“Joey,” Xander said, “you have access to power without the responsibility of a pact, without the chains of service. You’re free from the rules which have bound you for so long, and you’re in a unique position that most Acolytes only dream about.” He bit his lower lip and shook his head. “Get on top of this before it gets on top of you.”
“Do you even hear what you’re saying?”
His brow furrowed. “Yes, I do. Control it before it controls you. Take advantage of this opportunity. Find the silver lining instead of always wallowing in the negative.”
“Just for your information, I hate the word ‘wallow,’ and that’s why I’m leaving.” I opened the passenger door and stepped out into the brisk afternoon air, inhaling deeply. The great outdoors smelled like damp dirt and pine needles. I leaned into the door and said, “After we figure out this American River Killer case, and then after we kill Hecate and find Mel’s soul, I’m going to murder Hephaestus for taking away my babies.”
Xander opened the driver’s door and stepped out of the car, stretching his hands to the sky and moaning as his joints popped.
“And since all these Nephil are inbred fucks,” I said, “I might just liberate the world from them.”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time. According to Angela, Annabel’s cabin should be over this way.”
I gritted my teeth. “You think she’s dangerous—Annabel Nevis? That she’s a Scylla and we’re walking into a trap?”
He shook his head, squinting through the tree line and across the horizon. “I don’t know what to think. In my experience, though,” he adjusted his shoulder holster, “it doesn’t hurt to have protection.”
“That’s what she said.” I chuckled at my own joke, since Xander wouldn’t.
“Who said that?”
I stared at him in disbelief.
He grinned at me. “I’m kidding. Here.” He handed me his Beretta M9.
“Anything special about her?” I asked, popping out the magazine and counting the rounds. Ten. “Other than you can’t be bothered to break the law and get a bigger mag?”
“They’re hollow points filled with silver dust. I’ve also taken the time to bless each round—much like you’d carve sigils. These probably won’t kill a Cursed, but ten shots will be plenty to incapacitate most monsters.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “A little silver dust stuffed inside the hollow points and your bad breath whispering prayers over the rounds? That’s supposed to do more than annoy the bad guy? Sounds like a terrible plan if I’ve ever heard one.”
“You know, I don’t remember you complaining this much during our time in the military. You seemed a little more eager to trust our respective pacts. Did I ever lead you astray back then? Why question it now?”
“A lot of shit has changed. I find myself with a little more to question and complain about these days. And, as you mentioned, I’m not necessarily too keen on pacts, anymore.” I stuffed the Beretta into my back waistband and clomped into the trees.
“Joey,” Xander called out. “You’re going the wrong way.”
We hiked through the forest along the South Fork American River. Whoever invented hiking was Charles Manson-level psychotic. I twisted my ankle on about eight different loose stones and hidden divots. It was ball-shrivelingly cold beside the running river, and the stupid trees blocked out all of the sun’s warmth. After about ten minutes, my muscles had fatigued to the point of numbness, but I limped on. Hey, I don’t want to hear it from you. Not once did I claim to be in any type of shape.
I stopped and put my hands on my knees, panting. “Go on without me,” I said, shooing Xander forward. “I can’t make it.”
To his credit, he actually stopped walking and turned around to admire my performance. “It’s just around that bend.” He pointed to about thirty-two miles—maybe it was twenty yards—in front of us, where the river bent inward and out of sight behind a line of trees. “Her home is just around there.” He continued navigating the rocky terrain of the river’s bank, somehow avoiding a twisted ankle—maybe I did needed a little more Jesus to guide my footsteps. “And think of it this way,” he continued, “you’ll have a brand new audience to berate and convince to hate you in about two minutes.”
“Wow,” I said, standing upright and following him with the pouty slowness of a teenager. “I can’t wait to meet my new best friend.”
Kids, don’t ever grow up. Life isn’t fun when you’re old and mature and boring. Stay young. Stay vile. Stay angry.
We made it safely around the bend without any further injuries. A few dozen feet off the shore, shaded by the forest, Xander pointed out a cabin that Ted Kaczynski would have been jealous of.
“You’re serious?” I asked. “Annabel Nevis lives in that kind of cabin?” I sat on the rocky shore and picked up a stone, tossing it from hand to hand. “Nope. Not happening, Xander. You know it’s not. I’ll bash my own skull in with this rock before I step foot in that cabin.”
“Joey, this fear you have… it’s irrational.”
“No, you’re irrational.” I scratched the stubble growing thick on my cheek and shook my head. “What’s my number one rule?”
“You have a lot of number one rules. I’m sure this one will have something do with cabins, though.”
“Don’t enter a cabin in the middle of the woods. Ever. For no reason at all. Under any circumstances. Have you seen any horror movie? People are in a cabin, in a forest, and they fucking… always… die. Black guy first.” I cleared my throat, alluding to him, and he rolled his eyes. “Super sexy, asshole jock second. That’s me. Now, the virgin, of course, always lives. That’s where we run into a problem. Not only are you black, but you’re also
