by Angie Fox
They were clean.
Hades. I wasn’t sure where to go next. Several paths branched off from our little clearing, like spokes on a wheel. I counted six, including the one we’d just used.
“What way is the best, bub?” I asked. He’d been down some of these.
Pirate lay down in a sunny spot. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t like to pay attention to where I’m going. Spoils the surprise, you know?”
No, I didn’t. I’d had my fill of surprises lately.
“Hold on,” I said, as if my dog was going anywhere.
I opened up my demon slayer senses and reached out, hoping, praying I’d get at least some sign of where we should go.
Nothing.
Lovely. I sighed, not sure what to do. Yes, I could pick a path, any path, but we only had about two hours of daylight left. I could get some biker witches to help us look. At this point, we were all on equal footing—searching without the benefit my demonic warning system.
“Help me,” I said, to no one in particular.
A filmy mass hovered on the path up ahead and left. I froze, felt my heart speed up as she began to take shape—long, fluttering hair, a rounded face. It was the ghost I’d seen from the window as I was being sucked dry by poison.
She stood, watching me, wearing that same old-fashioned wedding gown.
She beckoned me with a long, bony finger.
“Oh, hell.”
“Ha! You cussed. This must be serious. What did you find? I’ll eat it.”
“Can it, Pirate.” Things had changed.
I didn’t know if she was evil or good. A helper, or a creature that wanted to lure me to my doom.
Now or never.
“Come on, Pirate,” I said, leading him toward the darkened path.
Chapter Fourteen
The dead woman had to pick the darkest, twistiest path. We followed her anyway. She wanted to show us something, and as far as I was concerned, the more I could learn about this place, the closer I was to determining what in Hades was happening to me and to my possessed wedding guest.
Of course, I have to admit it was a bit nerve wracking when the path took a sudden twist and we lost sight of the clearing behind us.
“Stick close, Pirate,” I ordered.
For once in his life, my dog listened. He kept his nose to the ground and ears up as we trailed the ghost deeper into the garden.
The tangling vines above us grew thicker. The air was heavier with every breath, every step. The ghost widened the distance between us. I could still see her, barely, on the shadowed path ahead. She hovered higher as the path twisted once more.
“See that?” I muttered to my dog, “she’s changing.” She was even beginning to fade.
“I still don’t see anything.” Pirate sniffed the air. “Can’t smell her, either.”
I stepped past part of the trellis that had fallen in. It had broken in several places back here. Tree branches shot through, garden debris spilled onto the path. It was as if the entire structure was under siege.
“Do ghosts even have smells?” I was afraid to take my eyes off her as she passed through a waterfall of wild ivy.
“Everything has a smell,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Like this place? It smells like rotten flowers and mucky dirt.”
I didn’t need his nose to tell me that.
“It’s actually kind of nice,” Pirate mused. The leaves to the left of me crackled as he paused to bury his nose in a pile of dead foliage. “Um hum. I’m detecting floral tones with a touch of dark oak. Dry, with a surprising boldness.”
“Focus.” I knew he was a connoisseur, but we didn’t have the time.
It worried me that the dog with such a natural affinity for specters couldn’t contact or see this one. Of course, all the ghosts Pirate had met had been benevolent.
I rested a hand on my switch stars, wondering if they even worked on the dead.
“Well, I think this is a very nice path,” Pirate said, as I stepped over a fallen log and he ducked under it. “This is fun, right?”
Not when the garden grew darker. My stomach grew heavy with dread. I didn’t need demon slayer mojo to tell me something was very wrong here. I could feel it in the way prey senses a predator. It was as if we were being watched, hunted. Lured closer for the kill.
There would be no one to help us out here. We were on our own.
The poisoned wedding dress was only the beginning. I had no doubt the next strike would be more violent.
I stumbled a little as I stepped into a hole. It seemed that everything I’d counted on was crumbling underneath my feet.
Snap out of it. I blew out a breath. I was a demon slayer. I had to be out here. I couldn’t hide the second I was in danger. And yes, something wanted to kill me. It’s not like that was unusual.
“I’m glad they’re trying to axe me,” I muttered to myself. Better me than someone I loved.
Pirate spun, scattering leaves. “Who’s got an axe?”
“No one,” I said. No sense worrying the dog.
I had enough on my mind for both of us. We were nearing a third twist in the path and so far, Pirate hadn’t once tried to race out in front. Sure, I’d told him to stick close, but that never stopped him before. Pirate always had to be first.
My dog might not be able to sense the specter in a more traditional sense, but I had no doubt that he knew, somewhere in his doggie subconscious, that she was there.
The ghost disappeared around the bend. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my dress and followed. When I made it around the corner, I was shocked to see that she’d stopped. She was waiting for me.
Slowly, she turned to face us. Her expression was unreadable, her hair, a tangle of curls. It floated in the ether like a halo. Her body had mostly vanished. I could see straight through her to the wall of ivy on the other side.
We were at a dead end.
I suddenly felt claustrophobic, trapped. I desperately wanted to look behind me. It felt as if I had my entire back exposed, like something could sneak up at any moment. But I didn’t dare take my eyes off her.
“Help me.” Her words floated between us.
She faded into the shadows. Gone.
Pirate hit me with a wet nose to the shin. “What’s she doing now?”
The shock of it brought me back. I glanced over my shoulder at the shadowed path behind us. “She left.” As far as I knew.
I turned to see if she was above us, lingering on either side. I tried to sense her in the air. There was nothing. It was as if we’d been dropped down the rabbit hole.
“You mean she brought us to a wall?” Pirate asked, venturing out ahead to sniff.
“Yes.” She’d taken us straight into a dead end. “Maybe there’s something unusual about this spot.” There had to be a reason why we’d come here. I reached out to touch the barrier. “We might be able to slide it or push it out of the way.”
“Oooh,” Pirate warmed to the idea instantly. “Like MacGyver!”
“You know that’s not real,” I said, anxious to get out of there, knowing I couldn’t until we found whatever the ghost had been trying to show us.
“It’s not just a TV show. It could happen,” Pirate insisted as he tried to jam his nose underneath the wall.
“Remind me to dog-block Nick at Night,” I said, running my hands over the corners of the wall, trying to find a gate or break in the structure.
“Now that’s cruel.”
I didn’t find an opening in the traditional sense, but I managed to pull some ivy back. We weren’t looking at a solid wall, but another iron trellis. This one was welded onto the path, obstructing us.
“What do you have in your demon slayer belt?” Pirate prodded. “What we could really use is a paper clip, a rubber band, and about twenty pounds of explosives.”
“Try switch stars and magic crystals.” Actually, Pirate’s idea wasn’t half bad. “Stand back,” I told him.
I drew a switch star from my belt. The blade
s churned. My body tensed. “Now.” I hurled it at the uppermost joint holding the trellis.
The switch star spun on its axis, sawing straight down.
I shielded my eyes as it spit wood dust and leafy bits.
“Nice!” Pirate said, ducking behind me. “Here I thought those were strictly for killing bad guys.”
“So is that as good as MacGyver?” I asked, reaching to catch my weapon as it boomeranged back to me.
“Well, it’s no hang glider made of duct tape,” he said, while I sheathed my star.
At least he was honest.
I shoved at the trellis, forcing it back through the undergrowth on the other side, grunting as the aged metal creaked and protested. My hands grew sweaty and my entire body itched.
“You’re doing great, Lizzie!” Pirate said from behind me.
“I always wanted my own personal cheerleading squad,” I said, managing to shove it back a few feet.
My knees still felt a little wobbly from the wedding dress fiasco. Or maybe I was simply strung out. I gathered my strength, braced one hand on my switch stars, and ducked around the corner to see what was on the other side.
More dense garden. A couple of bees.
Frick.
“Maybe it’s buried,” Pirate said, inspecting the garden-turned jungle, kicking at the dirt.
In that case, we’d need Indiana Jones as well as MacGyver. For lack of a better idea, I kicked at the dirt with him. We found nothing.
I glanced up, hands on my hips. The sun was beginning to set. We didn’t have a ton of time left.
My dog brushed through the undergrowth. “Oooh…I definitely smell something dead over here.”
“No dead things,” I said, automatically, ignoring his overly dramatic sigh.
I didn’t get it. “Why would the ghost take us out here if there wasn’t anything to find?”
She’d shown up when I was being poisoned. She’d helped lead me to the abandoned observatory. I wouldn’t be shocked if that was her in the graveyard at the market.
“What do you want to do?” Pirate asked. “Because in a minute, I’m going to need to start rolling in the leaves over by that dead thing. I can’t help it. And you’re going to get all mad. And you’re going to give me a bath. I hate baths. But I can’t help it. Haven’t you ever heard of instinct?”
Hells bells.
“Okay, come on,” I said, heading for the path.
He popped his head up, scattering leaves. “We’re going back?”
“There’s nothing out here.” Cripes. “At least it’s nothing I can detect.” I’d never missed my demon slayer intuition more.
“Cheer up,” Pirate said, taking the lead, “at least we know nothing’s gonna eat us this time.”
Small comfort.
We wound back up the path, past all three twists. I kept an eye out, although I didn’t know what I expected to find different this time. Whatever it was, I didn’t see it.
“We missed something,” I said, once we’d reached the dry fountain.
It was the only explanation.
It killed me. We were blowing a big chance here. This could be the break we needed. If only I were in tune enough to see it.
Pirate turned in a circle and sat. “So what are you going to do if we bump into something creepy? Or find one of these markers?”
Hopefully not run for my life.
Something was here. I knew it, even if I couldn’t sense it anymore. It was evil. It had already infected at least one person I cared about, and it wanted me.
I needed to learn more about the threat before I had any hope of discovering exactly what was happening here.
He stood and shook off. “Okay. Well, let’s try another path.”
“That’s not the solution,” I said, a little harsher than I’d intended.
“You got a better plan?” My dog asked, rounding the fountain and taking off down a different trail.
“No,” I said, following. He disappeared around a corner. “Hey,” I said, picking up my pace, “Don’t get too far ahead.”
But Pirate had begun to run. Curse it. His ears flopped, his tongue lolled to the side as he took one corner, dashed hard and took another one.
“Wait!” I stopped cold. One corner. Two corners.
I took off after him. If I had to guess right, we’d round a third corner—which we did. Before the dead end.
Pirate sat in front of a wall of ivy, exactly like the one we’d broken through. He was panting, happy. “Nothing to see here!” He said, a little too gleefully for my taste.
“Wrong, buddy,” I said, catching my breath, a wave of dread crashing over me.
There was a reason the air felt heavy here, why plants died and no insects screamed. I hadn’t noticed the utter, deeply disturbing silence before, probably because I’d been so consumed by the ghost. Now, it was all I could do not to escape, run and keep going.
“Pirate, we found the third marker. Remember the way it looked back at the observatory? The centerpiece, the six wavy lines coming off it. Three turns each.”
We weren’t looking for it. We were standing on it.
***
I have never gotten out of somewhere so fast in my life. I didn’t even care that a startled Dyonne saw me racing back into the house.
She almost dropped the platter she was rinsing in the sink. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
I blew past her and barged down the hallway to the sitting room.
“Where’s Rachmort?” Groupings of Dimitri’s relatives looked up from their tea and coffee. I must have missed dinner entirely.
“I’m here,” he said, emerging from the dining room, pipe in hand. “You ran right past me.”
I really was losing my edge. “We need to talk. Somewhere private,” I added glancing at the crowded sitting room, the group playing cards over in the dining room.
He nodded, as if this were not at all unusual. It made me wonder exactly what he did in his normal job.
Meanwhile, Pirate had found Ophelia and her leftovers. I left him to it.
“This way.” Rachmort led me up to the second floor, then down the hallway to a small doorway that led to another, more stark landing.
“You know this house better than I do,” I mumbled as we began to ascend the steep, narrow servant’s stairs.
“My room is up here,” he said, with his trademark good humor.
“We can get you switched.” I was embarrassed my mom did that.
He shook his head. “I asked for it. I like my privacy,” he said, producing a small vial of liquid from his coat pocket.
The hallway was undecorated, the doors stark and old. We stopped at the third door down and Rachmort dabbed a fingertip’s worth of the liquid on the lock. It clicked open and he led us inside.
His room was Spartan, containing only a small bed and a dresser. I didn’t feel comfortable sitting on either one, so I remained standing. “I found the second marker.”
He nodded solemnly. “I thought you would.” He looked at me closely, caging his words. “Dimitri showed me the photo you took of the first marker. I’ve seen it before.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I could tell by the way he was acting. “Don’t sugar-coat it. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”
He nodded, still watching me. “The markers are very specific calling signs. They’re meant to gather power, to direct it.” He stepped closer, towering over me. “Lizzie, I’m afraid these markers are pathways, designed to enable a demon to cross over.”
Oh my God. “What if we destroy them?” I could take a hatchet to the stone one. Maybe. I didn’t know how I’d level half the garden.
“You’d need to find them all first.”
“Maybe I did,” I said, wildly hoping. Praying.
“There are always three,” Rachmort said. “And if they are drawing planetary power, they will be arranged in a straight line. It would be my guess that the observatory is the first marker.”
�
��Okay, so the garden is the second. Come to think of it, if we cut a straight line from there, we’d hit the observatory.” Dang. Rachmort really was good.
He placed his glasses on the dresser. “So you have the observatory,” he said, positioning them toward the back. “Then the garden maze,” he said, digging in his pocket and producing a pink-and-green flecked gem the size of a golf ball.
“What is that?”
“Limbo bargaining chip,” he said, dismissing it. “Now where is the third marker?”
“Let me think. We have the herb garden, some crazy statues, the back porch… The house.” A chill prickled through my veins.
Holy Hades.
“It might not be a straight line,” I said, grasping for straws at that point.
“Come,” Rachmort said, leading back out to the stairs, up to another landing, and another. There was a locked door at the top. He took care of it in an instant with his little vial.
“I need to get some of that stuff,” I said, as he applied it to the lock.
“I’ll take you to see RaeRae next time we’re in limbo.”
“Oh, great,” I said, my enthusiasm waning. RaeRae, an otherworldly oddities collector, drove a hard bargain.
We walked out to the center of the parapet. “Dang. You can see everything from here.”
Rachmort pointed. “There’s the observatory.”
It was a small tower among the trees at the back. “There’s the fountain Pirate and I saw.” The rest of the marker was hidden under the trellises, but the center of it lined up perfectly with the observatory.
They were spaced evenly, about fifty yards apart. And fifty yards in, in a straight line from the fountain, was the house.
“We’re standing on top of it,” I said, fighting the urge to flee, to run, to leave and never come back.
Rachmort took me by the shoulders, forced me to look up at him. “You can fix this, Lizzie.”
“Maybe so, but we need to get my family out of here.” Yes, Hillary had picked this evil house. I had no doubt now she’d been compelled into it. She’d told me she had to have it. She didn’t even understand why. Now I knew. Something wanted me here.
