Page 24

I could only agree.

“Uhm, I have a question. Where do we get the smudge stuff, and where does the meat come from? I just ate all the jerky, and the only other food is in the truck, but I figure raccoons have found that overnight. Or a skunk. They like people food. I once saw one climbing out of a dumpster with a burger in its mouth. The burger was still wrapped in paper, but that didn’t seem to bother the skunk. Maybe an opossum ate Klinger’s food.”

Or a hidebehind if it ate takeout.

“The smudge ingredients will be gathered when Henry returns from the truck with the side-view mirrors.”

Phil’s face fell. “He’s taking the mirrors?!”

“Well, yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck as he gaped at me. “I’m sorry, but they were the first things I could think of. You brought up Perseus and his shield, and I sort of ran with that idea.”

“When did I mention Perseus? I don’t remember saying a thing about Greek demigods.”

“You were talking about it last night when you were tipsy.”

“Oh.” Shame settled on his handsome face. “Okay, well, if I brought it up…”

“You did, and it was a great idea! We can use the mirrors to see what’s behind us when we’re out gathering pine resin and sage. Well, not the sage exactly. I’m thinking cedar. It’s been used for purification rituals and clearing negative energy for centuries. And it should be easy to find in these woods.” I rubbed my nose as I turned a few pages of the book. “Maybe mugwort or sweetgrass…”

“You’re the prettiest when you’re reading,” Phil whispered. I looked up, blushed, and jumped a foot when something impacted the front door with a double thud. Henry moved through the door with an expression that could only be called chagrin.

“I have removed the side-viewing mirrors from the truck as requested. They did not move through the doorway as I did.”

“Well, shit.” I sighed and glanced at Phil, staring about and searching for a lumberjack he couldn’t see or hear. “Henry has returned. The mirrors won’t phase through the door. I should have thought of that. I’m super tired.”

“Hey, you’re doing all the heavy mental lifting, Arch. And that logger sucked a lot of your Qi out of you,” he said, which made Henry sputter about immoral things such as Qi sucking, which he did not engage in with males. Why were so many het men so damned sensitive? “I love you. You’re my eternal soul mate. But if I don’t make it out of these woods, I want you to find someone else to—”

“Whoa.” I placed two fingers over his sweet lips. “We are both making it out of this together. That’s how we do things. Kestrel and Kee. We face the shit that life, and sometimes the afterlife, heaves at us as one. Some brilliant man once said that. A man that I love so damn much.” I lowered my fingers so I could kiss him with passion. He returned the kiss ardently, and if not for Henry hovering two feet away and making sounds of utter disgust, things might have gotten heated. Well, maybe not. There was a cryptid lurking around outside, so that would have put a damper on our passions more than likely. “Now, drink more water. I’m going to grab the mirrors off the porch, then we’re going to map out how we’re going to end this nightmare together.”

“Okay. Okay.” Phil sighed.

I stole one more kiss, got to my feet, and heard my spine pop like kindling wood. I was too young to feel so old. The locks were still in place. I rested a hand against the frame, reaching out with a weak nudge of my abilities, hoping to sense the hidebehind, but I picked up nothing. Ghosts and the undead tended to emit energy pulses. Electromagnetic usually, which is why those of us who interact with specters use EMF detectors. We also use thermal energy readers and sound devices. Mediums, or those with a spiritual eye as I have, are more sensitive to kinetic or psychokinetic pulses, or I’ve deduced. But this thing that was lurking around outside was no ghost. It was flesh and blood. Possibly some mutated creature. An unverified species, as it were. A cryptid is a biological animal or beast, whereas a paranormal entity is most generally non-corporeal, such as ghosts, poltergeists, and the like.

Although there have been instances where a cryptid has been proven to be real, animals such as giant squids, the okapi, and mountain gorillas were, at one time, thought to be nothing more than local legend or the tales of drunken sailors. Old seamen once believed manatees were mermaids, so anything is remotely possible in this vast and wonderful world.

Shaking off the mental folly I’d slipped into, I unlocked the door with great care. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped a foot, spinning around in a pirouette any ballerina would have been proud of, to see Phil behind me.

“I’m your wingman,” he whispered and rubbed a handful of something wet over my face. The burn of alcohol in my nose and eyes made me sputter. “Like sunscreen but for ugly fuckers.”

“Good thinking.” I gave him a wobbly smile, turned back to the door, and gingerly cracked it open. Rain fell in heavy sheets from the decrepit porch ceiling. Two side-view mirrors lay not a foot away. I listened. Nothing but rain on the woods could be heard. Heart thumping steadily, the burn of baijiu still in my nose, I leaned out and then down. Phil took hold of my hoodie, his grip tugging the strings up under my chin. Hands quaking, I gently lifted the twin mirrors from the porch. The hidebehind leaped out from behind the old, weathered post with a shriek that rolled through the campgrounds. How the thing had been able to make itself thin enough to conceal itself behind a six-by-six post was anyone’s guess. Phil yelped a warning as he pulled with all his strength, yeeting me from the door back into the cabin in the blink of an eye.

The monster hit the door with force. I rolled like a donut to the side, clasping the mirrors to my chest, while Phil drove his shoulder into the door to try to slam it shut. I shouted at Henry to help as the cryptid seemed to be getting the upper hand on Phil. No small feat since he was a big, strong guy. Sneakers planted, Phil growled and pushed. Henry streaked across the room to join Phil. The door slammed closed. Phil threw the lock and staggered backward while the hidebehind vented its frustration on the door, claws gouging into the wood. It made mad, guttural noises I’d have bad dreams about for years. Phil moved to me, kneeling on the floor, and putting his big form in front of me as the creature raged. After what seemed like days but was probably only a few moments, the assault on the door turned into an attack on the chimney. I doubted the monster would claw its way through stone. I hoped…

“Fuck, that thing is mad,” Phil panted. I nodded in silence as the monster had a meltdown, now on the roof, pounding on the shingles like an irate gorilla.

“And hungry,” I replied, nudging my glasses up my sweaty nose as I sat up straighter to inspect the mirrors. They were still intact. One was cracked, but given the beating they’d just taken, they’d held up well. “I’m not sure the booze repellent is working as well as it was before. Either that, or it’s just incensed and starving.” I glanced over my shoulder while Phil took the mirrors from my hand. “Henry, how many people have you seen go missing in this camp over the past year?”

“None. There were people visiting not long ago. The monster lunged at one, drew blood, and then pulled back. The men who were here had been drinking and smoking hand cigarillos as they moved through the camp. I did my best to warn them, but they were unable to hear me. No one has for countless years until you arrived,” Henry said, his ax back in his hand as if the tool of his trade gave him comfort.

“Thank you for helping Phil,” I said and got a grunt from the ghostly logger.

“If the beast kills you, I cannot move over. It seemed prudent to keep you alive,” he coldly answered and gave Phil a look that I couldn’t decipher. “He has great affection for you.”

“I have great affection for him too,” I replied and returned to the mirror inspection. “Henry gave you some help at the door.”

“Figured he did.” Phil held up one mirror for me to take. He was well familiar with how our resident ghost could interact with inanimate objects at home. Floating books, tea services moving through the room, some invisible force scrolling through your phone. Poltergeists were famed for throwing things about just to stir up the living. The twins next door were perfect examples of mischievous spirits. “Thanks, Henry.”

The ghost said nothing behind me. I smiled at Phil. “So, here’s my plan. It’s stupid and reckless and will probably get us eviscerated, but it’s all I’ve been able to cook up. Do you have any thoughts?”