“No, no, of course not,” he said. “It’s just…”
I set him down. “Spit it out.”
“Don’t you find that you tell your secrets to those you love?”
I stalked away without answering. I waited to get back to the Dead House to read Ruth’s note. She’d written down an address and time. Six a.m. at the bus station on Hawthorne.
The next morning, I got a ride with Ambrose. We’d scraped the Eternity Road logo off the side of the van and repainted it. Now the van looked like a million other white delivery vans, instead of a bull’s-eye for demons.
Ambrose dropped me off six blocks from the meeting point. He was headed out to replenish our zombie chow and maybe find some extra food and supplies for the rest of us.
The Greyhound bus station was only a few blocks from Hell’s Belles. I’d reluctantly left my leather jacket with Talbot and felt naked without it, but it would have made me stand out like a sore thumb. I borrowed one of his hoodies. I hoped it would obscure my identity long enough to find out what Ruth could tell me.
As I walked along Hawthorne, I noticed Tria Prima symbols on most of the buildings. Despite my best efforts, Minneapolis was in thrall to a demon goddess.
The magical world hadn’t waited long before choosing sides. Hecate hadn’t given them much choice. Besides, I wouldn’t bet on me, either.
I took a seat on a metal bench that faced the entrance and settled in. I waited for three hours, but Ruth and Fitch never showed up.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Two days later, I still hadn’t heard from Ruth or Fitch. We were still holed up at the Dead House. The rest of our ragtag fighters were scattered around the fort, but the Dead House had become command central.
The wounded were housed in the old military hospital and the able-bodied were sleeping in the barracks. Word had got out that Hecate didn’t play nice, mostly from the people who came to us with burns, bites, or missing limbs.
Doc and Willow had both turned up. The Korrigan I’d met at Hell’s Belles arrived with six of his friends. Willow had sent a few satyrs and naiads to the abandoned base, but she didn’t want to stay with me. She’d changed since Hecate’s possession.
Willow was harder, colder, and it made my stomach churn to think of the things Hecate had done with and to Willow’s body.
There was a secluded lake on the fort grounds. It was farther away from the Dead House and me, but Willow insisted she would be fine there. I couldn’t really argue with her. She’d get sick if she was away from the water too long.
“Have you seen your uncle?” I asked. “Or know where he went?”
“The satyrs tell me Trey is wandering in the woods,” she said.
“Is that something he usually does?”
“No, it is not,” she replied.
“I’ll go look for him,” I said.
“If there is something wrong,” she replied, “it is better if I am the one to find him.”
I nodded. “Let me know if you hear anything.”
“I will,” she said.
There was nothing else to say, so I returned to the fort. I was inspecting the protective salt lines when I heard a shout.
“Nyx,” Willow shouted my name from somewhere far away. “Nyx, help me.”
I ran to the lake as fast as I could. Willow was waist deep in the water and she held her uncle Trey by the shoulders. He was unconscious.
I helped her drag him out of the water.
“He’s been stabbed,” she said. “But there’s something else wrong.”
“Let’s get him to the hospital,” I said. “Doc can patch him up good as new.” I didn’t know if it was true, but it helped to erase the lines of tension in her face.
We made a makeshift stretcher out of some branches and carried Trey at a run back to the hospital building.
“Doc!” I shouted. “We need you now!”
He met us in the center square. “Get him inside.”
We followed him into the hospital wing with Trey. “Where’d you find him?” Doc asked as he checked Trey’s vitals.
“He was in the lake on the south side of the fort,” I said.
“The stab wound is superficial,” Doc said. “But he’s burning with fever.”
Trey moaned and Willow grabbed her uncle’s hand.
“Infection?” I asked.
“Maybe.” Doc examined him closely. He finally found a bite mark at the nape of his neck.
“Is it bad?”
“I’m afraid so,” Doc said. He glanced at Willow.
“Please tell us the truth, Lord of Bones,” she said.
“Trey might not last the night,” Doc said grimly.
“He has to,” I said. “Since you won’t fight, he’s the strongest person we have.”
“I’m better off tending to the dead and dying,” Doc said. “But your magic is stronger than Trey’s.”
“Stronger than the great-grandson of Poseidon?”
“Yes,” he said. He laughed at my doubtful look.
“Why is he so sick?” I asked. “What happened to him?”
“Something bit him,” Doc replied. “I have a theory, but I can’t even believe I’m thinking it.”
“You think a flesh eater got to him,” I said flatly.
“How did you know?”
“Because the only flesh eater I’ve ever met is missing,” I replied. “And I’m pretty sure Hecate took him.”
He studied my face gravely. “That’s a problem.”
“We’d have a fighting chance if you fought with us,” I said.
“I won’t fight, but I can show you a few things.”
Doc treated the wound, which was already festering.
“Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
“I’ll sit with him,” Willow said.
I didn’t want to leave her alone with Trey, but Doc said, “If he has been bitten by a flesh eater, it’ll be another day before we know.”
I kissed her forehead. “We won’t be far,” I said. “Call out if anything changes.”
Doc and I found an unoccupied room next door.
“So what did you want to show me?”
“Things the son of Hades should know,” he replied.
Some of the spells I already knew, but I didn’t want to tell him. He was smiling a real smile and the constant twitch had receded into an occasional jerk.
“Good,” he finally said. “Now, are you ready for some real magic?”
“I thought that’s what I’ve been doing for the last two hundred years.” I was trying not to let my exasperation show, but a hint must have registered with him.
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Doc said.
“Show me.”
It wasn’t easy, but my father eventually taught me how to form a fireball. The first one looked more like a firefly than a fireball, but I persisted.
“Your mother…” he started to say, then cleared his throat. “Lady Fortuna was like no one else, but she did not approve of dark magic, even for the greater good.”
I nodded. “I know.”
He met my eyes. “She would not have approved of what I’m about to show you.”
He taught me a compulsion spell that would command even the most powerful necromancer. “This spell takes away another’s will,” he said. “It must be used only if you are desperate. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I told him.
“And, Nyx, if you go to war with Hecate, you must realize that I can’t bring you back if you die again.”
I nodded. “I understand.” I didn’t remind him that dying had been my goal all along.
* * *
Twenty-four hours later, Trey was still battling for his life and Doc was no closer to figuring out how to save him. I slipped out, looking for booze.
It was stupid, but I convinced myself that a quick run to the liquor store couldn’t hurt anything. Taking the Caddy was out of the question, so I hoofed it.
&nbs
p; I was out of absinthe, but would have settled for a cold beer. Who am I kidding? I would have settled for someone else’s warm beer at that point, as long as there weren’t cigarette butts floating in it. My quick trip turned into a duck into a seedy bar.
No one looked up when I walked in, not even the bartender. It was the kind of place where there were no clocks and only a few grimy windows, so when I finally staggered out, it had grown dark. I stopped at the liquor store and grabbed as many bottles as I could carry.
I took the roundabout way back to the Dead House. A narrow winding path cut through a forest and came out in the empty lot on the other side of the abandoned fort.
The path was shrouded by trees, but here and there, the moonlight broke through. I passed by a couple of pixies who were sweeping up the debris and broken glass along the path leading to the forest.
I stumbled over something in the darkness and leaned down to examine it. I told myself it was a raccoon bone, but it looked like a human finger, licked clean.
The dark magic Doc showed me saved my life. A snarling skeleton leaped upon me in the darkness. It was a man, or had been one once. He had me on the ground in seconds. A thick gob of drool hung from his mouth, and I twisted and bucked, but he held me fast. If he pinned down my arms, I was screwed.
A piece of broken bottle dug into my back. For a brief second I mourned my lost alcohol, but I had bigger problems. He clawed at my chest, frantic. He let out a hungry feral growl.
“Baxter?” I recognized him. The flesh eater who had disappeared. I had no doubt he was hungry enough to eat me. He wore only filthy dress pants, his skin smeared with blood and bits of gore. His brown hair was shaggy, his eyes were wild, and he bore little resemblance to the suave man I’d met at the morgue.
A moment of lucidity passed over his face. “Nyx, run!”
The bone I’d found made sense now. I probably looked like a three-course meal to a starving flesh eater. The brief moment of clarity disappeared. He was so strong. He tried to take a bite out of me, but got a mouthful of leather jacket instead.
I stretched out one hand and searched for something to use as a weapon. I found one unbroken bottle and grasped the neck. I swung it around and bashed him on the head.
“Constrixi, Compellere, Pareo.” I uttered the spell my father had taught me. For all my blustering, I’d used the spell the first chance I had. I understood what my father meant about the pull of dark magic. It had worked immediately and now Baxter was under my control. Heady stuff.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Nyx, Baxter, my name is Nyx.”
“Nyx,” he said. “What is your command?”
“Tell me what happened to you.”
“Hecate captured me,” he said. “I’m so hungry. I tried to resist, but she made me.”
“Made you do what?”
“Eat,” he said. “But only a bite. Had to leave them alive.”
“Leave who alive?”
“All of them,” he said.
“Follow me,” I said. “And Baxter?”
“Yes, Nyx?”
“Don’t you dare bite anyone,” I said. “Especially not me.”
He nodded.
Despite the spell, I made him walk in front of me.
“Jesus, Nyx, you should have let someone know where you were going.” Talbot’s lecture sputtered to a stop when he saw Baxter. “What happened to him?”
“I found him starving in the woods,” I said.
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing.” The lie sprang to my lips all too easily, but Doc saw right through me.
“Undo it,” my father snapped.
“Why did you show me if you didn’t want me to use it?” I muttered.
Doc gave me a stern look.
“If I undo the spell, Baxter will tear your throat out and eat your brains,” I said.
Doc snorted. “Like I can’t handle a starving flesh eater.”
Talbot leaned in and said to me, “I’ve never seen this side of him. Now I know where you get your cockiness from.”
“We need to get him something to eat,” I said.
Talbot and Doc looked at me in horror.
“Not live food,” I said. “He survived on corpses.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Ambrose said. He left with a shovel. Minutes passed while we waited, but he eventually came back with a couple of bags of something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“Now get rid of the spell,” Doc ordered.
I waved my hand and muttered, “Release.”
Baxter lunged for the closest warm body, but Ambrose was prepared. He threw the bag at Baxter, who ripped the plastic apart and shoved handfuls of bloody meat into his mouth. He chewed frantically.
I looked away, but couldn’t shut out the slurping sounds he was making. When I glanced toward him again, he had tipped the plastic bag over his mouth and was sucking the bloody juice out of the bag.
“More,” Baxter said.
Ambrose tossed him the second bag. The chewing was slower this time. I tried not to think of what, or who, Baxter was eating.
“Why would Hecate want Baxter’s victims to live?” I asked.
“To create an army of flesh eaters,” Ambrose said.
“She gets in your head,” Baxter said. “Whispering that you can’t cut it anymore. That you’re nothing. That you should just take a bite.” His dark eyes were full of agony.
“And?” Talbot said.
“And pretty soon I start to believe her. Nobody’s looking for me. Nobody cares. Nobody will know.”
“How many did you kill, Baxter?” I asked.
His answer surprised me.
“One.”
“You’re a flesh eater,” I said. “How did you survive for so long without… food?”
“None at first,” he emphasized. He looked at his hands. “She fed me sometimes,” he said. “The same scraps she fed the harpies. But then…”
“Just tell us.”
“I was so hungry that I would have eaten my own grandmother,” he said. “And she brought this mortal in and told me to take one bite. I’m in chains. Starving. I couldn’t stop. Hecate wasn’t happy.”
“Why did she want you to take one bite? Doesn’t seem like that’s enough to do real harm.” I already knew the answer, but wanted him to say it Hecate wanted to spread the flesh eater disease and Baxter was lucky patient zero. The other flesh eaters had been hunted and killed long ago.
“To make more of me, of course,” he said, confirming my suspicions.
“And did she?” Ambrose asked.
“After a while, I learned that if I could manage only a bite or two, I’d be rewarded. If not, I’d be punished. I learned quickly,” he said.
“Where did they keep you?” I said. “I looked for you.”
Maybe I hadn’t looked enough.
“At first, they kept me at Danvers’s house,” he said. “I’d been there once before for his bachelor party.”
“Then what happened?” Ambrose prompted.
“Danvers screwed up. He was supposed to be watching me, but instead, he was tormenting my potential victims, telling them beforehand what was going to happen to them. I escaped. I didn’t get more than a hundred yards from the house before one of Hecate’s demons spotted me. That was the last time I tried to escape.” He shivered in remembrance.
“That explains why Hecate kicked Danvers to the curb,” I said. “But you don’t have to worry about Danvers anymore.” There was a long list of people who wanted to kill Danvers, but it was too late. Willow had already done the job.
Baxter’s story was enough to silence everyone in the room. A zombie outbreak would be enough to make the black plague look like a case of the sniffles.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Later, after Baxter had time to clean up and change into some clothes Ambrose had taken from Eternity Road, we held a meeting at the Dead House.
“What are we going to do?” Talbot aske
d.
“Baxter, is there a cure?” I asked.
His stare made me realize how stupid the question was.
“I was a toddler when my mother was killed by a mob,” he said. “But if there’s a cure, I haven’t been able to find one.”
“So the only solution is to kill them?” I asked.
“It’s the only one I know of,” he replied. “Not one I’m particularly fond of, though.”
“Me, neither.”
We both knew that was the only solution, unless we could find something in the Book of Fates.
The confab broke up without finding a solution. I took a flashlight and a book on zombies to bed and poured over it, but didn’t find anything that would help us stop Hecate from creating an army of flesh eaters.
The next morning I reached into the pocket of my leather jacket and found a piece of paper I didn’t recognize. I unfolded it and saw Alex’s handwriting. He’d given it to me before he and Elizabeth had left Minneapolis. At the time, I’d thought it was a thank-you note and then I’d forgotten about it.
I stared down at a formula. The formula for making ambrosia. Without volition, a thought popped into my mind. I had in my hands the formula that could make me immortal again.
A phone number was written at the bottom, along with a message to call him if I ever needed anything.
I tucked it back into my pocket. My aunts would kill to get their hands on the formula. Gaston had killed Sawyer to get it. Or at least I thought that’s why he’d killed him. Gaston had been a psychopath, so it was hard to understand his motivation.
The formula did give me an idea, though. Alex was a scientific genius. As much as I wanted Alex and Elizabeth to be as far away from Minneapolis as possible, I needed him. I made the call. “Alex, I need a favor.” He wasn’t a medical researcher, but he was the closest thing I knew to one. And Doc could help.
Alex was ready to hop on a plane, but I tried to talk him out of it. “Can’t you work on the formula to reverse the flesh-eating disease long-distance?”
“I have to come to Minneapolis,” he replied. “I need to get blood and other samples from patient zero.”
“Baxter,” I said. “But it’s smarter to do this long-distance.” Safer, too.