"Fire!"
Jack awoke to the distant shout of a booming male voice. He opened his eyes wide in the dark as if doing so would open his ears along with them.
"Fire!"
His pupils adjusted to the dark room. It took Jack a few seconds to recall where he was.
Home.
That's right, he slowly began to remember. He was home, in his bedroom.
The door was wedged open, allowing him to see a bluish glow bouncing off the hallway walls. He rose and made his way toward the door, still listening to the sounds outside.
"Fire, men! Nice and steady!"
As he entered the hallway, it was apparent that the noise came from the television downstairs. When he reached the landing, he found his mother dozing on the couch, the television illuminating the heavyset bags under her eyes.
Jack gently reached for a blanket and draped it over Molly. He picked up an empty wine bottle off the coffee table and frowned. He could have sworn he'd hidden all the bottles. She must have picked this one up on the way home.
He approached the television, seeing now that the program was an old war documentary, and brought his face close to it as he sought out the unlit power button with the pads of his fingers.
"Fire! Again! Fi- Fire consumed the entire home in less than an hour."
Jack retracted his hand. The channel changed though Jack was sure he hadn't yet hit any buttons. He shook his head, realizing he must have, and reached out again.
"Thankfully, all the occupants managed to escape- Fire-breathing dragon!"
Again, the channel changed.
Jack peered over his shoulder to see if Molly was on the remote. It was sitting on the coffee table out of her reach. He dropped his arm and took a moment to absorb the new voices on the television, backing away from the screen.
"Stir the knight!"
Jack swiped up the remote and hit the power button. He turned his back and the television powered on again.
"I'll fire every last one of you!"
"Fire me?-"
"Firemen-"
The channels jumped around out of numerical order, the variation in light creating a strobing effect in the room. The volume increased.
"Fire-"
"Fire-"
"Fire!"
And the screen went black. In its reflection, Jack saw his mother, laying still with eyes wide open. He stumbled backward with a gasp.
"Jack?" Molly called out, suddenly stirred by the noise. She reached for the lamp, struggling to locate its switch. The once eerie atmosphere in the room dissipated with the light.
Jack looked around frantically before being struck with embarrassment. He stood and brushed himself off. "I must have been having a nightmare," he explained, extending a hand. "Here, let me help you up."
"No, I'm fine here," Molly answered, tucking her feet under the blanket.
"Okay," Jack laughed. "I'll see you in the morning."
He started up the stairs when Molly mumbled, "Hey, is your sister home yet? I fell asleep here waiting for her."
Jack's chest sank. He took a deep breath and said carefully, "Fi's not here, Mom. Remember? She's in California, at school."
"Oh. Oh, that's right…" Molly slurred.
Jack was too accustomed to these nights. He gave up on making it back to bed and took a seat on the armchair, knowing what came next. Right on cue, he heard Molly begin to cry.
"It's okay, Mom," he reassured her. "Fi's fine."
Molly tried to get up, caught her foot in the blanket and stumbled forward. Jack moved fast to gently help her to the ground. They sat against the couch as Molly came unglued, sobbing into Jack's shoulder, "I can't protect her if she's all the way in California. Just like I couldn't protect your father."
Jack's brow knotted. "You can't blame yourself for that. You couldn't have known…"
Molly slid away from him and hid her face. "You must remember it by now. Don't you? Th- the fire?" she panted. "I knew it was going to happen. I saw it happen. I just didn't believe it was real – just like you, Jack – but it was real. And it will get you, too, whether you believe in it or not."
"Mom, you're scaring me," Jack admitted. "What's real?"
"Monsters," Molly revealed. "Everything Fiona writes about on her computer and then some. It's all real. And I hunt them. Ever since I saw your father, burning… When I'm home too long, I get scared and pack us up; drive us around the country. That's all the tours ever were."
"You aren't making sense. Dad died in a car accident," Jack cut in, not wanting to believe a word his mother was saying.
She shook her head. "Have you heard of astral projection?" she asked.
Jack thought back to the girl he'd met as a teen, Claire, who could leave her body as she pleased.
"He was trying to trick it. I begged him not to. He escaped here and let his body sustain the crash. But it didn't work. It found him and… that was his soul up there, burning, screaming!"
"Please, stop! I don't want to know this!" Jack protested.
"You have to!" Molly shouted, grabbing his face. "You need to know what's after us! – what's been after us for most of your life!"
And with three simple words, Molly constricted his windpipe and severed his view of the universe as he knew it.
"It's a demon."
"Jack! Hey, wake up."
Jack stirred with a deep inhalation of breath that shocked Fi so badly, the Mustang swerved over the center line.
"Whoa, sorry!" she quickly let out, regaining control of the wheel. "You were making weird sounds in your sleep. I thought you were crying."
Jack opened the glove compartment, retrieved his flask and took a long swig.
Hours later, the siblings arrived in Pagosa Springs. They located the bar, Tall Tale, where Molly was set to perform later that evening, and parked the Mustang where it wouldn't be easily spotted.
As soon as Fi exited the car, she heard it.
"It's cold outside, and the fire's burned out. You're going for a ride."
Jack hopped out after her. "All right, we should probably-"
"Shh!" Fi spat. "Listen."
Suddenly, Jack heard it, too.
From across the street, the bar door swung open and released from inside a familiar yet haunting melody.
"Don't go…"
"Jack, c'mon!" Fi grabbed her bag and sprinted toward the bar. Jack followed.
"It could be a trap," Jack thought aloud without slowing down.
"I don't care!" Fi responded.
The two ran through the entrance, nearly knocking over the bouncer.
"Hey, we're not open yet!" he barked, blocking their path.
"A little more in the monitor," Molly said into the microphone. "Don't go…" she sang again, stopping abruptly when she heard commotion. She immediately recognized the figures being held back by the bouncer. Her eyes became avian in the way they scanned the bar for the closest exit. Panic began to set in.
"Mol, you all right?" Carey asked her.
He hardly got the words out when Molly shoved her guitar into him and fled, hastily disappearing down the stairway behind the stage.
"Mom!" Fi called out, ducking under the bouncer's arm to chase after her.
"I'll go around!" Jack shouted, running for the back exit.
Carey stood, stunned to see Fi racing toward him. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, trying to slow her down as she barreled past. "What happened to your face? Can someone tell me what's going on?"
Fi took the stairs in two strides. She quickened her pace when she heard a car start up from outside.
"Mom!" she yelled again, coming around the doorway to the dressing room.
Empty, just as she feared. She kicked open the exit door to find Jack with his arms folded above his head, winded, as a car sped away. It made a quick left and disappeared from sight.
"No!" she cried out in frustration, giving the door a hard shove.
A woman Fi had never seen before came jogging up behind Jack, just as Carey and the bouncer appeared in the doorway.
"Fi, what the hell!?" Carey loudly asked.
Fi exchanged disappointed glances with her brother, still busy catching his breath.
"Jack?" the woman let out, seemingly surprised to see him.
Jack silently gave Fi a nod that told her he'd handle it. She nodded back, indicating she'd deal with the others.
Fi pushed Carey through the doorway and began sifting through any items left behind in the dressing room.
"It's fine," Carey said, dismissing the bouncer. "She's uh, with the band."
Fi picked up a crumpled set list and scanned the song titles. Each one brought back a different memory and accompanying emotion. There wasn't a song listed that she didn't know by heart. She flipped the paper over to find an illegible note.
Carey leaned over, gradually removed the set list from her hands and tossed it in the wastebasket. "I'm going to assume the gig's cancelled?" he asked.
Fi shot him an annoyed look.
"I'll go break the news to the owner."
"Do you know where she went?" she called after him.
Carey turned back to answer, "We're staying at the Discount Stays Inn a few blocks from here."
Fi raised an eyebrow. Molly typically avoided chain hotels, but perhaps this anomaly was part of her method to deter them.
"I can take us there," he continued. "That is, if you can find us a ride. That was my car…"
Meanwhile, Jack sat against the building feeling defeated. "What are you doing here, Van?" he asked softly.
Van joined his side and stretched her legs out in front of her.
"I was needed," Van answered with a forced smile. She brushed aside a curl. "Imagine that."
"I thought you were going to stay in New Orleans? Lay low?" Jack questioned, feeling equal parts guilt and worry.
"Well, you know me. Lack of local monsters to hunt, I get bored, I go to them," she shrugged. "So, you going to tell me what that was all about? I'm guessing Molly?"
"We almost caught up to her."
Van took Jack's hand. "When I heard she was playing here, I made sure to check it out myself before calling," she explained. "I assumed it had to be a trap."
"Yeah," Jack mumbled. "I considered that, too."
"Why would she suddenly go public, and under her real name? Really risky, considering she's kind of a celebrity."
Jack didn't respond, lost in his own head.
"C'mon, old man," Van said, getting to her feet. She pulled up Jack by his arm. "Quit moping. Let's get you something to eat. There's a shitty diner around the corner."
"A shitty diner?" Jack echoed as he stood. "How can I say no to that?"
The rear exit door opened and Fi and Carey filed out. Fi had a determined look on her face.
"You guys want to join us?" Jack offered. "We're grabbing a bite. All that running worked up my appetite."
"Hey, you must be Fi," Van cut in, extending a hand to her. "Van Hollis."
"Oh," Fi let out. "Your Jack's-"
"Now, now," she interrupted with a smirk. "He's already out of breath. Let's not trigger a panic attack."
Fi grinned. "Right. Nice to finally meet you."
Van peered around Fi and added, "Hey, Carey," apparently already familiar. "Strange seeing you out from behind the bar."
While Carey struggled to work through recent events, Fi turned to Jack and said, "We're going to head over to the hotel room Mom's casually sharing with Carey. Maybe there's something there that can tell us where she's heading. Can we take the car?"
Jack frowned and signaled for Fi's bag. She aversely handed it over. Jack dug through it for a moment, blindly searching for something, before withdrawing his hand and splashing Carey in the face with a vial of holy water.
"Hey! What the hell, Jack?" he shouted, prompting muffled laughs from the rest of the group.
Jack carefully observed his friend's reaction until he was satisfied that Carey was really himself. "Yeah," he finally said. "I'll meet up with you guys later."
Carey brushed a wet strand of hair out of his eyes as he and Fi reached the Discount Stays Inn. "Shit," he whined, patting his coat, "your mom had the key."
Fi examined the hotel room door. Crouching down on one knee, she removed a bobby pin from her hair and began working on the lock mechanism. She flattened her palm and gave a nudge once she heard the click of the lock's release.
Carey held the door open for her, impressed. "I didn't realize Stanford was offering Lockpick 101 this semester."
"Sorry to report," Fi began as she examined the room, "we've officially exceeded our dropout quota."
"You dropped out?" he questioned.
Fi dragged a hand across the dusty television set with a grimace.
"Carey, I'm kindly turning a blind eye to this whole hotel room thing. I'd appreciate it if you didn't weirdly start parenting me, too."
"What are you talking about?" he asked genuinely.
"Are you really going to make me say it? I've known what's been up with you two ever since you started calling her by her first name and stopped using mine, kiddo," she mocked, giving him a tap on the arm.
"Whoa there, Fiona. Slow… down…" he laughed nervously, putting up his hands in protest. "I don't know where you got that idea, but I give you my word that I slept on the couch and she took the bed."
"Sure," Fi said in a sarcastic tone. "That explains why she was hiding from everyone but you."
"Hiding?" Carey repeated. "She's been right…" His face fell as he realized what Molly had done.
Fi laid flat on the bed and let her legs dangle off the side as she took an audible exhale. Carey joined her, interlacing his fingers on his chest and staring up at the ceiling.
"I didn't know she was on the run," he said downheartedly. "Mom and Dad told me they were trying to get in touch with her, but she said she'd talked to them and I believed her. I'm so sorry, Fi."
"So, you know what she does? I mean, what she really does?"
"Yeah," he let out with a sigh. "Occasionally she accepts my help. Not always."
Fi propped herself up on her elbow and looked at Carey. "You hunt?"
"It's a recent development," he admitted.
As Carey spoke, something on the bedside table behind him caught Fi's eye. She moved to collect it – a newspaper clipping with a man's photo at the top.
"Do you know him?" Carey asked.
"I only met him once, but we used to keep in touch through my website. His name was James. He could create tulpas with his mind, all by himself. Normally it takes whole tribes to conjure them up." Fi added softly, displaying the article, "According to this, he was killed."
"Aw, man," Carey replied. "Another one?"
Fi froze. "Carey, what do you mean by another one?"
Meanwhile, Jack and Van snagged a booth in the farthest corner of the diner. Jack picked up a menu and pretended to read it, too exhausted to make a simple choice like what his next meal should be. What he really needed was rest but he forced himself to push on without it.
"What'cha getting, old man?" Van asked as she sipped her water.
"See, I feel like you're using that nickname as an insult but we're the same age, so, joke's on you," Jack chuckled.
"No, that can't be right," she teased, though Jack detected concern in her voice. "You look like you've aged ten years since I last saw you."
"It's been a tough couple of months," he said, maintaining a light tone.
"I bet. It's not like you to lose touch."
"About that…"
"Hey, don't worry about it," Van was quick to cut him off. The expression fell from her face; a heartbroken look Jack had only seen on her twice before.
The first was when they met, three years prior at her sister's place in Stevenson, Oklahoma. She wasn't a hunter then. He found her shivering, lost in a sea of police and stunned onlookers. Her sister had been killed, and Van had watched her die. Jack was the only person willing to tell her the truth about what she'd seen; that monsters are real.
The second was months ago in New Orleans, the day Jack said goodbye. He told her he would be back soon. He heard her say, "No, you won't," before closing the door behind him.
He shook the memory and rapidly changed the subject.
"So, you said you were working a case? What brought you here?"
"Well," she started, grabbing her bag and removing a pocket-sized map of the United States marked with various hand-drawn shapes. "I've been tracking this pattern, reports of demonic activity popping up all over the map."
Jack leaned in to read it. "Wait, can I see this?" he asked, taking the map.
Van continued as he analyzed it, "I've been talking to other hunters, old hunters, who have been doing this for a lot longer than you or me. In a normal year, they'd hear of maybe three demonic possessions, maybe four, tops. This year, we've recorded about twenty-seven, so far."
Jack noticed a familiar symbol that looked like the letter Y with a dash through the bottom. "What's this?" he cut in to ask.
"Irregularities in the reports. Any time hunters noted a demon's eyes showed yellow instead of black, that symbol gets included in the notes."
"I've seen this symbol before," Jack said, taking out his mother's notebook. He thumbed through the pages. "Here," he pointed. "Mom uses that same symbol whenever she talks about the thing that killed my dad. Do you know its origin?"
"It was like that on the written reports. Must be a universal symbol for that demon type."
Jack's eyes widened. "Van, we were there. All the places this symbol appears on your map – Santa Cruz, West Texas, Arizona, Black Water Ridge."
Van turned the map toward herself and traced the lines with her fingertip, indicating the order they were drawn in.
Jack's chest tightened as he watched her finger follow their path. "Yeah," he sighed. "That's it. Almost our exact route."
"Jack," she replied in a whisper, cautious of their surroundings, "more and more demons are walking among us. A lot more."
"Do you know why?" he finally asked.
"No, but I know it's something big. Don't you see? This whole time, I've been tracking demons, and the demons, they've been tracking you."
Jack went silent. He suddenly wanted to be away from this diner and back in the Mustang with Fi, going ninety miles an hour toward wherever Molly was hiding this time.
"A storm's coming," Van said carefully, "and you, your sister… you're smack in the middle of it."
"I have to go," Jack said as he stood and hurried for the exit. "I'm sorry, Van."
Van was quick to follow him outside. "Hey," she huffed. "I'm getting a little tired of being left behind. Especially when I've been busting my ass to help you."
Jack closed the distance between them and set his hands on her shoulders. "You don't understand. I've got to get back to Fi. There was a close call in Santa Cruz. A demon. I barely made it there in time and Fi almost died. I can't let that happen again. If your map is right, if there really is something tracking me and my family, it may already be here."
"And you're going to lead it right to them!"
"What?" Jack breathed out.
"Your blood. Fi and Molly – A high concentration of Phillips blood all in one place will draw demons right to you. They can smell it. That's probably why Molly keeps running away. It's too high a risk."
Jack didn't want to believe her. His family had survived this long. It had to be because he was there for them.
Just then, Jack was hit with a grim realization. "If that's true," he thought aloud, "Van, do you think me showing up at Fi's school… Do you think me being there had something to do with why her boyfriend was killed?"
Van bit her lip. "I don't know," she answered. "I guess it's possible."
Jack's jaw tightened. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Fi was right. It was my fault."
"You don't know that. What matters is you were there to save her."
"Right. You're absolutely right. And I'm going to keep saving her-"
"By spending some time apart," Van pleaded, cupping his face. "Until you're ready to fight what's after you. Eat. Sleep. I know it's not your style to take a pause and care for yourself but, Jack… you have to slow down."
"No, Van. I'm sorry, okay? I can't risk losing them," he argued, turning to leave.
"Will you quit apologizing to me and listen already? Your stubborn ass is going to get killed if you keep this up. Plain and simple."
"If I die protecting them, so be it. As long as they're all right."
Jack meant what he said. He started down the street, half-expecting Van to take out his knees to get him to stop. Instead, she called out after him, "That nightmare you're afraid of, losing your sister? I've lived it. Have you forgotten that?"
The way her voice broke gutted him. Jack hesitated to face her. "Of course I haven't," he said sensitively, letting her catch up to him.
"Why do you think I care so much?" she continued. "It's because, if I could go back and do anything to save her, I would. I'm not letting the same happen to you without trying to prevent it."
"Van, I hear you, okay? But you didn't know what was out there back then. I do. I have a chance to stop this."
"Or cause it," she said coldly. "We've both lost people who meant a lot to us. We know what that feels like. Do you honestly want your little sister to have to feel that pain – again? so soon? – all because you refused to take one stupid day to recharge and come up with a solid plan that doesn't involve putting a target on your family's back?"
Jack lowered his head. The obvious thing to do was take Van's advice, but his instincts reminded him he couldn't afford a break. Van apparently read his decision on his face and began to tear up.
"Hey," he started to say, reaching for her.
She took a step away from him with a frustrated sigh. "Don't you dare. If you won't listen to me, then go. Go on and get yourself killed. I've lost everyone else. I should've known I'd eventually lose you, too."
Jack embraced Van and tucked her head under his chin. "I won't let that happen."
Van pushed him off. "Then stay, for once," she cried, not allowing Jack the opportunity to look away.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Just for tonight. I'll stay."
WELCOME TO NEW MEXICO, The Land of Enchantment, Fi read as the Mustang passed the highway sign.
"Man, I missed this car," Carey mused. He resumed performing a lengthy drum solo on the dashboard before continuing, "Are you sure we shouldn't let Jack know we left town with his Mustang?"
"We'll be back before he notices. Besides, he has this thing about psychics. One was rude to me back when we were kids. Jack threatened to choke him to death on his own bullshit. And that was the old Jack. Who knows what he'd do today."
"Well, let's hope this psychic doesn't upset you," Carey joked.
"I'll ask one more time… You're absolutely positive this woman was next on Mom's list?"
"Yes. Molly's been tracking these strange deaths – people who showed signs of psychic ability shortly before they died. It seemed like maybe something was targeting them. So she put together a list of known psychics in the area. A few of them worked directly with hunters. This one in Taos, she's one of them. Molly planned on heading over to check in on her after our gig."
"I hope Mom followed through," Fi let out.
"Look at it this way," Carey continued. "If she didn't, we're on our way to a real-deal psychic. She can use her abilities to tell us where Molly went. You two are long overdue for a reunion."
"Yeah," Fi said solemnly. "You do know what will happen when we finally catch up to Mom, right, Carey?"
Carey shrugged and offered up a guess, "You'll… be a family again?"
"We're teaming up to take on a demon. It's the start of a suicide mission. And even if we win, the chances of us making it out of that fight in one piece… Let's just say they aren't great."
Carey felt suddenly queasy.
Fi added without a crack in her voice, "This… This is the beginning of the end."
Fi and Carey arrived at their destination about an hour later. Carey had hardly spoken since Fi delivered her ominous message. He rang the doorbell on a sun-faded cabin and shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. Fi looked up at him, curious.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm starting to think this wasn't such a good idea," he confessed. "On the way over, I thought this would make a cool surprise, but this feels like it's going the same direction as my last one. I really thought Molly would be happy I promoted that gig…"
"What?" Fi groaned. She turned her attention to the feminine silhouette coming to meet them at the door. She didn't recognize the woman to be anyone she knew. "Carey, why didn't you say something sooner?"
The door opened to reveal a young woman a few inches taller than Fi. She had cropped blonde hair that hardly grazed her shoulders. She looked very familiar to Fi but she couldn't place why.
Before Fi could offer as much as a smile, the woman locked eyes with her – a rock-hard, icy glare – and slammed the door in her face.
Carey quickly turned the knob, his face falling, and let himself in after her. He called out as he barged into the house, "Hey! What's your problem, Annie?"
"Annie?" Fi echoed in a hushed whisper. She hadn't thought of Annie in years. After a beat, she followed Carey inside.
"Why would you bring her here?" she heard Annie demand from another room.
"What are you talking about?" he yelled in response. "You were friends! I thought you'd be happy to see her."
Fi entered the kitchen where Annie and Carey stood, both red in the face.
"Don't you get it? She did this to me! She's the reason I'm like this!"
"And how's that?" Fi interjected, offended.
"Ha!" Annie scoffed, retreating to the adjacent dining room.
"Hey!" Fi shouted as she chased after her. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, so either explain yourself and fast, or we can leave."
Annie paused with her back to the room. She gripped the table in front of her with both hands, her knuckles turning white. She hung her head, becoming very still. Fi resisted the urge to spin her around, furious over the unfair way she'd been treated.
"Annie? You all right?" Carey nearly whispered. He seemed just as afraid as Fi did mad.
With a shrill cry, Annie doubled over in pain. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a heavy breath. Carey ran to her, wrapping an arm around her thin frame.
"Annie?" he shouted with apprehension in his voice.
"Back off!" she growled. "I'm fine! This is what it's like. They come and go."
Carey stumbled back to his original place beside Fi, who hadn't moved at all except to tighten her grip on the handle of her knife. She didn't even realize she'd taken it out.
Annie pulled herself upright, still hanging her head. "That hideous ring," she began slowly. Fi subconsciously covered her ring with the opposite hand. "You let me put it on. The daily migraines, the violent premonitions," Annie explained. "It was supposed to be you having these visions, not me!"
"I don't understand," Fi said, backing down.
"What is there to understand?" Annie spat, turning to face her. "It's you! You're meant to be the freak with the psychic powers. That was your burden! That is, until you had me put on that- that fucking ring and this curse was transferred to me."
"But, it's just a ring."
"You said the ring had no engraving on it; that it had worn off. Yet when I put it on, the engraving was there. Explain that, Fi. Explain what you thought that meant!"
"Hey!" Carey butted in. "Cool it, Annie. Whatever's going on here, we can fix it… Right, Fi? We can fix it."
"Yes, of course," Fi struggled to find her voice amid this array of new information. Fi had deemed herself cursed long before Annie told her so but it had never been confirmed quite like this.
"How?" Annie demanded. "I gave back the ring. Obviously, that didn't work."
"Then what makes you think it was Fi's ring that caused this?" Carey asked.
"Something came to me in one of my visions," Annie disclosed, taking a seat at the table. "And I know what you've seen, so I know you won't think I'm crazy for what I'm about to say. This being, whatever it was – she called herself Gabe."
Fi and Carey exchanged shocked glances. Their reaction went unnoticed by Annie, who continued in a low voice, "She told me all about you, Fi; about your destiny, what's out to get you… and the consequences those face who attempt to intervene, unknowingly or not. When I put on that ring, your noxious fate leached onto me. And you knew it."
Carey narrowed his eyes on Fi in disbelief.
"There was a spell. I… I didn't trust the thing who told me to do it-"
"It was the firefly wasn't it?" Annie inquired, buzzing with hatred.
"A will o' the wisp. It told me that in order to protect my family, I had to give up my paranormal magnetism. I thought I was getting rid of it."
"No, Fi. You turned it into a parasite and fed it to me," Annie sneered. "It wasn't this bad at first, back when this was a shared burden."
Fi looked up, perplexed. "What do you mean?" she probed, though she feared she already knew the answer.
"What's Jack's theory on Gabe's death, Fi?" Annie asked bitterly. "After everything you've seen, do you really believe bad things just happen to good people?"
"Because of the bone marrow transplant? You're saying… I'm responsible for Gabe's death?"
"Fi…" Carey said sympathetically, pulling her toward him. "Don't do this to yourself. Annie, that's enough."
"You gave your stem cells to a girl who believed in angels but not demons. Those bloodhounds sniffed out your DNA and executed her. She didn't even have a chance to cry out for help. And look what your brother became because of it. He was a good man! He slaughtered for her!"
"No…" Fi wept.
"I've seen it!" Annie insisted, pointing to her head. "Over, and over. Our kind, sweet Jack becoming a killer, without hesitation; a monster, the very thing he hunts, all because of you!"
Fi pushed past Carey, toward the table.
"I want to know everything," she demanded. "No more games. Tell me all you know about this and I will fix it. I promise you, Annie, I will make this right."
"Fi. C'mon, kiddo," Carey urged. "Let's get you back to Jack."
"No!" Fi objected, giving Carey a stare that stopped him in his tracks. She took Annie's hand, squeezing tighter when the girl tried to pull away. "Look at me, Annie. I promise."
"There's only one way," Annie said solemnly, "and it's the same fate as Gabe."
With the curtains drawn to block out the setting sun and clock radio set to a fuzzy classic rock station, Jack struggled to make himself comfortable in Van's hotel bed. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder almost instantly. Jack was never that lucky.
Through pauses of static, Jack focused on the acoustic guitar coming through the speaker beside him. A muffled voice said something about Zeppelin before the station crossed frequencies with an auto-tuned Top 40 track. Jack freed his arm to give the dial a subtle twist.
He ignored the numbers on the clock's display. Despite Van's effective argument for taking a brief rest away from his family, his demonic encounter just days before remained fresh in his mind. An uneasy feeling arose in his chest.
The signal on the classic rock station cleared up in sync with the start of the next song. Jack closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Van's worrying message repeated in his head on a loop. Storm's coming. He tried his best to ignore it, instead absorbing the rain sound effect coming from the radio. The Doors. One of his favorites.
"Riders on the storm…"
He almost laughed at the irony. He'd heard these lyrics hundreds of times, though they never applied quite so fittingly before.
"Into this house we're born/
Into this world we're thrown."
The radio signal began to fritz again. He fought the urge to fuss with the dial another time…
"Take a long –iday…"
But with each bit of static…
"eee – children play."
He felt an increasing impulse to get the frequency solid again. Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hear the song as it's meant to be heard, Jack sat up and gripped the dial, slowly, slowly turning…
"If you give this –an a ride/
Sweet family will die/
Killer on the road."
Jack shuddered. That's a real fucked up thing to do to me now, Jim, he thought to himself, his hand still glued to the dial. He heard the message loud and clear. Something wasn't right. He could feel it. Just like the night he lost Gabe. It was an acquainted fear at this point.
"Girl, you've got to love your man…"
The pit in Jack's chest paralyzed him to his core. All he could do was sit and listen, mouth agape, eyes fixed on the radio.
"Girl, you've got to love your man/
Take him by the hand/
Make him understand/
The world on you depends."
Jack reached for the necklace he never took off. It was hot to the touch like it had been left out in the sun. He felt his chest to compare temperatures. His skin was cool. He swallowed hard, looking to Van to ensure she was fast asleep, before calling out in a whisper, "Gabe?"
Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed. He focused on the emptiness of the room while he turned off the radio.
Perfect silence.
"Are you here with me, Gabe?" he continued in a hushed tone.
Jack shallowed his breathing. Her name remained at the tip of his tongue.
He almost jumped out of his skin when his cell phone rang on the bedside table. The sound woke Van and she switched on a light.
"Jack, you okay?" she asked.
Jack silenced the ring tone, feeling inexplicably defeated when the atmosphere of the room returned to its normal state with the abrupt noise. He brought the phone screen into view to see Carey's number on the display.
Shit, he thought. He was dressed and out the door, climbing into a cab parked outside the hotel lobby by the time he picked up, not even giving Carey the chance to speak before answering, "Address?"
Carey stuttered, "Uh, Taos. 401 Main. I messed up, man-"
"On my way."
Carey sat on the front porch taking drag after drag of his cigarette. Both legs bounced nervously. He squinted into the setting vermillion sun, pushing back the hair that fell repeatedly into his eyes, doing his best to process the last hour. With Fi talking suicide mission and Annie talking murder, he was in leagues over his head.
He felt less useful than… well, Carey Bell, lead guitarist and backup bartender from Hope Springs, Colorado. He had placed a call to Jack but who he really needed was Molly.
He ground his cigarette butt into the cold dirt in alignment with his previous two burn marks and stood up languidly, when a violent crash came from inside.
Carey reacted before he could think, running straight for the source of the noise.
Annie was standing in the kitchen with her arms at her sides, alarmingly focused on a glimmering object hovering near her chest. The overhead light reflected off of the object, making it difficult for him to decipher its shape. Once it became clear, he suddenly replicated the stance Fi took on across the room.
Fi was stoic, her elbows arched, her palms flat and steady. She was pleading, though her voice didn't waver, "Stop this, Annie. Give me back my knife."
But Annie wasn't listening. She was determined, her eyes wide and bloodshot, verging on rabid.
"Annie?" Carey mustered, not meaning to speak.
Without moving anything other than the slightest turn of her head, Annie followed the path of the knife as it swung in Carey's direction. His jaw dropped.
"Annie, no, please," he stammered.
Stay back, she warned. "This isn't about you."
The knife hovered in the air. Carey wanted to ask her how she was doing it, as if she was performing a party trick, but he knew better than to mutter another word.
"Is this what you meant?" Fi asked, trying to reclaim Annie's attention. "Is this the curse?" Fi regained her breath as Annie swung the knife away from Carey and back to her. "So, visions? Telekinesis? That's what we're dealing with. Okay. It's okay. You're not a freak, Annie," Fi continued, taking a hesitant step toward her. Annie's head tilted slightly to the left in response to the movement, as the knife inched closer to Fi.
Fi halted, not wanting things to escalate any further than they had already. She could hardly comprehend how she'd lost control of her environment so quickly. She and Annie had been sitting at the table, hand in hand. She remembered that detail precisely. She had both of Annie's hands cupped within her own, yet somehow, Fi's knife was lifted from her lap and pointed at her in a matter of seconds, and all it took from Annie was one dark glance.
And now, she was staring at the point of her own blade.
"Stay where you are," Annie commanded through violent tears.
Fi obliged, subtly motioning to Carey to get out while he could. Carey refused, though his hands shook noticeably.
"This is going to end here and now," Annie continued.
"You don't have to do this, Annie. For every spell, there's a way to undo it. All we have to do is find the original spell." Fi kept her tone steady.
Amidst the chaos, Fi almost overlooked the shape of her mother, suddenly present in the kitchen doorway, pale with horror. Carey was mouthing something to her but Fi wouldn't risk taking her eyes off Annie long enough to find out what it was.
"This ends now," Annie repeated, more hauntingly than the last.
"I can help you," Fi insisted, "but this, what you're doing, it's not the solution. It's not going to fix anything."
After some hesitation, Annie looked to Molly and replied softly, "You're right."
Fi felt a wave of relief, reaching for the knife. Relief turned to dread as the knife spun backward and flew through the air.
The weapon fell to the ground, cracking the tile below, and with it fell Annie, blood instantly pooling beneath her and seeping up into her fair hair.
Fi flinched. She stared at Annie as her gargled breathing slowed to a stop. Fi finally locked eyes with her mother, still frozen in place with a shaky hand over her mouth.
Carey ran to Annie and cradled her lifeless body in his arms, screaming, though Fi couldn't hear him. Instead, she was overcome with an intense ringing in her ears; a screeching sound. It grew louder. She clasped her head. A sharp pain radiated in her skull, building by the second. The ringing became louder still, transforming into an ear-piercing squeal. She dropped to her knees, squeezing her temples. The room went black.
Fi grasped blindly at the ground before succumbing to the darkness.
Carey turned upon hearing the thud of Fi's collapse. He was in a state of shock, darting his eyes from Annie to Fi.
"Molly," he implored, crying. He pleaded internally, Do something! But the Molly he had come to know so well had vanished. Blank-faced, not moving a muscle to run to either fallen young woman. Can't you see they're dying?
"Call 911!" he yelled, hardly recognizing his own voice. "Molly!" he shouted another time. "Hurry, please!"
Molly finally snapped out of her trance. "Annie…" she let out, almost silently, then more audibly. "Annie! Fiona!" She called over to Carey, "I need you to call Roadies!"
"Roadies?" he whimpered in disbelief at her absurd request. Why would he call his family's bar at a time like this?
"Tell them to have Jordan set us up at a hospital. Insurance cards, IDs – they'll know what to do. There's no time to explain! Just do it!"
Carey moved from Annie to Fi another time before grabbing his phone and running to the other room.
He was relieved to hear his mother's voice on the other end. "Mom! We need help. Fi and Annie, they- oh, God," he stammered. "The- the hospital. I'm so freaked out right now, Mom. I think they're dead- I think they're…."
Molly could hear Carey's cries from the other room. She sat directly between the two collapsed young women, taking each of their hands. Still shaken, she began to hum an old tune her husband used to play that always brought her comfort.
She let go of them to hug her knees and hummed softly to herself. Breathe, Molly, she reminded herself. You knew this was going to happen. Just breathe. And she did. In for ten seconds, out for ten seconds.
Carey ran back into the room, sliding to the ground to embrace her in one fluid motion. Molly held him tight, rubbing circles into his back, more so to ease herself than to ease him. The two stayed there in this embrace until the sirens came.
Fi's words reverberated in Carey's skull. This is the beginning of the end.