Page 8

“Looks like a circle of druids planted their flag in this place sometime ago,” Cliff said, sobering as he fiddled with his lighter. He glanced at the book, then nodded in Sylvia’s direction. “No wonder you’re feeling echoes or whatever. It’s like they had a checklist for making it freaky. Drawn full of cryptic symbols? Check. List of the impure? Double check.”

Sylvia’s fae light overhead dimmed to nothing, as though frightened away in sync with her grimace. “Fucking stars,” she muttered.

“And,” Cliff said, his voice low and laced with something conspiratorial, “you gotta see what I found at the back of the closet.” He paused for effect, letting the words linger in the air as a boyish excitement crept over his expression. “ A secret room . Flashlight batteries are dying, so I couldn’t get a good look at it.”

I puffed out a coarse laugh. “What’re you hoping for more—treasure, or a sacrificial altar?”

“Fifty-fifty.” The lamp finally ignited, setting Cliff’s intrigued expression into eerie shadows as he backpedaled. “You coming, or what?”

With her wings finally dry enough to sustain flight, Sylvia took the air and led the way after the glow of Cliff’s lamp.

The moment I stepped through the closet door, I had half a mind to request another warm, glowing light from Sylvia.

A wide opening sat at the far end of the closet, and when I passed the threshold to descend a short flight of steps, I knew at once that this area had been tended to much more recently. The sleek handrails and solid stairs were nothing like the rustic architecture that druids favored.

This belonged to something entirely different, and the main attraction awaiting us at the bottom of the stairs was in ruins.

“What the fuck?” I muttered as I emerged into a basement.

The cages caught my eye first. Half melted criss-crossed bars lined the walls, looking eerily similar to how rabbits were enclosed in test labs.

Then, there were the scorch marks crawling along the warped walls. Apparently, this place had been reinforced enough to keep the fire from spreading, but the items within hadn’t been flameproof. Ashes were scattered along the ground, nearly everything burnt to a crisp.

“You think the fire was set on purpose to cover up whatever was going on here?” Cliff mused, kneeling to sift through a pile of ashes with his free hand.

“Maybe,” I said, frowning as I scanned every corner with my eyes. “Whatever equipment was in here, it looks expensive. I find it hard to believe they’d blow it up like that. Something must’ve gone wrong.”

A large metal workbench was the most discernible thing besides the cages, and even that was warped from the heat. Tools were melted to the surface, and portable chargers to power the equipment were completely busted—all of it unusable now.

There didn’t appear to be a corpse in sight—human or otherwise—which was somehow more unsettling than if there had been one .

“Hey, look at this.” I delicately pulled a scrap of charred paper from a pile of ash under the workbench.

Cliff brought the lamp over. No more than a word or two could be read from the sheet, but a logo at the top was visible enough. A circular emblem in the vague shape of an E . The sight of it felt strangely corporate and out of place in a church this old. But it appeared perfectly at home in this ruined, high-tech basement.

“Am I crazy, or does this look like an invoice?” Cliff said, squinting at the ruined lines of text beneath. “Or an order form?”

“Beats me—it’s falling apart just from being moved.”

A small voice came from the entrance. “They’re iron.”

I didn’t realize until then that Sylvia hadn’t moved far from the door. I turned my flashlight in her direction, careful not to blind her. She was paler than before, staring at the metal bars. I thought about teasing her to ease the tension—but that look on her face was not to be toyed with.

“Sylv?” I murmured, taking a step toward her.

She flinched like I’d startled her, tearing her eyes away from the cages. “Why iron? What was in them?”

Her implication sent a chill down my spine. Of course her mind would go there. I couldn’t blame her.

“Hey—whatever happened, it’s long gone now,” I said. “Chances are, this place was some kind of below-board lab. Druids are known to use animals in their rituals. Whoever came in here and replaced the druids… maybe they got curious about the magicked animals and wanted to study them.”

That didn’t seem to make Sylvia feel all that better—and I couldn’t say my theory convinced me, either.

Even as Cliff and I gave the basement one more sweep, she remained firmly by the stairs. With no other clues as to what we had discovered, I snapped a photo of the scrap of paper I’d found. No doubt it would disintegrate if I pocketed it .

Back upstairs, we settled around the kerosene lamp. Sylvia was especially close to it, basking in its warmth. The next fae light she conjured was even stronger than the last, casting away most of the shadows in the vast chamber. She still flinched at the thunder, but gradually, the claps came further apart.

Squinting at the window, I waited for another flash of lightning that never came.

The rain was finally letting up.

The sole mechanic shop in town—Gulf Care Auto—wouldn’t open until seven in the morning. At least the tow service number from the diner hostess was useful. I strode back into the diner, still damp from the thirty-minute walk from the church. The rain had been on and off, but the brutality had waned.

The diner was a grungy but classic establishment that hadn’t changed since the last time I’d been here. Colorful neon and 1960s decor clung to the past, and the same could be said for the few patrons who occupied the tables.

I slid back into my seat at our corner booth. “We’ll need to get a room to stay overnight,” I announced, remembering the flickering vacancy sign we’d passed down the street.

“Figured as much,” Cliff said. “Well, I guess it could be worse. We’re lucky the mechanic’s open on a Sunday morning, and this town only pads thirty minutes onto the drive into the outpost.”

Sylvia wrinkled her nose at me from behind the dessert menu on the table. “You’re not talking about that Top Star Motel we passed, are you? That place looked filthy.”

I shot her a dry smile. “You’d rather stay at the church? It’d be free, at least. ”

Grimacing, she shook her head. The flicker of horror in her eyes no doubt reflected what we’d seen in the basement. “It’s only for one night,” she conceded. “As long as it has hot water and a place to dry off.”

As I watched her shiver, a pang of concern fluttered in my chest. I patted myself down again for something, anything that could warm her up. In the fourth jacket pocket I checked, my fingers brushed a scrap of flannel I'd missed earlier buried under a box of bullets. Perfect .

“Hey—I found your blanket,” I said, grinning as delight exploded across Sylvia’s face.

I wiggled the scrap free, pleased to find it had been largely protected from the rain. She had sawed herself a square from my blue plaid shirt with her dagger in our second week traveling together. She’d thought I wouldn’t notice the gaping, eight-inch piece missing from the garment, and was relieved when I voiced how endearing it was when I inevitably found out. After ensuring the few other diner patrons were invested in their meals, I draped the flannel around Sylvia’s shoulders securely.

She practically purred, nuzzling the fabric under her chin. “Thank you. I thought we’d lost it back there.”

“If you lose sensation in your fingers, speak up,” I said, my frown setting back into place.

“I promise not to freeze to death. Focus on food , Jon. I’m starving.” Sylvia leaned to the side, tracking movement behind me. She scooted to the right, urgently scanning the menu propped before her again. I braced myself; Sylvia’s desire to sample as many human foods as she could en route to Aelthorin had her ordering food like a career athlete coming off a grueling triathlon.

Even still, I did a double take at Sylvia’s request, which included two full desserts. Before I could protest further, the waitress returned. Sylvia ducked back into hiding as I ordered enough food to feed a small army. I heard faint, excited wing flutters as I confirmed the desserts in particular—a hot fudge sundae and a slice of apple pie.

The waitress raised a brow when Cliff tacked his order onto the end of mine, her lips pursing as her pen scratched against its pad. She looked to be mid-thirties, with smudged winged eyeliner and an air of boredom that suggested she was weary of the small population. She’d been eyeing Cliff and I like fresh water in a wasteland since we walked inside, and I took full advantage, flashing her a toothy smile to soften the blow of the unusual order.

She departed without comment, a little pinch between her brows.

Relaxing, I sipped at the beer set before me and cast another look around the room. The smell of fresh coffee and fried food mingled with the humid bayou air outside, evoking a unique sense of nostalgia. The peeling paint and faded memorabilia on the walls looked untouched, as though no time at all had passed since our last visit to the southernmost hunter’s outpost.

“Place hasn’t changed much in two years, has it?” Cliff said, following my sweeping gaze. “Hey, I wonder if my quarter’s still jammed in the jukebox.”

The machine was tucked in the corner just behind our booth, buttons worn from decades of use. The yellowed catalog behind the domed glass boasted classic rock and country—and some old favorites Cliff and I still blasted in the car on occasion.

Cliff sighed as he peeled off his sodden jacket, folding around the weapons lodged in its pockets before dropping it on the cracked vinyl booth beside his bag.

“How many times have you been here?” Sylvia asked, shifting carefully into the light.

“Too many to count,” I said. “Tammy had us spend three months training at the outpost when we first hit the road, too.”

“Your mentor, right?” Sylvia asked. “She was a hunter, too? ”

“Yeah—and more vicious than you’d think for a mom of four,” Cliff said. “Tammy put us on the right track bringing us here, but it was three months of hell.”

“It’s kind of a baptism by blood,” I tacked on. “She rented us a room from the marshal at the time, and had us in the Pit four days a week for hours, putting us against practice targets.”

Sylvia’s brows knit together. “Monsters. Your mentor threw you in a cage with—”

“ Weakened monsters,” I cut in. “But yeah. It’s where a lot of recruits figure out if they’re cut out for this. Nearly broke my nose in my first wraith fight with the other newbloods, but… We pulled through. Tammy was a good coach. A good friend when the rest of the world had turned their back on us. She got us on our feet until she was satisfied we wouldn’t get killed the moment we walked into the next demented spirit. When she left, we started branching out.”

Sylvia nodded like she was adjusting to a sour taste in her mouth. “Like training an affinity. Do all hunters end up learning here?”

“Not all, but many.”

She frowned, looking between us. “What happens to those who don’t cut it?”

I shrugged. “Some become cleaners. Hunters pay them to ensure no trace is left after a particularly gruesome hunt—especially when working with covens or packs.”

“And… the ones who don’t make it as hunters or cleaners?” Sylvia pried.

“We’ve got archivists and medics, but…” I gave her a hard look. “Some guys don’t make it out of that first fight at the outpost at all. It’s not a perfect system.”

Sylvia swallowed, nodding with grim understanding.

“It’s not just training, though. It’s a community, you know?” Cliff said, taking a pull from his beer. “Even if half the guys are assholes, there’s some good people too. Real hero material.”

“Except you ,” Sylvia teased.

“Watch it. I actually met the best lay of my life around these parts, so I can’t knock it entirely.”

My insides soured, but I tried to keep my expression neutral. “You can’t mean Gwen,” I said.

Cliff shrugged, but there was no mistaking that wistful gaze washing over him. He wore it only for her , as long as I’d known him.

I softened my next words with a dry chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting how you two ended up screaming at each other at least twice a week towards the end.”

“Yeah. We broke up at least a dozen times in this place,” Cliff said, glancing around the diner with a fond look.

“Was she a hunter, too?” Sylvia asked.

“A damn good one.” Cliff’s eyes went distant. “A good fucking shot. Almost as good as me.”

“I’ve got the scar to prove it,” I muttered.

“Hey, it was a misunderstanding,” Cliff said.

Sylvia huffed at that, but her smile was teasing. “A good shot. No wonder you had it bad for her.”

“For a while,” Cliff said, shrugging.

“Wait, did she end it?” Sylvia’s jaw dropped. “Okay, whose heart do I have to freeze? Say the word.” She slammed her palm on the table, sending a delicate line of frost toward Cliff. He seized his beer before the spell could touch it.

“Killing, Sylv? Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” Cliff shot her a scathing look for all of five seconds that had her stammering before he broke into a wide smile. “I’m just kidding.”

They shared a laugh, and I found myself chuckling along with them.

“You have to tell me more about her,” Sylvia said eagerly.

Cliff’s amused smile turned tight. “Fun fact—no, I don’t.”

“Seriously? I hear every detail down to the thread count of the sheets about others, but—”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Cliff cut in. “She was good in bed, good with a gun, end of story.”

Sylvia looked at me questioningly, and I gave my head a small shake. She frowned but held her tongue.

I cleared my throat. “The guy on the line for the towing company mentioned that the mechanic has a car lot, too. Chances are, we’ll need a replacement. The price of repairing the damage might not be worth it.”

Sylvia looked down, guilt etched on her face.

“It wasn’t going to last much longer, anyway,” I assured her.

Rather than bring Cliff’s mood further down, the change of subject actually perked him up a little. “It’s been years since we upgraded. Man, I’d kill for a sexier car. Imagine being behind the wheel of a Thunderbird again—or a vintage Impala. Those are sexy cars.”

“Is it normal for humans to be sexually attracted to machinery?” Sylvia piped up.

“The way you freak out every time you see a new lamp, maybe you shouldn’t be talking,” Cliff scoffed.

I glanced around the other booth to make sure our conversation hadn’t turned any heads. The few other patrons remained invested in their own quiet meals, and the waitress was cackling at something in the kitchen hallway, the faint smell of cigarette smoke wafting back.

As I relaxed, the glint of the unused spoon laying on the table caught my eye. Before I could think twice, I slipped it into the inner pocket of my jacket, the slight weight against my chest. I didn’t need it—I wouldn’t even remember it tomorrow, but it appeased that gnawing spark in me that demanded to be fed.

Cliff watched me, shaking his head with a bored sort of smile. He’d seen me pilfer far worse, but sometimes, I still flushed with shame that he didn’t share the same compulsion.

“How much cash do we have left?” I asked, dodging Sylvia’s curious stare.

“Starting to look bleak,” Cliff sighed. “The nest egg’s gotten us this far, but it won’t get us much further at this rate.”

Sylvia’s curious stare drilled into the two of us. Not for the first time, she said, “Money’s weird.” She jabbed the price listed at the bottom of the dessert menu. “Trading makes much more sense. Or better yet, why not just give someone what they need because they need it and you don’t?”

Cliff chuckled. “The hunter’s outpost is all about bartering. Probably not as glamorous as your little village, though.” He smirked at her. “What was it? A blueberry for a comb?” When Sylvia didn’t respond with anything more than flushed cheeks, his mouth dropped open. “Wait, it was ?”

“As though trading guns and money is any better,” Sylvia grumbled, lifting her chin to pointedly ignore Cliff while he fought back another laugh.

Thankfully, the food arrived, and Sylvia was forced to duck back into hiding before anything more could be said about the outpost.

No way she was going anywhere near that cesspool.

We all fell quiet for a time, eating ravenously to make up for the long, soggy walk. The only words exchanged were occasional offers between Cliff and Sylvia, who were trading bites of food from each other’s plates. He even poured her a cap of beer—proof that he wasn’t holding a grudge over their shouting match in the car.

I took advantage of the peace, pulling out my phone to do some research on the area. I couldn’t forget Sylvia’s frightened insistence that there had been something unnatural in the water—not once, but twice . Giovanni may have slipped past her senses, but she had never been wrong when she did feel something.

“Jon,” Sylvia said through her mouthful. “You have to try this!” She held up half a fry drenched in hot fudge sauce.

Ignoring Cliff’s perturbed expression, I accepted her offering. It wasn’t her most outlandish food combination—that prize went to her peanut butter and pickle sandwich from last week.

“Check it out,” I said, turning my phone toward her. “Looks like there’s a few fairy legends in the area. Maybe you were right about the glamour. It’s definitely worth looking into.”

She paused her attempt to slather another fry with whipped cream. “What have you found?” I almost wished I’d let her finish eating—her voice tightened.

“I’ll need to dig some more, but there’s stories about encounters in the swamps in the early to mid-1800s. About two hundred years ago,” I added when her expression went blank. “After that period, the legends taper off.”

“What kind of encounters?” she asked tentatively.

“They’re pretty vague so far. Stories about glowing lights in the woods. Travelers being led astray and never being seen again. Most people chalk them up to gator attacks. There’s a few mentions of ‘the Fair Folk’, though. Some urban legends.”

“Maybe there’s a village here, obscured from humans,” she said, glancing up at the rain-streaked window with a distant expression. “Like Elysia.”

Cliff made a face, reaching for his drink. “Swamp fairies sound like a fucking nightmare, not gonna lie.”