We were staying at a cabin in the recreation area for one night, and I had searched through some of Dad’s stuff I had in the attic, finally finding the paper map we’d used when we buried the cigar box, along with Dad’s old compass. I hoped there was some way he could guide me because if the bottom of the scroll was in the box, I had to get it back to someone to translate it.
Lilith had gone, and I was alone in the mortuary since Dr. Randall was tucked in for the night. It was a little too quiet, so I went to my computer to turn on a satellite radio station to listen to one of my favorite chat shows for some noise.
“In climate news, an international group of scientists studying the effects of climate change around the world have announced ahead of the United Nations Climate Change Conference in November that the Darvaza gas crater in Turkmenistan has extinguished.”
I stopped what I was doing and rushed to my computer. If the gas crater went out, Nyx and her legions could no longer hide there. As I went to the cable news channels and scrolled through their headlines to find only one cable news station mentioning the story, though they referred to the gas field as the Shining of Karakum.
A picture of the now extinguished field flashed on the screen. The field burned off poisonous gases, but the picture showed it wasn’t very big—two hundred to three hundred feet in circumference and ninety-eight feet deep. How could Nyx and her alleged multitudes fit in such a small place?
After hearing scientists had speculated that perhaps the natural gas reserve in the Karakum Desert was running out and had called for more research into the matter, I had a gut feeling Jo had sealed the portal, which meant ours at the mortuary andthe one outside of Sacramento might be the only two left open in the world.
That led to the worst possible conclusion I could come to—the fight was coming to Dearly & Son as Jo had inferred before. I released a heavy sigh, not sure if I was ready for the battle. The sand in the hourglass of time was winding down to its last few grains.
Suddenly, I had thirty things to do at once, but the first thing was to ensure Dr. Randall’s funeral wouldn’t be interrupted. I hurried up to the office where Amelie was busy with paperwork.
“Where’s Trent today?” My mind was racing, and I couldn’t finish a complete thought.
“He’s at The Mystical Palm. Why? What’s wrong?” She stood from the desk chair and walked to where I was staring out of the window while holding two bags of blood.
“Are those from Lilith?” I could only nod.
“How’s his radar working these days?” Trent, Amelie’s fiancé, was a psychic and medium, though our Amelie was the one who always said she was psychic.
I’d come to think of her as my quirky little sister, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be harmed in the upcoming battle for the Human Realm. She’d helped us conceive our daughter by donating her eggs, and I would never forgive myself if I couldn’t protect her... all of those I loved.
“Trent’s been fine as far as I can tell. Clearly, you’re on the brink of a panic attack. Let me call Dash to come home. He said he was going to the shop to finish his bike. I’ll get him back here.”
I took a few calming breaths to snap out of my impending stupor and turned to her. “No. Let him finish the bike. It means a lot to him, and we’re going to ride it to the lake with a little trailer behind it for our stuff. I’m probably overreacting. I’m going to call Trent and talk to him.”
“I’ll leave you to it. I’ll take these upstairs.”
Amelie relieved me of the bags of blood and hurried out of the office, closing the door behind her. She was very important to me, and I had to ensure nothing happened to her or her future husband.
I picked up the landline and dialed Trent. “The Mystical Palm.”
“Hey, it’s me, Keir. How’s your psychic connection to the other side?”
I glanced at the clock on my laptop to see it was just two in the afternoon. Amelie and I’d had salads for lunch because she’d just had her final fitting for her wedding dress. The wedding was this upcoming Saturday in San Francisco at the Palace Hotel.
Dash and I were two of Trent’s six groomsmen, which was why we were going to Lake Shasta on Wednesday and returning to Reardon on Thursday, so we could drive to San Francisco on Friday morning for the festivities.
Amelie’s parents had scrapped the winery for the wedding, going in favor of the Palace Hotel in downtown San Francisco. It was shaping up to be a fancy affair, and I was looking forward to it.
“My connection is wonky. I’ve been getting visions of some crazy woman storming into the store and wrecking my displays while she yells for some man named Claude. She’s dressed in clothes that look like they’re from the sixteen or seventeen hundreds, and she’s able to set things on fire with electrical currents that come through her fingers.”
“Can you tell if she’s real or a spirit?” It sounded very strange to me.
“I honestly don’t know. I don’t want Amelie coming here because I’m afraid of what the woman might do. She’s started calling me Claude, even though I insist that’s not my name.” Trent sounded distraught.
“You want me to come by? I have a funeral tomorrow, but my guest just needs to be dressed, and since Lake’s not here, I can do his makeup in the morning. I’ve got some time.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Keir, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll change and be on my way.”
I hurried upstairs and changed into jeans and a sweater before I went down to the funeral home to tell Amelie I was leaving. “I’m going to Trent’s store. I’ll be back.”
“Please see if you can put his mind at ease. I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, but he’s been agitated and freaking out. He told me not to come to the store. Is he having an affair? Is he getting cold feet?”
