Chapter 34

Carlos

"Can't we talk about this?" I ask, apparently having reached the 'bargaining stage' of the hostage experience.

Ignoring my question, Rafael hauls me from the back of the van as Rexi hops from the driver's seat and slams the door.

"It doesn't have to go down this way," I say, trying to sound reasonable and not as if I'm begging for my life. "You know how dangerous this shit can be. One misstep and it can literally go to hell. Why risk it? Besides, the cops are onto you. Skip town; take me with you. We'll work together and no one has to die."

I can only hope this last part is true and that John, at least, can use his Dracula skills and find me in time.

Unfortunately, Rexi seems unimpressed as she comes around the side of the van and pulls a small black duffle bag from under the front passenger seat. We're parked along a utility access road, with a bramble-choked canal on one side and a chain-link fence on the other.

"You think we're stupid?" Rexi slings the bag over her shoulder and stands in front of me. "Yeah, cutting the timeline short is risky, but not as risky as missing this opportunity altogether. Too many people have died already for us to waste our chance. If it makes you feel any better, it's nothing personal, Carlitos." She pats the side of my face as she walks past and beckons to Rafael. "Come on. Get him inside."

The nickname reminds me of my aunt. Unfortunately, so does being forced to serve as a host during a ritual of demonic exorcism, but I'd still give just about anything to see Toni right now.

Fuck; I'd give just about anything to see anyone, but judging from the fact 'Rex and Rafi' aren't bothering to keep their voices down, we're alone.

With one hand tight on my arm and the other holding the gun, Rafael walks me towards the fence, where Rexi pulls aside a section that appears to have been pre-cut for access. On the other side, I can barely make out a weedy parking lot and the back of an old building. Even in the dark, though, I recognize the abandoned theater near the edge of town.

I know about it thanks to one of my regular customers at the garage. She belongs to the local historical society, and instead of leaving her vehicle for me to work on in peace, she likes to hang around and watch. To pass the time, she tells me things I'd almost rather go deaf than hear about, like the scandalous capers of her fellow bridge club members, how her most recent colonoscopy went, and, of course, the daring endeavors of the Spring Lakes Historical Society.

This theater comes up a lot.

It was one of the last small places to go under when the big multiplex moved in, and the historical society bought it in the hopes of preserving the building, which is over a century old. They intended to rent it out to performing arts groups and schools, or some shit like that, until they found out there was lead in the paint and asbestos in the walls, after which its doors shut for good.

The surrounding area is as abandoned as the theater, home to a partly defunct rail depot, an empty lot, an old postal building, and some county offices, which go dark and silent as a graveyard at five p.m. on the dot.

At this time of night, I might as well be in space for all the people who would hear me scream.

Giving me a shove, Rafael nods at the gap in the fence. "Through. And don't try anything, or I'll break your fucking legs."

Shaking him off, I duck through the opening. As Rafael's jacket snags on the snipped links and he stops to untangle himself, I briefly consider making a break for it. They're planning to kill me, anyway; at least I'd have a say in how. My courage fails me though, and I stand like an obedient idiot as Rafael makes it through and re-establishes his grip on my arm—as if I've any place to run now, unless I want to play 'ring around the building' within the confines of the fence.

Rexi comes last, letting the piece of fence fall back into place with a rattle, and as Rafael drags me along towards a set of concrete steps leading up to the theater's back door, she extracts a set of keys from her duffel and takes the lead.

"So, Lucille was a member, too, wasn't she?" I say, eying the set of keys while Rexi fumbles for the right one in the dark. "I remember now. Barbara thought she was a bitch. Didn't like her much."

"What are you talking about?" Rafael mutters, shifting impatiently as Rexi tries a key, fails to open the door, and tries another. "Hurry up with that, Rex."

I realize he's nervous as I continue my ramble. "The historical society. Lucille was a member. That's how you have the keys."

"Should have the keys," Rexi murmurs, trying yet another. "Fuck. Why are there so damn many?"

"'Cause the stupid bitches keep 'em all on one ring," Rafael says. "Like, all the keys to everything. She said it was labeled."

"Well, I can't fuckin' read in the fuckin' dark, Raf," Rexi snaps, turning and thrusting the keys at him. "You try. We're wasting time."

"You're wasting time," Rafael grumbles, handing her the gun and taking her place. He pulls out his phone and uses the light to examine the tiny label on the head of each key.

"If you got the keys, why cut the fence? Why not just unlock the gate?" I ask. They're both on edge, and maybe if I can keep them talking, their sibling rivalry will give me an opportunity, or at least stall them and give John a better chance of finding me in time.

"Because the third ritual requires preparation," Rafael says distractedly. "Couple weeks of it. There are security cams facing the street. Just one on the front of this building, but more on the places opposite. It was easier to go around back."

Rexi laughs derisively. "Keep telling yourself that. If we'd gone with my plan and pretended to be contractors, we could have performed all three rituals here, and Lucy could still be alive.

"Contractors do actual work, Rex," Rafael returns, having found the correct key and struggling to open the door. "Besides, nobody's nosier than a bunch of old biddies with nothing better to do with their time than attend... historical society meetings. Someone would have noticed and come... poking around."

He grunts as he finally gets the door open, yanking it ajar on rusted hinges. In the effort, he drops the keys. They land with a dull jangle, and he swears and bends down to pick them up.

The keys slide away from his reach as if kicked by an invisible foot, and as my breath fogs in a suddenly chilled pocket of air, I realize I'm not alone after all.

Kyle.

"The fuck?" Rafael reaches for the keys again; in that split second, my body takes over where my rational brain failed me, and I take the chance and kick him in the head.

With a howl of pain, he topples to the side, clutching his face. At the same time, I shove Rexi almost by accident, off balance from the kick, but I take her by surprise and she falls against the rusty rail. She goes over, dropping the short distance to the ground and landing with a thud. Unfortunately, she never let go of the gun, and now another decision freezes me: go for the weapon, or run.

Rexi makes the choice for me when a bullet sparks off the metal door an inch from my head. She recovered fast. Rafael isn't down for the count, either, despite the blood pouring from his nose, and makes a grab for my leg. I dance back a step as I would from a striking snake and then—astounding myself more than anyone—stomp hard on his arm.

He yowls like a scalded cat and curls in on himself, cradling the limb to his chest, and I bolt past him and into the theater as another bullet narrowly misses me.

"Stop shooting, you stupid cunt!" Rafael screams, pain making his voice shrill. "We need him alive!"

"Not for long we don't," Rexi replies coldly.

I yank the door shut and fumble blindly for a lock, but it's got one of those push bars instead of a handle on this side, and I can't find a deadbolt. Thankfully, it's one of those doors that locks automatically when closed, and I hear Rexi swear on the other side.

Still, they've got the key and it won't take them long to get it open again. I've bought myself thirty seconds, at most.

Backing away from it, I blink in the nearly complete darkness of the theater, shaking with adrenaline and with panic burning my chest.

"Kyle?" I whisper. "A little help, buddy?"

A flicker of light catches the corner of my eye, and I turn. My vision, already adapted to the night outside, adjusts a little further, allowing me a dim glimpse of the building's interior.

The door through which I'd come is located at the bottom of the auditorium, which is bigger than most modern theaters, and probably sat several hundred people at a time. Built in the days when it was fifty-fifty whether there'd be a film or a live performance showing on a Friday night, there's an old wooden stage in front of the movie screen. The seats have been ripped out, but the rows of skeletal metal frames remain, aligned in three columns ascending on a gentle slope above the stage, on which I see the source of the light in a single, flickering candle.

Jogging towards it, I inhale dusty air and cough, praying I live long enough to worry whether or not I'm breathing asbestos. I mount the side steps to the stage and stop in my tracks.

The polished dark planks, worn smooth by decades of feet treading the boards, are covered by a huge, incredibly complex seal: circles within circles, cut by intersecting lines that form many-pointed stars, with arcane symbols in the spaces the shapes form. Candles ring the seal, placed at the points of a many-armed star, but only one is lit.

Rafael wasn't kidding about preparations; this must have taken weeks to complete, and I see now why they chose the theater. Finding a place for a seal this big, where it wouldn't be discovered or disturbed by people, animals, or the elements, couldn't have been easy.

A chill spreads through my body like poison in my blood as I study it. It's a real gate seal—one that opens a portal to another realm—and now the Morellis' crazy plan makes sense. They're not just planning to exorcize the demon; they're planning to literally send it—and me with it—to hell. Or a hell. Somewhere unpleasant, for sure. I wouldn't bet my soul on tropical beaches and beautiful men bringing me free drinks for eternity, anyway.

The door screeches open, protesting on its rusty hinges, and Rex and Rafi enter, Rafi with his outer shirt bunched against his bleeding nose. They spot me immediately, thanks to the candle, and Rexi raises the gun.

"Rex, no!" Rafael grabs her arm and yanks it down. "The seal!"

I look down at the intricate design at my feet and realize what he means. Even if they cleaned it, one drop of blood across the wrong line could mean disaster.

I move around to the top of the seal, where the single candle burns, thinking I understand why Kyle drew me to it, and pick it up. There's a good pool of melted wax around the wick, and wax will take even more time to clean than blood. "Don't come any closer," I call, holding the candle aloft, "or I'll ruin it."

"Ruin it and we'll kill you," Rexi returns. "This is a lose-lose situation for you. Just give up."

I shake my head. "At least this way, you lose, too."

"Fine."

"Rex, no!" Rafael lunges for her, but not before she gets off a shot.

The bullet strikes my left shoulder and I stagger back a pace. The candle flies through the air and lands in the center of the seal, rolling in a circle. Wax splatters everywhere.

I fall to my knees, Rafael and Rexi's shouts a distant ringing in my ears, while another voice comes through loud and clear.

"Mr. Martinez?"

Raising my eyes, I see Kyle's ghostly form standing on the opposite side of the seal. Maybe because I'm close to the other side myself now, I see the energy in the seal, too. It glows like pale blue fire along the lines, and those interrupted by drops of wax flicker like a faulty neon sign.

Kyle flickers, too, and suddenly he's right in front of me.

"Use it!"

"Use...?"

My eyes widen.

Kyle is right. With the seal compromised, the demon could come through easily enough, but it won't be held for long. Raf and Rex wouldn't stand a chance. On the other hand, they'd talked about the demon like it meant the end of the world. Could I risk that for the sake of my own life?

"Trust me."

Kyle extends his hand.

Trust a ghost? Sure, given the alternative.

In the peripheral of my already shadowy vision, I see Rafael and Rexi mount the steps of the stage, moving towards me as if in slow motion.

They can't see Kyle, of course; they think I'm just sitting here, bleeding and in shock, which isn't entirely untrue.

Looking up, I meet Kyle's unnervingly black gaze, which is like staring into the depths of space.

Do I really want to know what's out there?

Do Rex and Rafi really know what they're dealing with?

Fuck around and find out, I think, and take Kyle's hand.

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