by Angie Fox
The shadow halted its advance.
I might not like this spirit from New Orleans, but I would never have thought to look for a demonic scavenger. “Why haven’t I heard of these creatures?” Rachmort had never mentioned them to me, and he worked in purgatory. The spirit had always led me right in the past, but I needed more to go on here.
They’re exceedingly rare and exist in a space between dimensions. Hell is for the vast and powerful; Limbo is for the sorrowful and neglected. Scavengers are neither.
“Great,” I groused. I had enough trouble with the big baddies, much less new ones. “And halt it,” I warned as the shadow began its slow advance once more. No way did I like being indebted to this thing.
The spirit gave a small chuckle, as if this were a game instead of my mom’s life we were talking about.
Demonic scavengers live in a tiny sliver of the astral plane called the Scour, the most barren of all wastelands. Very dreary. Scavengers are the only creatures that can live there for long, and even they would cease to exist without feeding on the energy of others. Dark energy is their first choice, but they’ll take advantage of other sources if presented with them.
Like my mom’s life force.
“Okay.” I pushed off the counter. “If this scavenger has a connection to demonic energy, then why can’t I get rid of it?” Demons and their ilk were my specialty, for the love of Pete. They could be hard to kill, for sure, but I had taken out everything from succubi to Hell’s own royalty. With any luck, a scavenger would be way easier to handle than either of those.
What good parasite makes it easy to be evicted by its host?
I could ask him the same thing, but I didn’t. It would be rude, and I needed his help.
I imagine the scavenger was attracted to the remnants of Xerxes’s energy in your home. Your grandmother trapped it with her ward as you fled. It probably latched onto your mother out of desperation. Your witches banished it with their wards yesterday, but didn’t see the connection, much less sever it.
The weakness in my knees was back, and this time it had nothing to do with an upset stomach. “So the thing has retreated to the Scour and is still feeding off Mom’s life force.”
Quite safely, I might add. Unless the link between them is broken, she will continue to fade and eventually die.
This was a nightmare. I sat down heavily on the white toilet cover. “How do you know all of this?” I asked quietly.
I’ve traveled far and wide in my search for knowledge, Elizabeth. After all, the more you know, the harder you are to defeat. The shadow inched toward me once more. Let my knowledge keep you from defeat now. His tone switched from lecturing to cajoling. All you need from me is the method and a bit of guidance along the way.
I opened my mouth to answer, but a sudden knock at the door stopped me cold. “Lizzie?” It was Grandma. “You okay in there?”
“I’m good.” I reached back and flushed the toilet. “Just finishing up in here.”
“Your mom is awake.”
Thank God. “I’ll be there in a second.”
I stood. The nausea was almost gone. I didn’t have time to screw around anymore. We needed to attack this thing that had her and get rid of it once and for all.
“What do you want for your help?” I asked the spirit. Philippa’s price tag had just bit me in the butt. I at least needed to be clear about what my buddy from New Orleans had in mind for me.
You’ll pay me back when the time is right, he oozed.
“And what will you ask?” I pressed.
Nothing you can’t give. I would very much like you as a friend, Lizzie.
“A friend, huh?” I scoffed, drawing out a switch star, taking a perverse pleasure when it halted the spirit. “I’ve seen stranger things,” I admitted. “In the meantime, tell me what I need to do.”
* * *
By the time I emerged from the bathroom and got back to where Hillary lay on the couch, her head resting on Cliff’s lap, everyone was looking at me like they expected me to double over any minute. Dimitri started toward me when I walked in, but I shook my head. I was feeling stronger. Maybe it was the fact that I had a plan.
I knelt next to her. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said, forcing a weak smile. “How about you?”
Asked like a mother. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “I think I know how to cure you of this.”
She grabbed for my hand. Hers felt weak, cold. “I knew you would, honey.”
“Well, don’t sit on it,” Ant Eater piped up from behind us. “Whatcha got?”
“Mom,” I said, refusing to talk over her or about her, “I think your life force has been tapped by a scavenger.” I gave them the spirit’s explanation for the creature, how it worked, and why it had gone after Hillary. “Luckily, getting it out is pretty simple. All I’ve got to do is follow its trail back to the Scour and bait a trap for it with a little of my own energy. When it comes after me, I kill it. Problem solved, Mom is saved, and we all go home happy.”
Only nobody looked happy, not even Cliff and Hillary.
Ant Eater strolled to the side of the couch and stared me down. “Where’d you get all this?” she demanded. “I’ve never heard of scavengers before, and I’ve been around the block a few times.”
“Oh, I reckon she got it from her spirit friend,” Grandma said flatly before I could try to explain. “Didn’t you, Lizzie?”
There was no point in denying it. “Yes.”
Grandma slapped the window hard enough she could have shattered the glass. “Damn it, kid. What did I tell you about being in its debt? What does that thing want from you for its help?”
“It doesn’t want anything,” I insisted. “It told me what I need to do to hunt the scavenger down, but that’s all. I haven’t opened myself or my powers to it, and I’m not planning to, either.”
Grandma planted her hands on her broad hips, and her anger was palpable to the point her eyes practically glowed. “Plans don’t count for shit when the going gets tough.”
She was an intimidating sight. But I refused to be intimidated.
“The going is already tough,” I pointed out. “Mom’s getting worse.”
“It’s not bad,” Hillary said from where she lay. She tried to sit up for a moment, then eased back down onto the cushion with a faint groan. “It’s not particularly pleasant either,” she confessed.
We both knew she was fading, but I wasn’t going to keep saying it in front of Mom. “Tell me your next step, Grandma, because we don’t have time to wait and see anymore.”
We stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Eventually Grandma deflated a bit, relaxing her rigid stance with a huff. “How are you supposed to find this scavenger when you can’t sense it inside Hillary? How can you track down what you can’t even see? A minute ago, you were puking your guts out.”
“I need your magic. I need you to open me up to the other realms and then I can bait a trap for this thing.”
She stared at me for a second too long.
Frieda leapt to her feet behind Grandma, stumbling over her tennis shoes. “We can do that,” she said with relish.
Ant Eater shot her the evil eye.
“There are thousands of unexplored realms,” Grandma began, but I could tell she was at least thinking about it.
“We don’t have to go in that lost,” I told her. “I go in with Mom, and with my power amplified by yours, I should be able to see the thread of the scavenger’s hold on her. I follow it back to the Scour, set the trap, and wait for the scavenger to come to me.” I patted the switch stars on my utility belt. “Then I kill it.”
“Then you kill it.” Grandma’s lips twisted like she wanted to spit. “Easy peasy, just like that. But nothing is ever that straightforward, Lizzie, especially not when it’s being fed to you by a spirit who hasn’t even set a price.”
Yeah, I didn’t like that part, either.
I fixed her with a cool stare. “I’m still waiting on you
r solution. Give me another choice, or help me with this one.”
Ant Eater closed her eyes. “You already owe him just for telling you this.”
“In for a penny…” I said to Grandma.
She looked like she could chew nails, and just when I thought she’d explode into a fit of rage, she exhaled in a rush. “Fine,” she snapped. “We’ll do it. We’ll find this Scour and let you trace this predator, but I want veto power over the situation. We monitor you and Hillary with our own magic, and the second I think you’re in over your head, I’m pulling you out of there whether you’re done or not.”
I was ready to argue, but then Hillary spoke up. “I agree with Gertrude.”
I had to admit I was a little shocked. “Mom?”
She started to shake her head then grimaced. “Help me up, Cliff.” He got an arm under her shoulders and slowly lifted her into a sitting position, keeping her flush to his side the whole time.
“Lizzie.” She sighed. Her eyes were sunken and her skin deathly pale. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye on a lot of things…”
Ha, that was an understatement. We hadn’t seen eye to eye on most things. From the time I graduated college and went to work for a preschool instead of finding a more prestigious job, right up to my wedding when I’d had to fight with her on everything from the guests to the dress, I’d always carried around the knowledge that I was a disappointment to my adoptive parents. It had strained our relationship to the point where even our twice-a-month Sunday lunches had felt like too much at times.
Mom pursed her lips, as if she knew what I was thinking. “Despite my…insistence on some things in your life, I never, ever want to put my welfare ahead of yours.” She looked up at me, so full of love that it staggered me. “You’re my daughter, and I need you to be as safe as possible. If you got hurt—or worse—trying to save me, I would never recover from it. Never.” The raw honesty left me speechless. “So no extra risks, all right? Let your friends take care of you the way you’re taking care of me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m glad you found them.”
“Mom—” Now it seemed as if she were saying goodbye. “We’re going to get you through this,” I promised.
“Just know that it might get messy,” Frieda added, as if we’d asked her.
“So no Dior?” Mom teased.
“Not with live frogs,” Creely told her.
Grandma scratched the phoenix tattoo on her arm. “We’ll need a place that’s easy to ward. Not too big.”
“Big enough to fit us all. Preferably close to water,” Ant Eater said, thinking out loud. “Protection spells love water, and we’re going to ward the hell out of this place.”
“We need privacy,” Frieda added. “The last thing we need is a visit from the neighbors.”
“Or the police,” Grandma added.
Mom and Dad exchanged a look. “I think I have just the place,” he said, stroking her forehead.
She gave a small nod. “Go ahead and escort the ladies, dear.”
11
Dad led us out toward the pool house. The backyard looked like a page out of a magazine and reflected my mom’s style, from the colorful white and yellow striped deck chairs surrounding the pond-shaped swimming area to the thick white columns of the portico.
The pool house stood about twenty feet away from the main house, the two buildings connected by a brick walkway with a cedar-tiled portico overhead.
But by the time I got down to the pool house itself, it was clear the witches had staked their claim well before we’d decided to do a ceremony there.
Sidecar Bob had broken out my dad’s enormous barbeque and set it up right outside the sliding glass doors. He sat in front of it, turning unidentifiable skewers of meat over the fire with all the care of a master chef. Pirate sat at his feet, offering helpful observations.
“Be careful, or you’ll burn it! And nobody likes burnt squirrel. Okay, well, I do.” Pirate licked his chops. “I like any kind of squirrel.”
“Not the raw kind, Pirate,” Bob replied, scooting his wheelchair farther forward, reaching for the skewers in the back.
Ugh. There were those of us who didn’t like squirrel either way. At least I was able to handle the smell without gagging.
“This is great.” Grandma nudged Cliff as she eyed the small white building behind Bob. “Now do you have a chain saw I can borrow?”
To his credit, Cliff gave a quick nod and set off to find one.
“And so it begins,” I said, holding my arms out to Pirate.
“Err…” He scooted closer to Bob. “I’ve got a thing.”
Right. My own dog was too busy working an angle to snuggle with me.
Meanwhile, Grandma stomped past me, calling out instructions to the rest of the coven.
“Dimitri.” Ant Eater brushed past me to get to my man. “You’re in charge of the altar. We need a slab of wood; anything but pine, the harder, the better.”
“I’m on it,” he said, planting a quick kiss on my cheek before heading back up toward the house.
Just where did he think he was going?
“What’s my job?” I asked Ant Eater.
I expected a snarky answer. Instead, I got a firm clap on the arm. “Save your strength,” she urged.
Right. Nice way to remind me that this all came down to me in the Scour.
“Aww…Lizzie.” Pirate nosed my leg. “Go ahead and pick me up.” I did, snuggling my face into his wiry hair for a moment. One of the biker witches had given him a bath, thank goodness, and now he smelled vaguely like patchouli. There were times a girl just needed her dog. But as soon as it began, the moment was over. Pirate squirmed to face me and planted a wet nose on my cheek. “We’re having a squirrel-beque, and I’m the head chef’s assistant! How many chunks can I put you down for?”
I wrinkled my nose where he couldn’t see it, then pulled back a little to get a look at him. “None for me, thanks. I just ate.”
His little tail drooped. “But, Lizzie, Bob and I have been slaving over a hot grill for…for minutes! Many minutes! More minutes than I have paws, and that’s a lot. You have to try some!”
Um, no. But I didn’t want to hurt Pirate’s feelings, either. “Sorry, buddy, but no squirrel meat before big magic, that’s the rules.”
Pirate grumbled for a moment then turned his head toward Sidecar Bob. “Hey, Bob! Is there any possum meat left?”
“Nah, we’re fresh out of possum.” He glanced at me and winked. “I’m sure Lizzie won’t mind if you take her share of the squirrel, though. We don’t want it going to waste.”
“Yay!” Pirate squirmed until I put him down then ran back over to Bob. “I’m ready for samples!”
Not too many, I mouthed at Bob, who nodded his graying head at me. That done, I headed into the pool house to see if there was anything I could do to help.
The water part of the pool house was pretty compact, one of those high-tech endless pools that pushed a current so you could swim forward while basically staying in place. My mom swam up to three miles a day, which was kind of crazy considering she claimed she kept fit by walking from event to event to facilitate being “seen.” The water was still for now, the air filled with the scent of chlorine and warm to the point that the glass walls were completely fogged over.
None of the fluorescent overhead lights were on, and with the sun now below the tree line outside, it was actually pretty dark in here. I reached for the light switch.
“Nope!” Grandma batted my hand away before I could make contact. “None of that. I’ve got people bringing in plenty of candles; those’ll do us just fine.” Through the gloom, I saw Creely bent over, taking measurements and marking out spots on the tile floor—with a literal marker; I hoped it wasn’t a permanent one.
Ant Eater barged in, leading a group of witches who began hanging bunches of dried plants from the ceiling and over every door and window.
“No time to hunt down fresh herbs. We found these in the van,” Gr
andma said with a head shake. “Good thing we’ve got plenty of extra stores after New Orleans. That’s a prime city for magic—we hardly made a dent in our stash.”
New Orleans had been a little too good of a city when it came to magic. I remembered the parade of the dead marching down the street, while tourists snapped photos without understanding the horror they were looking at, and I shuddered. “What can I do to help with the setup?”
“Nothing at all.” She stepped to the side to allow Frieda in. Frieda had a familiar goat skull in her hands, and she seemed to be whispering to it as she walked by.
I frowned. “I know you want me to save my energy.” I’d been a little tired lately. “But if I don’t keep moving, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Lizzie, darlin’.” Grandma put her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. There was compassion there, but also determination. “Trust me. We’ve got this. You should be focusing on how you’re going to track down this scavenger once we get the ceremony set up. You’ve never done this before, and we’re probably only gonna get one shot at it. Make sure it counts.” She gave me a little squeeze then moved off toward the pool.
How could I even begin to plan when I didn’t know what I’d be facing?
I headed back outside so I wouldn’t crowd the witches, sat down on a lawn chair shadowed by one of Hillary’s rosebushes, and did what I dreaded.
I closed my eyes, focused, and addressed the spirit. “Hey,” I said, not too thrilled to be having the conversation. “If you’re there, let’s go over the game plan again.”
As you wish, he said, nearly making me jump.
It seemed he was always there.
For you, he said, finishing my thought.
I opened my eyes and saw that I’d fisted my hands to the point that my nails dug into my palms. Slowly, I let go, keeping an eye out for my shadowy friend.
“Don’t mess with me,” I ordered.
He chuckled. So hostile, he said slowly. So full of life.
I never should have invited him in.
I’d barely finished the thought when he began:
