Carlos

Sometimes I fucking hate ghosts.

I mean, I get it's not their fault. Things are different on the other side. Memories get jumbled; timelines distort. It's hard to get a message through the veil.

Still, in all this time, Kyle couldn't once have just pointed at the bad guy?

I guess he tried; but I feel like almost getting me crushed by a truck and then cryptically yelling, 'stay away from him' was less than helpful, somehow.

"Who the fuck are you?" I ask, glaring up at Rafael from where I huddle in the back corner of the van.

The floor is bare metal (easy to clean, an unhelpful part of my mind suggests) and I have to press myself against the wall to avoid being thrown around as Rexi takes turns too sharply for such a boxy vehicle. Rafael sits in the front passenger seat, which conveniently swivels like an office chair so he can keep an eye on me. He holds the gun as casually as a relaxed man holds a drink — as if it wasn't a weapon he'd used to kill someone right in front of me.

"I take it your family never mentioned ours," he says, the corner of his mouth raised in the semblance of a smile. "Allow me to make introductions. Rafael Moretti, and this is my sister, Regina. We come from a line like yours — demon hunters — though we originate from Rome, while the first Martinez of your... particular variety... hailed from Catalonia, I believe."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I try to pitch my voice low to avoid sounding as terrified as I feel, but it trembles anyway, and my heart races so fast I gasp for breath at the end of my sentence.

Rafael smirks, apparently enjoying his villain-explaining-shit moment. "Seems your education is lacking. Not surprising, I suppose. The Martinez whores are matriarchal, aren't they? You probably weren't worth their time."

"That's a lie," I hiss, rising to the bait despite myself. "My aunt didn't go for that gendered shit. She taught me everything she knew."

Rexi snorts a laugh. "Clearly not."

I glare at her, but as she's facing forward and focused on the road, the effort is futile.

Rafael lifts his hand. As it's the hand holding the gun, I flinch, but he merely scratches the side of his head, eying me thoughtfully.

"Did she tell you why you get possessed so easy?" he asks. "What makes you such a perfect vessel?"

I lift my chin at him. "Yeah, I'm a Martinez. It's in my blood. My mom was the same way."

"Nah." Rafael shakes his head. "She wasn't. She didn't run because she got possessed. She ran because she got hunted."

"Christ on a kebab, Raf," Rexi groans, half her face illuminated by the red glare of a stoplight as she screeches to a halt and turns to look at him. "You're giving him a fuckin' history lesson?"

"He deserves to know," Rafael says sternly, keeping his eyes on me.

"Fine. Give him the CliffsNotes." She huffs and turns her attention back to the road, stomping on the gas as the light changes and making me bang my head against the wall with the force of acceleration.

Where were the cops when you wanted them?

Rafael focuses on me. "As I said — our families are similar. In fact, we shared a mission once: to rid the earth of demons. We worked together in Europe, centuries ago. We Morellis were the scholars and demonologists; you Martinezes were the muscle: the exorcists and assassins. Then your side split for the so called 'new world,' settling the Americas and mixing blood with the native tribes. We followed, eventually, but landed further north."

I eye him warily. I'm pretty sure whatever he has planned for me isn't a surprise birthday party, but it seems he's not going to shoot me either — not until he finishes his story, anyway — so my fear level comes down from a ten to an eight-point-five.

"Okay, colonialism 101. So far so good," I say. "What does any of this have to do with what's happening now?"

Rafael smiles. "Tell me, Carlos — what is the best way to banish a demon from this plane?"

I frown at him. "Trap it in a vessel and exorcise it."

That's what Toni taught me, anyway.

Rafael nods. "Exactly. But good vessels aren't easy to come by, are they?"

Unsure where he's going with this, I stay silent.

"Long ago, our families found a solution. The perfect vessel, it turns out, is both born and made. Children conceived of a possessed host are naturally more open to receiving spirits. They slip between worlds, relinquishing their physical bodies as a driver might relinquish control of a vehicle for a time, and reclaiming it just as easily. The women of your line proved especially suited to bearing such children, who, for whatever reason, were always born male."

"You wonder why your clan is matriarchal?" Rexi asks, her eyes flashing in the rearview mirror as she glances back at me. "'Cause the men die young. Vessels are born to serve, not to last."

"What kinda Rosemary's Baby shit is this?" I rasp. "My dad wasn't possessed. My mom wouldn't do that. And how the fuck would you know, anyway?"

"Because unlike you, we learned our history," Rafael says. "The reason your family left Europe for the Americas was to escape the burden of sacrifice. They kept the tradition, of course — stayed true to the mission — but performed the ritual only once per generation. One vessel, who would be treated as sacred, and protected at all costs. Even so, according to our grandmother, your grandmother had a hell of a time convincing your mom to go through with it."

My ears ring as the blood drains from my face. Toni never talked about her mom. She'd talk about family history and traditions until she was blue in the face, but abuela was something I'd learned not to mention.

"Our grandmothers knew each other?"

"Sure," Rexi says, swerving through another intersection like a stunt driver in an action scene. "Which would make sense if Raf would get to the goddamn point."

"I am getting there," Rafael snaps. "Shut up and drive."

Rexi flips him off.

Rafael runs his free hand through his black curls and blows a breath through his nose.

"Right. Anyway, our families reconnected in the last century. Started working more closely together again. Occultism was on the rise; knowledge had become cheap. People were opening doors left and right. Letting things through. Only, unlike in the past, we couldn't just go on a crusade, round up the witches, and burn them."

"What a pity," I drawl.

He lifts a brow at me. "People always focus on the innocent collateral. They'd sing a different tune if they knew the truth. Sometimes sacrifices are called for. You can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs, as they say."

"Yeah, well, you could also cook something else."

"Not in this case. Our families homed in on one particular demon. Something old and powerful — a lesser god, you might say — that had slipped through into the place between worlds. You know it?"

I shudder, remembering the 'in-between' where I'd sensed the dark presence.

"Yeah."

"It's been stuck there for a long time, unable to break through into this plane, but waiting for a chance. If it managed it, who knows what havoc it might wreak on this world?"

Rexi chimes in again. "We're talking apocalyptic proportions here, in case that's not clear. Volcanism, epic storms, earthquakes, plagues, asteroids — you name it."

"So, worse than climate change?" I quip weakly.

Rafael rubs his jaw. "I doubt you'll understand, so I won't try to explain in depth, but it's a matter of probabilities, and of will. Think of the worst outcome of climate change that has ever been predicted, and the chance that it will happen soon. The demon could tip things so that it comes to pass."

I stare at him, then shake my head. He's right about me not understanding. "Okay, so what happened?"

"Our grandmother performed a complex ritual intended to trap the demon and subjugate it to her will, at which point she could return it to its native realm. Unfortunately, this ritual required... sacrifices, and she was not entirely forthcoming in her design."

"What?" I squint at him.

"Fucking hell. Just say it already, Raf," Rexi gripes and hits the brakes so hard I narrowly avoid being thrown across the van. She takes a turn, and the tires bounce as we leave the pavement and crunch onto gravel and dirt. "Twenty years ago, our grandmother performed the ritual of Feasts. She used our dad as the vessel — only because you weren't old enough — but your meddling mom and her sister didn't know the plan, and intervened at the worst possible moment."

"Wait a minute... Are you talking about the Lucille Peters case from back then? The exorcism gone wrong?" I ask.

"Lucille Morelli, at the time," Rafael says. "Our grandmother."

My brain goes blank, but Rexi keeps talking.

"So, our father died for nothing, while your whore mother caught the demon's eye. Your mom and aunt fled. Your aunt hid you behind the supernatural equivalent of Fort Knox, while your mom just... ran. Guess she figured a moving target was harder to pin down. Meanwhile, we got shipped off to relatives in Italy while Lucille went to ground."

"But the problem of the demon remained," Rafael says, picking up the thread. "Lucille tried the ritual again after she remarried, but it didn't work. Not without a proper vessel."

"She used Kyle's parents... and her husband?" I ask, feeling sick as much from the thought as from Rexi's driving.

Rafael nods. "Indeed. Unfortunately, she failed. She realized she would need help, and the proper tools. So, she sent for us, and for you."

"Me?" I blink and shake my head. "That's insane. I never heard of her before I moved here. I approached her about renting the garage."

"You know how magic works, Carlos?" Rafael asks. "Real magic, I mean. It's the effect of our will upon the world. Lucille spent years exerting her will to bring you here. Things that seemed random, that just happened a certain way? You could say that's coincidence. You could say it's magic, too."

I shake my head. "Wait. Wait. So you're telling me this is all about me? Sorry, but I'm not that delusional."

"That's the thing, Carlos — it's not about you," Rafael says, leaning forward with a zealous gleam in his eyes. "It's not about any of us. It's about the mission. Our duty. Lucille understood that. Which is why she sacrificed herself for the second Feast. She didn't have long to live, anyway, and she trusted us to finish it."

"What about Kyle? Did he volunteer?" I shake my head as tears sting my eyes. Talk about getting all the shitty luck in the world. Poor kid. "What did he do to deserve what you did to him?"

"Nothing," Rafael says, apparently untroubled by the thought. "Like your friend at the bar — he was collateral. An acceptable loss, in the grand scheme of things."

"And the drugs?"

Rexi barks a laugh as she jerks the van to a halt and throws the parking brake.

"Raf's idea," she says. "In the old days, we'd have used something like ayahuasca to open the offering's mind and dull their pain. These days, getting a hold of stuff like that is hard. So we turned to more modern solutions. A mistake, in retrospect. We were untraceable, if not for that."

I feel like I've followed the white rabbit a little too far, and shake my head again. "The fuck," I whisper. "You're both insane. There's got to be another way to get rid of this demon. I've served as a vessel plenty of times. Why couldn't you just ask me? Why's it gotta be the Feasts?"

"Because the demon can't know what's coming," Rafael says ."And because to banish it, first we need control. We have to make a deal; and for that, we have to give it what it wants."

"In other words, you," Rexi says. "And for that, Carlos, you'll have to die."