Ann Aguirre - Hell Fire

That did it. “Let’s go, then.”

A few people stopped us on the way out, wanting to shake our hands and thank us for finding Rob Walker. I wasn’t used to townsfolk reacting to me that way. They weren’t even giving the witchy outfit a second glance anymore. I felt oddly out of sorts; I had hated this whole town for so many years, and now I was finding that some of them were genuinely nice people, just making the best of their crappy lives in a terrible town. I didn’t like realizing I’d been just as judgmental and intolerant as folks had been to me so often.

As soon as we could, we hurried out to the Forester. While Jesse unlocked the doors, I bounced with impatience. Each second that passed increased our chances of losing Sandra Cheney, who was our only hope of finding England’s estate.

My heart nearly stopped when somebody stepped out of the shadows near me. I stumbled back a few steps. Chance slid in front of me in a smooth motion, ready to fight. But then, he’d been looking for a fight ever since we hadn’t had sex up against the bathroom door.

“Easy, easy.” Dale Graham, still wearing the clothes he’d had on when we bought him coffee, came out into the overhead light, his palms spread. “I don’t want anybody else to know I survived the fire, so why don’t we get in the car and drive?”

With a quick, furtive look around the parking lot, we did. Jesse got in front with Dale; Chance, Shannon, and I crammed in back. But Jesus, Dale smelled evil. Whatever he’d been doing to lie low hadn’t involved personal hygiene. Eyes watering, I cracked the back window and wished I could crawl all the way back to the cargo area.

“You’ve fingered Sandra and August, am I right?” He rubbed his hands together like a gleeful child. “I have proof . And I have the book with me, thank God.”

“More important, do you know the way to his place?” Jesse asked.

He’d taken the wheel because Shannon wasn’t trained in tailing, but it looked like we’d missed Sandra Cheney. I hadn’t seen her leave the parking lot. Dammit. We’d spent too long saying our good-byes to friendly parishioners. At Dale’s gesture, Saldana pulled out from the parking lot and onto the road.

“Absolutely,” Graham assured us. “I’ve been following them for weeks, and it’s even worse than I thought. In fact, they haven’t been conspiring with an alien race to subjugate all humankind.”

I blinked and slid a look at Chance, who asked, “What could be worse than that?”

The reporter shifted on the seat, peering at us over his shoulder. “Demons,” he whispered. “I think they’re summoning demons.”

“At least one,” I agreed. “And I don’t know what we’re going to do about it.”

“Do you think they’re going to summon more? When?” Shannon asked.

Dale sighed. “I wish I knew.”

He turned back around then and focused on giving directions to Saldana. The night was black as ink, starless, cloudless. The farther we got from Kilmer, the more my flesh crawled. Shouldn’t there be a moon somewhere up there? I thought about what Booke had said concerning the stain upon the astral. Could it be spreading? I wondered if there would come a time when there was no longer any blue in the sky at all; if the town was being slowly sucked elsewhere, so when the odd stranger came by here, there would one day be nothing but a stretch of weirdly empty road.

I shivered, and Chance wound an arm around my shoulders. “Do we trust this guy?” he whispered.

“They burnt down his house,” I answered quietly. “They must think he knows something incriminating.”

“Or they’re just crazy,” Shannon put in. “I know my mom is.”

I couldn’t argue that, and there was no point in speculating. We’d be there soon enough—and I’d rather not breathe any more than I absolutely had to.

“We’ll have to park here,” Dale said abruptly. “We’re going in the back. I know a way around the fences.”

“Are they electric?” Jesse asked.

The reporter shook his head. “No, but he has dogs.”

“Of course he does,” Chance muttered.

I glanced down at my skirt. Well, at least I was wearing black, but if I’d known ahead of time, I probably would have dressed down a little. We pulled off the road just inside a stand of trees. It offered basic cover for the SUV, but it wouldn’t stand up to prolonged scrutiny. The good news was, most of Kilmer was at the Methodist church.

We hiked a short way past the road and into the field. To get through Dale’s gap in the fence, we had to crawl. My sweater caught, but Jesse unhooked me before it could tear. I flashed him a smile as the others came past.

“Which way to the house?” Jesse whispered.

At first I wasn’t sure why the hushed voices, and then I realized our words would carry twice as far in the still night air. It was so dark I had a hard time seeing anything, let alone minute gradations on the ground. Dale led the way with surety, which I hoped came from frequent reconnaissance, not from being England’s secret minion. Burning down his house seemed extreme for a cover story, though.

As we crossed the hilly field, we didn’t talk. A somber mood had fallen upon us, driving home the idea that we were trespassing. Anything could happen to us out there. Death didn’t have to come from some exotic source. A knife or stray bullet would do the job more permanently than any of us liked. Butch whined a little in my bag, and I gave him a reassuring stroke.

As we crested what Dale said was the final hill, a mansion worthy of a Gothic novel sprawled before us. I took in the mullioned windows, graven arches, and the crumbling, ornate stonework. We stood closest to the back door, or the servants’ entrance.

Maybe that would be our ticket in; I just didn’t know how yet. Not for the first time, I wished I had my mother’s affinity for real magick, not just a touch that crippled me whenever I used it. Wouldn’t it be awesome if I had a bag of tricks full of prepared spells? Chance could pick the lock, but what would we say to the cook? A concealment or disguising charm would have come in handy right about now.

Too bad I wasn’t a witch.

“We can’t just stand here. Anybody looking out those windows”—Jesse gestured at the upper stories—“could see us. Let’s take cover.” He led the way toward the hedges.

Because I couldn’t think of a better plan, I followed.

Once we were hidden, I noticed Chance craning his neck to get a better look at the symbols etched into each stone that composed the arches. I looked too, figuring it might be important. And then it clicked.

“They match the ones on the library,” I whispered.

Shannon added, “Which used to be a church.”

“They’re Rosicrucian,” Dale put in.

Hey, I could show off my Booke learning. “But they also draw from the Emerald Tablet of Hermes.”

The conspiracy theorist looked suitably impressed. “Oh, excellent.” He took a notebook out of his man purse and scrawled something.

Saldana’s leashed aggravation added a lovely edge to his Texas drawl. “I don’t mean to interrupt the ramblin’ about architecture, but unless you have a point to make, I think we need to focus elsewhere. Otherwise, the butler’s gonna come out this back door and find us squattin’ in the bushes.”

“I do have a point to make,” Chance said, unexpectedly, and with a hint of steel in his tone. “Our technology worked at the library. My luck worked at the library—”

“Which means it might work here,” I breathed. “We’re right under the sigils.”

Chance favored me with a smile. “Exactly. So how about I concentrate on finding us a way in there?”

Sounded good to me.