Jake's friendship with David Jensen was one of the few that hadn't been impacted by his double life as a genius/rural oil worker. They had met online in one of Jake's grad classes and had immediately connected, spending hours in the message boards talking about art, football, music, and anything else that came to mind. David had also hid some of his accomplishments from his family, so he understood the pressures Jake had been under while he'd cultivated his secret. There weren't many people he could talk to about that, and he appreciated David's listening ear.

They'd only met in person twice: once when David made the drive down to Oklahoma during spring break, and then at graduation. Jake almost hadn't gone—he couldn't come up with a suitable excuse for leaving town—but at the last minute his father had ordered him to pick up some parts in Kansas. He'd managed to get a flight to his university just in time for the graduation ceremony. There he'd literally run into David, also rushing to find a spot at the celebration without his family's knowledge. The lecture Jake had received when he'd finally gotten back home had been worth the detour.

It had been years since then, but David hadn't changed much. He was still tall and gangly, towering over Jake like a cornstalk over hay. His legs were slightly bowed, giving him a peculiar gait that took some getting used to when walking side by side. Jake was surprised at how easily it all came back to him—as if graduation had been only days ago instead of years.

"Tell me about this flute," Jake said, pushing open the front door.

David stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. "Not much to tell. I was sent to retrieve it, so that's what I did. I don't always get much info on the items I'm supposed to bid on."

"How'd you get into a business like that?" Jake asked.

David shrugged. "Didn't mean to... it just kind of happened. You get to talking to people, your name gets passed around... you know how it goes. It's a good job. I get to use my degree for something other than teaching, I make a pretty good commission on most pieces. Plus a lot of time, travel and board are paid for. I can hook you up if you're looking for a career change."

"Not looking for a change," Jake said. "But I appreciate the offer. Who wanted the flute?"

"Anonymous buyer."

Of course. Couldn't go making things easy on them.

"But I know it's someone in Europe," David added.

Jake went through his most recent lists of apocalyptical threats, but Europe wasn't anywhere narrow enough to settle on a likely enemy. "Anything else?" he said hopefully.

David shook his head. "I get paid more when I don't ask questions."

Great. That meant their only clue was the creepy haunted flute. "Alright," Jake said. "Just show me what you found. Let's see what we're up against."

David led the way to his car, a shiny, nondescript Sedan that made Jake snort. The last time he'd seen David, he'd been driving a rusted pickup that had made him think of Eliot. He hadn't appreciated the comparison at the time.

"It's in the trunk," David said, pulling the keys out of his pocket. "Didn't want it up front with me." He unlocked the car and stepped back, gesturing for Jake to do the rest.

He opened the trunk and reached for the only item inside: a small leather suitcase. Within that he found the flute, resting in a velvet-covered foam insert. "May I?" he asked, without taking his eyes from the instrument.

"Go ahead," David said.

"Do you have any gloves?"

David retrieved a pair of disposable gloves from the center console and handed them over like he was afraid to get too close to the trunk. Jake pulled them on and reached eagerly for the flute, already picking out a handful of symbols carved into the side. "It's beautiful craftsmanship," he said, holding it up for inspection.

"That's just 'cause you haven't heard it," David said. "It stops being pretty when it makes your skin crawl."

Jake tilted his head, listening for the haunting melody David had described. Nothing. If it played by itself, what would happen if he blew into it?

He could picture Baird's face and the exact tone of her voice telling him how stupid the idea was. But God, was he curious.

"Choctaw flutes were traditionally made from river canes," Jake said absently, rotating the instrument as he studied it. "The Choctaw word for flute even means river cane that makes a sound."

"Fascinating," David deadpanned. "What's Choctaw for flute that plays by itself?"

"Uskala—"

David waved his hands. "No, don't. I forgot who I was talking to. What do you see?"

"Carvings," Jake said. "I recognize most of the words... shadow, darkness, summon... That's not usually a good combination. And there's a name." He blinked, reading over the symbol another time, his stomach sinking. "Nalusa Falaya."

"What's that?" David asked.

"It means long, black being."

"That... doesn't sound good."

"It's not." Jake turned the flute over, carefully studying the rest of the carvings. "Nalusa Falaya is a creature from Choctaw mythology. It's made from shadow and can melt into darkness."

"What does it want?" David asked.

Jake shrugged. "If it can be summoned by this flute, maybe the one calling it can control it. Maybe they just set it loose. There's not exactly an instruction manual written here."

"But I've already heard it playing music," David said.

That was bad. And confusing. But mostly bad. Anything that had to be summoned by a special instrument and could melt into shadows was never good news. "What else did you notice when you heard the music?" Jake asked. "Anything strange, or...?"

"Like a giant shadow monster?" David said. A high note of fear had crept into his voice.

"Well... yeah."

"I told you it felt like something was watching me, and stuff would fall over," David said. "But I never saw anything."

Then the Nalusa Falaya had definitely been summoned. But if the flute was playing by itself, who had summoned the creature? Jake had never heard of a self-summoning monster before. This might warrant a call to Jenkins.

"Okay," Jake said, setting the flute back in its box. "Keep this closed and let me know if you hear any more music."

"Where are you going?" David asked.

Jake pulled out his phone. "I've got a friend who might know more about this. Go on, lock it up. I'll let you know what I find out."

Most of it, anyway. The details he could give away without revealing who he really was.

So much for not having to keep secrets from David.

The phone rang once before Jenkins answered. "Everything going well?" he asked, sarcasm saturating his words.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Jake asked.

"Your particular brand of handling things is interesting enough on your own," Jenkins said dryly. "I can only imagine how much more exciting it gets when you throw in your genetic copies."

"Genetics is pretty much where it ends," Jake said. "But that's not what I called about. What do you know about the Nalusa Falaya?"

There was a brief pause. "The Long Black Shadow?" Jenkins said at last.

"That's the one."

"I suppose you're in the region for it," Jenkins muttered. "But Nalusa Falaya hasn't been seen in centuries. Are you sure that's what you're dealing with?"

"I've got a flute that summons it and a witness that's experienced things falling over and doors opening and shutting with no explanation," Jake said.

"Hmm." Jenkins said. The sound of turning pages filtered through the phone. "Then I suppose you'll want to know how to defeat it."

"That'd be helpful."

"Indeed. Unfortunately, I do not have an answer for you."

Jake cursed. "Can you find an answer for me?"

"Possibly," Jenkins said. "With time. Which you tend to not have in sufficient quantities."

"Just do your best," Jake sighed. "Let me know when you've got something."

He ended the call and turned back to David. "Okay, my friend is going to—"

A piercing shriek cut him off, followed by a trill from the inside of the trunk. "The flute," David moaned. "That means that thing is coming, right?"

"Who screamed?" Jake demanded.

"I never should have taken this job," David said. "I knew it when I accepted it. I knew it would be trouble, I knew—"

Another cry echoed over the parking lot. Jake spun toward the ruins just in time to see a sprawling cloud of black smoke lift into the air. That was pretty definitive, as far as proof went.

The Nalusa Falaya had arrived.