Monday, August 9, 2011, 2:00 a.m., Los Angeles

A humid gust of air sweeps across the hilltop. Mom stops at the summit. As she tries to catch her breath, the wind whips her long hair into a wild mess.

I pause next to Mom as a Great Dane limps past us. A long grey ball sack dangles between his back legs. Tennis ball-sized nuts sway with his movement. As the old dog reaches the boulders encircling the summit, mist rolls over the stones. The fog covers the Great Dane, and he disappears into the haze.

George and Ben walk by us to approach the stone circle, but stop as two German Shepherds materialize and block their passage.

I move to George's left and catch the scent of mingled sweat and prairie grass. He glances at me to flash a half-smile before turning back toward the snarling German Shepherds.

From George's right, Ben steps toward the dogs and opens his arms to show his palms. "Duke, Duchess! It's me, Ben."

The female he called Duchess flattens her ears and bares sharp fangs. But her eyes are soft as she watches what I'm guessing was her human best friend.

Heaviness settles over my heart. The dogs must've been Salvia family pets.

I side-eye George. "Maybe they're trying to warn us."

Suddenly, I'm shoved from behind. Off-balance, I stumble into George. Strong hands grab my shoulders as he pulls me to my feet. We're nose-to-nose and I'm inhaling his exhaling. For a moment, nothing exists except the two of us. He cups my cheeks in his hands. The wind kicks up to whip my hair into his face. My hands shake as I brush the strands from his eyes.

The German Shepherds erupt in barking. George and I turn toward the hilltop to see Mom dart between the stone columns and disappear.

George gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I shake him off, sprint around the German Shepherds, and run after Mom. Misty grey clouds swallow the moon and stars as I pass between the boulders.

As I'm surrounded by fog, rhythmic thumping drowns my shouts for Mom. Every few seconds, a thump shakes the ground and sends tremors through my legs. Sweat drips down my back to soak my t-shirt as I stumble through the musty damp.

Swirling whisps morph into humanoid shapes. Hooded, crooked bodies whirl around me. Most of what they're screeching is gibberish, but I'm able to pick out one word.

Cursed.

A wave of nausea sweeps through my gut. I pull the plastic bag of fennel seeds from a pocket in my shorts. Opening the bag, I empty the contents into my mouth. Dumbass. You should've eaten the seeds when you were outside the portal. Barf floods my throat and I hurl.

Laughter cuts through the fog, and hands dart out to grab my wrists. My heart's pounding as I try to pull away. My muscles strain and I lean backward to throw the attacker off-balance. The laughing gets louder as I'm yanked upright.

Strong arms wrap around my shoulders to pull me against a muscular chest. The savory scent of summer cuts through the heavy, humid air. Someone kisses the top of my head. I lift my chin to find George. My stomach's butterflies. For a second, I forget Mom's missing.

A fist shoots out from the mist to punch George in the shoulder. We turn to find a laughing Ben. He points at George's feet. "Nice shot, Red."

George lowers his head to look at his vomit-covered tennis shoes.

Heat rushes into my cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

Deep brown eyes meet mine and he breaks into a wide smile. "I'm guessing you're vegetarian."

Chunks of fried tofu speckle George's Nike Mags. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, but I'm yanked out of my pity party when a woman's voice cuts through the murk. "Puta!"

Ben stops laughing. George's handsome face crinkles into a frown and he turns from me toward the disembodied voice.

The breath catches in my throat when Mom answers. "Fuck you, you've got no idea what I've lost."

Another female voice chimes in through the fog. "Your stupid dead baby?" Lucy Carpenter.

The first woman shouts, "Don't talk to me about loss! You've got your husband and daughter. You don't deserve them."

Mom erupts in swearing, and she's quickly drowned out by angry yelling.

Humanoid shapes reform in the fog to encircle me, George, and Ben. Dark blobs whirl around us in a blur. Scratchy voices cut through the mist to hurl insults.

"You're a freak, Amber. Everyone hates you."

"Aislinn loves that dead baby more than she'll ever love you."

Heaviness settles over my body as my eyes moisten. I lower my head as the ghosts give voice to painful truths. Their screeching barbs drown out the rhythmic thumping.

"Shelby's glad you're gone. You hold her back."

"You're a creepy weirdo. No one likes you."

Suddenly, the faceless blobs stop circling. Half of them move in front of me to continue the verbal attack. The other half turn their attention to the brothers.

"Stupid Salvias. Your mother committed suicide to get away from you."

"You boys are pathetic losers."

"You should follow your mother's example and kill yourselves."

George's muscular arms tense and his face flushes red. Ben's eyes narrow to slits. The air crackles with static electricity. Enraged, the brothers strike at the shapes and unleash a volley of swearing in English and Spanish.

No matter what the spirits say about me, the Salvia brothers don't deserve to die. I raise my head and ball my fists. Heat spreads across my chest and into my arms. With needling pain, it reaches my hands. I open my palms to find them glowing red. "They lie! We need to find my Mom."

George lowers his fists and grabs Ben by the arm. They follow as I break into a sprint and plunge into the brume.

I can't see squat in the dense fog. Marshy droplets cover my face and dampen my hair. I follow Mom's voice, but her shouts move further away with every stride. Lucy's shrieks morph into static.

Heat surges from my chest and into my legs. My pace matches the rhythmic pounding.

Whomp! Mom shoved me aside to get to Conlan.

Whomp! She only cares about HIM.

Whomp! Mom never wanted me.

Adrenaline surges and I push myself to quicken my pace. The minutes blend into each other, stretching into what could be hours as I plunge headlong into the chase. My perception of time blurs. With each pounding step, I lose myself in the rhythm of my breath.

Until, abruptly, a burst of brilliant light slices through the thick mist. I'm jolted out of my focused stride. In an instant, I skid to a breathless stop, my senses suddenly reeling as the glow demands my attention.

The Salvia brothers collide with me and we tumble to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. We're laying in a shining pool of sunset-hued rays. For a moment, George's face is haloed in gold.

Mesmerized, I reach toward his cheek, but stop short as disembodied screams fill the air. The shimmering light vanishes and the mists roll away, leaving us in the middle of a dirt road lined with burning shacks and littered with crumpled cars.

We leap to our feet and the brothers put their backs to me in a triangle formation. Ben faces south, I'm northeast, and George is northwest. To the south, the dusty road stretches only three week before disappearing into a wall of darkness.

Ben elbows my side. "This hill was nothing special until you show up. Now it's a portal for the dead. What did Fernando Salvia say to you?"

George groans. "Lay off, Ben." His warm hand finds mine and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

My hand is cold and clammy. I yank it away before my sticky sweat pools in his palm. That sunlit day when Fernando stood atop the hill and blew me a kiss seems forever ago. "Fernando didn't say anything."

Ben leans around to eye me. His forehead crinkles into a frown. "How's about you tell us what really happened."

His interrogation is cut off by an earth-shattering thump from the north, where the dusty road extends a mile to end at a mountain. Lava belches from the peak and dribbles downslope with red-hot fingers. The steamy smell of Sulphur makes me retch.

Molten rock pools at the base of the volcano. In the center of the magma is a rusted metal triangle as tall as a semi-truck with a hammer-shaped metal arm balanced on top. The hammer head dips into the lava with a thump that shakes the ground. Fiery tendrils drip down its shaft as the hammer head rises.

My gut tightens with the memory of Kibbles swept under a river of mud and useless me along for the ride. Were it not for Julano's heroic act of rescuing my dog from the dangerous mudslide, Kibbles might not have survived. Then the mysterious Labrador appeared at the Grotto last night to fight Manson's followers. Hope surges in my heart as I search the dusty northward path, but the ebony Lab is nowhere in sight.

As I crane my neck to scan the south, the fog back retracts to uncover a rusted red Porsche. Mom stands near the driver's side as two teenage ghosts fly around her. The blonde with the big hair is Lucy Carpenter. The other is the Latina I saw in the changing room underneath Peppergate Ranch's pool. They're wearing matching pink leotards, purple headbands, and purple leg warmers.

George turns toward the trio. His eyes widen and the color drains from his face. "Mama?"

The teenage Latina's head snaps toward our disbanded triangle. She breaks from the vicious circle and floats to where we're standing in the middle of the road. Her features smooth as she reaches for George and Ben. "Hijos!"

Ben's face turns a sickly shade of grey. George reaches for the five foot Latina. As he closes his fingers around her small hands, they pass through and close into his fist. She retracts her right hand to brush a stray hair from his face. His eyes moisten as her fingers disappear into his temple.

Turning away from the painful reunion, I move toward the Porsche, where Mom and Lucy are shouting in each other's faces. I open my mouth to ask how they know each other, but I'm drowned out by another earth-shattering boom.

A mile away, the mountain erupts into a fountain of lava. A wave of heat blasts my face. Throughout the eruption, the hammer head keeps bobbing. The ground shakes with every downward thrust.

I rub my eyes as a dark blob appears under the distant tripod. It drifts across the molten lava pool to walk down the dirt road. As it moves closer, I recognize the lawman's hat. Flames flicker against the silver badge pinned to his coat.

Sheriff Graves passes the Salvias and walks to where Mom and Lucy are arguing. He removes his hat and inclines his head to Mom. "Good evening, Mrs. McBride." The lawman puts his black hat back atop his head and turns to Lucy. "We have rules for this here part of the county, Miss Carpenter. Rules that must be followed."

Cowboy Joe materializes to my left. He frowns at me before turning toward the Salvias. "Mrs. Salvia, if you want to move about the Simi Hills freely, you've gotta register with the law."

The Latina ignores the cowboy as she tries to hug the brothers. Her face screws up in frustration as her hands pass through their shoulders. Their eyes flick from her to each other as they fail to touch her ephemeral form.

Tears flow down her cheeks. She buries her face in her hands and rocks on her heels. The brothers pepper her in Spanish and talk so fast I can't understand a word.

Three quarters of a mile away, a shack explodes into a plume of wood shards. A tremor ripples through the ground.

Lucy's blonde hair whips around as she pivots toward Sheriff Graves. She points to Mom with a quivering finger. "She's the one you should arrest!" She opens her mouth to say more, but is drowned out by a ground-shaking boom. A half mile away, a broken pickup truck explodes. The road underneath collapses to swallow the burning wreck.

Suddenly, a white, gauzy figure materializes six feet above me. Its edges sharpen to the shape of an old woman with shoulder-length grey hair. One skinny white leg dangles from her hospital gown as she floats to eye level. Susan Atkins.

Susan's mouth opens, but her lips don't move. "Tell Betty she never left the family. The master's waiting."

Ben turns away from his mother. His nose scrunches like he's smelling something as he jabs a finger at Susan Atkins. "Your master is a fucking puto."

Susan throws back her head and jaw drops unnaturally to her chest. Her screeching wail blows out the front window of the Porsche. In a hail of glass, one shard slices across my left arm to leave a bleeding red welt.

Mom rushes to my side and grabs my arm. "Are you hurt?"

I shake my head in response and she gives my arm a squeeze.

Lucy plugs her ears with her fingers and rolls her eyes. "Oh my God! Gag me with a spoon." She floats away from the Porsche to the Latina. "Let's get out of here, Daniela."

Susan stops screaming and lowers her chin. Her mouth splits open to an evil grin. "Master conjured a powerful sorcerer. None can escape the coming war."

Sheriff Graves unholsters his guns and aims them at Susan. "We've had our fair share of trouble round these parts. But your kind of trouble may end us all."

Cowboy Joe removes a lasso from his waist and twirls it in the air. "We don't take kindly to varmits."

Susan's head snaps toward the cowboy. In a blur, she flies upward. The lasso misses encircling her by inches.

Sheriff Graves nods to his partner. Cowboy Joe reins in the lasso and fastens it to his belt as their feet leave the ground. With a whoosh, they rocket after the elderly ghost.

A shack explodes a quarter mile away, causing a chain reaction. Blocky embers shower the closest structures and cars. Black smoke billows as the fire reaches the gas tanks. They blow up in a series of booms.

As a tremor shakes the ground, a three-inch welt splits the road that separates me and Mom from the others. Mom extends her middle finger toward Lucy. "You can fuck all the way off!"

The blonde ghost's face screws up in rage and she flies toward the fiery seam. Daniela Salvia grabs her foot. "We don't have time for this shit! We've got to get my boys out of here."

With a groan, Lucy floats to the ground. "Lead the way."

A hail of burning cinders singe my shoulders. Soot dusts our heads. Mom's red hair is grey with ash.

The Salvia brothers exchange glances, then look at me and Mom. George's brown eyes meet mine. "We're not leaving them."

Rumbling shakes the ground as the mountain belches. The crevice widens by three feet and lava flows.

Mom's face is white. "How do we get out?" Collar bones stick out from her chest. Her arms are so skinny, I could wrap my hands around her biceps.

My heart's pounding. The air is hot, but I'm chilly from my sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts. The ghostly taunts echo in my memory. "You're a loser." Maybe they're right. Without Julano here to conjure a doorway, we're screwed.

Black smoke swells from the mountain. As it billows over the roadway, we're plunged into darkness.

I grab Mom's hand as we're swallowed by the murk. She's shaking and lets out a whimper. The childlike cry sounds like baby Conlan. My only memories are of him alone and afraid. Lost in the Underground Seattle. Surrounded by fire atop this cursed hill.

Explosions drown out sound and thought. I'm dizzy and coughing up soot. The air is suffocating. With every passing second, it's getting harder to breath.

AUTHOR NOTES:

Banner and chapter closing photos of Duke and Duchess courtesy of Elena Fine