The silhouette of Sabela's shop cut the morning sky so that the sun—a rare appearance in a week full of thunderstorms—created a halo around the building. In the wooden box inside my backpack, I brought willow bark, a lighter, a few protective talismans, a bowl of water and a location pendant.
"I'll make the ritual just outside." The gaping was still open, and dark. But I already knew the danger wasn't inside but right beside me where Mark was listening to my plan. "So I can locate your case. Then it's a question of retrieving it and getting the hell out of there before..."
"Before the thing I have inside me comes after us."
I nodded. "I gave you a vial of Holy Water." The four of them looked at the little vials I had handed to them. Mine was safely tucked away in the pocket of my jeans. "It can't stop it. But it can slow it down so you can escape."
"Why so little?" Lily held her vial between her thumb and index finger. "Couldn't we, like, drop a shit ton of Holy Water?"
"The efficacy isn't incremental. It doesn't matter if it's a vial or a whole lorry's worth of Sacred Water. Besides, this is my personal stash. Do you think I have a priest always at hand? A supplier? These aren't drugs, Lily."
"What about your other thingies? The drawings? We don't get one? They worked nicely with whatever you did to Mark..." Her mischievous smile brightened her hungover face.
The talismans. "They won't work because they require a seer to push into it. For you, they're just drawings, as you said. You're not going to stay long enough to fight. If it comes to it, you pull the vial and run like Hell is chasing you. That's it."
"A simple plan," Mark muttered with a half smile. He clapped his hands. "Let's go, team."
A blanket of uncomfortable anxiety settled above us. Peter's breathing had quickened, surely because Mark had recounted the past day's events to him. Lily's steps were hesitant, her left hand twisting the fingers on her right one. John tapped a quick staccato on his flashlight as he feigned bravery. Mark led the march across the lawn, so I couldn't perceive his features, nor any anxious gestures. His back straight and his shoulders squared, his outfit made him look like a rich heir about to step into his territory, instead of a haunted house.
Just outside the gaping mouth of the building, I crouched down and placed the backpack by my side. From inside, I picked the bowl, and the pendant. Mark handed me the bottle of water, his blue eyes were serious and unwavering. It made the hairs on my arms stand on end, and goosebumps travel down my back.
There's nothing to be afraid of, I reminded myself. The real danger would begin after crossing the threshold. I emptied the water inside the bowl, and the inscriptions on the inside turned a dark brown when they came into contact with the liquid.
I had stopped using the ritualistic bowl a long time ago, but I still remembered the last time. It hadn't been filled with water but blood. My blood. The more you sacrifice to the ritual, the more powerful it is. Sometimes, a bit too powerful. Sometimes, rituals are things to beware. It still had tiny brown speckles that declined to be rubbed away, and they muddied the water.
I held the pendant over the bowl, peering inside. The quartz crystal stood unnaturally still. "I seek to find. Show me. I seek to find. Show me. I seek to find, show me."
When Peter, grunted, I shushed him. "Mark's case file is all I need. Show me for I seek to find. I give you the water I drink, I give you the will to show me."
I stirred the water with my index finger, and then flicked the pendant with it. It swung crazily at first, settling into a smooth circling motion after some seconds, until it stopped moving. Although it seemed to be hanging limply from my hand, the chain was curving towards the house. The pendant had turned into a makeshift compass that'd show me the way to that damn file.
"Lily, you stay as a lookout." Mark muttered. "If you see cops, shout."
I chuckled at Mark's remembrance of my words. The pendant twitched, but it didn't change directions. Weird things happened in places like that, and not everything needed to be relevant and significant. Sometimes, interferences messed up with the magic objects like a weakened wifi router.
There's nothing to be afraid of if you're prepared. I'd slap the hell out of Mark with those damn talismans if it came down to it. I'd wallpaper his whole skin. I followed the talisman through the antechamber and into her reading room. That's where the part of her job that involved clients happened. Not many clients understood what went behind her cases, but I spent countless hours in the antechamber as she did her research. Most of the books from the library had fallen into the floor, and I had to fight the desire to set everything up as I remembered. It wasn't a sign of politeness to disturb places that could potentially kill you—demon or not included within it.
The pendant took me past the three-faced statue, whose pale material was as white as you'd never expect after seeing it bleed from the eyes. But I hadn't imagined it, that much I knew. I snapped a photo of it before I quickly followed the compass. Behind a curtain, I found the kitchenette where abuela used to prepare tea and coffee.
"Do you feel anything?" Mark asked.
"No. Do you?"
"Do I feel the insatiable desire to kill everyone present? No."
John laughed. I didn't like the fact that Mark's demon hadn't shown itself yet. It could mean I had weakened it with my improvised attack—which I doubted very much as I was merely an ant in comparison to the power that crushing my soul—, or the demon had a particular reason why it wasn't blocking our efforts. Could it be the attack had been directed at me? Why would a demon care about collateral damage?
Or maybe it was preparing to hit.
"We have to hurry."
Beyond the kitchenette, we stumbled upon the little bathroom. The toilet had been broken since I had memory of it. A whistling grew louder in my ears, I whistled back. The echo nearly deafened me, but it gave me an idea of where to look.
"What was that?" Peter asked. His voice trembled a bit, and I would've mocked him if I hadn't sensed something whistling back.
I spun around, watching mark attentively as I whistled again. It called me. Where was it coming from? My hand stretched, settling on Mark's chest. I whistled again. His skin vibrated when it called back again. Mark was quickly becoming a freak of nature. I'd never seen a Bad Omen like him.
What is hiding within you? For a second, I considered placing my ear next to my hand. I wanted to feel his heart pumping blood, the beats pulsing on my skin. His warmth felt like something familiar I'd had long forgotten, and the faraway whistle wanted me to remember. I could almost, almost pick up what it wanted me to know. If I could get close enough.
Mark's face regarded me with cautious curiosity.
"It's nothing," I explained, suddenly uncomfortable. I retreated into the bathroom, bringing the pendant to eye level. The crystal traced a few unprovoked circles that grew maniacally disparate the more I approached the toilet. Could it be?
"Ugh, grandma. What the hell?" Of course she couldn't hear me. She wasn't a spirit anymore, she was nothing. But talking to her made me feel like she was still with me. "Of all the places..."
Wasn't it too easy? I liked easy, anyways. I lifted the lid, and peaked at the muddy water inside. To say it was as filthy as sewage water wouldn't have been an exaggeration. Luckily, the files had been preserved inside a plastic bag, or the documents would've been lost forever. It would have been a tremendous disappointment to have done all that work for nothing. I pinched the file with two fingers, trying not to think too much of the filthy water that slid down the plastic in big black tears.
The liquid smelt like dead animals.
"Good thing Lily isn't here," Peter said, regarding the packet with a disgusted face.
"That wasn't so bad," John said. And like clockwork, a breaking sound broke the silence. Ceramic breaking.
"Fuck me, John." Mark's eyes searched where the noise had come from, but it had sounded distant. "You had to say something."
"Umm... Do we run?" Peter asked.
"How do you feel, Mark?" I regarded the door to the bathroom.
"I feel ready to get the fuck out. Ah, you mean my rat king? Everything okay." His fingers formed the OK symbol. I pushed a talisman to his chest, just in case. He took it, and put it in the pocket of his jeans. But I didn't feel the power reaching out through the cracks on the walls.
The abyss around him coiled, its tendrils reaching out. "Remain calm," I reminded him under my breath. "The creature outside not as dangerous, but we don't want your thing to unleash here. It will only magnify its power. Let's go."