Chapter 9 With a Rookie #2
Why, though? The ghost hadn’t been aggressive. Hadn’t fought when we contained it. Hadn’t been anything more than the usual general menace: Cold spots, whispers, shadows. Standard haunting fare. No tracking signature we could detect. No audio or visual feed that might allow Arabesque to spy on us.
“It was a test,” Casimir had theorized during one of our late-night strategy sessions after Seri had gone to bed. “Can Arabesque use a lure to get us where she wants us? The answer is yes.”
“But she already knew that,” I’d argued. “We’ve been responding to supernatural threats for years. That’s literally our job.”
“Not with Seri,” Cas had pointed out. “She was testing whether we’d bring her along.”
It made a certain cold, logical sense, the kind of chess move Arabesque would make, but something about it still felt off. Too simple. Too obvious. Like seeing a tripwire in plain sight while missing the punji pit hidden beneath the leaves.
I wasn’t a strategist like Casimir. My instincts weren’t tactical; they were rooted in blood and strength, and now those instincts were screaming warnings that prickled along my spine.
I’d mentioned that to Cas, too, and he’d nodded, taking it seriously in his way, adding it to his mental spreadsheet of variables and contingencies. He didn’t feel it, though. Not the way I did. And how could he? The ?aumākua weren’t his to hear.
Zane, surprisingly, had been more receptive.
“Maybe Arabesque is trying to figure Seri out,” he’d suggested, perched on the kitchen counter one night while I made tea for Seri.
“What do you mean?”
“Arabesque doesn’t do anything without multiple layers of fang-rotted scheming.
She didn’t just send a ghost to see if we’d show up with Seri.
She wanted to see what our girl would do with a ghost. She’s been siphoning from Seri for years, but did she take time to find out what all her stepdaughter could do?
My guess is no. And now she’s trying to catch up. ”
That made sense, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that we were missing something crucial. Without knowing what Arabesque’s endgame was, however, we were fighting shadows.
To reassure me last night, Cas had shown me the detailed risk assessment for today’s hunt, complete with color-coded threat levels and contingency plans.
On paper, it looked ideal: A controlled environment with minimal civilian presence, easy terrain, and multiple exit routes if needed.
But paper couldn’t capture the electric tension crackling along my spine, the pressure building behind my eyes like the air before a hurricane.
When Brumous had refused to get in the SUV this morning, whimpering and backing away as Zane coaxed him, I’d nearly called the whole thing off, but Seri had been standing there with a huge grin.
She needs this, I’d told myself. She needs to know we trust her abilities.
Now, as we drove along, Cas caught my eye again.
She’s not ready, his expression said. She could get hurt.
So could we. Every single time. She never asks us to give it up.
The GPS chimed, announcing our arrival in ten minutes. Our silent argument would have to wait. I faced forward, mind shifting into hunt mode, but the image of Seri, eyes bright with anticipation, stayed with me. Ready or not, she was one of us now.
And may the Devil help anything that tried to harm her.
#
I felt it the moment Casimir parked the SUV at the target location, a wrongness coiling tightly in my gut.
The campground sprawled before us, all rustic cabins and worn footpaths shimmering under the August heat. It should have been peaceful, but the silence pressed against my eardrums like deep water, broken only by the occasional distant voice or door slam.
“Everyone clear on the approach?” Cas asked as we unloaded from the SUV, his voice pitched low despite the distance between us and the main buildings.
“Maintain cover as exterminators,” Seri recited, “assess the target location quadrant by quadrant, identify any non-human presences, and contain rather than eliminate if possible.” Then, she tilted her head and blinked as she asked, “Simmy, how do we know where the quadrants are?”
As he explained, the tight lines around his mouth eased, and Zane and I exchanged amused glances. One endearing question from our girl, and the worst of her monsters melted.
I helped her into her disguise coveralls, and she looked both adorable and official in her getup with her ball cap atop her golden curls.
The cap had been my idea. Red with “Pest Manager” in white embroidery across the front.
I’d insisted she needed it to complete the cover, shooting Zane a look when he opened his mouth to tease.
He was the pest it referred to, anyway, but the truth was, I wanted her to have something that made her smile.
Something light to counter the weight of what we did.
Then her whisper cut through three dhampirs’ hearts with one smooth strike.
“Thank you. For letting me help.”
Zane’s laugh came out strangled. Cas overtightened his vest strap. I gulped.
Dark take me. Z was right. We are so fucked.
“Gear check,” Cas broke the silence, his voice gruff.
We weren’t fully gearing up or equipping; none of our preliminary assessments showed anything more worrisome than a small magical residue by the fire pit.
And we weren’t using guns because you can’t have campers hearing bang-bang from rat exterminators.
So Z and I were packing standard-issue blades, spelled and silvered, and Cas had his sword hidden under his coveralls.
We wore lightweight body armor except Seri, whose gear Cas had designed to be less restrictive. Her core was protected, but he’d prioritized mobility over coverage, knowing her gravitational abilities and shadow walking worked best when she could move freely.
Not that we expected her to need to use either, but it was best to prepare for the worst. Which was why Cas’ sniper rifle was in its case in the back of the SUV, right alongside my combat shotgun and Lurleen, Zane’s modified assault rifle.
“Remember,” I told Seri, “anything feels off, you say the word, and we’re out.”
“Got it. But I’m ready, Koko. I really am.”
“I know you are. Just don’t forget who’s the expert here.”
“Let me guess. You?” Her eyes sparkled.
“Bet your ass I am, sweet girl.” I grinned down at her.
“And I’m new to the job, learning the ropes.” She straightened her shoulders, adopting what she probably thought was a professional pest manager stance.
“At least that part’s not a lie,” Zane quipped, bumping her shoulder gently with his elbow.
I watched her smile up at him and felt the now-familiar war in my chest: The need to protect her versus the desire to let her fly. Still, I’d never been one for cage-building, even when it came wrapped in the guise of safety.
According to the briefing, the campground had officially closed yesterday.
The only people still on site should be a handful of campers whose parents were picking them up today or tomorrow, two counselors to supervise them, and the camp director.
No cleaning staff until Monday. Minimal witnesses, minimal risk.
So why did it feel like someone was dragging ice-cold fingers up my spine?
As we approached the main office, a woman in her fifties emerged, clipboard in hand. The director, Mrs. Lawson, matched the description in our file: graying bob, sensible hiking boots, expression of someone who’d spent thirty years herding kids without losing her mind.
“You must be the exterminators,” she said, consulting her clipboard. “Wasn’t expecting you until later.”
“Traffic was light,” Cas replied. “We’d like to do an initial sweep while there are minimal personnel on site.”
She nodded, handing over a colorful map of the grounds.
“The last few campers are in cabin one with the counselors, so you shouldn’t be disturbed.” She pointed to the location on the map. “Most of the reports have come from around the campfire pit.”
“Any of that activity happen at specific times?” I asked.
“Mostly at night, but we’ve had daytime incidents, too. Just yesterday, one of the counselors swore something flew past her face, but there was nothing there when she looked.”
“Classic bat behavior,” Zane offered with a straight face, and I resisted the urge to elbow him.
“We’ll start with a full perimeter check.” Cas nodded and folded the map. “Standard procedure.”
Ms. Lawson seemed relieved to have professionals handling the situation. Little did she know our expertise had nothing to do with rats, bats, or insects.
We split into pairs, Cas with Seri and Zane with me, to cover more ground quickly.
Standard procedure for any containment mission, especially with a rookie.
I’d wanted to be paired with Seri, but Cas had invoked Operational Guideline 23.
5: “In mixed pair assignments, the eldest and most experienced hunter shall accompany the trainee.”
Sometimes I wondered if Cas laminated the pages of his own brain.
Zane and I took the eastern half of the camp, starting with cabins three through five. Nothing amiss. Just empty bunks, forgotten socks, and the lingering scent of bug spray and adolescent body odor. We found a half-eaten candy bar in cabin four that had attracted ants, but nothing supernatural.
“You’re twitchy today,” Zane said as we exited the last cabin.
“You don’t feel it?” I scanned the tree line, searching for anything out of place.
“Feel what? The crushing weight of Cas’ anxiety? That’s a twenty-four seven special.”
“Something’s off, Z.”
“Bad enough to abort?”
I hesitated. We had nothing concrete, just my intuition and Brumous’ earlier refusal to come along.
“Let’s find Cas and Seri first. See if they found anything.”
We rendezvoused at the arts and crafts building, a large wooden structure with a wraparound porch covered in children’s paintings.
Cas and Seri came out, Seri animatedly describing something while Cas nodded, his shoulders merely stone now instead of the usual steel.
He liked listening to her talk, no matter what it was about.
“Any luck?” Zane called out.
“Nothing unusual,” Cas reported.
“That leaves the campfire pit,” I said. “Last stop before we give Ms. Lawson the all-clear.”
And get the hell out of here, I added in my mind.
The campfire area was far enough from the cabins to feel isolated, but close enough for safety.
Hewn logs arranged in a circle served as seating, surrounding a stone-lined pit filled with a charred log, endless ashes, and a few burned marshmallows.
As we approached, the hair on my arms stood up, and Cas froze mid-step, nostrils flaring.
“Do you smell that?”
Zane and I nodded. Burnt hair and rot. Dark magic. Cas signaled for us to take defensive positions, so Zane and I flanked Seri while he unzipped the front of his coveralls and drew his sword.
“I don’t like this. The ?aumākua are screaming danger.”
“What’s an… That word you said, Koko?”
“The guardian spirits of my ancestors. They say something is very wrong here.”
“Then maybe we should listen,” Seri suggested. “Spirits of any kind are not to be taken lightly.”
“Affirmative.” Cas’ voice was tight as his eyes darted around. “We are neither prepared nor equipped to take on anything Dark. Move out. Now.”