Part XLVII

Part XLVII

It was a two bedroom, so I pulled the sheets of the bed and laid plastic across it. I took inventory and laid out all the equipment Bruce had sent. I liked the look of a bed full of guns. The crate contained seven pelican cases, each custom fitted to its contents. The first one I checked was the one labeled with a skull and cross bones. The skull had horns and really big teeth. The gun inside was creatively named The Reaper Weeper. It was designed to fire 2000 needles of frozen mercury a minute. It was good for killing, but bad for the environment. The case contained the gun and three magazines of Bruce's own design that contained liquid nitrogen vapor. You definitely needed goggles to use it, and in one of the smaller cases were the goggles; they were full spectrum and fully sealed. Bruce had fitted in a digital laser range finder and put it all in a snug steampunk looking package that included a snap on helmet and spooky looking fear inspiring respirator, all covered in hand tooled leather.

Another case held a back sheathe which housed pure silver samurai swords; these were his babies. They had been custom made by one of the last sword makers in Japan. They were folded steel, with thin layers of silver added between each fold. The finished sword was then electro-plated with a silver finish. If I lost or damaged these babies, I'd owe him more than a new eye. He'd also sent along an Australian range jacket waterproofed with a special oil infused with mistletoe, nightshade, wolfsbane, belladonna, and lavender. It smelled like the Old Man had drunk lavender water and then threw up, but it worked.

The nine mil's were standard, but the bullets were an herb mix Bruce called “Popuri of Death”. He dried and then ground everything down into powder and formed the bullets using high pressure. They hit, making the demon laugh at you until their face changed as the bullets started to dissolve; then they cried and either blew-up, melted, or smoked. I loved the look of confusion that interrupted their laughter.

He'd thrown in The Big Sleep, but I wasn't sure I was going to needed it as long as The Reaper Weeper didn't freeze up. There was also a small tear down blowgun with darts made from the bones of Saints. I didn't want to know which ones. The last case was a hodgepodge of little things that clipped to the mesh vest and straps. Pretty much everything but a Holy Hand Grenade, although Bruce had been trying for years to make a real one. The casing was easy, but he never quite figured out what would actually be in one. That's what you get trying to reproduce a Monty Python weapon that actually worked. Plus, as kitschy as the casing was, it was impractical. Crosses, as they were in the real world, were little more than decoration and meant nothing to the things I was going to fight.

I tried everything on for comfort and set the straps, locks, buttons and zippers. I looked at myself in the mirrored closet and thought I looked ridiculous. But I'd rather look stupid and stay alive then look stylish and die with a set of ten inch claws clipping my spine, or my eyes melting; some of them spit.

I grabbed some kit from the van and pulled out the few pots and pans the hotel provided. I set to making some sauce. Two hours later the room smelled like something had died in it. I opened the balcony doors and set the thermostat to FAN. While the room cleared out, I walked a few blocks away to a nice little place called Poplar Street Pub. They had a full bar and a number of beers on tap. Being Utah though, the taps were 3.2 % by volume, so I got a bottle of Squatters IPA and backed it with a jack.

The atmosphere was nice. It had three separate rooms and a back patio. While I waited for the alcohol to hit my system, I chatted with a few of the locals and the bartenders. A couple were Jack Mormons, but mostly it was tourists in for one convention or another. When they asked me what I did, I told them I was location scouting for a low budget film. I didn't know what I was getting in to, because before I left I had three business cards and four or five napkins full of names and numbers of people who needed work. Evidently film was dead here too.

I got the bison burger for the old man and got a club salad for myself. Back in the room, the Old Man clawed the bread off the burger and hissed at the lettuce until he decided it wouldn't move on its own. I reached down and picked it away so her could get at the meat. He fell asleep on my lap while I watched Leno die a horrible ten 0'clock time slot death. I fell asleep listening to Letterman talk about screwing his staff.

The next morning, I pulled out of the Residence Inn and drove toward the Wasatch mountains.

There's a bit of lost history about what Brigham Young did when he moved into the Wasatch Valley. Sure they had to endure the harsh winters, but they also had to deal with a brood of nightmares that lived beneath the mountains. The Mountain Meadows Massacre was a direct result of Young and his militia, along with his Native American allies, trying to purge the infestation. In retaliation, the demon brood possessed his men and made them turn their guns upon the Fancher-Baker emigrant wagon train. The media fury, trials and general outrage of this caused Young, the then Governor of the Utah territory, to make a secret pact. The Mormons could keep the valley, but the nightmares got the mountains. It's even rumored that the persistence of polygamy was necessary to provide enough children to both keep the population of Salt Lake City growing, while supplying enough surplus offspring to make the required sacrifices the pact called for.

Polygamy only went out of style in the 1910 excommunication of polygamists from the church. Like the relationship of the knights Templar to the Catholic Church, the excommunication was a cover. The secret reason was that certain families had been chosen to provide the sacrifices solely, and the excommunication was enacted to distance the church from the secret pact. In 1917, as the First World War was beginning to take its final breath, the polygamist Knights of the Later Days went deep into the Wasatch mountains and fought what would be known as the War of Final Sacrifice. The brood never recovered, and at last count there are less than twelve demons still calling the Wasatch mountains home. I only needed to see one of them, but I was willing to finish the job the Mormons had started if I had to.

Part XLVI

Part XLVI

I mumbled under my breath as I passed through the doors to the hospital making myself unremarkable. It was past visiting hours and I needed to make sure Destiny wasn't getting any from things that shouldn't ever get a pass. I passed by the nurse on her way out of Destiny's room and she shuttered and looked around. I sat down in the chair and watched Destiny eat her Jell-o for dinner. It was magic to see her awake and responding, and I wasn't sure I wanted to reveal myself just yet.

She ate slowly, letting the Jell-o melt on her tongue. She stuck her spoon back in and paused. She looked around the room, then settled her gaze right on me. She smiled and took another bite. I stayed where I was. She got it, and that was all I needed.

She finished and put her spoon down and pushed the tray back and away from her. She leaned back and sighed, and patted the bed next to her. I hesitated, then joined her, not knowing what it must have been like to feel me but not see me as I slid in next to her. She turned on her side and we spooned like high school kids not sure what should happen next. She drifted off to sleep and I lay there feeling her breath and getting angry inside.

The window to her room was facing East, and the sun hit me like a pin prick on the back of my neck. I woke with a start and made sure I could still feel her and she was warm. I moved carefully away and sat back in the chair.

On the small side table next to the chair was a pad and a pen. I tore off a piece of paper and made a swan, it was the only piece of Origami I knew, but I'd practiced it a lot. I put it on the pillow next to her head and then laid my palm on her forehead. I consulted with Grandfather Lee, then mumbled under my breath and made her forget me. I locked all her memories so deep in her mind it'd be almost impossible for anyone to find them. If I made it out of this alive, maybe I'd come back with the key.

I paused at the door and felt my spine go rigid. I was done playing around. The Tall Man would pay. I was a hunter now, not a victim, and come hell or high water, I was going fuck him up so bad he'd wished he'd never met me. As my hand slipped off the door jam, I mumbled under my breath and sealed the room. I didn't take my hand off the wall until I reached the front door. Outside my nose began to bleed and Grandfather Lee complained that I was endangering myself by trying to lock down the whole hospital. I told him shut the fuck up.

Back at the hotel, I checked the laptop. It was finished. I was heading to Utah, and I was bringing death with me. The Old Man started to purr when I picked him up. He could feel the anger in me and it made him happy. I scratched him behind the ears and put him back down on the bed. I picked up my cell and called Bruce back.

I need a drop shipment.

I need a new eye.

What color do you want?

I want green.

Green it is.

Not hazel.

It'll be so green people will think it's fake.

I gave Bruce an address and a list of things I was going to need. I hung up and packed my gear. I picked up the Old Man and walked out of the W hotel. As I pushed through the front door, Steven Segal was walking in. I mumbled under my breath and heard him shit his pants. I smiled like the Cheshire cat and didn't break my stride. He was no Chuck Norris.

I pulled onto Wilshire, then dropped to Westwood. I turned right onto Santa Monica and onto the 405 and merged onto the 10 until I hit the 15 North. Grandfather Lee was mumbling low in my brain, keeping me focused. We had a plan, and on top of that I was done messing around. I was focused for the first time since the whole sorted affair had begun. I was out for blood. I was out for retribution, and I no longer cared who got in my way.

I made it to Vegas in record time and pulled into the Fed Ex where I'd had Bruce send my package. The package had to be moved to the van with a lorry. It filled up a quarter of the free space. The kid helping me get it in the van wasn't happy about it.

What they hell d'ya order?

A shit load of guns.

He laughed. It made me a little nervous he thought that was funny.

I laughed as I pulled out and hit the road, because there were guns in the box. Big magic guns, the kinds of things that look like props in a Sci-Fi film and put stupid amounts of hurt on things that shouldn't exist. I was carrying a box full of one-of-a-king Bruce specials, and I was going to use them in very imaginative ways, on very imaginative things.

I stopped in Salt Lake City five hours later and me and the Old Man grabbed a hotel room. I picked the Residence in in city center. We were going to be here for a bit and I needed a room large enough to work in. It had a full kitchen too, and I had things to cook.

Part XLV

Part XLV

The nurse woke me and asked me to leave. Destiny was still in a coma. I stood up and felt my knees pop.

How long have I been here?

About nine hours. You spent the fist six mumbling something then you fell asleep.

I guess I was tired.

I left the room and went to the cafeteria. I got a coffee for myself and a chicken patty sandwich, which I took it to the old Man. He was a little pissy and panting when I got to the van, so I cranked it up and ran the AC on Hi. He jumped in the passenger seat and I tilted the vent so it hit him square in the face. He reached his head toward it and tried to rub it out of the dash.

I climbed in the back and lay down on the bed. I sipped my coffee and grabbed an errant WiFi signal from somewhere. I pulled up the mapping software. I rang Bruce on my cell phone.

You owe me an eye you slick bastard.

I'll try and work something out. I need a favor.

I'm in the office, so what is it?

There seems to be a pattern I'm not seeing. Some sort of order I'm supposed to find the reliquaries in and I don't know what it is.

What have you found so far?

I filled Bruce in. When I was done, I heard him tapping on keys.

You have Internet?

Weak, but yeah.

My cursor started moving without me doing a thing as Bruce hijacked the laptop.

I'm downloading some pattern recognition software onto your machine. It's something DARPA is working on.

I didn't even ask how he got it.

I'm putting in all the data points we've got, from your Uncle's location the reliquary pings to the GPS log from your trip. It will probably hate you for a bit. Look at the screen and I'm going to show you how to put in data points. Everything is relevant, tag them any way you like. It just needs the data, not the tags.

Forty minutes later I signed off with Bruce and started entering as many data points as I could. Everywhere I had ever seen or interacted with The Tall Man as well as everything I could remember. I called and e-mailed a few people as well. I input everything the way Bruce had told me. I ran the software and left the van to check on Destiny.

Destiny was still critical, so I touched the EKG and mumbled under my breath so it'd PING me if she coded or if she improved. Back in the van I checked the laptop and it was still crunching and thinking. I pulled out of the hospital lot and got me and The Old Man a nice room at the W hotel on Wilshire. We deserved something nice. The Old Man jumped on top of the air conditioner and I went down to the bar to Star Gaze. Hell, if I was going to be in LA, I might as well make some stories.

The bar was quiet, but I could feel the souls being taken. Not really, but the smiles on some of the girls were guarded as they talked to older men in suit coats, with their shirts open as though chest hair had made a come back. One of them caught my eye and gave me a bored sad look, then returned her attention to the obvious exec who still thought sun glasses were cool after the sun went down. I ordered a scotch and sat at the bar with all ears open. I mumbled under my breath and listened to all the conversations in the bar. It was simple trick, but one I really trusted. You could hear a mouse running across the floor if you wanted, instead all I heard was desperate sighs as people got up to go to the bathroom. LA was a cesspool. The air was full of regret, I was pretty sure it wasn't all mine.

At the end of the bar some kid was pounding away on his laptop while arguing with someone on his fancy bluetooth ear piece.

I don't care if she blows you, unless she loses fifteen pounds, I'm not even going to return her call.

I didn't like the cut of his jib, so I mumbled under my breath.

He screamed and grabbed at his ear, ripping the earpiece off. The high pitch scream coming from it could be heard as it sailed across the room and smashed against the wall from the force of his throw. He slapped his laptop shut and stormed out, telling the bartender to bill his room. It was much quieter now.

I ordered another drink and took a look around the room again. It was nowhere near as interesting or as exciting as I thought it might be. The only difference between here and a bar in a Holiday Inn was the décor here cost more than a Holiday Inn and almost everyone in here was rich but me.

I finished my drink and walked back to the elevators. The doors opened and I was staring at Neil Young. He smiled and looked forward. I stepped in and then stood like a kid needing to take a pee. I realized I was hoping on both feet, giddy as a schoolgirl. I settled down, and when the doors opened again he stepped off and I kicked myself for not saying Hi. I finally understood what the meant by star struck.

The old man was hungry when I got back so I ordered room service. I got him steak tartar just to blow his mind and got myself the club. No matter what hotel you’re staying in, if they have room service, the club is rarely disappointing.

I dabbled some potion on the tartar and The Old Man purred all the way through it.

I started to drift off to sleep, but then the spell I'd laid on Destiny's monitor pinged. Her heart rate was up and looking good. I bid The Old Man goodnight and headed back into the parking lot. I pulled out and headed back toward the hospital.

Part XLIV

Part XLIV

I had to move fast. I was pretty sure that The Tall Man had set some sort of signal on the Hex so he'd know when Destiny was dead. So, I had to let her die, but not make it permanent. I wasn't sure I could pull it off, but Grandfather Lee seemed sure. I knew the spell, but he knew an older more powerful version, assuming my Mandarin was up to snuff. With Grandfather Lee whispering in my ear, I stepped into the circle.

The nullification symbol would undo anything I tried, so I wrapped my arms around Destiny and lifted her up off the floor as I mumbled Mandarin under my breath and planted a kiss on her lips. I then inhaled and drew her life force into me. It'd combine with mine if I held onto it too long. I dropped her back to the floor, and I felt the signal run through the circle and fly away to The Tall Man. The field kept her upright and I counted to ten while I got slammed in the brain with her entire life. I counted down to ten using the old Stephen King “My Pretty Pony” routine.

I got to eight and broke the circle with my foot, by scraping away some of the marks. I pulled her out, and dropped her to the sofa. I took a deep breath, and then exhaled her life force back into her. I didn't know whether it would work or not, because the energy it required drained me and I passed out.

I woke to the smell of bacon, but that was a memory ghost. It soon transformed into something burning, and as I drug my eyes open, I realized it was the nullification mark still smoldering. That was never coming out of the floor. Destiny wasn't awake, but I could see that she was breathing. Watching her chest rise and fall took a great burden off of me. I got up, and felt severely dehydrated.

I went to the sofa and put my hand on her forehead just to make sure she was warm. She was. I went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. I kicked more of the circle out of the way as I walked back through the living room, and dumped a bit of my glass on the floor where is hissed and cooled the mark. Grandfather Lee was excited that it had worked, and I had to yell at him in my head to get him to shut up. He was giving me a headache, and me yelling didn't help. I put a glass on the side table next to Destiny and sat in a chair across from the sofa, drank my water and watched her chest rise and fall.

I stepped out while she was sleeping and returned the bowling ball to the van just so it didn't attract too many Death Runners. There were probably more in Venice than in all of Tennessee. You'd think the ocean would be a deterrent, but it was pretty fixed. You could walk right out and see the tides coming at you. Few people ever slipped on the beach and got dragged into the ocean. Slipping on the bank of a river was another thing entirely.

The Old Man was asleep and simply rolled on his back exposing his stomach as I put the bowling ball back in the drawer at the foot of the bed. I reached out and petted him. He purred, and then bit me. I knocked out a can of tuna and some potion before I shut him back in. I wanted to be there when destiny woke up.

Climbing the stairs back to her place I smelled burning wood, and when I looked down I saw shoe prints burned into the steps. I ran the rest of the way up and found the door open. Two prints, smoldered at the stoop. I burst in, Destiny was still on the sofa, but she wasn't breathing. I was pissed, but didn't have time to think. I dropped her to the floor and started CPR. The painter's shirt was wet from where she'd lost bladder control. I lifted her head back, swept my fingers through her mouth to get her tongue out of the way, blew four times, dialed 911, and put the phone on speaker and started the four Hundred compressions. CPR had changed over the years, but I tried to make sure I was up to specs. You never know with magic, she's a fickle mistress.

The Emergency team arrived and took over. They had a heart beat five minutes later with a few shocks from a portable defibrillator, and a couple of ccs of epi. They rolled her out and drove off, leaving me behind. I wasn't a friend or family. I closed the door to her apartment on the way out and mumbled under my breath, sealing the door, so I'd know if anyone came calling. I went back to the van, curled up on the bed. The Old Man jumped up and curled up next to me. I could feel his purrs vibrating through me, and it lulled me into sleep.

I woke four hours later, rested enough to go to the Hospital and see what had happened. I could have gone with her, but I would have just gotten in the way. They'd taken her to Santa Monica Hospital. The receptionist was nice, and I found out she was on support but unresponsive. They had good brain waves, but she, was for all intents and purposes, in a coma.

I mumbled under my breath and shrouded myself in a little spell that made me appear so non-threatening to people that I was invisible. I went to Destiny's room and sat holding her hand until a nurse walked in.

You can't be here.

Sure I can.

Family only.

I looked her directly in the eyes and lied. It was a bit of a glamour, and she let me stay. It only worked on her, but she'd just come on shift, so I had a few more hours I could hang out. Grandfather Lee whispered healing spell into my brain and I mumbled them out and transferred them physically through the connection we now had while holding hands. I wasn't going to let her die. Even if it was the last thing I did.

Part XLIII

Pat XLIII

Grandfather Lee chattered in my ear the whole way. It eventually became white noise that settled deep into me and became the rhythm for the drive. Truth is he kept me awake and I was able to make superior time. By the time I pulled into the beach lot off Rose, the sun was overhead and I was arguing with him in Mandarin. I didn't think about it anymore. I finally knew what he was saying, He was a smart man, and as I climbed the stairs to Destiny's apartment we'd figured out a solution to my problem.

I smiled as I knocked on Destiny's door. I was excited, and I didn't know how to hide it. She opened the door wearing her painter's shirt and my grin almost ripped my face in half. She placed her finger on my lips and I didn't say a word. She led me through the place and sat me down on her bed. I hadn't slept in two days. As she pushed me back onto the bed and straddled me, I looked up into her eyes and fell asleep.

I woke to the smell of bacon cooking. She'd turned the tables on me. I was still dehydrated from the drive so the first order of business was a glass of orange juice and a glass of tomato juice. I followed it with her smiling face and some whole wheat pancakes, bacon and maple syrup. She'd laid out breakfast like the last supper. It looked like she must have spent two hours just coring and cutting up fruit.

After breakfast we had coffee and retired to the balcony again. I was getting a serious case of deja vu. We hadn't spoken a word since I'd passed out the night before. She took a sip, then broke the silence.

I can't believe you fell asleep on me.

Let's be clear, I fell asleep under you.

She smiled, and I tried to think of what to say next other than, “I'm sorry.”

Either way, it was very anticlimactic.

Not for me, I slept like a baby. I guess it all depends on what you were looking for a climax to. Me it was a two day drive without any sleep. By the way, I didn't meet a dwarf.

You will.

Looking forward to it.

She took another sip of coffee.

You wanna try again?

Won't it be a bit odd, with me going to be killing you and all?

I don't know, might be exciting.

She was right, it kind of was, well at least when it wasn't really disturbing.

While she slept, me and Grandfather Lee conversed silently in Mandarin and laid out our plan. Truth was he wasn't too bad a guy. Although he pissed me off a few times during my and Destiny's tussle. I guess it'd been a while since he'd had that type of experience.

I slipped out of bed while she slept and prepared the living room. I moved all of the furniture to the side and drew some nasty and not so nasty symbols in circle. It'd bind her, and if I did it right protect her at the same time. The last thing I did was place my hand palm down at the center of the circle. I mumbled under my breath and burned the symbol on my hand into the hardwood floor. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it was the only way I could think of to transfer it. I turned the tattoo into a branding iron. I was going to be wearing it for a while now. It would scar over soon, with the help from the salve Grandfather Lee had made me whip up.

I sat in a chair with a fresh cup of coffee and waited for Destiny to rise. While I waited I made a fist over and over to make sure the scar didn't set my hand in a way I couldn't use it.

A half hour later she walked into the living room rubbing her eyes. She stopped when she saw the circle. I stood up out of the chair. She smiled a sad smile at me and without even flinching she stepped into the center.

What now?

Well, you’re going to fell a prick.

Is that all?

No, after the prick, you'll feel like you’re on fire, and then hopefully before it gets too bad you'll pass out. Don't worry though, you won't fall. You'll be in stasis within the circle.

How will I die?

Slowly.

She pulled herself up straight and gave me a look of determination. She was still just dressed in her painter's shirt, and there was something almost too vulnerable about that, but I think she knew this.

I had a great time Aubrey.

Me too. I pulled out my pocket knife and cut open my finger just enough to draw blood. I mumbled under my breath, activating the nullification symbol, then I drew the last symbol on the floor sealing the circle. Destiny screamed. I stood firm, clenching my teeth. I started to breath heavy as she went limp, but stayed standing.

I mumbled under my breath again and stuck my scarred hand into the circle and closed my fist as though wrapping it around a piece of cloth. I ripped my hand back out and a sheet of energy came with it. I planted my feet and brought my other hand up and rolled the “cloth” around and finally into a ball, where it stabilized. I went to her front door and opened it. The bowling ball bag was still where I had left it. I unzipped it and shoved my hand in. I felt the bowling ball suck the energy right off me. It felt like having acid poured on my hand, but the burn died quick. I zipped the bag back up and this time I carried it with me into the apartment.

Destiny was still upright, protected but close to death. The only thing keeping her alive was the nullifying symbol. The Tall Man had created a kill switch that would kill her when the piece of my Uncle's soul was removed. By temporarily putting the kibosh on his hex I'd bought time, but that was it.

Part XLII

Part XLII

I opened my ad hoc apothecary cabinet in the van and started whipping a little something special together. It'd just come to me out of the blue. As I ran my fingers down the labels I realized that in fact it had not come to me in this way really. It was grandfather Lee whispering secrets into my cerebral cortex. Tricky old bastard. It took about twenty minutes to pour, smash, crush and combine everything in the little pestle. When I was done, I poured it in a mojo bag and cinched it tight.

Back at the falls, I used it like a tea bag and chucked it out into the reservoir at the fall's base. Then I waited. I stood at the edge of the water and watched the run of the water slow. I then watched it gel, and finally after about an hour, it had hardened, all the way up to the top.

I took a tentative step out and felt the water beneath my shoe. It was the consistency of hard rubber tiling, or the stuff they use to make indoor running tracks out of. It'd have to do. Leaving the land, I walked on the water right to the base of the falls, which looked now like some bizarre modern sculpture made of frosted latex. Reaching out my hand, I mumbled under my breath and watched the symbol on my hand, the one I'd picked up in San Francisco etch itself into the gelatinous spray of the falls. It glowed for a second and then winked like a flash bulb. The falls began to quiver as the nullifying force of the mark skittered up like lightning through Jell-o.

Then I turned and ran as the water began to turn liquid again. I could feel the spray of the falls on the back of my neck as the once hard rubber pool became more akin to an under-filled water-bed. I almost made it too. Five feet from shore, the water became water again and I took a very cold bath.

On the shore, I started to shake. I hadn't been in long enough, nor was the water cold enough for hypothermia to set in, but it was damn cold. I mumbled under my breath and the water evaporated into a cloud of steam that both warmed me up and dried me off. I then sat down and waited. An hour passed before I heard it, the sound of a rock, or something like it, falling into the water from what I guessed was at least half way up the falls. Then I saw it, floating toward me. The reliquary, bobbing with the current as it floated through the spray.

I wasn't going to wait any longer so I waded back out into the water, feeling my balls scream and run for cover as I swam out into the clear pool to intercept the reliquary. It was a bottle. More specifically it was a wine bottle. The label was mostly worn away, but I could make the date on it as 1876. Back on shore I held it up and peered inside. There in the bottle, just like in an old story, was a note.

I climbed in the van, and pulled the door to. I flipped on the ceiling light and gave the bottle the once over. The cork in top was sealed over with wax, with a pull string sealed in it. The Old Man didn't seem to care, so I took that as a good sign. He had a nose for trouble and magic. I pulled the string and removed the wax seal. I turned the bottle up and the note slipped right out. I put the bottle on the floor and untied the string on the note. I opened it facing down just in case what was written on it decided to jump out and bite me. That wasn’t entirely a joke. I'd once been witness to someone opening a book that caused his face to melt. Luckily he hadn't dripped on the book. I'd needed what was in it.

Holding the note face down I mumbled under my breath and then blew on the back of the note. The paper went slightly transparent, but the ink didn't. It looks liked someone had used a nice fountain pen and had excellent penmanship. I turned the note over and read it.

It had been written in 1879, by someone named Joseph Stanton. It was written to me. I didn't like that. I didn't like to think something had been in motion long before I or my uncle had been born, something that culminated in him losing his soul and my trying to find it. I didn't like that fact that The Tall Man thought this was just a big game. More importantly, I didn't like what it told me I had to do.

It told me I had to kill Destiny before I would be allowed to continue. It wasn't a reliquary at all. The Tall Man had set rules that I didn't know about. I hate when people don't tell me all the rules at the start. Actually, what it said was:

All of the pieces of the puzzle must be assembled in turn. If you have found this then you have looked Destiny in the eye and have walked away without addressing what you have seen. No man can walk away from their destiny. That includes you Aubrey.

I opened my phone and started to dial. It rang before I finished.

Destiny?

I told you. Men never listen.

I'm headed back your way.

I'll be here.

I really wish you wouldn't.

You don't have a choice, and neither do I.

I hung up the phone, got into the driver's seat and started the old girl up. I pulled out of the lot and headed back through Portland.

I was angry as Portland slid past and beat myself over the head for wasting the three days I had drinking myself blind. I had until I got to Venice to figure out how I was going to save Destiny. I already knew how I was going to kill her.

Part XLI

Part XLI

The Old Man was back to normal and licking the juice off his paws when I slid the side door of the van open. He looked at me and I swear he smirked. Then he started to purr and rubbed against me as I climbed in to clean up the mess.

Sorry about that. I lost myself for a bit.

He seemed to understand and we got back on the road. I felt like someone had blown insulation in my attic, and deservedly so. It was on this short jag that I finally remembered what the kid had said outside Shin Lee's. He'd said, “You have grandfather Lee in you now.” I wondered if maybe Grandfather Lee had been a bit of an alcoholic. He sure as hell was now.

We ended up on the outskirts of Portland at Multnomah Falls. We pulled into the Parking Lot of the Lodge and I went inside to see what was what. The Ranger was nice enough to inform me that the falls was the fourth highest in the nation and the second in ranking regarding running all year long. It evidently had the propensity to actually freeze in the winter which made me glad it wasn't winter. The falls dropped 620 feet from Larch Mountain and you could cross it at the top on Benson Bridge which was erected by the property's original owner in 1914. All of that assumed you you didn't suffer from vertigo.

The hike was about one and a half miles and went pretty much straight up. I got instructions on how to get to a parking area and bought two bottles of water and a Snickers bar in the snack shop. I had a feeling that if I was going to figure out where the Tall Man had hid the reliquary, I was going to have a to get a view from the bridge, and I was going to have to do without the crowds.

It had a been quite some time since I had done anything remotely similar to exercise. After about half an hour I could barely breath and had to stop and sit. I drank half the bottle of water and thought seriously about getting back into shape. The desire soon passed however, as I continued up and felt my calves burning and felt the peculiar sensation of my lungs turning to steel wool and attempting to scrape themselves o0ut of my chest.

All the misery soon gave way as I reached Benson Bridge and headed across. Luckily I did not suffer from vertigo, though I did need to take a piss. There didn't seem to be anyone else3 at the top so I crossed over and scurried a bit further into the growth at the edge of the path and produced a much less spectacular, but infinitely more practical falls of my own. I then moved even deeper and found a spot by which I could observe the bridge and wait for the access path to close for the night.

As I sat, eating my Snickers bar, I did my best to rummage around for a forked stick. I'd need a divining rod later, and saw no reason to waste time later looking for one. Truth is, it didn't have to be forked, I just liked it that way. I spent the next few hours whittling it smooth of bark with my swiss army knife and trying to think of the most ridiculously evil place the Tall Man might have put the reliquary. The base of the falls seemed too obvious, and so did the Bridge. The center of the falls however, that would be nasty.

As the sun began to set, the last of the day visitors faded, and I climbed out of my spot and walked to the center of the bridge. Holding the divining rod in both hands, I mumbled under my breath, then let go of the stick. It hovered for a few seconds then made a bit of a spin to the left. It came back to the right, then settled. I mumbled under my breath again, and it gave off a feint glow, just before it flew off the bridge and headed over the falls.

I paused every couple hundred feet on my way back down the path to take a look at the falls and see if I could see my stick. By the time I got to the bottom, I was a little frustrated. I walked to the edge of the river that ran from the falls and looked all the way back up, squinting to try and see even a hint of wispy glowing. Nothing.

As my eyes wondered down the falls, I gave a little whistle, just to see if I could coax the stick, even momentarily, from its hiding place. No luck. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I picked up a rock, mumbled under my breath, and chucked it at the falls and waited.

The rock would have hit me in the head and probably killed me it was going so fast, but just before it hit me Grandfather Lee decided to speak to me. I don't speak Chinese though, so I didn't have the slightest idea what he'd said. It freaked me out though, and I spun around to look behind me, just as the rock whizzed by. It sounded like I'd been dive bombed my a humming bird. The rock plowed into the ground thirty yards away.

It wasn't supposed to do that. If I'd wanted to throw a boomerang, I'd have thrown a boomerang. It was supposed to find the stick and then burn like a magnesium flare. It took me a few minutes to dig it up. It'd planted itself about four inches into the ground. I almost lost my hand when it started to heat up. I dropped it onto the pavement and it lit up like a sun and melted a hole for itself. It wasn't supposed to do that either, not while it was in my hand.

That tricky bastard had hexed the falls. Gave it the old I'm rubber you're glue once over. It was childish, but effective. As I walked back to the van, Grandfather Lee started up again. There was something in his tone I didn't like. I was pretty sure he was saying something about my mother.

Part XL

Part XL

The truth was I felt a little guilty cashing in all the chits my Uncle had amassed. The only thing that kept me from feeling really bad was that I knew I was doing it all for him, but that just sent my mind reeling wondering if maybe he'd collected all the debts knowing I'd need them one day.

The pages were brittle and I winced a bit as one of the corners cracked off as I tried to flip the page. I took the piece and laid it aside. I'd have to cop to it once I was finished, but it taught me very quickly how to turn the pages.

I couldn't understand everything, it was an odd mix of Latin and Greek, with English, German, French, Italian and Russian marginalia. I think I even recognized a few notes in Farsi. Luckily I was looking for a diagram, not an instruction manual.

I found it fifteen minutes later. I turned the page and it hit me like a pissed off ex girlfriend. It was powerful, even on the page. I had to look away as it tried to pull me in. I took the cotton glove off my right hand, mumbled under my breath and waved my hand over the page slowly. Yeah, it was a Xerox spell. Sue me. I shut the book.

I sat there for about ten minutes, gloves off and book closed, waiting for Shin Lee to return. When I showed him the corner he frowned for a moment then called the Librarian. The Librarian scuttled over and gave me a “tisk” under his breath. He the licked his finger, opened the book, mumbled under his breath and reattached it.

Shin Lee laughed as the Librarian carried the tome away,

Happens all the time.

Yeah, but I felt like shit when I did it.

He'll be fine. It's a very rare volume. He becomes...possessive. Did you find what you needed.

Yes I did, and thank you.

We shook hands and Shin Lee led me back to the elevator.

My great grandfather likes candles to be burned in the windows at night.

I'll keep that in mind.

You should. He can be a handful.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped in. I didn't think about what Shin Lee had said until the doors shut again and I was traveling upward. The doors opened and there was the kid again. This time he took my hand and I gave him a look of confusion.

Don't let go of my hand, or they'll try and kill you.

As we walked back through the domino parlor, I almost shit my pants. Something had changed, and as the kid lead me through the room, I looked around. All of the guys playing Domino had changed. They weren’t human now, demons of some sort, and they all looked at me like I was a meal.

I leaned down to the kid as we hit the front door.

What was that all about?

You have grandfather Lee in you now. They want him very bad.

The kid led me all the way back to my van and waited outside until I climbed in. I rolled the window down and looked down at him. He smiled and then looked toward Shin Lee's. Pushing through the door were thirty or forty of the nasty bastards, all heading in my direction.

You go now.

The kid hit the side of the van twice, like I was a bazooka soldier and he was my loader, letting me know it was time to fire.

You going to be OK?

The kid smiled at me.

I'll be fine.

I turned the van over and pulled out, The Old Man freaking out in the back of the van. I mumbled under my breath and touched the rear view mirror. The hidden world opened within its gaze and I watched as the kid arched forward, leathery wings splitting his shirt in the back and pulling forward. He grew five times his previous size, now a small dragon who blocked the advance of the demons as I escaped.

Back on the road, heading to Portland, and the Old man finally calm enough to clean himself in the passenger seat,, I finally felt the adrenaline die and I almost fell asleep at the wheel. The Old Man stuck a claw in my leg and I crossed a lane screaming at him. It worked though. An hour later we had a hotel room and I was going on my third scotch trying to figure out what the best thing to do with the symbol I had stored just under my skin. I was afraid to look directly at my hand, even though it would be inverted, I wasn't taking the chance.

The spell I had used was like a tattoo for lack of a better term. It needed living skin to work, but I needed to get it off me. By the fourth scotch I was eying the Old Man's belly as he lifted his leg and licked his balls. He stopped mid lick, feeling my eyes on him. He looked at me and hissed. I poured another Scotch and turned on the TV. Suddenly I wished Carl was still here, the chuckled maniacally to myself.

I woke in the morning with the Old Man doing his best to clean my ear. I rolled over and he just crawled on top of me and kept going. It was truly disturbing. I got up out of necessity and took a shower then we found a diner and I let him sweat it out in the van while I cured my ills with a full breakfast of carbs, protein and grease. Don't know what it is about Oregon, but even the diners have good coffee.

We reached Portland by mid afternoon and I pulled into a mall parking lot and opened the laptop. The third dot was somewhere just outside the city limits, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to care. Maybe it was Destiny and what had happened in Venice, or maybe it was the mark sitting under my skin, or maybe I was just tired. I got us a nice hotel room and I went into a three-day funk, where all I did was drink. Portland has a lot of nice bars and a lot of good micro brews. It was a shame I was going to have to leave.

By the end of the third day my colon was trying to worm its way out of my body and my kidneys hurt. Normally beer doesn't do that to me, but normally I drank swill and not nice hoppy artisan IPAs. It could have been the fifth of Jack I downed at night watching TV too, who knows. Either way the maid, who entered my room because I forgot to check out on time, called 911 when she saw me. I tried to explain to her I wasn't dead, but I was slurring pretty bad. She wasn't convinced.

Before the ambulance and the cops arrived, I grabbed my bags and the Old Man and checked out.

I drove the van very poorly to another strip mall down the street, mumbled a conceal spell under my breath and passed out in the back. When I finally woke up, the Old Man was growling over me, and he'd started to change. He was the size of a bull warthog and I think if he hadn't kind of known me he'd have already taken a bite.

I mumbled under my breath and was lucky I wasn't slurring anymore. The Old Man went to sleep and I went into the closest grocery store and bought him a London Broil and marinated it in potion. I left it for him and stepped outside. The sun was too bright and I mumbled under my breath waking the Old Man up. He hit the walls for a few minutes before he found the meat. I could hear him tearing up the inside of the van, and it rocked like it had been stolen by high school kids on Prom night. It finally settled, but I still had a headache.

Part XXXIX

Part XXXIX

San Francisco's China town is like no other. All major cities have one: London, New York, Los Angeles, et cetera. But, San Francisco has one of the oldest and richest. On the outskirts is a domino parlor called Shin Lee's. In the back is an office, and beyond that is one of the richest rare book libraries anywhere in the world, It's a collection maintained since the beginnings of the gold rush. The seed volumes brought over by Shin Lee's great grandfather, who arrived just before the gold rush. Since then it's been home to books that need protecting, old and new a like.

I pushed through the door and thought that maybe I'd made a mistake. In an instant, the chatter and clinking of dominoes came to a complete halt, as everyone turned at stared at me.

What's up?

The activity turned back to normal and I almost didn't hear the small kid, who'd pulled up beside me, over the chatter and clinking of clay tiles on metal tables.

You come with me.

I looked down. I swear to God the kid looked like Short Round from the second Indy movie, baseball cap and all. I nodded and he stepped in front and we weaved our way through the tables and smoke. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure the only person not smoking was the one coughing, and he lit up a fresh one as soon as he got whatever it was up and hocked it onto the floor.

The kid pushed open a door in the back and we continued down a long hall that ended in an elevator where a very old man, dressed in traditional peasant garb stood before the door.

The little kid looked at him and waited for the old man to give a small almost imperceptible bow of the head. The kid then looked up at me.

Good luck.

Thanks kid.

Then, the kid was gone and I was left standing looking down at the old man.

Why have you come?

I need to see Shin Lee.

Why?

He has a book I need to take a look at?

Why should he help you?

No good reason, other than it'll help me kill the Tall Man.

The Old Chinese Man pondered this for a second then rubbed his chin.

You are a very stupid man.

I can't disagree with you.

He nodded and turned to push the only button on the wall.

We waited in silence until the elevator arrived. It was probably just a few minutes, but it felt much longer. As the doors opened, he stepped aside and I stepped in.

Your Uncle was a good man.

The doors shut before I could respond. The elevator lurched and started its decent. I counted as it went, and stopped when I felt it hit bottom and the doors slid open. I suck at math. There was no way my rough estimate could be right. If I was, then I was about two hundred feet below sea level.

As I stepped out of the elevator, sensors detected me and illuminated the first twenty feet before me with lights set into the concrete ceiling. Shin Lee's little library looked more like a bunker.

I stepped out and headed down the hallway. As I passed each light, the one behind me went off and the one in front of me went on. It was odd. After about thirty yards, I came to a set of intricate hand carved wood doors that looked like they'd been ripped from a monastery. I stood waiting for them to open, nothing happened. I reached out to touch them, but pulled my hand back quick as I felt the energy burning off them. This place was locked down tight, and I didn't know if I was supposed to try and open them, or just wait for some one else.

The answer came a few minutes later. I felt the hairs on my arm drop back down as the protection spells were removed. There was a loud click, and the doors swung in. Just beyond the doors was another Chinese man, also dressed in very traditional garb. His head was slightly bowed and his arms were intertwined and covered by the sleeves of his gown. Once the doors finished opening, he turned and walked away from me. I followed.

I heard my own breath catch as I looked at what surrounded me. It was possibly the single most beautiful library I'd ever seen. My obviously loud intake of breath got me a small scolding as the man turned and held a finger to his lips. Librarians.

He led me across the main apex and to a large desk sitting at the back. Behind the desk sat Shin Lee III, dressed in an Armani suit.

Mr. B...

I wouldn't say it out loud if I were you. The Tall Man has very many ears.

Yes he does, but not within these walls. What can I do for you?

I need to take a look at the book of Shadows and Dust.

Good choice.

Shin Lee snapped his fingers and the Librarian scurried away, I assumed to retrieve the tome.

You got a nice set-up here.

It's definitely different that used to be. Please, have a seat.

I took a chair across from Shin Lee and we let the silence settle.

My father owed a debt to your Uncle. This gesture shall put that debt to rest.

Of course, and if I get what I need, I may then owe the Lee family.

No. If you complete this journey that you are on, we will all owe you.

I shook my head.

I do this for my Uncle, not for anyone else. There will be no debts owed to me when I am finished.

Shin Lee nodded his head in understanding, and I think a little respect. This business that we were in was all about debts owed and paid. I think he was a little relieved I wasn't going to ask for anything once I was done. Then again, I was sure I'd probably die in my effort, so why make deals now.

The book was smaller than I thought. The Librarian placed it on the table and gave me a pair of still wrapped white cotton cloves with which I could handle it. After the librarian had left, Shin Lee stood and buttoned his jacket.

Take all the time you need.

I stood.

Thank you.

No, thank you. If you are successful, we will all be able to rest more easily.

I laughed a bit out my nose.

I guess it's all on me then.

Shin Lee smiled and moved from behind his desk. As he passed me he placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled.

It is.

I heard Shin Lee mumble under his breath and felt a rush pass through me, not unlike grabbing an electric fence, just after you've stepped out of a swimming pool.

What was that?

It was the blessing of my great grandfather.

Thank you.

As Shin Lee's footsteps faded across the marble floor, I sat back down and put on the cotton gloves. I took a deep breath and opened the book of Shadows and Dust.

Part XXXVIII

Part XXXVIII

We sat outside until she had to get dressed for her appointment.
Once her appointment had come and gone, we watched the sun set until the breeze off the ocean picked up and brought in a nice thick marine layer that made the boardwalk look like a set from The Fog.

When that happened we went downstairs to have dinner. I asked her if would be OK if I checked on the Old Man. She said that would be fine so we walked to the van. I made her stay back while I opened the door and folded what was left of the Old Man's surf and turf into the newspaper I'd laid down. I told her to keep an eye on him while I took that and the scooped present he'd left me in the litter box to the closest trash can.

By the time I got back, the Old Man was curled in her lap purring up a storm while she gave him a shoulder massage. He hissed when I told him it was time for her to leave. He stumbled off to the back of the van and as I closed the door I thought of all the shoes I'd left out for him to piss in.

We had dinner at The Candle and watched as the drunken zombies as they shuffled along the boardwalk lost in their purpose. She talked and I listened. It was the least I could do if I was somehow going to be responsible for her death. I felt bad that she was spending this time with me, but then I thought she'd evidently seen it coming, so she must have been good with it.

The conversation was mostly small talk that occasionally got a little too deep for me. The five dollar pitchers of Bud were starting to make me a little happy. Once we were done with dinner she got serious and invited me back up to talk about whet I had come here for.

We sat on the couch with fresh drinks in our hands as a curtain of silence fell between us. She eventually cut through it.

So, you want me to tell you where the second reliquary is?

Yeah.

She took a sip from her drink and looked down at her hands, and fiddled with her glass like she was trying to divine the ice in the glass. She shifted her legs up and curled them beneath her.

You're looking at it.

I emptied my glass and cursed the Tall Man under my breath. I'd never imagined that he do this, cram a piece of my Uncle's soul inside a living breathing person.

I'm sorry.

It's going to get dirty and ugly from this point on.

I tried to hide my anger.

I don't know what to do' oddly enough.

Destiny moved off the couch like mercury and stood up. She held out her hand to me. I hesitated then reached out and took it. She tugged lightly, letting me know that I should stand up.

What's this?

A trickster's smile crept across her face.

This is the dirty part.

I woke up the next morning with Destiny by my side. I did my best to get out of the bed without waking her, grabbed my pants and shirt and went to the kitchen. There wasn't much there I could do anything with so I stepped out to the grocery store. By the time I heard her padding down the hall, breakfast was almost ready. She rounded the corner and I almost dropped the skillet. She was wearing her men's as button up painting shirt and a smile.

I poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her. She looked at the feast I was preparing.

I'm a vegetarian.

That's explains why I had to go to the grocery store.

She sat at the table and I fixed her a plate none the less. She surprised me when she picked up a piece of bacon. She looked at me, waiting for permission.

You only live once.

She took a bite, and her face instantly changed.

Wow, that's really good.

Yeah. All of it is.

I passed her the basket to biscuits and then slid over the sawmill gravy I'd made from the sausage drippings.

You should try this too, it might just kill you before I do.

She smiled a sad smile.

It's not your fault.

You're right, it isn't.

I hadn't planned to do what I did next. I stood up and walked toward the door.

Aubrey, it won't change anything.

Maybe not, but if I can figure something out, by leaving you until last it's worth the risk for me.

I shut the door behind myself and stumbled down the stairs before I changed my mind.

Outside the sun was coming up and burning off the fog. I was probably being a fool, but right now there was no way I could just kill her to get what I needed. Maybe she knew that and maybe she didn't. I doubted I had changed anything,

Back at the van, I got in and sat behind the wheel for a minute contemplating whether what I was doing was worth it. The Old Man jumped into the passenger seat, curled up and started to purr. That was all I needed. I grabbed the laptop and opened it to look at the next point. It was just outside Portland, Oregon. I turned the engine over and pulled out of Venice. I took the PCH North and just let the sea roll past me.

I'd figure something out, I knew I would. I wasn't going to kill Destiny unless I absolutely had to. She'd grown on me more than I could have imagined.

Just past Malibu my phone rang.

Aubrey?

Destiny?

Silence hung on the other end of the phone.

You're a good man Aubrey.

Don't be so sure. The next time I see you I'll do what I have to.

I know.

It won't change how I feel about you.

We just met Aubrey. Last night was just...last night.

I know, but everything that led up to it felt right, right in a way I'm not used to.

Be safe Aubrey, and don't believe the dwarf.

What dwar...never mind.

Be good Destiny.

You too Aubrey. I'll be waiting for you.

Sorry about that.

I hung up the phone.

I took the PCH all the way to Cambria and turned up the 46, letting the gumdrop green hills and grape vines calm my nerves. In Paso Robles, I got on the 101. First chance I got I crossed to the 5 and headed for San Francisco. Before I got to Portland I needed to see a man about a book. I just hoped he had access to a copy. Something my Uncle had told me about.

It was known as the Book of Shadows and Dust, and somewhere in its pages, assuming I could find it and my Uncle's story had been true, I could find a trick that might just give me what I needed to come out of this without killing anyone else. If not, I was going to have to push down what I felt about Destiny so that the next time I saw her I'd be able to pretend her screams were laughter.

I mumbled under my breath and hit the gas as the outside of the van appeared to everyone like a fleeting dream.

Part XXXVII

PART XXXVII

A day and a half later, I pulled off the 10 where it dead ended into Lincoln Ave in Santa Monica. I headed south. One right turn later I was on Rose Ave, and it took me all the way to the beach. I parked the van and got a few accepting nods from a couple cholos who had their t-shirts tied around their heads to collect the sweat from doing nothing all day. Venice was riddled with gangs. A kind of beach front sanctuary, at least until the sun went down. I opened the side door and let the Old Man crawl under the van and knock out a hairball while I poured him a fresh bowl of water and dropped some potion in.

When the Old Man climbed back out from under the van, he had a limp seagull in his mouth. I could see he wasn't going to be able to jump up with it in his mouth, but I had to let him figure that out before I reached down and he let go. I spread a copy of the LA Times down as a dinner mat and laid the bird on it.

On the paper. I find any feathers in my bed and we'll be done.

The old man purred as I laid the gull on the paper, then hissed and bit its neck. I shut the door so the two of the could have some privacy.

Destiny's address was down the boardwalk, so I mumbled under my breath and set the van alarm. The sun wasn't too bad with the light cloud cover and a nice breeze was coming in from the ocean. I hated heat, I hated the beach and I hated sun even more. I already didn't like California, or anything I'd seen since I'd crossed the Mississippi. But, when in Rome.

The boardwalk was like an outdoor freaks how where the audience meandered through the middle of the exhibits. Since I was walking south, the stores were on my left and the people hawking wears on tables, mats and some just on the concrete were on my right. Everything from incense to handmade jewelery, and a whole lot of bad art. Really bad art. The kind of stuff that you couldn't possibly believe anyone would buy.

I have nothing to say about the large man wearing nothing but a gold leme banana hammock and enough gold chains around his neck to make Mr. T jealous. Even though it was all outside, exposed to fresh air and sea breeze, it smelled of patchouli oil, sage and desperation. The bottom tones were body odor and urine. The high tone was pot.

Even with all of that I still found it fascinating. So like the rest of the tourists, I walked slowly taking it all in, knowing I could leave at any time. Well, I could leave once I talked to Destiny.,

Her place was right on the boardwalk, on the second floor, above a small bar called The Candle. I climbed the stairs indicated by a sandwich board sign with a large arrow under which was written, “The steps of Destiny await you. $20.00 full reading. $5.00 mild assessment.”

I didn't even have to knock at the top of the stairs, the door was propped open with a wrought iron door stop in the shape of one half of a parrot, the relief side, peeling a once colorful paint job. I stepped over the threshold and looked around. Just inside was a shill parlor, replete with round table, covered in multiple layers of fabric and lace, each of differing lengths. Right in the middle of the table was a crystal ball, but hers didn't have a skull in the middle of it. Separating it from the rest of the apartment was a bead curtain hung in a natural doorway.

You can skip the circus Aubrey, I'm in here.

I pushed through the bead curtain, laid eyes on Destiny for the first time. To say that Destiny was pretty would be a waste of adjectives. To say that she was gorgeous would too. She was an ideal representation of everything that made men kill each other, and a few women too, one had to surmise. She belonged in Paris where they kept the perfect gram. It struck me as odd that I was having these thoughts, because Destiny was looking at me from behind a canvas she was painting. I could only see her face. When she finally stepped out from behind the painting, her body didn't disappoint, and it was covered with baggy jeans and an over-sized mens button-up dress shirt that was spattered with dried paint.

Shouldn't you at least look the part?

Oh, the first client won't wander in for another two hours. Perks of my gift. I hope you don't mind. I didn't think you'd care.

It's fine.

I walked toward her and the canvas.

Can I take a look?

Destiny stepped back and shrugged.

Sure, it's not finished though.

I walked around and took a peak. It was awful. I don't know much about art, but it was bad.

I know, I know, I should just give up, but I find it calming.

I didn't say anything.

I'm actually psychic Aubrey.

Oh yeah, sorry. I'm sure you'll get better.

We decided the art discussion was not going to go anywhere, so she made some tea that tasted like grass and we sat out on her small two chair balcony overlooking the boardwalk.

Why do you live here? Seems an odd choice.

Not really, I guess the French Quarter in New Orleans would have the same effect, but I hate humidity.

What do you mean?

Just look out there Aubrey, what do you see?

A lot of lonely desperate people.

Exactly, it's like white noise. Anybody that tries to find me through this soup is going to have a hard time. Too many emotions, running 24 hours a day. Keeps people like me safe. Sort of buries the transponder as it were.

Fair enough.

So Aubrey, before we go any further. I have to tell you that It's not your fault.

What isn't?

My death.

Destiny took a sip of tea and looked out toward the ocean, perfectly content with hers.

Part XXXVI

Part XXXVI

As I drove him to the airport, Carl told me he'd never hitchhiked before, then thanked me for giving him a lift.

He told me how he was going back home, that something had happened but he didn't know what. He'd woken with a ticket in his pocket and one hell of a headache. The headache was familiar he had said, but the ticket in his pocket was not, so he thought he'd better pay attention to what ever it was it was trying to tell him.

He was still a little confused by the process, but I kept my mouth shut, afraid even a little slip would unweave the spell I'd dropped i his head. It was one thing to cloud the mind and quite another to trick it with false memories. I'd left it to the vagaries that existed naturally in Carl's head to lead him in the right direction. Like he'd said, it wasn't the first time he'd woken up in a strange place with no memory of how he'd gotten there.

I dropped him off at the terminal then drove out to the edge of the airport. Didn't know why, but I needed to see his plane lift off into the sky. I needed to know for sure that he was safe.

I'd called ahead and had Bruce picking him up from the airport in Knoxville. I'd tried Carl's wife, but she'd gone off on a twenty minute cursing jag and then had hung up on me. Bruce and his wife had survived the bad situation I'd left them in, but just barely. Bruce said he'd tell me about it over a beer when I got back. He then choked up a bit and thanked me for the barriers I'd put up when I'd left. He said they made the world of difference. He then told me I'd like his new glass eye. In classic Bruce style, he told me he was thinking of having a WiFi camera mounted in the hole, that would stream live video to the Bar's web site. I told him he'd have to make more eye contact with the ladies if he was going to do that. He then told me his wife was practicing day and night with her prosthetic hand so she could flip me off next time she saw me. I let the apology catch in my throat and die.

I sat on the hood of the van, leaning back against the windshield, sunglasses on and sun warming my skin, and watched Carl's plane fade to a pinpoint. Ten minutes later I was Hell bent at melting my tires as I headed for the second blinking dot on the laptop map.

I had a little over thirteen hundred miles to go. The second dot was on the coast. Los Angeles, or more specifically Venice. It was a straight shoot West on the 10 freeway through the top of Texas and across New Mexico and Arizona. I was going to get all the vitamin D anyone would ever want. I made it as far as Albuquerque the first day and settled into a Super 8. I'd started to like the Super 8. They're out of the way and come with free WiFi. Even better, there's always a bar within walking distance, and so that's how I came to be sitting on a bar stool at ten that night, nursing a PBR and thinking about what to do next.

I'd left the Old Man to his nightly ritual of Potion and tuna, the TV set on HBO. He'd grown fond of watching The Wire while he fell asleep.

I still had to figure out exactly where the second object was. The first had been underground, at the zenith point of a storm. They wouldn't all be the same, but they would be connected. LA was full of old stories, and a hell a lot of demons, for lack of a better term. I only kind of knew one person there, but if luck held they'd be the only person I needed to know.

Her name was Destiny and last I'd heard she'd set up shop on the Venice boardwalk, reading people's futures. Funny, most people did that on a lark, an extra twenty burning a hole in their curiosity. Thing was, if you went to Destiny, you got the real deal. Well, everything she told you was real, except for her name. Her real name had died a long time ago. She'd taken Destiny for a stripper name in college. Worked her way through Columbia undergrad in mathematics. Left with no debt and a major about as useful as an arts degree. She'd been good, but not postulate her own theorems good. She'd have spent the rest of her life scribbling proofs for more focused minds.

So, the girl known as Destiny packed her bags and headed for the coast. Some people think she got her powers of sight by solving on old equation, one written upon the atomic chains of the Universe. It wouldn't be the first time someone postulated that mathematics was the language of God. Thinking about Destiny, I unconsciously peeled the label off my PBR.

I was woken from my increasingly drunken contemplation of the secrets of the universe and the glue used to hold labels onto beer bottles by the vibration of my cell phone skittering across the bar and up my arm.

The number was blocked, but I answered it anyway.

Hello?

The girl's voice was smooth like aged whiskey.

Aubrey?

Yeah.

Hey, it's Destiny calling.

Hey Destiny. I was wondering when you'd find me.

I laughed out loud. Absurdity amused me greatly.

You have a pen and paper?

I grabbed a bar napkin and pulled the pen from my pocket.

Yeah.

Destiny gave me her address, and said she'd be waiting for me.

How'd you get my number?

I closed my eyes and dialed.

Kismet.

No, just destiny.

She hung up and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I ordered another beer and put the napkin in my packet.

PART XXXV

Wet sandpaper. Why was there someone rubbing wet sandpaper on my face? I turned my head toward the smell of brine and fish rot and came eye to eye with The Old Man. He stopped licking my face for a second and then yawned and licked his lips. Fish rot. I should have known.

I pushed myself up off the floor, leaving the bowling ball where it was, and crossed to the door. I was trying to figure out what I was going to say to Carl when I opened the door. He'd probably made up his mind, and that was for the best.

It only took a second to open the door, but it took even less time for the Tall Man to raise his hand and send me flying across the room, where I slammed into the bathroom door and felt the breath leave my body in a resounding Oof.

I could barely work my eyes, and the room was at a Dutch Angle. I realized my head was on the floor and I was slumped, which was why all I could see were his shoes and nicely pressed pants walking into the room. The carpet was smoldering slightly with ever step he took. Cheap carpet melting, leaving his dance pattern and filling the room with the smell you used to get as a kid when you blew up a plastic model with a firecracker. All that was left was smoldering parts, that gave off acrid black smoke. This was going to confuse the hell out of the cops tomorrow when they tried to figure out what had happened.

Lucky for me the water was still running through the hose, and by pure happenstance the loop cut right across the carpet, cutting off the front of the room. I laughed a little inside thinking the Tall Man was going to have to crawl across the bed like a cheap hooker trying to seduce a John if he was going to get to me.

I raised myself up into a seated position against the wall and rubbed my eyes. The Tall Man squatted down and looked from the bowling ball bag to the hose and then to me. He didn't even pay The Old Man any mind even though his back was arched like a Halloween cat, hair standing on end, fangs barred, hissing. I wished I hadn't just fed him his potion.

When he spoke, his voice raised the hairs on the back of my neck and I swear I could feel his breath on my face from fifteen feet away.

What am I going to do with you Aubrey?

I stifled a smart ass reply, which was more difficult than I thought.

Isn't this what you wanted? For me to play your game?

I didn't think it would take this long. You're really dragging it out.

Then speed it up for me. Fill in the rest of the clues. I'll go grab the last four pieces of my Uncle's soul and then we can High Noon it.

No, I don't think it's your fault. I think you're being slowed down. It should really just be you, then you can do what you need to.

Leave Carl out of this.

But he's already in it.

You touch a hair on his head.

The Tall Man's laugh sounded filtered through a glass jar filled with gravel.

Whew, lucky for me I didn't.

The Tall Man looked me straight in the eyes, then reached down and grabbed the hose. His hand began to shake, then his arm, the vibrations running all through him. It was taking everything he had to hold on, and he was doing it. He stayed like this for long enough to get his point across. He was a bigger bad ass than me. Before he dropped the hose, he dropped a warning.

Don't make me wait too much longer.

As he stood, he turned toward The Old Man, who backed slowly across the bed hissing, never moving his eyes from the Tall Man.

When all this is over, we'll have it out, just you and me. No pink monkey meat to get in our way. With that he turned and walked out the door.

I waited until I was sure he was gone and got to my feet. I felt drunk and had to steady myself with my hand on the bed as I walked across the room.

I didn't even pause as I stepped over the hose. It wasn't a trick. He was just delivering a message, a message I'd hoped I'd never get.

I stood in front of Carl's door and looked at the knob. It had turned black from the heat and was still warm to my touch. As I pushed open the door, I looked down at the carpet. The foot prints were sure, no hesitation at all. Each of them crisp, one set heading in, and another heading out.

The bed was unmade and the TV was still on, the sound low but audible. The smell of burning plastic mixed with the steam coming from the bathroom. I walked across the room and stood outside the bathroom door. I could hear the shower running, which normally would be a good thing, but I'd seen the Tall Man pick up that hose.

The knob to the bathroom door was still warm too, and I turned it more slowly. I wouldn't exactly say that I prayed to find Carl safe on the other side of it, but I thought about it real hard and addressed the thoughts to no one in particular.

The steam hit my face, warm and moist. It was thick.

Carl?

I took a step into the room.

Carl?

I took another. The steam starting to clear out through the open door.

Looking at head height, I didn't see a body through the shower curtain, but looking down, I could see someone was in the tub, just not standing up.

Reaching for the curtain, I noticed there was a hard clump of plastic curtain on the edge, so I grabbed it there too.

Pulling the curtain back, I looked down at Carl, pulled up into himself, hugging his knees, his head down, the hot water from the shower already starting to turn his skin red.

I reached across and turned off the water.

I knelt down and looked across at Carl, and noticed that he was shivering, his body vibrating so fast you almost couldn't tell he was moving.

Carl?

He didn't move at first, but then slowly he raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot and I knew there was as much salt water on his face as there was fresh from the shower. His voice was stuttered and weak.

Aubrey, I want to go home.

Ok buddy, we'll get you home.

I stood and grabbed a towel off the rack and put it over Carl. I had to lift him up, his muscles had been tensed so long in that position, that he had little control over them anymore. Getting his legs over the lip of the tub took a bit, but we finally pulled it off.

I walked Carl out of his room, grabbing his bag, and took him straight into mine and closed the door. After he had changed clothes, he came back in and sat on the bed. The Old Man purred and rubbed against him, and though it broke almost every rule in my book, I stood up and walked over to Carl. He looked up me, still shaking a little.

I can make you forget, if you want.

Will it hurt?

That hit hard, that question. Almost brought out an emotion or two.

No.

Will I forget you?

Not so much forget me as forget about me. I'll be like an old friend from high school, whose face you can't remember.

But you're my best friend.

You don't need a friend like me Carl.

But you're my only friend.

I'll tell you what, if all this goes well, and I get back in one piece I promise I'll look you up and we can get reacquainted, start over.

What if you don't come back?

That is a possibility.

Carl though for a bit, even reached out and petted The Old Man who let him. Just this little act, seemed to calm him. As The Old Man began to purr, Carl's shaking slowly stopped.

Carl looked up at me and a sad smile crossed his face.

You'll be better off without me anyway.

I can't say that's true Carl.

Carl nodded his head.

Do it.

As I reached out toward Carl, my hand started to shake. I placed my palm on his forehead and mumbled under my breath.

Part XXXIV

Part XXXIV

I could hear the TV in Carl's room pushing through the walls like a picture out of focus. You thought you knew what you were hearing, but then it would shift and you realized that maybe you didn't. I'd told him to think over whether on not he wanted to continue on this little adventure of mine. If he didn't, I said I'd buy him a plane ticket home, as soon as we got near an airport big enough to have a plane heading anywhere near Knoxville.

For my part, I'd picked up a few things from a hardware store and did my best to secure my room. I had 100 feet of garden hose running the perimeter, with one end hooked to the bathtub faucet and the other clamped onto the side of the tub so that when the water made the circuit around the room, it drained out properly.

I sat in the middle of the floor with the bowling ball bag and tried to find the courage to look inside. It was probably a long shot, only having one fifth of my uncle back, but then again, I didn't know which piece I had. I cracked another can of beer and finally unzipped the bag. Three beers later I reached in and took out the ball.

The skull grinned at me like we'd just shared a joke and it was doing all the laughing; riga-mortis of a clown in repose. I held it firmly in both hands and brought it close until we were touching foreheads, or at least as close to that as 2" of pyrex would let us. I closed my eyes, mumbled under my breath and felt the room fall away.

When I opened my eyes I was standing on the jetty that jutted out into the Gulf of Mexico in St Andrews State Park. I had a rod in my hand and was watching my Uncle gut and fillet a small Spanish Mackerel he'd just caught using a our last piece of cigar minnow. If you knew what you were doing, you could buy one minnow and then fish the rest of the day by using what you caught. I remembered this day. I was 14, wearing my usual all black ensemble and enjoying the beach the only way I knew how.

The fillet knife ran the spine and pulled away clean. Then, my uncle laid prize on a flat piece of rock and cut it into strips that we could wind around the hook. It had been hot that day, and the jetty smelled of briny fish rot.

The strips cut, my uncle looked up at me, handing me a strip.

Don't forget to wind the hook through. They'll suck it right off if you don't.

I nodded and prepped the hook.

My first cast went short as my thumb slipped, hitting the spool of line and causing it to drag and hiccup. My second one was better and I watched the line disappear into the sun. My Uncle gave my a quick pat on the shoulder.

Nice one.

I turned to look up at him, and he was gone. The Tall Man stood grinning down at me. I felt my spine go numb as I realized his hand was still on my shoulder and the fillet knife was still in his other hand.

This wasn't right though. It was a real memory, and somehow he'd gotten in. He was changing the rules.

Just then my line puled tight and the spool started to scream. Something had taken my bait and was running. I didn't know what to do. I really wanted to catch what was on the other end of that line, but then again I didn't want the Tall Man to turn me into chum.

When I looked back up at him though, the knife was gone and my Uncle was back.

Set the hook.

I popped the rod up hard and the tip bent, forming a parabola. I grabbed the crank, and started bringing in the line little by little, easing the pole forward then pulling it back slowly. Whatever was on the other end of the line was big, and my hands were starting to hurt.

You need help Aubrey?

I looked at my Uncle, feeling about as excited as I'd ever been.

No, I can do this.

There's nothing wrong with asking for help.

I've got it.

Then, I struggled for an amount of time that's hard to explain since it was all a weird dream anyway. It felt like years passed, and all I did was continue to reel in whatever was on the other end of the line. Every-time I thought I had the upper hand, I'd weaken for just a moment, or get distracted, and it'd run the line out again.

Finally, I was just tired, and it was right at the second, just before I let go of the rod, that my Uncle stepped in. He took the rod from me gently and planted his left foot forward on one of the rocks to give himself greater balance. Then, he just started cranking the handle, bringing the line in smoothly, rolling the rod tip forward and then pulling it back.

There's some things you just can't do alone Aubrey.

It didn't take him very long to bring in our catch. The tide was coming in, so the waves breaking on the jetty were high and helped pull our quarry with them. As the end of the line neared, something surfaced just a few feet away from the Jetty. At first I wasn't sure what it was, but then sun reflecting off the water shimmered and then dimmed and I watched my Uncle's body take the next wave in and slam against the rocks.

I looked back and the Tall Man stood grinning in a Gorton's Fisherman yellow slicker and hat. The rod was gone, but he had a large fillet knife that he was using to gut Carl on the rocks. Carl's eyes were wide and his mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

You gotta chum the water first.

He reached into Carl's chest and pulled out a wad of viscera, which he threw out into the waves. He reached in again and the second handful looked even redder than the first. I looked back to the Gulf, and my Uncle's body was gone, but the water was teaming with sharks, fighting over the bits of Carl.

See that? All you have to do is Chum the water.

Shit. That's when I realized that that was exactly what I was doing. Sitting in my hotel room, holding the Nexus. Sure, the Death Runners were held at bay with the water, but now I knew how the Tall Man had gotten into my dream. He was close, and trying to keep me distracted while he closed in on the Nexus.

Then, the Tall Man in the dream came for me, with his bright yellow slicker and large fillet knife. I tried to back away, but lost my footing on the jagged rocks and went down. The Tall Man laughed and brought the fillet knife down in an impossible arc. Just before it's tip touched my skin, the knife and the Tall Man flew back and away, pulled by some invisible force.

The Gorton's Tall Man hit the rocks hard, but got up fast. Then, my Uncle was there at my side helping me up.

I can't hold him for long Aubrey. You need to leave.

I shut my eyes and thought of the hotel room. I didn't know if it would be that easy or not.

When I opened my eyes though I was staring at the bowling ball, and it was staring right back at me. I shoved it in the bag and zipped it up, just before I heard a knock at my door, followed by the overwhelming smell of brine and fish rot.

Part XXXIII

Part XXXIII

There was a light breeze that kept the heat rolling up off the dirt from getting too unbearable, as Carl and I headed across the arid plain. We'd both grabbed a piece of gum before we started so at least the mud in our mouths had a pleasant, if not somewhat gritty, spearmint flavor.

I'd left Carl to carry the water, and I took the bowling ball bag. I'd figured that the short time we'd be here shouldn't attract too many death runners.

About 20 minutes into our walk, my spine went cold and I held up a hand to stop Carl. I walked in an ever dwindling spiral until I felt the energy under my feet. I dropped the bag and turned my head while it made a plume of dust that drifted slowly away on the breeze.

I want you to turn away Carl. Look at the van.

Oh come on, what they hell'd you bring me out here for if I can't watch.

Carl, I need you to watch, but I need you to watch the van and tell me if you see any cars coming down the road. Can you do that for me?

Carl kicked the dirt and turned back to the van.

Fine.

I laid my hands flat just over the soil and moved them around to pin point the energy. Satisfied, I mumbled under my breath and made my arm vibrate out of phase. I plunged it into the soil up to my shoulder and squirmed around until I found what I was looking for.

This was going to be delicate. I mumbled again and unphased my arm in the earth and reached my hand around what felt like a fist sized rock. Phasing again, I pulled my arm back out of the soil. I let it vibrate a bit more and slowly returned it to normal, I wanted as little dirt as possible under my skin.

When I looked down, I had smooth black river rock in my fist. I set it down on the ground and unzipped the bag. I pulled the clear bowling ball out and laid it on the dirt next to the rock. Just for the fun of it I turned it so the skulls eyes could look at what lay before it.

I placed a hand on each of the objects and dug deep into my mind to make sure what I was about to do was as accurate as possible. Unlike normal, I started under my breath, then moved the words to my tongue, and then to my teeth, where they resonated. Then, I brought them clean out, crisp and clear. In my periphery, I saw Carl scream, cover his ears with his hands and drop to his knees.

A crack started to form under me, small at first, as the Earth tried to reclaim the stone. I shut my eyes hard, just before the brightness slammed into my lids, I turned away and felt my hands on fire. The smell of of the hair burning off my hands wound its way into my nose, and then it was over.

It took my eyes a bit to adjust, as though I'd stared at the sun, but when they finally settled, the rock was porous, like a dried sponge, and I crushed it to dust in my hand. The bowling ball was warm to the touch, but not too hot to handle. I put it back in the bag and zipped it back up. I wobbled for a moment, but finally stood and went to Carl. I placed a hand on his shoulder and he took his hands from his ears and rose like as though from a baptism.

Carl didn't say anything as we walked back to the van, but I knew he was scared of me now. He'd always been a little scared, but now he was just enough to be unsure, and a part of me was glad. Maybe this would send him back where he belonged, out of danger.

Back at the van, I rolled the side door open and placed the bag down. I unzipped it again and pulled out the bowling ball. I didn't know what I was looking for, and it didn't seem to have any answers. I set it down and stared into the skull's eye sockets. Nothing. Then, the Old Man sauntered over and gave it a whiff. Then the Old Man rubbed his face along the smooth surface and began to purr.

That was good enough for me.

The ball secured back in the drawer, I played apothecary, and made an unguent for the burns on my hands. They hurt like hell, but it felt good to hurt. This was the kind of hurt I could endure, the kind that wakes you up and makes you feel alive and full of purpose.

As we headed out of town, Carl refused to look at me and had rebuffed the few attempts I'd made at conversation. I'd get us separate rooms tonight, so he could have some time alone to think. Just as we hit the interstate, Carl stuttered out a question that even caught me by surprise.

I don't really know you Aubrey, do I?

I didn't hesitate.

No Carl, you really don't.

Part XXXII

Part XXXII

For the next six hours we rode in silence. Carl had the laptop perched on his lap, but angled toward me. The map Bruce had given me pulled up on the screen so I could find my way to the first piece of what was left of my Uncle's soul.

It was getting dark when we arrived at a small motel, that sat just off the road like a hitchhiker disillusioned with the world. The vacant stare from the office window told me they'd have a room.

Inside, Carl on his bed watching an old western on the TV, and the Old Man curled on a pillow at the head of mine, I looked at the map and tried to figure out exactly how I was going to find what I'd come all this way for.

If we were actually in a town, it was one by name only. It felt more like a border between towns, a nebulous rural outpost that struggled to survive on the fringes.

It took a while to find what I was looking for, but when I did I was sure. In August of nineteen seventy-four there had been a tornado that had struck in Ash Valley. Those that had seen it, were convinced they saw a face rolling out of the tornado's cone. It had been on such a clear day, that the film footage taken is crisp and I found a link to it on Youtube.

While I saw what they wanted me to see, I also saw something else. This had been an incident that still ran through the minds of the people who lived here. A demon in a tornado is the stuff of urban legend. That's where we had to go. I had to find the exact place it had been when the footage had been shot.

I closed the laptop and Carl took his eyes from the screen and moved them to me.

Find what we're looking for?

I hope so. Get some rest. Tomorrow we go hunting demons in tornados.

Carl gave me that quizzical look he always kept in reserve for when I spoke.

The Irony of the whole thing was that we had to drive away from where we were going in order to find someone who could tell us what we needed to know. The area around where the twister had hit was painfully remote. I knew that the best way to get some answers was to find the people who kept the local knowledge. We couldn't find a barber shop, so we found the next best thing.

The Diner sat by a gas station, the only one we'd seen in a while, near a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. The Pick-ups parked outside told me it was the right place since none of them were newer than the late 80s. Inside, Carl and I pulled up to the counter and ordered some breakfast. The sideways glances we got weren't predatory, just curious.

I'd waited to drop the question until I'd finished sopping up the egg yolk and bacon grease with my toast. As the waitress smiled and started to take my plate away, I licked the tips of my fingers clean and smiled.

You wouldn't happen to know where we can find someone who could tell us where the '74 twister touched down could you?

I'm not sure if it really happened or if I was just thinking it did, but it sounded as though every fork in the place dropped onto a plate at once and every conversation came to an abrupt halt. The smile on the waitress's face half hid and she took my plate away. She returned with the coffee and refreshed my glass. Everyone waited for her to give the OK, and when the first word slipped through her teeth, the Diner perked back up and the silence faded.

If you're some kind of storm-chaser, we don't really get that many. That one was a fluke.

We're not storm-chasers. I've seen the footage and just wanted to take a look.

People who go looking for Demons usually end up findin'em.

The statement had come from an old man sitting at the counter just down from Carl. He'd paused his consumption of toast and cigarette and was giving me and Carl the look of a man who knew what he was talking about.

So, you can tell me where we can find it?

I can do better than that, I can show you. It touched down on my farm.

My name's Aubrey.

He took a bite of toast and a drag off his cigarette, then followed it with a swig of coffee.

My breakfast is on you.

I laughed a little bit and then wondered whether or not he was lying to get a free meal.

The farm road hadn't been graveled in a long time and dust plumed up from behind his pick-up so that my visibility was ten feet at best. When he finally came to a stop, I almost had to slam on the break to keep from rear ending him. We sat in the van for a second to let the dust die down before we hoped out. Even having waited, I could feel the air turning to mud in my mouth and tried my best to not spit.

The area looked like it had from the old footage, except the field was desolate now and had not been farmed for many years. Even so, there wasn't a single weed as far as I could see. The field on the other side of the road was coming along fine.

That twister killed the ground. Never got crops to grow on it again. People said it had taken all the top soil and that was why, but I re-topped the soil four times and it didn't do any good. The big smart fellers from the University even came out and took samples. They said the soil had plenty of nutrients and there was no reason the crops should be growing. They even took some back with them, they didn't anything to grow either. I told 'em it was because the Devil had walked here. They thought I was crazy.

He turned to me and Carl, and took a drag off the cigarette that seemed eternal in his hand.

I don't set foot on that ground anymore, but the place you're looking for is about three hundred yards that way.

He pointed with his cigarette and I watched the smoke roll from it, it looked like a little twister coiling up.

Thanks, I appreciate it.

You're welcome to it. I've got things to do.

He got back in his truck and left me and Carl coughing and chewing on dust the devil had walked upon.