Outside my destination I sat in my car, reading everything Carrie had sent me about Miskal. None of it made me feel any calmer about what I had to do.
But I couldn’t just drive home. Marcy’s parents were desperate. And Rachel—even though she gets mad at me for taking stupid chances—would be disappointed in me for just driving away. And that would be worse.
So I took a deep breath and got out of the car.
I pressed the bungalow’s doorbell. After 30 seconds the door opened.
Cody looked out. “Tom? What’s going on?”
“I’m here for Marcy,” I said.
He blinked at me. Gripped the doorknob, as if ready to slam it in my face. Then he sighed. “You sure you want to do this?”
Hell no, I thought. “Let me see her.”
He stepped back to let me in.
Candles lit the living room. Bottles of beer and wine sat on the table where we’d had tea this afternoon.
Kurt slouched on the sofa, his eyes glazed as if he were high, in jeans with bare feet. He glanced over at me, scowled, then turned his face to Marcy and smiled.
Marcy stood in the center of the room in just her bra and panties, with one white sock on her left foot, the other one bare. Her eyes glowed with a white light, and her skin looked gray. Sweat dripped down her shoulders, and her hair was a mess. She was tall and slender, more like a ballerina poised to leap than a basketball player getting ready for a free throw.
She turned her head toward me, then turned away, silent as a stone.
I glared at Cody. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”
“It’s not like that.” He reached down to snatch a bottle of beer. “I was actually trying to protect her. I knew Kurt was up to something creepy with Marcy—”
“Nothing like that happened.” Kurt’s voice was low and raspy. “She came to me. Herman, I mean, but he knew about Pythiaxe and my grandfather. Something about him made her obsessed. Right, Marcy?”
Marcy cocked her head, as if she didn’t understand the language. One hand curled into a fist, then relaxed, limp. As if gathering strength.
“How did you get here?” Cody asked. “I mean, why—”
“You asked what happened to Kurt. But I never told you he was at the cemetery. You knew I was going to the cemetery. Marcy and Kurt both came with other people, but when we looked for them after she did the ritual, they were both gone.”
Cody nodded, his face tense. “I went looking for her there. She was running next to the road, like that—” He gestured toward her half-naked body. “Laughing and kicking at tombstones. She had her markers and she was drawing on them, and Kurt was right there with her—”
“I was trying to calm her down!” Kurt shook his head. “You don’t know how powerful Pythiaxe can be. She’d only just done the ritual. Plus, you interrupted her, and I wasn’t sure—”
“So you two got her into your car and came here,” I said. “Stopping along the way for some petty vandalism.”
Cody groaned. “She kept jumping out of the car. I really just wanted to help her. Kurt wanted—” He glared. “I don’t know.”
“So what’s your deal?” I stood between them, my eyes on Marcy. “Pythiaxe possessed your grandfather—killed him? Is this some kind of vengeance?”
“No, you idiot.” He reached forward for a glass of wine. “I wanted my grandfather to rest in peace. He couldn’t, as long as Pythiaxe was trapped in there with him. I could feel it—I could hear them, every time I visited the grave. They were both shut up in darkness, in chains beneath the ground. I just wanted him to be free. For them both to be free, like they both wanted.”
“By giving him to Marcy?”
Kurt shook his head slowly, looking over at Marcy’s body. “She was willing. Do you know anything about her? She’s bored, she’s rebellious. She’s curious. She was ready for something else, something more. Like Grandpa was looking for.”
“To be free?”
He gulped some wine. “No rules, no bullshit. Just open doors and wild creation. No limits.” He pointed at Marcy. “Tell him. Tell him!”
Marcy—Pythiaxe?—turned her head toward me. Her eyes blinked slowly. Then her lips rose in a smile. “Who are you?” Her voice was flat, distant, as if someone else was typing words for her from far away.
“Your parents hired me. You disappeared. They’re worried.”
She cocked her head with a frown. “No. I don’t want to see them.”
“You see? You see?” Kurt put his wine glass down. “She doesn’t want you here. She’s fine. Get out.”
“Shut up.” I pulled my phone out. “Pythiaxe? I want to talk to Marcy. Let me talk to her.”
“He won’t do that.” Kurt shook his head. “It doesn’t—”
“I said, shut up.” I tapped my phone. “Okay, Pythiaxe? I’ve got someone here you don’t want to meet. Let go of Marcy, at least for a minute, or you’re going to get Miskal.”
Marcy flinched. Her toes curled in her lone sock, and she lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.
“No.” Kurt took a step toward me. “You don’t have any right—”
I switched the phone to my left hand, reached into my jacket, and yanked out my Taser, pointing it at his chest. “Stay away from me.”
He took a step backward, arms lifted. Good. I could still feel his punch to my gut.
“What are you doing?” Cody was keeping his distance, his eyes on my phone more than my Taser.
“I’ve got the ritual to bring Miskal here.” I scrolled awkwardly down through the note Carrie had sent me and read: “‘Miskal and Pythiaxe are demons from Mesopotamian mythology representing opposites—east and west, day and night, life and death, and so are locked in eternal combat with each—’”
“I know who they are,” Cody snapped. “You can’t just run the ritual like this. It was dangerous enough for Kurt to have Marcy do it.”
“I don’t care.” I swung my eyes between the two of them. “I’ve had a long day and I’m all out of patience with you guys. Marcy’s parents are worried sick about her. I need for her to talk to them. Not Pythiaxe. Her.”
I looked at Marcy again. Her head was cocked, listening to me as if trying to decipher a foreign language.
“Marcy?” I asked. “Are you there?”
Marcy—Pythiaxe—growled.
I scrolled with my thumb. I really didn’t want to do this. Even if it worked, I was taking a risk. If it didn’t work, I was taking a bigger one. But I didn’t have time to come up with anything better..
I cleared my throat. It was dry, and I was suddenly thirsty, but I didn’t want to put the Taser down for a sip of Kurt’s wine. So I swallowed, looked at my phone, and started to speak.
I was guessing at the pronunciation, because what Carrie had sent me was a phonetic version of ancient Aramaic, just like the Pythiaxe ritual. I hoped that wouldn’t screw things up. I didn’t want to accidentally call another demon while I was trying to—
“Miskal!” Marcy screamed, like a challenge or a curse. She charged forward and tackled me to the floor.
I lost both my phone and the Taser as I pushed at her sweaty body, struggling for breath. She clawed at my shirt, her jaws wide as if she wanted to clamp her teeth on my throat like a vampire. Part of me wondered how I’d tell Rachel that about wrestling a half-naked woman. Most of me just tried to keep my neck away from her teeth as I fumbled for my Taser.
Then I heard Cody’s voice. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, until I realized he was chanting. Reading the ritual from my phone.
“No!” I croaked. Marcy’s face jerked away from me, and then she left me on the floor, pulling herself up and leaping toward Cody.
He held onto the phone as Marcy—Pythiaxe—wrapped her fingers around his throat and kicked at his crotch. He doubled over, still reciting the unknown words in a strangled voice as Marcy shook him, shrieking.
I rolled, searching for the Taser on my hands and knees. Kurt was off the sofa, reaching down, and I shoved myself forward, my shoulder against his knee. He fell, swearing, and kicked my ribs, but I managed to get the Taser and scramble around.
I was a little too late.
Cody was standing straight, his eyes white, the air around him glowing. He smiled, stretching his arms in front of him as Marcy staggered back, shaking her head, trembling. “No,” she whispered. “No . . .”
Then she lunged at him again. “MIskal!”
They grappled with each other. Light flowed from their bodies, swirling around them like angry fireflies, and they rocked back and forth, shrieking and growling.
“You idiot!” Kurt was right behind me. “They’ll kill each other!”
I waved the Taser to keep him back. “Just shut up, okay? I’ve got this.” At least I hoped I did.
Cody had dropped my phone. As they clawed and punched at each other, I snatched it from the floor and scrolled further down. If Carrie was right—
I found the passage and started reading. Again, I didn’t know if I was pronouncing anything right, and I was gambling that it wouldn’t matter too much.
Again Kurt lunged at me, batting at my phone. I slammed an elbow at him, and missed, and he grabbed at my arm.
But I still had the Taser, and I was tired of him. I pointed and squeezed the trigger, and the twin darts shot into his stomach.
“Ahh!” Kurt screeched, his body shaking from the jolt of electricity, and he fell down, twitching and moaned.
I dropped the Taser, hoping I hadn’t hurt him too much. But not caring at the moment. I went back to my phone.
Cody and Marcy were staring at me. I started the chant over, talking fast, backing away and they started to step toward me. I almost tripped over Kurt, but I finished, then started over again, in case I didn’t get it right the first time.
They kept coming. I read faster. I couldn’t shoot the Taser at them again. I took more steps backward until I felt one of Cody’s bookcases on my shoulder. Maybe I should quit reading and take a picture so Rachel could see what killed me. If this didn’t work—
Cody stopped and looked at me. Like he really saw me. Then he turned to Marcy. She punched his chest, but he caught her wrist and held it, staring into her glowing eyes.
She jabbed her other fist at him, but he held his ground, breathing slowly, as the light around them started whirling faster. Marcy leaned her head back and screamed, and Cody grabbed her shoulder to keep her upright. The light burned brighter, blinding me until I looked away. It was cold, not hot. I shivered, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck standing up hard.
Then the light burst, like an exploding lamp. A blast of cold air knocked me to the floor, and I covered my head, waiting for the house to collapse around me.
It didn’t. I opened my eyes and sat up.
Cody and Marcy lay on the floor, breathing slowly. Kurt was still twitching from the Taser. As I stood up, Marcy rolled her head and looked around.
“You okay?” I held out a hand.
She pulled herself up, looked me over, then glanced around the room. “Shit,” she murmured.
Cody groaned and forced himself to sit up. “Uh . . .” He blinked. “What happened?”
I picked up my phone. “My friend included a ritual for sending Miskal away. Since they hate each other, Pythiaxe and Miskal pursue each other endlessly. They’ve been doing it for thousands of years. That’s the legend, anyway. I was figuring it might work now.”
Marcy glared at me like a cop about to read her rights. “Who are you?”
“Tom Jurgen. Your parents hired me.” I looked around, found an afghan on the sofa and handed it to her in case she wanted to cover up. “Which reminds me . . .” I found them on my phone.
“Mrs. Pratt? Your daughter’s fine. Here she is.” I handed the phone over.
Marcy grimaced, pulling the afghan around her shoulders, but she took the phone. “Hello? Mom?” She sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m okay . . .”
Rachel was studying when I got home. “Find her?”
“Yes, but she was not happy about it.” I hung my coat up and set the Taser on the table next to the door. “My clients are, though, which is all that counts.”
Marcy Pratt had been unhappy before I’d ever met her, apparently. Her parents were hypocrites, the health care system sucked, the world just swallowed whatever Fox News or MSNBC shoveled at them, misogynistic men protected each other, and nobody cared that the environment was turning into a flaming cesspool. She told me all that while I was driving her home. At least she didn’t believe lizard people had replaced the president and King Charles.
“I thought maybe I could change,” she told me after calming down a little. “I didn’t buy everything Kurt said about Pythiaxe—that guy is creepy—but the way the world is going, I just wanted to get out of the box, you know? Do something different. Not have to listen to assholes. You know?”
“I get it,” I told her. It was true. We all wish we could break free sometimes. Most of us aren’t willing to trade our body and our soul for it, but I didn’t say that to her.
Kurt DeWald had picked up on all that, and nudged her toward resurrecting Pythiaxe from his grandfather’s tomb. She tried writing out the ritual from the book she’d bought with Codfy, but it didn’t feel right, so she went to Kurt on Sunday for help. That led them to convince Herman Weiss to get the older version.
“I guess he looked at it and freaked out,” Marcy said. “I heard them arguing on the phone. Then Kurt told me he’d take care of it, just get the others to the cemetery and he’d bring the book. I didn’t think he’d whack him in the head. Asshole. Herman was kind of nice.”
She’d kicked Kurt a few times as he was coming out of the Taser blast, after I told her about Weiss but before I managed to stop her. I told Cody to call the police and hand DeWald over, and then I took Marcy back to her apartment.
“You don’t understand,” she complained as I walked with her to her door. “They’re all so—oblivious. My parents just wanted me to be a good girl and do the right thing. Olivia’s nice, but she just watches TV and parties every weekend. My patients in the hospital—half of them are there because of things they did to themselves. The people in my class, they just want to find dates. Nobody gets it.”
“They were worried about you,” I said, trying to be sympathetic. “After what happened at the cemetery. And your parents—well, everybody’s parents drive them crazy. But they were half out of their minds.”
“Yeah.” Marcy stuck her key in the lock. “I’ll have to call them again. Hey, Olivia!”
“Marcy! You’re all right! What happ—”
Marcy shut the door. I heard the lock click on the other side.
Back home again, I opened a beer and sank onto the sofa next to Rachel.
“Long day, huh?” She closed her laptop and patted my arm.
I yawned. “I think I forgot to eat dinner. No, I had waffles. But I didn’t eat lunch, so I still haven’t had dinner.” I closed my eyes.
“I can make you a grilled cheese.”
“In a minute.” I lay there next to her, trying to let the tension ease from my muscles and mind. I’d have to talk to the police tomorrow about Herman Weiss, but right now I couldn’t think about anything but sleep. And food. “Oh, by the way, I had to wrestle a half-naked young woman tonight.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Not as much as you’d think. Oh, I had bacon with my waffles.”
“That you’re going to pay for.” She kissed the top of my head. “Hang tight. Grilled cheese coming up.”
I was asleep by the time the sandwich was ready. But it was worth waking up for.
# # #
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