush of fear that he might be preparing to push me over.

  “Wouldn’t do to fall now,” he rasped in my ear.

  Contrary to my better judgment, I leaned back, resting against his warm frame. His breath hitched and his hands tightened on me, his lips against my hair.

  “That’s a long way down,” I said softly.

  “Very long,” he said, just as quietly.

  “I’m certainly not ready to die.”

  “You have much to do before that happens.”

  I turned in his arms, and he let me go. His intense gaze scoured mine.

  “You’re such a romantic, you silver-tongued devil.” My voice was a little shaky and I managed to step incrementally away from him.

  He tried to smile. “Not the Devil. Just a demon.”

  I smiled back and gestured toward the sign that indicated another trail to the caves. “Shouldn’t we keep going?”

  He made a slight bow and stepped aside for me. “Be my guest.”

  I hefted the crossbow to my hip, then girded myself and headed upward.

  We climbed for a long time. A cold breeze rustled the leaves, seeming to tell me to shush, to keep quiet. I walked more carefully, softly. I watched where I stepped and pricked up my ears for anything that might mean danger.

  And then I saw it. A dark gash in the hillside, like a groaning mouth in the rock. The forest service had erected some signs about the cave and its petroglyphs but I had no interest in them. My attention lay fully with that dark cavern.

  I felt Erasmus come up beside me. “Use all caution,” he murmured.

  Like I didn’t know that! I brought the crossbow to my shoulder. The string was already taut and the quarrel was in place. The silver-tipped one, with the poison.

  “Do you have the flashlight?” I whispered.