by Hannah Marae
Ignatius opened the heavy door and stepped back to let Lazarus and Eden pass into the trailer. They shuffled inside, and the door creaked closed, entombing them in the darkness.
Eden sucked in a shallow breath, moving to put space between herself and the hunters. It took everything she had not to power up every sigil inked into her body. What if this was all some elaborate trap? She was starting to trust Lazarus and Zeke, but what if she was wrong? Silently Eden sent power through the sleep sigil on her fingertip, ready to incapacitate both men so she could make a break for it and flee.
Then the lights flicked on.
Lazarus was staring at her, his eyes running from her face down to the lit-up tattoo on her finger. Quickly, she extinguished the sigil, though she was sure he had seen it. She looked back up, expecting to see his disapproval. Instead, something strange lay there, a sort of sadness behind his eyes, his mouth tight with resignation. He glanced away as Ignatius brushed past, completely unaware of what had happened.
Keeping some distance from the others, Eden paused to take in the room. The trailer had been remodeled into an open space, neat and orderly but full of a maddening array of objects. Glass cases lined one wall. Weapons sat inside, firearms mostly, and an assortment of spelled daggers with sigils carved into their blades. Eden walked the line, running her eyes over roughly bound tomes with yellowed pages, old grimoires written by all sorts of mages. She spotted quite a few on sigil magic but was unsurprised to see other types added to the mix. When her eyes fell on a dark book with the symbol of blood mages, she shuddered and moved away.
Against the opposite wall was a row of pre-fab shelving units. There were sunglasses like the ones Eden spelled along with hand mirrors and compacts and shards of reflective glass. More than a dozen glass jars filled to the brim with old coins sat above a sigil mage’s dream in the form of inkwells and etching tools.
It was an impressive collection, one that could not have been easy to come by. The whole place was like a hunter’s general store, a one-stop shop, and a roadhouse to boot.
“Not bad,” Eden commented as she leafed through a pocket-sized notebook with heavy paper.
Lazarus snorted. “Beats lipstick?”
“I mean, whatever works,” Ignatius said. “It’s why we hold magic in coins, right?” He turned to Lazarus, who’d come to a stop beside one of the glass cases. “The usual?”
“Plus some silver bullets and a spelled blade. Zeke lost the last one.” Lazarus jerked his head in Eden’s direction. “And whatever she needs.”
“Well, I’d best get shopping.”
Eden ignored the inkwells and quills and instead picked up a felt pen with refillable ink cartridges. A sigil could be written with anything on anything, a line in the dirt or eyeliner on a mirror. Still, smooth lines meant less chance the symbols would fail or deteriorate. On the other side of the trailer, Ignatius produced a box of bullets while Lazarus picked out a dagger.
“How many coins?” Ignatius asked, motioning to one of the jars filled with pennies and dimes.
“Hey, can you do channeling coins?” Lazarus asked over his shoulder.
Making coins was tedious work, but it was just the sort of thing to take Eden’s mind off Mab. Plus, she had promised to repay Lazarus any way she could. This would go a long way toward getting on his good side. She waved a hand. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”
“Give me a handful to keep us going until she can spell up some more.”
“Must be nice to have a mage aboard.” Ignatius huffed good-humoredly. “You’ll run me out of business.”
Eden didn’t know any other mages, but Mab claimed most charged a fortune for their services. Looking around at all the magical items in the room, she supposed Ignatius was extremely wealthy or good at getting a deal.
“I can spell a few things if you want,” Eden offered. “As long as I know the sigil, I don’t mind.”
Ignatius gave a lazy half-grin. “You know, I was hoping you’d say that.”
He brought over a shattered mirror, and Eden set to work imbuing the shards with a sight sigil. Taking a careful hold of each fragment, she etched the symbol before summoning a bead of power to activate the magic.
Lazarus stood off to the side while she worked, but Eden could feel him watching her. “It’s kind of funny how closely our people work.” At his confused look, she elaborated. “Mages and hunters. I never really realized.”
He shrugged, crossing the trailer to stand beside her. “I think we need you more than you need us.” Picking up a shard, Lazarus turned it over in his hands, looking into the glass. His expression was blank, completely unreadable, but a heaviness settled in his eyes.
“Yes, well, I suppose if hunters didn’t exorcise spirits, then mages would have to do it. So really, you’re saving us time.”
He laughed a hesitant chuckle. “Someone has to do the job.”
“Can’t leave those pesky ghosts out there with free rein to do whatever they want.” She set the shard aside and picked up another, carefully adding the sigil on one corner. “Not to mention vampires and werewolves and gorgons.”
“Or ghouls, demons, and vasolc.”
Eden knitted her brows. “Don’t think I’ve heard of that one.”
Across the room, Ignatius looked up from the crate he loaded with supplies. “Soul-suckers,” he called. “The only way to kill them is a spelled dagger to the brain.” He held up the dagger Lazarus had picked out before pointedly tucking it into the crate.
Before Eden could shoot him the glare building behind her eyes, Lazarus held up his hands in mock defense. “We’re not hunting one, but it never hurts to be safe.”
The sigils tattooed down Eden’s arms could attest to that. Over the past few years, she’d had many symbols inked into her skin, some she’d yet to use. She liked that they were there. It was comforting.
And maybe that was how they were the same, she and Lazarus. Eden was never the type to run headlong into danger, even when it was the right thing to do. If she had to make a stand, she preferred to do it with a measure of caution. She’d always been quick to light up her protective sigils, a fact that had Mab continually rolling her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Lazarus’s deep voice broke through her thoughts. “For the church, I mean.” He paused, looking at the ground, his shell so clearly cracking. “I know if Zeke were in trouble, nothing would stop me from helping him.” He looked up, cautiously meeting her eyes. “I hope your friend is okay.”
Unconsciously, Eden’s hand reached up to rest against her chest. The tattoo pulsed beneath her fingers, and she could feel its warmth through her shirt. Every moment since Mab called, she could feel it there, buzzing over her heart. But she’d barely noticed it all afternoon. That worried her. If she could get used to this constant, horrible reminder, what if she got used to Mab being gone? What if she could move on without really meaning to?
“I hope so too.” She crossed her arms and thought of the vision. “Mab is alive. I just have to hold onto that.”
——
Ten minutes later, they left the trailer with a crate full of supplies. As Ignatius locked up behind them, Eden and Lazarus started walking through the dark back to the house.
Halfway there, a rustling noise drew Eden’s attention. Hades, she figured. He seemed to be fond of running off. She scanned the shadows for the big black dog, wondering what he’d been getting up to. When she heard a set of paws padding through the shrubs, she turned to greet him.
A wolf, jet black with red eyes, loped out of the darkness and into the light of the back porch. The thing was huge, bigger than any wolf had a right to be. Eden glanced nervously for Lazarus as the creature stalked closer. Was it a werewolf? A shifter? She knew Lazarus had a pistol in the shoulder holster beneath his flannel shirt, but he hadn’t drawn it, hadn’t done anything but cock his head to the side. Why wasn’t he doing anything?
Hot breath warmed her face, and the wolf stopped before her. Eden stood still as
stone as it lowered its head and erupted into a cloud of black smoke. Surprised, she jumped back, thudding against Lazarus’s chest. He reached out with one hand to grab her arm. “You all right?”
The cloud swirled, roiling as it coalesced into a familiar shape. A moment later, a black German shepherd sat smiling before her.
“Hades?” She looked to Lazarus, hoping for some explanation. For some proof she wasn’t seeing things.
He frowned at her until realization dawned on his face. “Oh, the smoke? He’s a hellhound. I thought I mentioned that.”
“You didn’t!” Eden protested. How was that even possible? She’d known hellhounds existed in the same sense that she knew demons were real. But she’d never seen one, never even heard of one on this plane. Shouldn’t Hades be, well, in hell? “How did you get a hellhound?”
“We didn’t get a hellhound.” Lazarus put down the crate and bent to one knee, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “He just showed up one day and wouldn’t leave.”
“And you didn’t think that was weird? That a hellhound would just show up? Isn’t that like a bad omen or something? Most people would be a little disturbed, Lazarus.”
Behind them, Ignatius cut in, “Lazarus is around too much weird to tell the difference.” To Hades, he said, “Hey pal. You ready for the hunt?” The dog whined and followed Ignatius back into the house.
Lazarus leaned down and spoke in a low voice. “I guess I should probably tell you that Ig is a shifter. Coyote.”
Shaking her head, Eden said, “You know, I’m not all that surprised about that one. Anything else I should know about? Is
Zeke secretly a vampire? Do you turn into a wolf under the full moon?”
Lazarus laughed. “No, I’m afraid we’re perfectly ordinary.”
“You and your cousin hunt ghosts for a living. Ordinary is not the word I’d use.”
Back inside, Zeke had finished dinner and set the table. He spewed out dumb jokes, and Lazarus and Ignatius swapped hunting stories that she was sure had been told a dozen times over. But they were new to her. She listened in fascination, drinking a beer and then another until her head buzzed like the tattoo she no longer noticed.
Eventually, she and Zeke moved into the parlor, sitting side by side on the piano bench, playing a duet that mostly consisted of smashing the keys at random. At the same time, Zeke belted out old country songs. Lazarus and Ignatius remained at the dining room table for a long while. The stories melted into words of a lowered tone. Eden stole glances down the hall, catching glimpses of Lazarus’s tight frown and tense shoulders. She wondered if he ever truly relaxed.
Later, after Zeke had passed out on the floor, Lazarus and Ignatius finally got up. Eden had been reclined on the couch, flipping her phone over in her hands and staring at the ceiling. She sat up as Lazarus entered and made a feeble attempt at suppressing a yawn.
Stepping over Zeke, Lazarus grabbed her backpack and led her up the stairs to the guest room. It was small but cozy, with a twin bed under the window and an attached bathroom. Honestly, it was an improvement over the motels she tended to frequent.
“Hey.” Lazarus passed Eden her bag and then nervously raked a hand through his dark hair. “I spoke to Ignatius. He’s . . .” He hesitated, shifting his weight between his feet. “He’s got something I need to check out.”
Her first thought was to protest. They had already lost a day on the last job, and now he wanted to do another? Eden was about to let out a snappy retort, but first she had a thought, an idea involving spirits and visions.
“Is it another ghost?”
“Yes.” Lazarus eyed her warily. “It’s along our route, barely out of the way. Someone’s dead, and more will follow if I don’t—”
“All right,” Eden replied. “If it’ll be quick.”
He stood there for a moment, looking down at her, unsure of what to say. She supposed he had been bracing himself for the snappy retort. “Okay,” he said, sounding somewhat relieved.
Eden wished him good night and retreated into her room. The truth was the thought of another delay was distressing. Time was of the essence, and she didn’t know how much Mab had left. But the vision still nagged at her. Eden had seen something when she touched that ghost, and she was willing to bet she could make it happen again.
Lazarus fully expected to find the mage had slipped away in the night.
When he passed by her room the next morning, the door was ajar, and the bed was freshly made. Lazarus figured that she must have walked into town to hitch a ride or grab a car from one of the Nowhere people. Hell, he wouldn’t have been shocked to discover she’d stolen his truck, not after what he told her last night.
Instead, he found her sitting downstairs having coffee with Ignatius. In the parlor, Zeke still sprawled on the floor, fully dressed and drooling out the side of his mouth. Hades had curled up alongside him, his form changed to that of a fluffy black Pomeranian.
Lazarus would never say it out loud, and he could barely admit it to himself, but he was glad she stuck around. Relieved, even. Whatever she might think, he really did want to help. When Ignatius had pulled him aside after dinner to bring up this job a few towns over, he tried to ignore the call. Someone else could take care of the haunt—Ignatius even said he could try to track down another hunter—but all evening it nagged at him. He couldn’t leave it behind, not when they were so close.
After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Lazarus spoke briefly with Ignatius. The shifter had been out all night with Hades, hunting apparently, but he didn’t look tired. If anything, Ig seemed more energized than ever.
“Have you two eaten yet?” Lazarus finished his coffee and placed the mug in the sink. Both shook their heads. “Let’s go into town. I’m buying.”
It was his way of, hopefully, smoothing things over with the mage. He didn’t regret accepting the job, but he was sorry for derailing the trip. Again.
To his relief, she nodded. “Breakfast sounds good.”
Lips pulled into a grin, Lazarus yelled over his shoulder, “Zeke, wake up!”
A muffled groan answered and then a yelp as Hades launched himself up and into the kitchen, slipping back into his preferred form. Zeke followed, eyes red and black hair in knots, a smear of dried drool escaping from the corner of his mouth.
“Someone said breakfast?” He slumped at the table, his head cradled in his palms. “Just let me . . .” A soft snore followed.
With an amused smirk, Ignatius wandered back into the kitchen. “I’ll put more coffee on.”
——
Thirty minutes and a pot of coffee later, they managed to get Zeke on two feet and out the door. Lazarus parked the truck beside Ignatius’s Chevy Nova, both vehicles standing out like a pair of sore thumbs among Nowhere’s nondescript sedans.
Inside, the diner was mostly empty. It was early, and the Nowhere people were still waiting in the wings for their parts of the script to begin. The ones that were around sat quietly, drinking coffee and peering over crisp newspapers. It was only when he looked closely that Lazarus noticed they never turned the page.
Zeke led them to his favorite booth, and they all piled in.
The waitress, Pam, took their orders and soon filled the table with steaming dishes. Zeke had his usual stack of pancakes and sugary coffee while Lazarus settled on an egg and bacon sandwich. Ignatius dug through a mound of biscuits and gravy with fat sausage links on the side. After some deliberation, the mage joined Zeke on the pancake team, the both of them drizzling far too much maple syrup over their plates.
When they were finished, Lazarus paid with a fake card he used exclusively in Nowhere. Bought off Ignatius a few years back, the card was just a piece of plastic spelled by a mage. He didn’t feel right having it, but spirits didn’t know the difference, and he wasn’t about to throw away real money on what amounted to an illusion from the Good Night.
Back in the parking lot, they traded brief goodbyes. Nowhere was beginning to wake, and Lazarus itch
ed to get moving. He knew the mage would feel similarly.
They were out of town by mid-morning. The silence was marred by the sound of the road alongside Zeke’s mix pouring from the radio. Guitar solos and whiny vocals blared louder than Lazarus would prefer, but he ignored it. Better to have the silence eaten up by music than it hanging over them, cloying and pervasive.
The day passed in a blur of road, and they stopped only to gas up the truck and hit the drive-thru of a fast-food joint. By afternoon they pulled into town. Passing through, Lazarus followed Ignatius’s directions back into the desert.
The haunting was an abandoned drive-in, tucked away in the middle of nowhere. Apparently, the place was a source of local legend, some tale involving an ax murderer and a bunch of teenagers, real horror movie stuff. For years, it was just a quirky myth, and according to Ignatius, teens would trek out to park in front of the old theater screen.
But a few weeks ago, the stories changed, local chatter speaking of the screen lighting up even after all these years, playing a scene from an old b-movie. It was pretty innocuous as far as spirits went, and Lazarus had a theory the culprit was one of the teenagers killed in the initial attack. He had Zeke researching on his phone on the drive over, finding the victims’ names and where they were buried. Luckily, all three were laid to rest in the town’s cemetery.
Lazarus pulled into the dirt parking lot. He released the wheel, then sighed and rolled his shoulders. Zeke was already cranking the door open to shamble out of the cab and into the desert. In the bed, Hades collapsed into a puff of smoke. He drifted into the air, riding the breeze.
“That’s so weird,” Eden said. She turned to gaze into the afternoon sky, small hand shielding her eyes against the sun.
“That’s Hades for you.” Lazarus closed the door behind him, pacing a few yards to stretch his legs. “He smokes off like that all the time, but somehow he always manages to find his way home.”
