Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
I swam against the tide, trying to get a hold of her. Octavia had her packed bag in her truck. She lingered in the inn lobby, waiting to be checked out. The innkeeper had yet to come back from the hospital where he’d taken his husband.
“Via,” Wilson insisted for the umpteenth time under his breath. “Would you just listen for a second? Stay one more night until we all figure something out.”
“I’m not staying. The message was crystal clear. One more night could be worse. What if the next person’s you?” She wouldn’t meet her brother’s gaze. Octavia refused to look at any of us after the accident happened.
The innkeeper’s car rattled into the parking lot. December was at the window, peeking through the lace curtains. When she turned to me and nodded in confirmation, my stomach lurched.
I hurried outside with my phone in hand. Gravel crunched under my limping step as I neared the RV for privacy. The call rang until the very last second. I breathed out a heavy sigh, pinching the base of my neck.
“I work fast, but not that fast,” Daylan grumbled, his voice scratchy from lack of sleep, or water, or socialization.
“I need you to tell me everything you know about fending off a demon,” I said quickly. “Defensive and offensive attacks.”
“Whoa, slow down.” Bedsheets ruffled on his end. “Why are you jumping the gun? I thought we had a plan. A nice, slow-burn plan. You practice creating the trap first, test it, and then we move onto the next stage.”
“We don’t have time for stages; this thing showed up at the inn.”
“It what?” His voice was louder, consciousness finally pulling him through to the bright side of the morning.
“The demon was here, and it injured someone as a threat to lure Octavia back to the ranch,” I explained. “And it worked.”
“It followed you all. So that means…”
“It’s strong enough to leave the ranch. The primary source of energy isn’t the land; it’s her.” I winced, saying it out loud. Words were power, and this confession was like giving mine away.
“Your friend’s in for a ride.” Daylan’s laugh of disbelief made my jaw clench.
“Do you know how to help me, or am I just wasting my time?” Since Octavia was dead set on leaving, I only had two options:
Let her and fight as hard as I could to keep her safe on the demon’s home turf.
Or force her to stay using any and every means and destroy the small bridge of trust we’d cultivated.
I had to let her go. Walk straight into the unknown. Because if our trust was gone, then I had a minuscule chance of helping her through the separation from this demon.
“I can call someone else,” I threatened. My someone else was one of my sisters. Downgrades, all of them, in a time like this. But at least they’d try to have answers. And feel some sort of empathy for the situation.
“I know a warding recipe.” Paper rustled on his end, a frantic flipping of pages. “It’s old and possibly weak, but it might buy you time.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know. Back when I learned it, the thing shielded me for about a month.”
“Why wouldn’t it still hold for that long?”
“Demons grow in power like humanity does. They pass on knowledge to one another on how to evade wards and resist exorcisms.”
“Of course they do.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. “How long does it take to put it together?”
“If you have access to a graveyard, an hour. Maybe two,” Daylan said. “Rae, I can’t promise it’ll completely keep the demon out even if it works. But it will limit its power. It wouldn’t be able to access the means of physical touch for long.”
“That’ll have to do.”
As Daylan texted over the recipe, Octavia walked to her truck with her bag in hand. Nico was right on her trail.
“Got it?” Daylan asked once he pressed send.
My phone buzzed with confirmation. I frowned at the screen. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
I scoffed. “Let’s hope the rest of it is this easy.”
“I’d hate to jinx us, but—”
“Then don’t.” I hung up and went to Octavia before she could climb into the truck. I rested a hand on the door handle before she could grab it.
“Unless you plan on taking me back inside, kicking and screaming”—she glared at my fingers—“I suggest you get out of my way.”
“Please, just give me two hours.” I held my phone up. “I have something that’ll ward you against the demon while you’re at home.”
“You do?” Octavia and Nico asked at the same time.
“Since when?” Nico frowned and accepted my phone when I offered it to him for a look.
“Since Daylan got enough fire under his ass and looked in his archives.”
Octavia shook her head, a frown in place as she tried to keep up. “I thought you said wards would take days to make.”
“We’ve only known how to make personal ones until now. Those are the strongest, most reliable kind,” I said. “This one’s made to place around your entire house. Once it’s set, the demon won’t be able to do more than blow a candle out or make a mirror fog…hopefully.”
She scoffed. “Hopefully?”
“It’s better than nothing,” I reminded her. “Octavia, please.”
She took a deep breath and a few seconds longer to consider. “Fine. Two hours and then, I’m gone.”
“I’ll be right there with you,” I promised. “Now, can I borrow your truck?”
Nico, Jonah, and I pierced the ground with our shovels. We needed to fill the three dozen large buckets we picked up at Rainwood’s in less than an hour. December stayed behind at the inn with Octavia and Wilson, promising to slow down Octavia’s exit if it came to it.
December
She’s threatening to steal a car if I don’t take her back in the RV. I’ll disconnect all the car batteries in the lot.
I’m sure she knows how to reconnect something like that.
Well, I’ll do it again and again until we look like the Looney Tunes and you guys get back.
It’s a decent enough joke to lighten the weight on my shoulders.
But the reprieve lasted only a couple of seconds.
We were in the furthest corner of Alpine’s cemetery, digging up dry dirt and coughing between the clouds of dust. Three of my nails had broken, and one bled at the cuticle.
I urged myself forward, powering through the lactic acid collecting in my arms and legs and the pulsing pain in my ankle.
It was getting worse the more I stood on it.
Every time a shovelful of dirt hit the cold metal of the buckets, I was buried underneath thoughts of how I couldn’t figure out where to lead everyone from here. Even with Daylan’s help, we were wayward. And I would have to make the next big call.
This wasn’t some spirit in need of guidance to a long, peaceful sleep.
I’d have to figure out how to not look like this change didn’t make me want to cower in a corner.
The highway sign out of town had been the most tempting thing ever.
I could have turned left instead of right into the cemetery.
Disappeared. And even entertaining the thought of a retreat triggered the self-loathing that had me avoiding my reflection at all costs.
You’re scared. It’s pathetic how scared you are.
“RJ?” Nico was a million miles away.
I opted for more distance between us, whispering a quick, “Keep going. One sec.”
My feet carried me to a nearby mausoleum coated in vines and algae.
I ducked behind the wall, releasing breakfast into a collection of thorny bushes.
Dry heaving came next, the muscles lining my stomach cramping with each involuntary clench.
The sulfur from last night burned in my lungs.
The sound of glass from the truck lights shattered repeatedly in my mind.
That dark cloud that followed us up the elm tree on the hilltop clung to my throat this time.
A breathless Nico and Jonah appeared behind me.
Nico moved closer, not put off by my undoing.
He reached for the braid that’d fallen out of its pin, holding it out of my overreaction.
It’s a carbon copy moment from the nights we used to sneak beer from our parents’ stash.
I was weak enough to wish for those days again, too.
Days when people told me what to do and when to do it.
And you thought you were cut out for leadership? Damn, Octavia was right; it was a lovely gimmick. So lovely, you even tricked yourself.
I was dangerous. Being in charge and being this unsteady was dangerous.
Jonah crouched, elbows on his knees, as he offered company from a few feet away. When there was finally a substantive gap in my dry heaving, he asked, “Was it the bird?”
“The…bird…?” I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, throat burning from the bile and shame. I wasn't supposed to be losing myself in front of the rookie who’d looked up to me.
“There was a baby bird’s skeleton—"
Jonah didn’t get to finish before I leaned over again, coughing up air.
“Let’s keep additional sad things to a minimum.” Nico rubbed my back.
“Sorry,” Jonah murmured.
I gasped for air, each attempt somehow pulling me further from the finish line.
“Hey,” Jonah tried. Nico gave a warning grunt. Jonah shook his head, holding up a hand. “It’s not about the bird.”
“Better not be,” Nico murmured.
“Rae,” Jonah said gently. He inched closer, crouching in front of me this time. I could barely focus on him with the world spinning. “Is it your blood sugar?”
I pressed a hand to my CGM. “No.”
“Then breathing’s just hard because…” Jonah paused for me to fill in the blank, but I had nothing more to offer outside of labored breath.
“I used to have panic attacks at the academy,” he said. “They’re scary. And always took me by surprise.”
My pounding heart drowned out most of his words. I paid close attention to the shape of his mouth to follow what he said.
“You should sit down.” Jonah lowered himself fully to the ground, settling in the dying grass. I numbly followed his lead. “Bend your head between your legs. Breathe in as much as you can.”