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We walked into the eerie silence with an odd assemblage of fae, Hexen, and thedraugrqueen. Insects chirruped. Frogs croaked. It was silent in a way that I loved, nature singing and no sound of car or machine.
I miss this.
The Outs was where I grew up—a greater distance from New Orleans. This, however, was the ghost zone. Every city had one, what in the end of the 1900s, early 2000s was called “suburbs.” There had always been something unnerving about areas that were all the same houses. Rows of similar roofs, driveways, shrubbery, mailboxes. It was made for horror, but the ghost zone felt worse somehow. These had been people’s homes. They couldn’t sell them. They simply had to abandon them and start over with what they could carry.
Some of the houses we passed were visibly empty: doors yawning open, windows shattered. Wildlife thrived here, and I had to remember that coyotes, alligators, and snakes were loose out here.
And wild dogs, cats, and who knew what else.
“Are you well, bonbon?” Eli asked quietly.
I nodded. “Thinking about the people who used to live here before . . .” I glanced at Beatrice and left the “the monsters came” silent.
“I removed my subjects,” Beatrice murmured.
“Recently.”
She shrugged. “I am making efforts, Daughter of Mine. Civilizing them is not so easy. It was asking them to walk to a buffet and not eat.”
The olddraugrlooked at the area with a dismissive glance, and I wondered yet again what year she’d been born.
“Any sign of him?” Marcus interrupted, a voice in the dim light of the moon.
“Or recognition of the area?” Iggy added.
I shook my head. As much as I was pleased that we were taking the fight to Chester, I was also keenly aware that we might all die.
“Iggy and I are the only two here who can”--I lowered my voice further—"remove Chester’s heart.”
Beatrice nodded. “And so we keep you safe while you do so. If Iggy dies, can you complete it alone?”
“Not planning to die.” Iggy scowled.
“Priorities,” Beatrice replied blandly.
Then I saw the building. I knew for certainly that this nondescript house hid the torture chamber. “Here.”
The troops of faery soldiers fanned out. Nodraugrhad arrived yet, but I knew they were likely in the shadows waiting. They were fierce fighters, and goodness only knew what surprises the hillbilly mafia had in their backpacks.
But the simple fact of not leading the charge didn’t feel good. My loved ones and my subjects—because for some backassward reason Ihadthose now--would enter peril before me.
Ihatedit.
As Iggy drew the spell circle, I heard the combined battle cries as the corrupt nuns, assorted humans proudly proclaiming themselves members of SAFARI (our nationwide hate group) poured out of the building. Hundreds of people charged toward us
“Well, that looks like fun,” Marcus said to Beatrice. “Ladies first . . .”
She flashed fangs. “With pleasure.”
To the sides, I saw the cousins launch a series of homemade weapons that were both loud and nasty-smelling.
And the darkened street was awash in a mix of headlamps, torches, and night vision goggles. The goggles and torches were at odds, but I had other concerns. Strolling toward me as if the street was not a massive bloody brawl was the creature we had to defeat. Chester didn’t seem to be merely a man, although I knew he was. Some people swallow so much evil that they become something else, something horrific.
“Do you realize that all you are doing is guaranteeing death?” Chester called out from where he paused. He stood in front of what looked like a homemade church. Nora was cringing at his side, looking like he’d been hitting her regularly and she was waiting for the next blow.
“Stay in the circle,” Iggy ordered.
“You do realize thatIcannot die.” Chester gave us a mocking smile. “I am a saint. Human but undying. I drink of poisons and do not fall.”
