“Damn, that hurts,” she said, bending over to lessen the pain. A glance at her partner said he was suffering as well. “Wasn’t like this . . . when we . . . went to . . . the Pit.”

  Simon grimaced. “We were inside a circle. That might . . . have made a difference.”

  When she was able to straighten up, Simon was already upright, though a hand remained on his abdomen, fingers clenched. Together they stared at what lay ahead of them. To Katia it looked like an endless sea of black sand. Above it sat a steel-gray sky, with no sun, moon or clouds. A totally alien world.

  “My God,” she whispered.

  “It’s like something out of a movie,” Simon said, staring in wonder.

  “I’m thinking Arrakis meets Tatooine.” Then realized he might not get those movie references. You never knew with him.

  “If there are sandworms or Jawas, we’re out of here,” he replied, proving he had.

  As far as she could see there were no creatures in sight. It was as if the world was only the sand and the thick slabs of ebony rock ahead of them. The rocks were probably eight or nine feet long and about three feet wide, arrayed in a perfect flat circle. In the center of that circle was what looked to be pure white sand. All it needed was a giant neon arrow pointing at that one spot.

  Simon extended his hand, whatever the necro had given him sitting on his right palm.

  “What is that thing?”

  “A button. An old one. It’s made of ivory, I think.” He jerked in surprise when it promptly rotated so the pointed end faced toward the slabs.

  “I’m not liking this. That open sand there?” she said, pointing at the area between them and the slabs. “Something has to live under that. Something that loves to eat people like us. You know I’m right.”

  He shot a look over his shoulder. “We have no choice. The doorway back home is shut.”

  She dared not look back or she’d cry. “None of this makes any sense, Simon.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Katia dug in her front pocket and found a quarter.

  “I don’t see any parking meters,” he joked, though his voice sounded brittle. That was one of his many strengths, the ability to face impossible situations and keep his sense of humor. Sometimes that was all you had.

  Katia tossed the coin out as far as she could, then watched as it landed with a tiny puff of sand. Then it sat there. There was no deadly whirlpool, no tentacles, no monster claws. Just a shiny coin on top of black sand.

  “Give it some time,” he suggested.

  Sweat had started to run down the side of Simon’s face and in this bizarre atmosphere it almost looked like black blood. The sight made her queasy so she shifted her attention to that long stretch of ground between them and . . . whatever that was.

  The coin remained exactly where it had landed.

  “Sometimes I’m way too paranoid,” she said.

  “Well, then I am too. Let’s assume there is something there. If we walk out together both of us are toast,” he said.

  “Split up and run like hell?” she suggested.

  “Yes. If we’re lucky, that will confuse whatever might be there and we both can get to those rocks safely.”

  She frowned at him. “Your plan sucks, Mr. Exorcist.”

  He frowned back at her. “And yours is, Ms. Trapper?”

  “Equally sucky because it’d be the same.”

  “Right.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You go left, I’ll go to the right. That way one of us might get there.” He offered her the button, but Katia shook her head.

  “You count it down,” she said.

  The countdown went far too fast, and then they were sprinting across the black sand. Simon chugged along to her right some ten feet away, arms swinging in time to his movement, sand kicking up in his wake.

  Beneath them the ground rumbled, as if something had woken from a nap, and yet the sand remained flat. With a final burst of speed they reached the rocks and scrambled up on the closest one.

  “Go us,” he said, sucking in air in big gulps. She was doing the same, which meant the atmosphere was different than back home.

  Behind them the sand was still motionless, no hint of anything beneath it. Even more eerie, there was no sign of their footprints.

  “Yeah, I was too paranoid,” she said.

  As if to prove her wrong the rumble came again, but this time it was under their feet. Simon grabbed onto her hand as they struggled to stay upright. Something surfaced in front of them, sheets of dark sand rolling off it.

  The creature was bulky with pebbled iridescent skin. It had a large, round head, with two rust-colored eyes and a long slit of a mouth. Two arms, also covered in that bumpy skin, ended in pale blue fingers, four to a hand. The bottom part of the beast was still buried in the sand so she had no idea if it had feet, a tail, or whatever.

  The creature settled on the ground now, one of its arms rising. Caught between two digits was her quarter.

  “What do we do?” she whispered.

  “I have no idea,” Simon whispered back.

  The creature made no move toward them but brought the coin up to eye level. It studied the metal disc carefully, turning it one way, then another, like an archeologist scrutinizing a rare find. Its head moved side to side and a low humming sound began. It didn’t sound angry. If anything, it seemed pleased.

  Her brother Kevin would love this. It was too much like an RPG, a role-playing game. Maybe that was the way to play it.

  Katia cleared her throat, which had gone bone dry. “Oh great one, the disc is our tribute for entry into your world,” she called out. “We hope you find us worthy.”

  Simon stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  More humming. Then an articulated blue finger pointed toward her companion. When Simon didn’t react, it pointed again.

  “I think it wants something from you. But not a coin. It already has one of those.” As if he didn’t know that.

  Simon appeared to be working through his potential gift options when the digit pointed again, this time toward his chest and the wooden cross he always wore.

  He touched it. “This?”

  The sideways nod came again.

  There was torment in her friend’s eyes now. Riley said that cross had been found in the ashes of the Tabernacle, where he’d almost died. Where so many other trappers had perished. If he refused to hand it over, how would they get into the next realm? Or return to their world to save his sister? Could he give away the symbol of his undying faith?

  To her astonishment Simon removed the cross. His finger rubbed across the damaged wood with reverence. Then he looked up at the creature in front of them.

  “This symbolizes my trust in the Light. Consider this my gift to you. Please grant us safe passage so that we can save my sister’s life.”

  He tossed it into the air and the strange fingers nimbly caught it, then brought the cross up to the creature’s eyes for closer examination. Once that scrutiny was complete, another long hum reverberated as it sank under the sand with its treasures.

  “I’m so sorry, Simon. I know what that cross meant to you,” she said, touching his arm.

  He did not reply, his eyes glassy.

  A sound came from behind them now and they whirled around. In the center of the slab circle was an open door made of gnarled beige rock. Simon retrieved the button from his pocket and held it out on his palm. It swiftly aligned itself to that portal.

  “We go together, hand in hand,” she said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  His expression changed as he tucked away the button.

  “And I don’t want to ever lose you.”

  Hand in hand they walked through the doorway into another realm. Behind them came a low hum and then silence.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  The instant her brother and the trapper were hurled through the wall, the necromancer strode out of the factory, the doors banging shut behind him. That was a smart move or Deanna would have tried to strangle his ass.

  “What the hell was all that?” she grumbled. A glance at the dead people didn’t give her any answers.

  Tempting as it was to break down in tears, she wasn’t going there. At least not until she got out of here. Her brother was in danger and that’s all that mattered. And he owed her an explanation, especially about the trip to Hell stuff. Not even her parents had mentioned that bit and she bet they knew about it.

  How much had Simon been hiding from her over the years? Did they think she was too stupid to understand what that meant?

  Dee sighed, shaking her head. She had to figure out how to bust out of this place because she bet those front doors were blocked by magic. Calling for help wasn’t an option—her phone was in her purse at her brother’s house. From the lost expressions in the dead peoples’ eyes, they were going to be no help at all. Which meant she’d have to do this herself.

  It was then she spied the bag the trapper had been forced to leave behind. Simon had often spoken about the gear he had to tote around. Maybe something in there would give her a means to escape. She hustled over and grabbed the bag—it was heavier than she’d expected—and then hauled it over to the closest wall. There was no place to sit but on the dirty concrete, so she parked herself and began to dig through the bag’s contents.

  A steel pipe came out first, which would make a great weapon though it felt heavy in Dee’s hand. There was a glass globe nestled inside a Styrofoam shell, a couple of liters of Holy Water, a few protein bars, a small First Aid kit, a short length of rope, and a cell phone, which didn’t work at all.

  She knew that Holy Water could hurt demons, Dee doubted it would do much to the necro. The steel pipe might be a possibility, but she’d never get that close. At the bottom of the bag were two plastic bottles of drinking water so Dee pulled one out, cracked the seal and gulped some down. Capping it, she rose. It was time to do reconnaissance.

  Her brother was counting on her.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Riley leaned against her car as she watched Mort’s vehicle arrive. Though Greenwood Cemetery dated from the early 1900s, it still accepted burials and so there was still the need for grave sitters.

  About an hour earlier her fellow summoner had called her, all excited. During his survey of local funeral directors, one of them remembered a pale young man during a visitation. That visitation had been for a woman whose body had been stolen later that night. Armed with that info, Mort had done more digging and come up with the name of the sunlight-challenged grave watcher: Harry Hawkins.

  Mort found that Hawkins had a pattern to his grave sitting. He was never there when one of the bodies was stolen, but he’d always sat the shift right before the thefts. Coincidence? Mort wasn’t sure, but he felt this might be the break they needed.

  Riley locked her car and joined her friend. For once, she left her trapping bag behind as they were close to hallowed ground.

  “Hey Mort. You really think this might be the guy?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” he said. As he looked toward the cemetery’s entrance, she could see the toll this whole mess had taken on him. “It was Katia who got me thinking about the grave watchers. She was going to check them out, but I haven’t heard from her.”

  Riley’s phone buzzed so she pulled it out. It was Beck sending his love, which was always appreciated. She returned that love then stuffed the phone into a pocket.

  “I couldn’t get hold of Katia to let her know what we were doing. She said she had an exorcism, but usually she will text me once it’s over.”

  “We’ll check in with her as soon as we’re done here. Hopefully, we’ll have good news for her.”

  They hiked through the cemetery’s gateway and into the grounds filled with over a century of headstones. According to what she’d found online, Greenwood was home to many different nationalities and faiths, with Chinese, Greek and Jewish sections. A slice of life in 1900s Atlanta.

  “Katia would like this place. The headstones are upright. She can’t stand the more modern ones. She was very verbal about that.”

  Mort didn’t reply, but abruptly changed directions and headed toward a distant circle of light. As they moved closer to the new grave and the glowing circle around it, the grave watcher looked up. He was a young guy, probably mid-twenties, very thin, and pale. His wavy dark hair went in all directions.

  “That’s the guy who watched Means’ grave right before us.”

  “Which means the vigil schedule was accurate. Not always the case.” Mort paused. “Do you feel that?” he asked.

  Riley let her senses loose, then grinned. “It’s the same magical signature as the one who’s been stealing the dead.”

  Her fellow summoner nodded. “This is good news.”

  The young man’s eyes widened as they paused just outside the circle. He was dressed in a plain gray T-Shirt, jeans, tennis shoes. A worn baseball cap covered his head, shielding it from the sun. At his side was a bottle of water and his worn knapsack. As grave watchers went, his setup was bare bones.

  “Harry Hawkins?” Riley said.

  He blinked at his name. “Yeah?” He glanced down at the candles and then up again, as if judging whether the circle would hold against them. “Hey, I know you. You were here the night—”

  “Mr. Means’ body was stolen,” she said. “You know anything about that?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “No. No.”

  “Then why were you in the cemetery talking to the workers before he was buried?”

  “What?” he said. “No, wasn’t me.”

  “There aren’t too many pale guys like you roaming around Atlanta.”

  “Don’t know about that.”

  “And you were seen outside Beesh’s Funeral Home, the same day a body went missing.”

  “No, not me.”

  “They have a security camera,” she said. Riley had no idea if that was the case, but the guy’s eyes widened, confirming his guilt. She looked over at Mort now. “Things are looking pretty bad for Mr. Hawkins here.”

  “I agree,” her companion said. “The mayor’s demanding someone’s head, and his will do.”

  “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything.”

  “But you know who did,” Mort shot back.

  There was a quick look at the glowing candles as the man took a very deep breath. His panicked expression faded now, replaced by defiance.

  “Or what? You going to bust me out of this circle? No way that’s happening. I’ll just stay here until you leave.”

  That was a decent threat, other than he’d eventually need food, and a toilet. Destroying the circle really wasn’t a good idea, especially with the press already shouting about summoners breaking the law.

  Since this guy wasn’t going to cooperate and recite the phrase that would allow Riley to enter it, they’d have to pry him out of that protection.

  “Toast the circle?” she asked, looking over at Mort again. She made sure her wink wasn’t seen by their quarry.

  There was a flare of amusement in her friend’s eyes, also something Hawkins wouldn’t notice. “Go for it.”

  Riley deftly rolled up the sleeves on her robe, raised her arms, then pushed against the circle with her magic. It immediately flared bright, as it should. She didn’t push any further, there was no need. Instead, she wove a spell to create a light display which churned across the surface of the circle, and the protective shield above it. SGI, as Mort called it—summoner-generated imagery. Completely illusionary, but this guy didn’t know that. Sometimes it was all about theatrics.

  “Stop that!” Hawkins said, jerking his head around to follow the images as they shimmered across the circle. The spell caused the colors to morph from red to blue, then purple and finally to deepest green. Skeletal hands formed now, reaching toward the man inside.

  “Hey! You can’t do that!” Hawkins squeaked as he leapt to his feet, staring at her as if she was the devil incarnate.

  “We’re not here to hurt you or the deceased. We’re here to find the truth,” Mort said.

  “I don’t know anything,” the man insisted, as his eyes darted around looking for a means of escape.

  Riley pushed a bit more magic into the spell and the hands became bloody claws. Chilling howls filled the air as if the denizens of Hell were closing in. And just for the fun of it she made her robe billow around her.

  “No, don’t do that,” Hawkins shouted, looking back at the grave, then at them.

  “Tell us the name of the summoner. That’s all we want to know,” Mort demanded, stepping closer as his hands glowed blue. “Last chance. Is this worth dying for?”

  The man’s complexion went stark white and then he ran for it, right through the circle, past Riley and Mort, his feet pounding across the graveyard at an astounding speed. In his wake the circle broke, leaving the recently deceased unprotected.

  “Idiot,” Mort said, shaking his head. He gestured and their quarry stumbled, then fell to the ground. Though Hawkins managed to roll over onto his back, he was unable to rise, held in place by the spell’s invisible bonds.

  Riley changed gears, murmuring her own incantation to raise a new protective circle around the grave. Once it was in place she stepped back and rolled down her sleeves.

  “Those were very nice effects, Summoner Blackthorne,” Mort said while Hawkins continued to flail in a useless attempt to escape the binding spell.

  “Hey, if I can’t cut it as a summoner, there’s always Hollywood,” she replied. Her friend barely stifled a laugh.

  With a gesture of his hand their captive rose in the air and then floated over to land on the grass in front of them.

  “You can’t do this to me. I have rights,” Hawkins said, still flailing and getting nowhere.

  “The cops will nail you for grave robbing, desecration of a gravesite, and unlicensed use of magic,” Riley said. That last one was a lie, but this guy didn’t know that.