† ~ ‡ ~ †

  By the time Simon finally crawled out of bed, Katia was gone. A note on the kitchen table said she would be at the trapping office this morning, and thanked him again for the meal he’d made for her. What she hadn’t said was that today was her birthday. Not a word. Luckily, Riley had warned him ahead of time.

  In some ways Katia was as guarded as she’d been the day she’d arrived from Lawrence. Well, maybe a little more open, at least with him.

  “I’ll just have to feed you more sandwiches,” he said.

  He sent off a text wishing her a Happy Birthday, and was waiting for a reply when the doorbell rang. He expected it to be Mrs. Carmody, the neighbor lady who insisted on complaining about everything, Simon included.

  Instead it was his oldest sister on the doorstep, and from her frown this wasn’t going to be a friendly visit. The instant he opened the door she swept inside, brushing past him. She dumped her purse on the couch, turned and glowered at him.

  Her timing sucked, but then it usually did.

  “I’m not happy with you,” Deanna said, adopting her usual “hands on the hips” posture.

  “Goes both ways,” he said evenly. In the past he’d have tried to play peacemaker, but not today.

  “You didn’t tell me you were going out of town.”

  “And?”

  “I should know where you are, Brother.”

  “If I feel the need for you to know my schedule, I’ll tell you. If not, it’s none of your business.”

  She blinked in response. “What is this attitude? Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “I’m not being stubborn, Dee. I’m living my own life. I don’t demand you tell me your travel schedule.”

  “It’s what family does,” she insisted.

  “No, it’s what an obsessive control freak does.” She gaped at him now, and for a half second he felt bad. It was time to set some ground rules.

  “You kept the set of keys you got from our uncle, then came into my house as if you own it. You moved furniture around, you took food out of my refrigerator and threw it away. You even swapped stuff around in two of my cupboards, for God knows whatever reason.”

  “It made more sense that the mixing bowls be near the sink than on the other side of the kitchen.”

  “In your kitchen, yes. I moved those bowls where I wanted them. This is my home, Dee. You have no right to come in here without my permission.” A ping came from his phone now, probably Katia answering his text. The sooner he got his sister out the door he could read it.

  Dee’s eyes widened. “I was trying to help you,” she insisted.

  “Help me?” Simon walked a few steps away, then spun back toward her. He’d been holding all this back for far too long.

  “In my job, demons mess with my head. They make me see things that are not real. That’s part of their power. Then I come home and find that things have been moved around in my house. Is that demonic, or just my damned nosy older sister screwing with me?”

  She blinked in shock, unaccustomed to his anger.

  “My life is my own, Dee. You may not like what I do, but it is important.”

  That triggered her. “You’re right, I don’t like it! You almost died, and now you’re out there trying to die again. Do you know it’s like to hear that the kindest thing would be to take your brother off life support? I do. What is this damned martyr complex of yours? Are you freakin’ suicidal?”

  Before he could answer, the doorbell rang.

  Who the hell is this?

  His newest visitor was a nondescript older man in a very wrinkled suit. Something about him looked familiar, despite his gray pallor.

  “Are you . . . the exorcist?” he asked, his voice creaking as if speaking were difficult.

  Simon almost said, “No.” But he couldn’t. If this were someone who needed help, he’d find a way to do that, even on sabbatical.

  “Yes, I’m the lay exorcist. Can I help you?”

  “Simon, what’s going on?” his sister asked as she joined him at the door.

  The man’s attention moved to her. He straightened up now, as if new energy had been introduced into his body somehow. His eyes, previously pale brown, blazed silver.

  “Well, she looks like family. What luck. This couldn’t be more perfect.”

  At that, the strange man began to murmur under his breath. Even before he could close the door, a spell struck Simon like a body blow. He opened his mouth to shout, but then lost the will to do anything at all. Beside him, his sister cried out, then fell silent.

  No matter how hard he tried Simon’s body was not under his control, though his mind raced in panic. Now he knew where he’d seen this man’s face: He’d opened his door to one of the stolen reanimates. A Deader who was under the control of a necromancer.

  “Come along you two! Lock the door behind you. You don’t want to let just anyone inside, do you?” the darker voice chided.

  Woodenly, Simon did as he was ordered as the spell grew stronger around them. Then he and his sister were nowhere at all.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  It was the low murmur of voices that pulled Simon from the depths of the spell, voices that sounded as if there was no life in them. Beneath him was a floor made of stained concrete. Above him, metal trusses and a roof. The space smelled of dust and mildew.

  After forcing himself to sit upright he found his sister next to him, blinking in confusion.

  “What happened? Where are we?” Dee whispered.

  He could only shrug, as he had no clue. It was stifling hot here, and to make it worse there was the faint smell of death.

  They were in an old factory, one with tall industrial shelving along two walls. Cobweb-draped lights hung from the ceiling high above them, none of them lit. There was a lengthy line of windows up near the roof, and a few were open. Others were cracked or missing entirely. All were filthy just like the concrete beneath him.

  It was then Simon saw the dead. Some were lying on the floor like broken dolls while others leaned against a wall, hollowed eyed, staring at him like they’d never seen another human before. It’d been their voices he’d heard.

  One of them rose and made his way over to him at a snail’s pace. It was Albert Means, the man who had come to his door and been stolen out of his grave despite Riley and Katia’s best efforts.

  Means stopped a short distance away, looking first at Deanna and then at Simon. “I’m . . . sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible. Then he shuffled closer, a cellphone in his hand. “Here, this is yours.”

  Simon snatched the phone away, wondering why the dead man had it in the first place. “Why are we here?” he asked, pushing his anger down.

  “He said to come for you.” Means looked over at Deanna again. “I do what he tells me. I have no choice.”

  “Everyone has a choice,” Dee replied, frowning. Did she realize he was dead?

  “Not when you’ve had a spell cast on you.”

  “Spell? Is that what happened to us?” she asked. Means nodded.

  Simon had intentionally not shared much with his family, especially the supernatural aspects of his job. His parents being the only exception. In the case of Deanna he’d been even more closemouthed, knowing she’d just worry. When she worried, she interfered with his life.

  “Summoners can call the dead from their graves and they can also cast spells on the living,” Simon said.

  “Everyone knows that,” she snapped.

  “We were bespelled, Dee. I had no choice coming here, neither did you.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, then gave a grudging nod as she studied Means. “Is he . . . ?”

  “I am dead,” the man replied. “I was reanimated. It is not what I wanted.” He pointed at the phone. “She will come now. I am sorry for that, too.”

  “She?” Dee said, confused.

  Who did he mean? Simon swiped the phone’s screen but it stayed dark.

  “We can’t leave,” the dead man said, gesturing toward the others. “Not until he tells us to go somewhere. You folks might be able to. I don’t know.”

  The far doors swooshed open in a blast of air and then slammed shut once again. As the dust settled a figure appeared in a pool of murky light. He was younger than Simon had expected, probably in his early forties, clad in a dark navy robe.

  To some, the necromancer might be considered handsome. He possessed a strong jaw, deep brown hair and eyes, with only a few wrinkles making an appearance. He was about six feet or so, not muscular, but not flabby either. He had a light tan which told Simon he didn’t spend all his time creeping around cemeteries stealing the dead.

  “Our kidnapper has arrived,” he whispered to his sister “Let me deal with this, okay? This is my world, not yours.”

  Dee gave a short nod, but he could tell she was close to losing it.

  The necro walked closer now. “Means, go away,” he said, gesturing.

  The reanimate moved back to join the others, then sank onto the floor like a well-trained dog.

  “Hello, Exorcist. I’ve heard about you,” the man said. “Your name is in the news. A lot.”

  “Why are we here?” he demanded.

  “Well, I need you to take a journey and retrieve something for me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you can walk the realms. Not everyone can.”

  Realms? “Why would you think that?”

  “You’d be surprised what I know,” the man replied, a hint of arrogance in his words now.

  “What are these realm things he’s talking about?” Dee asked.

  “I’ll explain later.” And just how he’d do that he wasn’t sure, but that wasn’t what had him worried.

  Someone in the Pit had to be involved in this, someone keen to score points with Lucifer. How else would a necro he’d never met know Simon had gone to Hell, and returned?

  “My sister doesn’t have a clue about any of this. Just let her go.”

  “Of course she doesn’t. She was just an unlucky bystander.” The necromancer turned back to look at the doors behind him. “What we need is someone else who’s walked the worlds just like you. And here she is now.”

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  “Why here?” Katia murmured. She checked the location on her phone and then compared it to the address she’d received from Simon. It matched.

  Usually, the exorcist on duty contacted her directly about the time and location of their next assignment. But the text looked legit and had all the details she’d needed, so she’d not bothered to call Simon and double-check it. She guessed that someone at the Archdiocese had forgotten he was on sabbatical and sent him the assignment instead. Rather than telling them they’d made a mistake, he’d just sent her the deets.

  She drove through the open gate, past an abandoned guard shack and then further into the industrial estate. None of the buildings looked occupied, and most had their windows broken. There was a lot of graffiti, some of it quite artistic.

  There was no sign of Lay Exorcist Snyder when Katia parked in front of the building that matched the address. He didn’t have a car, so he’d have taken a taxi or a rideshare here. Tempting as it was to send him a text to check his status, she decided to wait him out. A structural infestation was far less urgent than a human one.

  The eight-story concrete block building looked to be a warehouse or a factory. Like its neighbors it had broken windows and grass growing up between the cracked pavement in front of the place. Usually abandoned buildings weren’t high on the list for demonic possession. Why take over a rundown dump when you could possess a house in Buckhead or downtown Atlanta?

  Katia fidgeted and then grabbed her trapping bag off the seat next to her. Forty minutes had passed since she’d gotten Simon’s text and yet Snyder was a no-show. Growing bored, she decided to check out the building to see what they were facing. With the bag hanging off her shoulder she headed for the front doors. After a final glance at the parking lot, she turned the handle and found that the door swung open with a dry, rusty creak.

  That it was unlocked either meant someone couldn’t be bothered to let them in, or there were other dangers inside besides a demon. Drug addicts would squat in buildings like this, and then it’d be a human possession, not a structural one.

  After a deep breath, Katia crossed over the threshold then promptly sneezed from the dust. At the same time that her left arm scar flared up, magic skittered over her skin.

  “Run! It’s a trap!” someone called out.

  Before she could retreat the doors behind her slammed shut. A powerful force shoved her from behind, sliding her feet across the concrete floor. She fought, but the force was too strong and she fell to her knees, skidding along.

  “Ah, there you are,” a different voice called out. “About time.”

  She knew that voice. The necro who had stolen Mean’s body stood a few feet away. This time it was the real deal. He was younger than she’d expected for his level of magical prowess. But his smirk was gone. Something had happened between that night and now, something big.

  As Katia struggled to her feet she spied the few reanimates he’d not set free. And then beyond them, farther into the building, two figures. One was taller than the other, a male with bright blond hair.

  “Simon?” she blurted.

  Snyder wasn’t here. It had been a trap, just like he’d said.

  Katia spun around toward the summoner now, furious. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.

  “You’re here because you and the exorcist have a journey to make. I need you to retrieve something from another realm. If you do, I’ll set you all free. If not, well then things are going to get bad for all of us.”

  “Are you nuts? You just don’t wander into another realm.”

  “Tell me about it,” he huffed. “I can’t go there, but maybe you two can. After all, you took a quick trip to Hell and back.”

  What? “How do you know that?”

  He ignored her question. “If you don’t fulfill the quest, this one is going to die and be reanimated,” he said, pointing at Simon’s sister now. “Any questions?”

  “She has no part in this,” she seethed.

  “She does now.”

  Simon swore under his breath. “You vow not to harm my sister while we’re doing your damned quest?” he demanded.

  “Of course.”

  That reply had come far too quickly.

  Katia’s eyes met Simon’s, each weighing their options. They had none, not if they wanted to keep Dee safe.

  She gave him a nod and his expression darkened now.

  “We’ll go,” he said. “But I swear to God if you hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill you.”

  The necro rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried. You’re not powerful enough.”

  “Don’t count on that,” Katia said. “We made it out of Hell alive. Hundreds and hundreds of demons, and the Prince himself. You best think twice about crossing us, asshole.”

  “Hell?” Deanna said, staring at her brother now. “You went to the Pit?” Simon gave a reluctant nod. “Dear God.”

  For a moment it looked as if their kidnapper was going to back down, then he shook his head. “This will lead you to the ring. Find it, bring it here.”

  Something flew toward Simon and he barely caught it.

  “You have until midnight,” their captor said. “Make it count.”

  “A ring?” she said. “Really?”

  So, they’d find the thing and they’d have to haul it to Mount Doom or wherever. Because that’s the way things always went in these kinds of stories. There’d probably be orcs trying to kill them. And really big spiders.

  “Just the ring. Nothing else. Do you hear me?” the necro demanded.

  “Yeah, we hear you.” Grinding her teeth, Katia picked up her trapping bag and joined the pair.

  “Simon?” his sister said, her eyes widening in fear.

  He stuck whatever the necro had given him in his jeans pocket, then took hold of her hand. “Katia and I are going on a trip and get something this bastard can’t. We will be back, Dee. You understand? We will come back.”

  “But—”

  “We have no choice, Sis. He’ll hurt you if we don’t go. I’m sorry, Dee.”

  She reluctantly nodded, her body shaking as he hugged her. He leaned closer to her now. “Don’t provoke him. If you see a chance to escape, go. You hear me?” A faint nod was his answer. “And I love you, Sis, always have.”

  “I love you, Brother. May God keep you safe.”

  “Same for you.”

  “Leave your gear here,” the necro said, pointing at Katia’s trapping bag. “You won’t need it where you’re going.”

  “No way I’m going unarmed.”

  “Leave it here,” he bellowed as magic rose around him.

  Furious, she slid the bag off her shoulder. “Whatever. Let’s get this done.”

  The summoner pointed toward the back of the building, which was nothing more than a solid wall.

  “And?” she said, frowning at him.

  “Such a closed mind,” he muttered, then waved a hand while murmuring under his breath.

  The blocks slowly dissolved leaving a jagged hole in the wall like someone had taken a sledgehammer to create a new opening. Beyond that was utter darkness, the kind that ripped at your soul. An eerie wind blew toward them, scattering dust. It held no scent, not like the night before. Then the hole began to glow.

  “Begone!” the summoner shouted.

  Magic rolled across the factory floor, scooping them up and throwing them across the boundary between the worlds.

  As Deanna cried out for her brother, the portal slammed shut behind them.

  FOURTEEN

  The journey from the factory to the other realm came with a gut punch, a blow so deep it nearly made Katia retch.