Ann Aguirre - Hell Fire

“And I knew he was missing,” Shannon put in. “So I figured it must be Rob, and”—she bent down, checking something—“I confirmed it with his class ring.”

“Well done.” Jesse looked seriously impressed.

“You should go tell Rob’s mother first,” Chance suggested. “If she goes with you to see the sheriff, he won’t be able to say no.”

I agreed with that too.

Jesse took me aside, a good thirty yards away and behind some trees. He grasped my forearms in his big hands. His palms slid up and down as if chafing me to keep warm. “If anything goes wrong, Corine, I’ll know. We’ll come back. But damn , I don’t want you doing this.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “If it wanted to hurt me, it would have before.”

I didn’t completely believe it, but he needed to hear it in order to walk away. Jesse kissed my forehead and my cheeks, and then he brushed my lips with his, as if in benediction. His touch sent a sweet little shock through me, and then we rejoined the others. Chance gave me a cool, measuring look.

A whispery echo spilled out of the radio, making me jump. I’d forgotten about Rob’s spirit. “Thanks, Shannon. Will you tell my mom I love her and . . . I’m sorry?”

I never knew regret could have a scent until that moment, but it spilled from the ghost like burnt almonds. So many opportunities lost, possibilities denied, and for what? He probably didn’t even remember if he’d had fun sneaking off in the woods to drink cheap liquor with his classmates.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

But she would couch his words in ways a regular person could comprehend. I’m sure Rob loves you and he’s sorry you were worried, but he’s in a better place now. I’m so glad I could give you closure. Such normal condolences and comforts could hide the reality of who we were and what we could do. I totally understood her bleak look and gave her a brief hug to show I did.

All too soon, Shannon and Jesse took off, leaving Chance and me alone in the woods.

Chance and I sat at either side of what had been Robert Walker, aged seventeen.

The bones lay between us.

I stared at them, blind and unseeing, until something occurred to me. Though they had once supported life, these were inanimate now. Maybe we could find out what had happened to Rob Walker without a forensic team. My sore fingers flexed. If I did this, I’d have to use my left hand.

Did I really want to cripple myself? Well, if we could do some good with the information, then yeah, I’d risk it.

Chance followed my gaze with his, and I saw the exact moment he realized what I meant to do. He reached for my wrist too late. My left hand made contact with the bones.

There was nothing, not even a small shock of pain. I felt only the cool and pitted surface where scavengers had gnawed. Surprise washed over me.

“There was nobody to imprint them,” Chance guessed, as I drew my hand away. “The occasional nibble of wild animals wouldn’t do it.”

I conceded that with a nod. “I should have thought of that.”

“Truthfully,” Chance said, “I’m glad it didn’t work.”

“Truthfully?” I repeated. “Me too.”

It felt oddly like we were keeping vigil for Rob. There were no candles or holy words, but the intent remained. He’d been out here alone too long. I wondered—could he see us or sense us? I already knew he couldn’t hear anyone but Shannon. Was that all that awaited us? A lonely afterlife filled with tormenting glimpses of the living?

A heavy, sorrowful feeling came over me, too much work to move. From that point, I must have daydreamed. I didn’t think I had spoken to Chance in a while. He seemed to be feeling that same pressure, as if it would be easier just to topple over.

Lethargy trickled through me, weighting my limbs with lead. So tired. I wanted to curl up on my side and go to sleep. Through layers of exhaustion, I knew a spike of alarm. This wasn’t like me. I wouldn’t doze off in the middle of a scary wood. Nearly too late, I recognized the swirling darkness around us, deeper and darker than any shadow.

It carried with it the faint scent of decay and decomposition, not of meat, but of vegetation. The smell was pungent, but not revolting. I breathed it in, feeling dizzy. I forced my eyes open—or thought I did—but I couldn’t seem to move. Fear slalomed through me like an Olympic event. The heaviness all around us increased.

Shit, we hadn’t accomplished anything at all by staying. It would devour the bones and this time, us too. The futility enraged me; I couldn’t even turn my head to see if Chance was all right. If anything happened to him because he’d wanted to protect me . . . damn. I should have insisted he go with the others. He was helpless without his luck, and I should have thought of that.

“What do you want?” I managed to push the words past numb lips.

Tendrils so cold they burnt brushed my lips and cheeks in an unholy caress. I couldn’t sense malice in the touch, but I was damn near freezing to death. It was possible my brain no longer functioned at peak efficiency.

“This is my dominion, darling child.”

With an inward shudder, I recognized the voice from the last time. Any last shred of uncertainty dissolved. I imagined a certain cloying fondness in the endearment it spoke, and I remembered the dark thing had claimed to know my mother.

“I was granted this territory in a pact I have honored even when others have not. So what do I want? I want redress.”

Pact . The word resonated, lending unmistakable significance. It confirmed what I half suspected when first we discovered Chance’s luck didn’t work here.

“Who made the pact?” As the dark mist roiled away from me, it grew easier to speak. I even managed to turn my head, but Chance seemed to be asleep. I told myself not to make any sudden moves. This thing might take pleasure in talking to me—and then it might decide it would enjoy rending me limb from limb. Best not to provoke it.

“The twelve,” it said, “long since gone to dust.”

If they’d long since gone to dust, how did they manage to burn down our house? I wouldn’t start with that, though. Part of me couldn’t believe I was sitting there, talking to the thing, but I didn’t have much choice. Though I could speak and turn my head, I still couldn’t get up. Certainly I couldn’t run, not with Chance comatose.

Since it seemed to be in an expansive mood—and who knew how long that would last—I asked the obvious question. “Why did you have my mother’s necklace?”

Icy phantom fingers lingered at my throat. I imagined it tracing the curls and curves of the flower pentacle and tried to suppress a shiver.

“I was fond of her,” it answered at length. “I had a forest creature bring it to me. I kept it for you. . . . I remember you, darling child. She asked me to keep you safe.”

She asked. It could only mean Cherie Solomon, my mother.

Demons lied. It was what they did. So I don’t know why the words rocked me so much. I should have been able to shake them off, dismiss them as false. Instead, they ate into my psyche. Perhaps it was because I’d recently seen how little Chance knew his own mother. No matter how much we loved, how could we ever truly know anyone else’s heart?

“How . . .” I cleared my throat and started again. “How did you know her?”

“She left gifts sometimes. She knew I was lonely.” The earth itself shivered a little with the last word.

Could that be true? Had my mother been kind enough even to take pity on an exiled demon? Well, exiled or bound. It said it was granted these woods as its territory, but in exchange for what? What were the terms of the agreement? If I thought it would answer honestly, I might ask.