We walk on in silence until the cabin lights appear through the trees. The surrounding air becomes heavy, each step feeling like it takes longer to complete. A barn owl sails over our heads, landing on a nearby branch. I leap towards Cyrus, keeping my eyes on the owl. The centers of its dark eyes glow like smoldering coals—the same red-orange as the monster.
“It’s watching us,” Cyrus whispers, acknowledging the owl. “It’ll be waitin’ for when we bring Elias out.”
“Is that…?” My words fail me as a shiver races through my body. Cyrus nods. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder, something stranger happens to remind me I truly know nothing about this world.
Gettinginside the house is no easy task. It takes several tries for one of us to grip the knob on the back door firmly enough to turn it. I make several attempts, my fingers slipping right through the metal each time. “Why don’t we just walk through the door?” I groan.
“I wish it worked like that,” Cyrus sighs, “but I only seem to go through things when I’m not trying. It doesn’t exactly feel great either.” He gives it a try, finally managing to twist it after his third shot. The door creaks open, the hinges screaming. My chest tightens, waiting to see if Elias will stumble in. When hedoesn’t, we creep through the kitchen, stopping to peek into the living room before we enter.
Elias sits on the couch, drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey while he flips through static-filled channels on the television. He only pauses to scratch his belly and grunt about the bad reception. “Grouchy bastard. I tried to get him to change to satellite,” Cyrus chuckles darkly. I stifle a snicker behind my hand, not sure if he’s able to hear us.
“I’m glad to see death hasn’t touched your dark sense of humor,” I laugh, swatting playfully at his arm. It almost feels normal, not like we’re searching for some artifact to destroy so monsters out in the woods can kill his pop. My heart sinks, reminding me just how much everything has so rapidly changed. My thoughts become a sea of panic, drowning me in my new reality. I go to suck in air, but my chest burns when I try. Breathing exercises are apparently useless when you don’t have lungs.
“Jace,” Cyrus whispers, rubbing my arm. “Jace, I’m here. You’re okay.”
“I’m not okay,” I squeak, still frozen in place. “I’m dead, Cyrus. You’re dead. And we’re here...we’re here to help those things out there kill him.”
“You’re not wrong, but we’re also deadbecause of him. Think about how many other people he’s hurt, how many others he’s killed—all those faces on the flyers. They’d still be here too, if not for him and Ezra.” Cyrus grips my hands, pleading me with his eyes. “You can do this, little doe. You don’t have to keep being the deer stuck in the headlights.”
The deer stuck in the headlights. That’s what I’ve always been—wide eyed and afraid, scared to make a move, scared to pick a direction, fearing it might be wrong. I’ve always let other peoples’ choices hit me head on, hoping it wouldn’t instead of getting out of the way.
“Which way is his room?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“That’s my girl!” Cyrus praises, kissing me on the forehead. “It’s down the hall. We should be able to walk right past him. He never takes much notice of me anyway, not unless I want him to see me.”
Sure enough, we walk straight through the living room undetected. Elias’ eyes shift towards us as we walk past, but they fall right back to the television screen. He mumbles something incoherent, shivering slightly as we pass.
“This feels too easy,” I whisper as we reach the hallway.
“Even if he could see us, he’s probably so drunk, he’ll think he’s imagining it.” Cyrus shakes his head, a deep-rooted anger in his words. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve screamed in his face, only for him to rub his eyes and mumble about needing to cut back on his whiskey.”
The door to Elias’ room is open, and I sigh in relief. The light from the living room illuminates a small path leading to the bed. We wade through the piles of dirty clothes and trash strewn around the room across the floor. Old newspapers are tacked onto the wall, but it’s hard to make out what’s on them in the dark. My nose crinkles, my brain conjuring what this place must smell like, even though I can’t actually smell anything at all. Cyrus kneels, looking under the bed, while I stand cautiously behind him.
“Do you see anything?” I ask, looking behind me toward the door every few seconds. Cyrus grunts, crawling further underneath. The couch creaks from the living room, and uneven footsteps stumble down the hall. “Cyrus, hurry! He’s coming.”
“Holy shit, it’s really under here,” Cyrus exclaims, his voice muffled. There’s a scraping noise, glass against wood, and he groans, letting out several curse words. “Shit. I can’t tip it over.”
I dive to the floor, squeezing in beside Cyrus. Each time he reaches for the jar, it scoots just a little further away. My facefalls, my stomach dropping like I’ve missed a step going down the stairs. “Cyrus, it has a lid. Even if you knock it over, it’s not going to break.”
A shadow casts over the light from the hallway. “What in tarnation is making all that racket?” Elias hollers, staggering into the room. “Tha hell is goin’ on in here?”
Raw terror detonates inside me, and I throw my hand towards the jar, not stopping until I feel the glass collide with my palm. The room goes silent for a second, like all the sound in the world has been sucked out. My ears ring, the noise returning in an explosion of shattering glass. The jar bursts into pieces, scattering in all directions.
A deep growl reverberates through the room—and Elias screams.
33
JACE
The bedroom window lies shattered amongst the remnants of the jar. Shadows spill into the room, quickly filling the floor with a smoky haze. Still under the bed, I cling to Cyrus’ arm. He places one hand over mine, using the other to hold a finger to his mouth.
A large set of elk antlers protrude from the shadowy veil, the skeletal body of the monster following it. Its bones clack as it climbs into the room, antlers reaching the ceiling. The massive figure looms over Elias, opening its jaw. Black drool hangs from its maw, dropping onto Elias’ forehead.
“You can’t be in here,” Elias hollers, not bothering to wipe the spit from his skin. His words become disjointed, fumbling between each one. “It’s...it’s impossible... I made it... You...can’t...”
“The magic is gone,” the creature growls. The voice rumbles from its chest, its jaw unmoving. “A debt is owed, Elias.”
“It ain’t.” Elias’ face is covered in tears and snot, choking past it with every sob. “I swear it ain’t. Every year, I left somethin’, just like Ezra used ta. I gave you my boy. Ezra and his girl are gone too. What more do you want from me?”
