Chapter 8 #2
“Yes,” Ty said. “If his grandmother had still been around, that would never have happened. Unfortunately, there are those who, for whatever reason, have a vulnerability in their characters that allows them to be exploited by others. Demons seek out those people, of course, because they make easy puppets. We call them vessels, for in a way, that is the thing they’re most suited to being. ”
No wonder Caleb hadn’t liked Aaron. It wasn’t simple jealousy, but a realization deep down that the man had a fatal flaw running through his soul, the sort of thing that might as well have been a beacon inviting any nearby demons to exploit it.
Then again, his dislike could have simply stemmed from the annoying fact that Aaron Sanchez had gone out for drinks with Delia.
“Well, this particular vessel doesn’t seem to be here,” Caleb said. “Now what?”
“We need to check the rest of the house,” Ty replied.
“I’ll admit that if he were here, he probably would have heard us and come to see what we were up to, but there’s no point in giving up until we know for sure the place is empty.
I’ll look upstairs. Pru, you can check out the rest of the ground floor.
And Caleb” — Ty’s eyes glinted again, a signal that he was probably enjoying himself — “you can check out the basement.”
Great. Even though he was a quarter demon and therefore didn’t have much reason to be frightened of things that went bump in the night, Caleb had to admit that he’d never been a fan of basements.
The one at his parents’ house had been converted into extra living space, a sort of man cave with an attached bedroom and bathroom so it had just felt like another level in the home, but he’d never forget the time he’d gone over to a friend’s place in sixth grade, and Charlie had suggested they play darts in the basement.
That particular cellar hadn’t been improved at all, unless you counted the dart board hanging on one wall and the crappy indoor/outdoor carpeting that covered the concrete floor.
However, Caleb had been willing to ignore the complete lack of decor — an eleven-year-old generally wouldn’t have given a shit about stuff like that — until a rat scampered right over his foot while he was aiming at the dartboard.
Maybe he hadn’t gone running screaming out of the house, but he’d also done what he could to avoid basements ever since then.
However, he was damned if he was going to let Ty Carter see how much this particular assignment annoyed him.
Instead, he replied, “Got it,” and headed back to the downstairs hallway, where he’d already noted a door cut into the wall beneath the stairs. Sure enough, once he opened the door, he saw another set of steps leading downward.
His fingers found the switch, placed conveniently next to the door, and he flicked it on. A bare bulb installed in the ceiling responded at once, telling him at least he wouldn’t have to make the descent in utter darkness.
As basements went, this one didn’t have much to write home about.
It only took up about half the footprint of the ground floor, telling him it was probably around five hundred square feet at the most. A ratty plaid couch had been placed up against one wall, and a big, old blocky TV sat on what looked to be a discarded dresser on the wall opposite.
The space was definitely small enough that he could take it in at one glance and realize neither Delia nor Aaron was down here.
However, Caleb figured he might as well poke around a bit and see if he could find anything interesting, maybe one of those “witch’s knots” that Ty had located inside the kitchen cupboard.
Not that he even knew what one looked like, since he hadn’t peered in the cabinet the way Prudence and Ty had, but Caleb guessed that something like that would still look pretty out of place down in a basement full of rejected furniture from the seventies and eighties.
On the far wall was a bookcase. Once he started reading the titles, he thought that maybe Ty had been right about Aaron’s grandmother being some kind of witch, since there were lots of titles about plants and philosophy and mysticism.
At least half were written in Spanish, so he couldn’t say for sure what their subjects were, although he guessed they were probably more of the same.
Still, while all that was interesting, he didn’t see anything that looked like a witch’s knot — or any other kind of symbol, for that matter. He was just about to head back up the stairs when a small rectangle of white paper on the worn shag carpet caught his eye.
At once, he bent down to pick it up. As soon as his fingers touched the paper, he realized it was actually cardstock, and that what he held was a business card.
August Sellers, General Manager, Aquarius Casino and Resort, it read, followed by a phone number.
Why the hell would there be a business card from a casino executive down here?
Probably not because Aaron’s grandmother had been a gambler.
No, Caleb remembered all too well how his and Delia’s first adversary in Las Vegas had been Robert Hendricks, a vice president at the Dunes casino, someone connected to a shadowy outfit in Southern California called The Styx Group.
Despite Pru’s best efforts, they hadn’t been able to dig up very much about the company, and so the investigation had been pushed off to the side after they had to deal with the much more immediate problem of Aegis Holdings.
In that case, “Robert Hendricks” had really been the demon Calach, masquerading as a casino exec.
What if this August Sellers was yet another demon, this one reaching out to Aaron because it had recognized the weakness in the man and wanted to exploit it in whatever way he could?
What if this demon was the one who’d kidnapped Delia?
Caleb realized all this was something of a reach, mostly because he had no way of knowing whether Mr. Sellers was even a demon.
Then again, what human being would call himself “August”?
Holding the business card, Caleb hurried back up the stairs. Ty was just coming down the staircase from the second floor.
“I found two more witch’s knots,” he said. “One in the master bedroom closet, and another scratched into the wall behind the medicine cabinet in the hall bath.”
“That’s great,” Caleb told him. “I found this.”
He handed the business card to Ty, who frowned down at it just as Prudence came around the corner.
“I didn’t see any of those knots in the living room or dining room,” she said. “But there was one on the service porch behind the dryer.” She paused there, as if noticing for the first time the card Ty was holding. “What’s that?”
“A business card I found down in the basement,” Caleb replied. “I’m hoping it might be a clue.”
“To what, exactly?” she asked. “I mean, what would a casino here in Laughlin have to do with Delia’s disappearance?”
“Maybe nothing,” Ty said, but before Caleb could interrupt, he went on, “Or maybe everything. Demons are often drawn to casinos because so many of the seven deadly sins are on full display there. They thrive on that sort of energy. So it’s possible this August Sellers is yet another demon in disguise. ”
Since Caleb had been about to say pretty much the same thing — well, except the part about the seven deadly sins — he only nodded.
“I don’t know if Delia told you,” he said, “but there was a casino exec in Las Vegas who hired her to track me down…except he was a full-blown demon masquerading as a normal person. If demons find Aaron valuable as a pawn, then it makes sense to me that Aaron might have had a business card from one of them.”
Pru stared down at the card for a moment. Then she looked up and smiled.
“Well, it sounds as if we have to pay this August Sellers a visit.”
She swam up toward consciousness like a diver moving toward the light of the sun flickering through water far overhead. Darkness had been everywhere, but now…
…now when she awoke, she realized she was still trapped in the dark.
Delia still couldn’t say exactly what had happened.
She remembered driving to Heritage Park, and she remembered getting out of her car.
For some reason, she’d been drawn to the cool blue waters of the river just beyond the parking lot, although it had been moving faster than she’d expected, and she’d realized it wouldn’t be very smart to stick her toes in.
No, instead she settled for walking on the grass until she found a place where she thought she should stop and call Caleb to let him know she was all right and would probably be heading back to Las Vegas soon.
Just as she’d been reaching for her phone, everything went dark.
Now she realized she was still caught in darkness.
She lay on something soft, but her fingers moved over its surface and felt how narrow it was, and she realized it was probably a couch or maybe a chaise lounge rather than a bed.
A blanket covered her up to the waist, and she was fully dressed, although the sandals she’d been wearing appeared to have vanished.
What the hell was going on?
“Hello?” she called out — or at least tried to. As soon as the word left her lips, however, it felt as if it had been swallowed up by the same darkness that surrounded her now.
Her heartbeat sped up, although she told herself she needed to remain calm.
She still had no idea where she was or who had brought her here — or why it was so very dark, with not the slightest scintilla of light to let her see something of her surroundings — but she appeared to be safe and unharmed.
For now, anyway.
When she tried to push herself off the sofa or chaise or whatever it was that she lay on, though, it was as if she’d been caught in a prison whose dimensions were limited to the piece of furniture that supported her.
She could change positions, could lie down or sit up, but she couldn’t swing her legs off the edge, couldn’t stand up so she might try to explore something of this Stygian prison where she was trapped.
Again, her heart began to hammer away in her chest, and she closed her eyes — not that it really mattered whether they were open or shut — and began doing the breathing exercises she’d learned from a friend who was a yoga instructor.
Breathe in for four…hold for four…release for four.
Oddly, that seemed to help a little. Or maybe she was just relieved she had even that much control over herself and her body.
Her pulse had slowed, and she knew she needed to take stock.
All right, shoes missing, but everything else apparently just as she remembered, down to the silver hoops in her ears and the silver ring with its cabochon tourmaline on the middle finger of her right hand. She felt around on the sofa/chaise but didn’t find anything that seemed to be her bag.
So, purse gone as well. That meant no phone, no way of getting in touch with Caleb or anyone else who could possibly help.
Which had to be by design, of course.
Because she couldn’t get off the sofa/chaise/bed, she had no way of knowing how large her prison truly was.
So…what happened when she got thirsty or hungry, or needed to use the bathroom?
Oddly, though, her body felt almost neutral, as if it had evolved into a state where she didn’t need to engage in any of those natural functions.
She wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved by that realization…or even more freaked out.
Freaking out wasn’t going to solve anything, though. Somehow, she’d gotten in here, and that meant there must be some way of getting out.
She just had to determine what that was, no matter how long it might take.
All the same, she couldn’t help sending out a little pulse of thought, a little hope that somehow, somewhere, he might hear her.
Find me, Caleb.