 
The Hanging

By Elizabeth Dimercurio

Smashwords Edition

Text copyright © 2012 Elizabeth Dimercurio

All Rights Reserved

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1:Jingles the Cat

Chapter 2: The Journal

Chapter 3: Nick & Suzy

Chapter 4: The Monk

Chapter 5: Simon's Dream

Chapter 6: Onlookers

Chapter 7: Simon Meets the Monk

Chapter 8: Suzy & Nick

Chapter 9: The Monk's Dream

Chapter 10: Onlookers

Chapter 11: Follow the Leader

Chapter 12: On the Run

Chapter 13: Simon & the Onlookers

Chapter 14: The Journal

Chapter 15: Nick Joins the Fray

Chapter 16: The Casino

Chapter 17: Simon and the Journal

Chapter 18: Suzy Catches Up

Chapter 19: Vampires Come Knocking

Chapter 20: Confrontation

Chapter 21: Fighting the Demon

Prologue

"You will all regret this..." The man's beard was long and matted, so dirty it was impossible to know the true color. His wool pants may have been a confederate grey at one time, but now were so full of mud and dirt that they looked as if they had been stolen from a buried corpse. A tattered linen shirt that could never be clean again hung from his shoulders in defeat. It was difficult to imagine the shirt had ever been a crisp red, especially when looking at the torn sleeves where his dirty hands were tied together poking out behind his back, their nails long and yellow, scratching uselessly at a heavy metal chain that held them. A thick long rope was wrapped around the tree branch above his head; the other end rested patiently in a circle around his neck. "...especially you." He stared directly at Kim.

"Every witness here, as well as your offspring and their offspring will suffer. I promise this." The man continued talking, but Kim could only see his lips moving, the audio feature of her dream seemed to suddenly be on "mute". She tried to move and view the scene from a different perspective and found herself above the crowd, as if looking from a hot air balloon that was still tethered to the ground.

There were about one hundred people. Women, children, and men stood together dressed in clothing that appeared to be old western. The few darker-skinned men and women, perhaps Mexican or natives stood behind the rest of the crowd in a tightly-knitted group. Unlike the white people, they had no children or food with them.

Kim knew that a hanging in the old west was regarded for many of the time as entertainment, with the women bringing along picnic baskets and vendors selling items such as rosaries. She saw the baskets of food, but the onlookers didn't appear to be as festive. No one was speaking, either to the man or to each other.

Her feet were suddenly planted on the ground at her original vantage point and the volume instantly turned back on. Kim heard seagulls in the background, but could not make out what the condemned man was saying, an occasional word burst like a bubble in front of her, but made no sense, "...malkuth...yod eh..."

She felt someone brush aside her as he hurried up to the front. "Don't let him finish!" The panicked man grabbed the reins of the large bay horse attached to the wagon the prisoner was standing on and smacked them furiously against the huge beast's flank. The horse startled and jumped forward, dragging the wagon quickly out from under the feet of the condemned man.

Kim watched in horror as the man swung back and forth. The horror was shared by others in the crowd as the realization began to spread that the criminal's neck had not broken. He was still choking out words as his face turned purple with his eyes bulging out. The man who had startled the horse gaped in frustration. He turned to Kim and spoke to her directly, "Who are you?"

The atmosphere wavered around her like the heat from a car engine that had just been turned off. The scene didn't gradually fade, it instantly ceased to be.

Kim rolled over and sighed in her sleep, unaware that her cat Jingles was curled up around her pillow, staring into the space above her head.

Chapter 1 Jingles the Cat

Kim struggled to wake up. She couldn't breathe. Her mouth felt dry and full of cotton. She opened her eyes, wondering if she was having her first asthma attack at the age of twenty-four. All she could see was grey fuzz. Her protesting scream came out as a muffled honk.

"Jingles! Get off of me..." she heaved eighteen pounds of Maine Coon cat off of her chest and suddenly she could catch a clear breath. "It's enough to give a girl a nightmare."

Kim remembered her dream, the one she had been having two or three times a week since her grandmother died two months before. She had grown up at her grandmother's house where she and her parents had moved when she was two. Ostensibly, it was so that her parents could keep an eye on her grandmother. Realistically, it was because her dad had fallen off a motorcycle and injured his back and it was difficult for him to work. Hospital bills, pain killers, and whiskey had formed a marriage-killing combination and her father left when she was ten. Her grandmother taught Kim how to bake a banana cream pie to celebrate.

When Kim had nightmares, some more real than others, her grandmother helped her tell the difference between ones to pay attention to and ones that were harmless. She taught her that dreams that repeated were the ones to pay attention to.

When Kim was twelve she got up one morning and called the paramedics to go over to her dad's house because he was having an overdose of a mix of prescribed pain killers, over-the-counter sleep medicine, and alcohol. They arrived in time and her dad lived. She had been dreaming about it every night for two weeks, and woke up one morning sure it was "the morning" and called for help, even though she was miles away. Luckily, the 911 operator believed that she had spoken to her dad on the phone an hour before and was afraid for his safety.

The incident was a wake-up call for her father, who began doing bio-feedback and yoga for his pain instead of whiskey and pain pills. It wasn't long before he and her mother announced they were getting married again; Kim was thrilled. When they announced they were all moving to Berkley, California, she was horrified. After a prolonged battle with Kim and her grandmother on one side and her parents on the other, it was decided that Kim would stay with her grandmother and visit her parents on school breaks and in the summer. Berkley was much more pleasant in the summers than Tucson, Arizona, aside from the Birkenstocks that her mother would give her that she could never get quite used to wearing, so every summer she would end up spending the majority of the time barefoot. When she graduated from high school, she decided to stay in Tucson for college, because she only wanted to go part-time and pay resident tuition. In seven years, her parents had been out once a year for Christmas and she had visited them for a week each summer. She stayed in her grandmother's house and saw her every day.

Her grandmother went to sleep one night and died. It wasn't the lengthy battle with cancer that was often described in obituaries of ninety-year olds. It may have been the way she would have wanted it, but it certainly didn't help Kim sleep better at night wondering if a nightmare had finally caught up to her grandmother.

Kim started to come to terms with her grandmother's death after a solid week of dreaming that her grandmother came to talk to her about it and tell her she was all right.

Kim had spent the months since her grandma died trying to focus on college. She had finally accumulated enough part-time credits to transfer from the local community college to the University of Arizona with an associate's degree, but she still had no idea what she wanted to major in. It was no surprise she was having nightmares.

Kim didn't know if she should take a dream seriously when it repeated a past event, one she was not familiar with, and didn't know any of the people in. Last night had been a little different. Last night a man in her dream had spoken to her directly, as if she was actually there, not like all her other dreams where she was merely an observer. She shuddered and looked at Jingles.

"I think I dream it every time you decide to smother me at night. It's cats like you that make people tell those stories about babies having their breath stolen in their cribs." Jingles stretched and yawned, blinking at her with a sour expression.

"Fine. I'll feed you. Dry food." Kim walked out to the small kitchen next to the dining room with the cat trailing behind her so closely she could feel his whiskers on her heel.

"Are you talking to your cat again?" Kim's roommate and best friend Simon was already up and in the kitchen, detailing the sink with scouring powder and an old toothbrush.

"When you're done with that, I think there's a speck of dirt on the window in my bedroom." She laughed.

Kim and Simon had grown up in the same neighborhood, but they never really hung out together until their senior year in high school, after she briefly dated his cousin. The romantic relationship between Kim and his cousin had fizzled, but Kim and Simon became best friends. When his parents decided to sell their house and buy a ranch in Tombstone, he moved in with Kim and her grandmother. The three bedroom house seemed more spacious after a week of Simon living there, due to the fact that he spent the entire week cleaning from floor to ceiling, rearranging furniture, and taking bags of things to the Salvation Army that he swore they would never miss. Kim's grandmother refused to charge him rent, and began telling her friends she had a live-in housekeeper. He was the perfect roommate, except sometimes Kim felt like he was following her around with a broom and dustpan.

"That dirt speck wouldn't be in the triangular shape of a cat nose, would it?" Simon looked suspiciously at Jingles, who poked his nose on Simon's shin in response.

"You brought him here." Kim ducked as Jingles jumped over her head to the top of the refrigerator, with a brief second on the counter.

"Oh, that's right. A cat stows away in my car at the grocery store and this is my punishment." Simon began scrubbing the spot on the counter where the cat's feet had touched for a fraction of a second.

Kim found it impossible to believe that a grown cat the size of Jingles had snuck in Simon's car while his back was turned telling someone what time it was. Even if that did happen, she found it even less likely that Jingles had lain quietly on the floor of the backseat while Simon drove home. It was much more likely that one of Simon's friends had dropped off a cat that could no longer be cared for. Extremely likely if said friend knew Simon's penchant for cleanliness and was mad at him. Regardless of the true story, Kim felt compelled constantly to harass Simon for not at least smelling the "dirty germ-ridden fur ball" in the back seat. She also refused to let him take the cat to a shelter, if for no other reason than that the cat appeared a week after her grandmother died. The tiny silver bell on his collar inspired them to name him Jingles. At least the bell gave some warning when he decided to stalk one of them around a corner; she doubted the cat was going to be earning his angel wings in this lifetime.

"At least make him stay away from our food." Simon made as if to grab Jingles, who sat quietly blinking on top of the refrigerator behind the empty jewelry box Kim had inherited from her grandmother. The contents of the box had been sold to pay for the funeral. Instead of batting a paw at the hands coming toward him, Jingles reached a paw behind the jewelry box and shoved it off the fridge at Simon. In spite of Simon's awkward attempt to catch it, the box fell to the floor with a splintering thud. They both stood staring in shock, Kim because her grandmother's jewelry box was ruined, and Simon because there was a huge mess to clean up.

"Did you see that?" Kim asked.

"What a mess."

"No, I mean Jingles pushed it off on purpose."

"I told you he was a mess-maker." Simon bent down to pick up shards of wood while simultaneously pulling the garbage can closer to put them in. He held up a shiny object. "I thought you sold all the jewelry."

"I did." Kim looked at the necklace dangling in his hand. It was a plain silver cross hanging from a medium length chain. It looked like it weighed less than an ounce; it probably wouldn't have sold for much anyway.

She bent down and inspected the remains of the box. The box was completely broken apart, and she could see where there had been a false bottom, carefully placed over a small compartment that may have had a secret access from the top or front, but now it was impossible to tell if that had ever been the case. The necklace must have been in the compartment and flown out when the bottom broke off. She stuck her hand into the compartment and peeled out a book whose cover exactly matched the color of the box. It appeared to have been purposely matched to be nearly invisible if the back was taken off the box. It was only because the box was splintered around it that she saw it. She opened it in the middle and saw that it was hand-written in faded black ink.

"What is it?" Simon looked up from his shard pile.

"It's right up your alley." She held out the book to him. "Trade you."

Simon handed her the necklace and opened the book, the mess underneath him forgotten. The only thing that could distract Simon from a cleaning frenzy was something intellectual or historical. He hadn't gone to college mainly because he couldn't decide what he liked best. He read books on logic and mechanical engineering because of watching Star Trek. He learned Japanese after reading Shogun. He was a self-educated genius.

He had also spent an entire summer after high school working at the university library cataloguing journals from the 1800's, much like the one in his fist.

Kim looked at the cross in her hand and tried slipping the chain over her neck. It had just enough length to go over her head, and the cross nestled under her shirt on her chest. It felt warm.

"Oh my gosh, what time is it?" She asked.

"It's nine-fifteen."

"I have class in an hour. I have to go." She rushed toward her room to throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"I'll read this for you." Simon called after her. The front door slammed behind her as she went out to her car. He stood holding the book.

"I'll feed your cat, too." Simon said to the closed door. Jingles meowed and jumped on the counter.

"Sorry, I don't talk to animals." Simon scooped Jingles off the counter and poured dry food into the cat's bowl, then wandered off to his room with the book in his hand.

"I'll clean that later," he said to himself.

Chapter 2 The Journal

November 30th, 1858

It is so strange to me to be sitting here and writing about things that I am afraid to even speak aloud in an empty room for fear of what or who may be listening. I find myself looking over my shoulder several times to make sure no one is reading as I write. I believe that most spirits tend to spoken word, and have so never spoken a word about this to anyone.

I have been living two lives for the past six years. The first is that to which I have always aspired. I own a successful business; I have a loving wife and two children. The death of my second son, my third child, at less than two years old, weighs heavily on my conscience, although short of traveling back in time, I don't see any way to protect my family from the curse that I brought upon them. I would have to admit that it was the fire and death of Thomas that caused me to acknowledge that this life is a mirage. Books have power. Metal and stone can be our undoing.

My true commitment lies in the recesses I fear to give light or sound. I feel compelled to write an account of these things because my greater fear is that no one will be left with the knowledge necessary to defend our existence. I must organize my thoughts and repel the evil back to the abyss, and to do this I take my pen to this paper, as did my predecessors. If the abominable book is ever found, I pray it is someone who can repel evil from this land.

Six years past, it began innocently. Frances Hinton, my one true friend since we were both in short pants, wrote me to tell me of the wonderful adventures he was having out west. He included a small portion of gold dust in his letter to persuade me to understand the possibilities for a man of ambition to become a man of means. I had been mulling over my dissatisfaction with the path life was presenting to me. It seemed I was destined to be a clerk or at best a shopkeeper's assistant. I wanted to control my own destiny, and share it with a woman from a good family, not some peasant girl whose parents sailed over here in their youth.

Frances always had a way of convincing me that trouble was worth the rewards, all the way back to the Sundays when he would convince me to go fishing while others were studying scripture. I must admit that on those occasions I caught more fish than if I fished on a different day. I now think that perhaps the devil makes sure that no misdeed goes un-rewarded. Else why would anyone seek out sin?

I will not say that I jumped at the chance to join Frances in California, but I will say that it jumped at me. I will not regret my adventures entirely, for it was on the trip to California that I met my beloved Anna. Anna was the personification of the reason for leaving New York. She was genteel and beautiful. She had stature and poise. Her dark hair was always perfectly in place in the latest fashion. Her rosy cheeks offset her blue eyes perfectly. She never appeared hesitant or shy, but was also not garish or forward. No matter how hot the weather, she seemed to never be flushed or in need of her fan. She represented a class I had only imagined I could attain, and when she smiled upon me as an equal it encouraged me more than a thousand letters from Frances.

I wished that we had met on a ship traveling abroad to the orient, as I would have had more time to relish her. When I disembarked in San Diego, I made sure that her mother knew exactly what my intentions were. I promised Anna and her mother that I would send for Anna as soon as I had settled. Anna gave me a locket with her picture in it and promised to wait for me. I marched into San Diego with an iron backbone and a wish burning so brightly inside me I knew it would only be a short time before our dream was realized.

I believe that it was this single-minded focus that would prove to be catastrophic to many around me. If I had only paid more attention to the actions of others, perhaps I could have weighed in at the appropriate times with solid reasoning. I missed the nuances of the local politics and society. I believed that a town of five hundred, with a third of them being mexican or indian, couldn't have a strong undercurrent. It is precisely this mistaken belief that causes a man to drown in a sudden undertow while wading in four feet of water. I had mistakenly assumed that small town politics were less dangerous than that of their larger counterparts. If anything, the truth was the opposite, because at least in a large city it is possible to hide.

I took the money that I had saved and opened a store. Unbeknownst to me, I immediately created a scandal among the people of the town by speaking the languages of my customers. This didn't require much effort on my part; I have always had an affinity for languages and already had a strong grasp of French, Latin, and German. I believe the gossipers were most horrified when it was discovered I could converse with old Martin Kaufman in his Hebrew tongue. The Spanish and native dialects were not hard to penetrate, and I imagined that if I had more time, I could burrow into them all further to find the common roots. If I had paid as much attention to what was being said in English, perhaps I may have been more discreet.

The fact that my other hobby was reading books in every language didn't further my integration into San Diego society. I loved books. I always included requests for at least two with every order I placed, as well as purchasing or trading those from people who wished to have goods from the store. It soon became known that I would buy books no one could read, and I collected a pile of obscure texts.

I trusted Frances to negotiate the internal power structure of San Diego. I concerned myself with my store, my customers, my books, and my profits. People were never so offended they didn't spend money. In fact, my ignorance in local gossip caused me to be affable with everyone, and people liked me for it. I never had a negative comment about anyone and I agreed with everything my customer said. The few times I caught a drunk or a child stealing from me, I allowed them to work off the amount of what they had tried to steal. I gained a reputation of knowing things and being fair-minded. If I thought about this at all, it was only to realize that the less a man said the more people think what he did say was important. I never thought my lack of taking sides having potential to cause harm.

I missed the beginning of the whole affair because I was deeply immersed in translating a strange text that seemed to be part Hebrew and part Greek. I had traded the book for a few pounds of rice and flour from a local fisherman. I wish I had thought to ask where he had procured the text, exactly, but I was immediately taken with the age of the tome. It was printed in a concise hand, and seemed almost anti- biblical in nature. There were drawings on some pages, and I soon came to realize that I had stumbled upon a book meant for some sort of divination. I already had a copy of the old and new testaments in Hebrew and Greek, and used them to help me in my endeavor of translating the grimoire, as I had begun to suspect that was what it was. It was written in a very ancient Hebrew text with some Greek thrown in as well. I was thrilled to think I had discovered a text that was nearly the same age perhaps as the original gospels.

I was so overwhelmed with the tedious nature of the task it never occurred to me to question anyone else about the source. The rumor that a local had actually stolen the book from Yankee Jim the gambler never reached my ears. Luckily, the times the gambler perused my store were not the times I had the book out, but perhaps this is because the first time he visited me and asked about such a tome, I told my first lie, which was incredibly unbelievable even to my ears. He must have assumed I would not be able to read the book in any case, or perhaps he would have returned for it if certain events had not transpired.

I had thought that the death of Yankee Jim would be the end of it. I am taking my wife and children to San Francisco until I can determine how to make us safe.

Chapter 3: Nick & Suzy

Nick Harris looked over at his wife, Suzy. She sat in front of her computer, typing furiously and then stopping every minute or so to release a loud sigh.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked after the third pause and sigh from his wife.

"I'm worried about Simon."

"Why? He's fine."

Suzy took off her glasses and looked at him. "I don't like that girl he's living with. He should be in school. His incessant cleaning demonstrates some psychiatric issues." She sighed again. "And I have a bad feeling."

Nick sighed also. The reason why they had moved to Tombstone was to try to work out their differences, or at least find some sort of compromise. After twenty years of marriage, they still couldn't agree on core issues, especially when it came to their son. Nick wanted to let Simon alone and be himself. Suzy wanted to control every aspect of Simon's life, down to what toothbrush he used. Nick suspected that Suzy had a lot to do with Simon's penchant for cleaning.

The point was for them to live somewhere that was slower, and far enough away from Simon so they could try to live like a couple. Suzy could work on her books and papers, with her occasional consulting jobs for the government. Nick could lay tile and carpet for businesses and residents of Tombstone. The property they lived on used to be a large, working ranch that was run by Nick's grandfather. Over the years, most of the land had been sold or leased out to other ranchers for grazing rights. Now they lived in the main house, and had four acres fenced in around it. There were still two barns and a corral. Suzy kept saying she was going to get a couple of horses, but never put that plan into action. Nick used the barns to store his equipment and two atvs.

"Did you talk to him today?" asked Nick.

"Yesterday. He hasn't answered his phone yet today." Suzy sighed again and started typing.

"I'm sure he's just busy. He'll call back." Nick reassured her.

"I know. I would just be able to concentrate better if I spoke to him." Suzy sighed again.

"I'm going to the workshop." Nick walked out of the house to the larger barn. It was the most clean and organized workshop he had ever had. That was because he would rather spend time in it doing nothing than sitting and listening to his wife complain about Simon.

Chapter 4: The Monk

Kim barely made it through her Sociology of Pop Culture lecture without falling asleep. Luckily for her, there were at least fifty other nodding heads among the two hundred fifty students that kept her from standing out, and she was sitting in the back.

At the sound of the bell, she grabbed up her notes and shoved them into her backpack, along with her trusty tape recorder that would be her godsend later. She joined the throng of students exiting the building, counting how many people needed to get a pedicure to distract herself from the claustrophobic feeling she got whenever she was in a crowd.

She welcomed the rush of hot air on her face as she left the air-conditioned building, in spite of the fact it was like opening an oven door to check on the pizza. May in Tucson could be like July in other parts of the country. Only two more weeks until the semester ended, and she could look forward to summer classes. She mentally went over her schedule. First session...she had Sociology of Work...second session she had History 203, she forgot what that was again; she would have to check.

Kim was already halfway to her car when she realized two things. First, she wasn't sweating. In fact, she still felt as chilled as she had in the classroom. The second thing she noticed was that she was being followed. The realization was strange because she couldn't see exactly who or what was following her, just an oval-shaped disturbance in the atmosphere that constantly remained ten feet behind her, like a mirage in reverse. The difference between the mirages she had seen on the asphalt while driving and this image was that the distortion was not on the ground, and it was gradually shortening the distance between itself and her, as if it realized that she noticed it.

She was in sight of her car when the image began to take a more definite shape and develop color. It was morphing into the hanged man of her dream, complete with the noose around his neck. He was closing in on her, taking broad steps with a maniacal smile on his face. She frantically dug in her purse for her car keys, simultaneously hurrying to the driver's door. Just as she felt the horrible apparition's hand grabbing her shoulder she heard a voice to the side.

"Begone!"

Kim instantly felt warm again. She turned to see a short bald man in a red toga looking back at her.

"Don't you think it would be prudent if we got in the vehicle? I am not sure if or when he will regain enough energy to return." The man looked at her expectantly.

Kim unlocked the door to her Nissan Sentra, wondering when she was going to have enough money to install automatic locks instead of using a key. She pushed the button that unlocked the passenger side, allowing the man to get in. She started the engine, cranked the air conditioner, and pointed the car home.

"How refreshing. A young lady who doesn't waste time talking. Silence is the first key to self-knowledge." The man stated after a few minutes.

Kim said nothing and continued driving in silence. The truth was that she had too many questions to start, so she didn't. Besides, she needed a chance to cool off and think.

Chapter 5: Simon's Dream

Simon knew he was dreaming because the man sitting in front of him was his great-grandfather, "Buck" Harris. He recognized him from the few photographs he pored over constantly from his dad's collection.

Buck was dressed in gray woolen pants and a white button up shirt. He had a gun holster around his hip, complete by the piece of rawhide keeping the holster from swinging out when he pulled his gun. His hair was gray and just above his shoulders, sticking out of the back of his black cowboy hat that was pulled down almost to his nose, making him look serious. It was a getup that looked straight out of Dressing Like a Cowboy for Dummies.

The fact that Simon was no longer in his room sitting at his desk, but instead sat across from his great-grandfather at a table in a saloon, made Simon further deduce that he was having a hell of a dream.

"Quit wondering if you're really here or not and deal." Buck motioned to the deck of cards in front of Simon.

Simon looked at the worn, blue diamond deck in front of him. In the middle of the table sat six columns of five carefully stacked silver coins. He assumed that was the pot. Simon hesitatingly picked up the deck in front of him, shuffled, and dealt them each five cards, the beginning of the five-card draw game that was the game in his grandfather's day. He looked at his cards, it was all four aces and the jack of spades. This was most certainly a dream.

Simon looked to Buck to see how many cards he wanted. "I'll stand with what I got."

"So will I." Simon put his cards down face up, smiling. He reached for the pile of silver coins.

"Not so fast." Buck grabbed Simon's wrist with one hand and laid down his cards. He had a royal flush in hearts. "Now you listen up. Don't let anyone else get their hands on that book you got...there are a lot of people that are wanting it. This game's going to get really rough."

Simon's eyes narrowed. "How'd you get a royal when I had all the aces?" He instantly found his eyes staring at the barrel of a gun pointed at him.

"What did I just tell you?" Buck asked, pulling back the hammer.

"I heard." Simon answered. He jolted awake to the book hitting the floor sounding too much like a gunshot. He sat up at his desk and looked at Jingles, who was sitting in front of him staring at the space above his head like it was a television screen.

Chapter 6: Onlookers

Two men sat in a black Escalade with tinted windows in a parking lot at the University of Arizona. They each wore black cowboy hats and sunglasses, in spite of the fading light outside. The driver stared out the front window, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel. His companion sat next to him in the passenger seat holding a notebook computer open on his lap.

"His trail ends here," said the driver, he glanced at the open computer.

"Pull up the cameras from a few hours ago and see if there's anything," he ordered the passenger.

The passenger typed on his computer furiously, and then smiled. "Here it is." He tilted the screen toward the driver. It showed a man wearing a red toga getting into a Nissan.

"Focus on the license plate," ordered the driver. "Run it through DMV."

"It's registered to a Kimberly Waters." A picture of a driver's license with address flashed on the screen. "Should we go there?"

"First pull up anything you can on her. I want to know what the connection is."

The passenger typed furiously on the keyboard, his fingers flashing so fast they blurred.

"Kimberly Waters. Age 25. 5'3". 115 pounds. Blonde hair, blue eyes. She has an associate's degree in general education from Pima Community College. She transferred to the University of Arizona a year ago. Still undecided major. Her classes are all over the place, but she always gets "A"s. Her grandmother died two months ago. She has a cat, or at least is buying food for one. She has no priors and no trouble. Her parents were divorced, remarried, live in Berkley. She sees them a couple of times a year. She lives with a Simon Harris, who works part time at a library. He has a blog...he seems to be a self-educated expert in many areas. Hmmm." The passenger looked up. "Shall we go check out the house?"

"I'm not sure. Pull up that video again."

The passenger tapped a few keys and the video started again.

"Freeze." The driver ordered. The picture stopped. "Focus on the girl." The camera zoomed in to Kim getting into the car. Sunlight reflected off the cross around her neck. "Zoom in to the necklace." The picture focused on the cross.

"Why does it always have to be crosses?" groaned the passenger.

"Let's go to the house. But let's try to be incognito." The driver shifted the Escalade into gear.

"Oh yes. Because two cowboys dressed all in black in a black suv is soooo unnoticeable." The passenger rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Chapter 7: Simon Meets the Monk

Kim entered the house with her toga-wearing tag-a-long trailing closely behind her. Simon and Jingles were sitting on the couch watching Animal Planet. The book was nowhere to be seen and of the two, Jingles seemed the most interested in the television. Jingles jumped off the couch and walked over to Kim's guest and bit him in the foot.

"Ouch."

"Jingles!" Kim picked up her cat and had a sudden flash of Dorothy standing before Mrs. Gulch in The Wizard of Oz. She giggled. "Don't worry. He plays a little rough."

Simon stood up and patted Jingles on the head. "Actually, that's the first time I've ever seen him do that." He gestured to Kim's companion. "Who's the monk?"

"Oh, this is..."

"Frank." The man extended his right hand out to Simon, who took it warily.

"Hmm. A Buddhist monk named Frank. Don't you guys get to pick out your name?"

"I think you are confusing Buddhism with Catholicism. While it is true that a Catholic acolyte is given a new name at the appropriate time, I am afraid that an aspiring buddha must accept what is." Frank rubbed his heel. "For instance, one must never be angry with a creature that follows his nature."

"Where's the book?" Kim asked.

"The book?" Simon shrugged. "Where did Grandma get that jewelry box?"

"She bought it at a yard sale a few years ago. She was really excited about it."

Simon sat on the couch, gesturing for Kim to sit beside him. "Well. What a find..."Simon's eyes narrowed as Frank leaned closer to the pair. "It's a collection of recipes and how-to's from prairie wife in the late 19th century. I'm totally going to try some of the recipes. Where can I buy buffalo? I'm thinking about opening a restaurant. I'll be famous." Simon grabbed Jingles before he could attack Frank again and hugged him.

"You, famous?" Kim giggled. "Isn't the journal mine?"

Simon rolled his eyes. "Ok. You can be a waitress." He stopped. "Can we trust you not to steal the television while we go grab dinner for all of us?" Simon directed the question to Frank.

Frank stared nervously at the cat. "I'm afraid I don't have any money to contribute. Perhaps I could make something with what you have here?"

"Nonsense. It's my treat." Simon dragged a shocked Kim toward the door, Simon never treated. Ever.

"Come on, Kim. We'll take my car. It has air-conditioning." Simon pushed her onto the porch. "Just don't make any sudden moves. I'm not sure what Jingles will do." They both looked back to see Frank sitting uncomfortably on the couch, with Jingles sitting on top of the television across the room, staring at him intently.

Immediately after getting in the car, Kim turned to him. "What is going on?"

"It's not a recipe book. It's a journal. Thomas Whaley's journal from the 1850s."

"Who is Thomas Whaley?" Kim asked.

Simon rolled his eyes again. "In 1853, the citizens of San Diego hung a man for stealing a row boat. His name was Yankee Jim and it took him 18 hours to die. By the time he was pronounced dead by the sheriff, everyone had left. Thomas Whaley was there, and later he built his house over the exact spot that they had hung Yankee Jim. I guess it was because he got the land cheap." Simon laughed.

"That's my dream." Kim sighed with relief. "That explains why I've been having it. His journal was here."

"The only thing I can't figure out is all the blank pages in the middle of the journal. Why would someone write on a few pages, and then skip and then write again?" Simon took the journal out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Kim carefully flipped through the pages, looking for the blank ones. "What blank pages?"

Simon turned to a page in the middle of the book. "These ones."

Kim looked at the strange patterns and words on the pages. "They're not blank."

"Kim. What do you see?" Simon put the page in front of her.

"I don't know. Patterns. Words I don't recognize."

"Can you trace them ?"

Kim looked at the page. "Sure."

Simon handed her a pen. "Okay. Trace the pages from here, to here." He indicated ten pages. "Don't press too hard. Use a light touch."

Kim grabbed his felt-tipped pen he extended. "Great. Homework."

"Don't tell Frank." Simon pulled the car into the nearby sandwich shop. He got out of the car, leaving it running for the air conditioning. "I'm going to just grab three veggie subs."

"Why can't I tell Frank?" Kim yelled after him.

"Uncle Buck said not to." Simon said over his shoulder as he shut the car door.

When they got back to the house, Frank was sitting on the couch in the same position as when they had left. Jingles still sat on the tv, staring at him.

"Jingles. Quit being naughty." Kim picked up the cat and placed him on the floor. Jingles still stared at the monk.

"Stay." Simon told the cat. Jingles blinked at him and growled, then lifted a hind leg and started licking his behind.

Kim laughed. "I think he's trying to tell you both something."

Simon sat on the couch next to Frank, handing him his sandwich. The three began eating their sandwiches.

Simon's phone rang. "Hi, mom. I'm fine." He took a bite of his sandwich. "I can't really talk right now. Eating. I'll call you back later." He hung up the phone.

Kim's mouth dropped open. "Did you just hang up on your mom?" Her eyes remained on him, unblinking.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I did." Simon reached for his phone, as if to call her back. Then he shook his head and took another bite of his sandwich.

"What can you tell us?" Simon asked Frank, in between mouthfuls.

Chapter 8: Suzy and Nick

"He hung up on me." Suzy slammed her cell phone down on the table.

"Did he say he was okay?" Nick asked.

"He said he was...and he was eating." Suzy's eyes started to well up with tears.

Nick stifled a laugh. "I'm sure he really is."

Suzy opened a program on her computer. She sniffed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Nick got up and leaned over to hug his wife. "It means it's time for you to cut the apron strings. Let him be." He looked at her computer screen as he stood up. "What's that?"

"What do you mean?" The computer screen had a visual of Kim and Simon's living room. The two sat on the couch, eating sandwiches. There was a third person, a man that looked like a Buddhist monk, also eating a sandwich. Their cat sat in front of him, staring.

"You put a web cam in Simon's house?" Nick asked disbelievingly.

"It's for emergencies." Suzy answered.

"Three people sitting around eating sandwiches is not a fucking emergency." Nick put his hand on her shoulder. "Turn it off."

Suzy shrugged off his hand. She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. "Fine."

"Now." Nick moved away.

Suzy clicked on the record button without her husband seeing it. "Fine." She shut the computer, smiling slightly to herself.

"At least it doesn't include sound." Nick sighed.

"Um. Of course not." Suzy got up and stretched. "I'm craving a sandwich, want one?"

"Nope." Nick clicked on the tv and watched his wife walk into the kitchen. He sighed and started channel surfing.

Chapter 9: The Monk's Dream

"I'm here because of the dream." Frank started. "It is what led me here. The dream is not just about the journal, or about what happened to Yankee Jim, although that is part of it."

"Wait a minute." Simon almost choked on his sandwich. "How did you know about the journal?"

"I had a vision. I knew immediately when I saw your 'cookbook', that it was the diary of Thomas Whaley. I understand your desire to keep it a secret; it has a very powerful story to tell."

Frank placed his sandwich on the coffee table and continued. "As you may know, sometimes when a person dies horribly, his or her spirit may be trapped in between this plane and the next. What you may not know, is that when there is a specific combination of events, every spirit in the area may be trapped as well."

"I have had this dream repeatedly. I truly believe that all the people at the hanging and those who died in the area afterwards are trapped in limbo until they can be released. That is my purpose. To release the lost souls."

"I thought Buddhists didn't believe in ghosts." Kim took the journal out of her purse, and began flipping through the pages.

"These are not ghosts. They are spirits that need to cross over and reincarnate. They are lost souls." Frank picked up his sandwich and began eating it again.

"Okay. I like history and all, but you're crossing over from fact to myth." Simon picked up Jingles, who was easing his way over to Frank's foot. "I know that stories about ghosts and crystal skulls, vampires, and the boogeyman are only relevant in how they portray the society in the time that they are told. It is not real."

"I'm not here to convince you as to the truth of the matter or not, however, as a skeptic, would it not interest you to observe the rituals that are hundreds of years old?" asked Frank.

"I'm going to check the mail," said Simon.

"That means he's going to smoke a cigarette." Kim sighed and started tracing the pages she still had not finished.

A few minutes later, Simon came back in enveloped in an odor of cigarette smoke, carrying a stack of mail. "Bills and magazines." He carefully placed the pile in a basket on the counter marked Incoming Mail. "But there's a not so inconspicuous SUV with tinted windows parked down the street a little way. I couldn't tell if anyone was inside, but it looks pretty trying to be undercover to me."

"Maybe someone is getting ready to finally bust that meth lab down the street," Kim answered. "Done!" She handed the pages to Simon. "Can you tell what it is?"

Simon flipped through the pages. "Well, it proves you are not hallucinating and I don't think you're crazy."

"Thanks. What is it?"

"It's a grimoire."

"A what?"

"A spell book. There were all sorts of them hidden around Europe in the dark and middle ages. Most of them were destroyed by religious zealots. Hold on." Simon brought over his laptop and typed in a search, pulling up a web page. Kim and Frank crouched behind him looking at the screen. "This is the Key of Solomon, see the different talismans?" He flipped through the pages. "Each talisman is for a different spell. Use the talisman and the right words and it was thought the user could do everything from control the weather to raising the dead."

"You don't actually believe that, do you?" Kim asked.

"Not hardly," Simon leaned back, "Although there are some crackpot scientists who are trying to prove a correlation between ancient magic spells and quantum physics."

Kim raised her eyebrows.

"The theory being that by producing the right sound waves, with the right expectations of the participants, it actually is possible to bend the laws of the universe," Simon explained.

"Again, you don't actually believe that do you?"

Frank interjected. "There is a similar school of thought in Buddhism. That by intoning the right sounds with the right frame of mind, Buddha could perform miracles. That it would be possible for anyone to perform a miracle."

"This grimoire looks incomplete. But all the spells in it are related to raising the dead and spirits. The problem is that it is written in a language I'm not that familiar with."

"What?"

"Hebrew," Simon looked at the pages, "Really really old Hebrew, with some smatterings of Greek and Latin. It seems to be a copy with something resembling Aramaic with people adding in things all along."

"It is as I told you. The book is the key for me to help the souls cross over." Frank said. "And I don't think the truck parked outside is there to watch your neighbor. Also, I don't think the truck will still be there in the morning. If they were planning on something tonight, it would have begun. Perhaps we need to sleep on it and decide in the morning."

Chapter 10: Onlookers

The two men sat in the escalade looking down the street at the house.

"It doesn't seem like the kind of place a hunter would be hanging out," said the passenger.

"Don't you remember Jerusalem?"asked the driver.

The passenger sighed. "I suppose, but that's giving them a lot of credit."

"Except that's Frank in there and not one of his acolytes," the driver stated. "Let's tag the Nissan. It's her car, the one we saw in the video."

"What if they take the other car?"

"I doubt that one could get far. Put flags on her debit and credit cards, if she goes anywhere, we'll know about it."

The passenger got out without making a sound. He snuck up to the Nissan and slid a nickel-sized disc behind the license plate. He turned and came face to face with a skunk looking at him inquisitively. He slid around and went back to the truck.

"I didn't like that."

"Did you alert anyone?" asked the driver.

"No, but I almost surprised a skunk. Sometimes there's something to be said for making some noise."

"Ha. You mean the skunk surprised you." The driver laughed. "Let's get out of here before the sun comes up."

The truck pulled out of the street.

Inside the house, a man sleeping in his red toga rolled over, dreaming the dream of a skunk.

Chapter 11: Follow the Leader

Kim tossed and turned fitfully all night. When she did sleep, she could only dream about the hanging. The sun was barely poking its fingers through her blinds when she got up to make coffee.

She was just getting the water in the carafe when Simon came up behind her. "Why are you up so early?" He asked. She almost dropped the carafe in the sink.

"Don't sneak up on me." Kim continued by putting the coffee grounds in the machine.

"Where's your guard cat?" Simon laughed.

"He's sitting outside Frank's door." Kim had tried to get Jingles to come out and eat, but the cat was more interested in standing guard in front of the bedroom that her grandmother had used. She still could hardly believe that she had offered the use of the room to a stranger, but there was something familiar about Frank, and she felt better about him being in a room with a door that would keep her crazy cat from suffocating him in his sleep.

"Look out the window and see if the truck's there." Kim asked Simon while waiting for the coffee to brew.

Simon left the kitchen to go to the living room and look out the window. Kim got two mugs out of the cupboard and milk from the refrigerator.

"Nope." Simon came back, "It's gone. I guess your freaky monk friend was right about one thing." He grabbed the mug of coffee Kim had just filled up for him.

"I know he's a little freaky, but he seems to know more about what is going on than the rest of us." Kim took a sip of her coffee. "Besides, he saved me from some weird stuff at school."

"How do you know he didn't cause the weird stuff, Kim?"

"I don't." she sighed. "But I do know that he is the key to what is going on here, and besides..."she broke into an Al Pacino accent from Scarface, "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer."

"That wasn't even a line from the movie." Simon laughed.

They were interrupted by the loud sound of a cat whine and growl.

"I guess Frank's up too. I'll get Jingles." Kim moved to the hallway, and scooped up Jingles, who sat growling in front of the door Frank was trying to exit from.

"Come on Jingles. Lighten up." Kim carried Jingles back to the kitchen. "There's coffee made." She spoke over her shoulder to Frank.

Frank came into the kitchen and gratefully accepted the mug of coffee Kim held out to him. He took a sip and spoke. "Last night my visions told me why I have met you. Dark forces have found you, forces that have access to the same visions...it was only luck that I found you first. I need your help to rescue the lost souls." Frank sat back and closed his eyes.

Kim thought about how Frank almost wasn't the first one to find her. Leaving was still out of the question. "I can't leave school again, and go running off with Frank the monk to where? And why?" Kim stood up and began pacing, dumping Jingles on the floor, who began inching toward Frank.

"I am not certain. I think we need to go back to where this started to find the answers, to San Deigo." Frank said.

Kim looked down at the floor. Jingles casually rolled on his side inches from Frank.

"I don't know what kind of crap is going on, but I am not missing finals. I am not listening to this anymore." Kim went to the living room and sat on the couch and looked out the window at the prickly pear cactus in the front yard. Jingles jumped on her lap, rubbing his face and whiskers on her stomach. He froze as Frank and Simon walked into the room, and turned to jump onto Frank's face. Kim caught the cat as he was leaping off her lap. Jingles put his ears flat and went limp like a deflated balloon. Kim opened her mouth to admonish him, when there was a huge crashing sound in the kitchen. They all three rushed to the door to look in. Every cupboard was open and dishes were casually being tossed out by an invisible hand, one cup and plate at a time were being dropped to the floor and splintering into shards.

"Stop?" Kim half-raised her voice, not sure exactly where she was directing it. As if appreciating the audience, the crash-cleaning picked up speed. All the doors of the cupboards began to open and shut.

"Okay. I pack for myself and the cat. Simon, get the...laptop...and whatever else you need. Frank...watch the dishes." Kim dragged Simon down the hall. "Hurry up. We can clean all this up when we get back.

The tip of the sun had just disappeared behind the mountains when the black Ford Ranger pulled into the driveway of Kim and Simon's house. The passenger got out, this time dressed like a cowboy, in that he was wearing black jeans, boots, shirt and a black cowboy hat pulled low to the bridge of his nose, as well as large dark wire-trimmed glasses that covered enough of his face that his own mother would have a hard time identifying him; a man that anyone who saw him would later say, "a cowboy guy". No one saw him pull off his sunglasses to reveal handsome features and striking blue eyes. No one wondered if he was a movie star trying to be incognito as he walked up to the front door. He sighed and got back in the truck.

"They're gone. I told you we should have tagged both the cars."

The driver answered, "Well, you have to be right every now and then. I guess we'll have to follow them the old-fashioned way, we know where they're headed."

The driver put the truck in gear and headed it in the direction the sun had last been seen.

Suzy quietly turned her computer off and pulled a pen out of her purse. She wrote a note, telling Nick where she was going. After seeing and hearing what was going on in Tucson, she sure as hell wasn't going to sit there and wait for something to happen to Simon. She knew the group was headed to San Diego, but was still thankful she had put a gps device in Simon's phone. It would be much easier to track his exact location.

The part that disturbed her was the men in the Escalade that had tagged Kim's Nissan. She had run the plate, and it came up as belonging to a rancher in Benson. She doubted it. The disturbing part was that the group seemed to be as technologically advanced as she was, and that implied government connections.

She would never convince Nick to go, so it was better to sneak off and let him know after the fact. She knew he would be up any minute, but probably wouldn't actually come down to the kitchen until he took a shower. She had at least a half hour before he knew she was gone. That was plenty of time.

Chapter 12: On the Run

"Explain to me again why we couldn't take my Nissan...you know the car that doesn't cease functioning for no apparent reason?" Kim's voice dripped with sarcasm as she looked at the check engine light glaring back at her from the dash of Simon's 1987 Datsun.

"Because it leaves your astral trail, which apparently is easy to follow." Simon turned to Frank, who sat in the back seat trying to ignore Jingles staring at him without blinking through the bars of his carrier. "Why is that again?"

"Because her..." Frank began.

"Wait, I think I have it. Her astral body has been visiting the spirit realm so now everyone's got her astral scent...including you, right? You all are just a big lot of spiritual bloodhounds, now aren't you?" Simon turned back around. "Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me, I mean, if they can follow your trail it shouldn't matter what car you're in."

"It is necessary that we travel in this car." Frank stated.

Kim ignored them both. First, she was irritated with Simon because he had delayed their leaving by hours. He had insisted on cleaning the mess in the kitchen. He had insisted on stopping at a car wash and washing his car, and would probably still be detailing it if she hadn't pulled the window-cleaner bottle out of his hand and thrown it in a nearby dumpster. She knew cleaning was his therapy, but by the time they actually left town it was past noon. They had only driven for a few hours when the check engine light came on. One thing Kim knew about check engine lights was that if you pulled over to check the engine, it tended not to start again. It was better to keep driving until they found a place they didn't mind being stuck in. Unfortunately, they had already reached the part of the road that was nearly desolate. A sign a few miles before had said that there was a rest area coming up, she would pull over there.

The car was going about thirty miles an hour and Kim was driving with her hazard lights flashing in case a car came up behind her, although in the daylight it was easy to see there were very few cars on the road. It was a shortcut to San Diego on the weekends, not traveled much during the week; most of the traffic going to California opted to take Interstate 10 the whole way, since it was freeway. She coaxed the car off the road, pulling over and across the road to the rest area.

The rest area consisted of a women's and men's bathroom that looked like the ones at Arizona state parks. There were no lights in the bathrooms, and the building sat next to an old convenience store in front of a hotel that looked desolate, but thankfully, there was a hotel.

Through the window of the store, Kim could see a grizzled woman wearing a dirty green smock standing bored behind the counter flipping through a magazine. She looked like she fell off the back of a bike twenty years before and stayed.

The motel looked like there were about twenty rooms, each with a door facing the parking lot, near the store. There was no office. The parking lot was empty. Kim worried that the motel was closed. It looked like there was a light on in the office on the side, but it was hard to tell for sure because the window was so dirty. Kim pulled the car around the behind the motel so that anyone who pulled into the area would not spot it immediately. She parked it next to a rusted out Chevy pickup that looked to have sat there since the thirties.

"I'm going to see if the clerk knows anything. Wait here." She left the car to the protests of Jingles in his carrier, knowing he would rather be walking around on his leash, but she didn't particularly feel like being walked yet. Besides, it would give Frank and Simon something to talk about, since they had each been so silent for the whole trip.

Kim walked to the store where the only person she had seen here was. Even in the late afternoon with the sun blazing down on her, this rest area gave her the creeps. There was something off about it. Even if it was in the middle of nowhere, there should have been some signs of people. It didn't feel like there was no one there, it felt like a lot of people were watching her from behind a curtain. She put it down to the fact that someone she couldn't see was chasing down her trail. She wondered if they could figure out what was wrong with the car and not have to be here after the sun went down.

The woman barely glanced up from her magazine when Kim walked into the store. Either customers weren't really that scarce, or she was intruding on an engrossing article. Kim picked up some Ritz crackers, tuna for herself and Jingles, water, soda, and five Monster energy drinks because she found the name ironic.

The cashier slid her magazine over to the side and began to ring up Kim's items. She had no expression on her face and Kim could see she had been reading Popular Mechanic.

"Quiet today." Kim said.

"Yep." The woman's eyes were bloodshot and puffy, like she had just stopped crying. "That's twelve fifty."

"Is there by chance a mechanic around here?" Kim asked as she handed the woman a twenty.

"Yep."

"Do a lot of people live out here?"

"A few." The woman handed back her change and started bagging up the items. "There's about twenty trailers around back, people stay there."

"Um. What about the mechanic?"

"You driving the Datsun?"

"Yes."

The cashier handed Kim the change, then grabbed some keys from behind the counter. She motioned Kim out the door and followed her outside, locking the door behind her. Kim stood and waited, wondering why she didn't just call the mechanic. They both walked over to the car.

"She's going to bring over a mechanic." Kim explained to the three puzzled faces looking at them.

"I am the mechanic." The woman answered. "Pop the hood."

Kim felt ridiculous as she pulled the lever under the dash for the hood to open. It wasn't as if the woman was a chatterbox. It was like trying to glean information from a turtle. Jingles was better at communicating than this woman.

The woman took a second to pull her hair up into a ponytail with the rubberband she had on her wrist. Kim could see that she must be a natural blonde, and underneath the sun and smoke damage, was actually somewhat attractive. If she were cleaned up and wearing make-up she might not have to sit out in the middle of no where with no company.

"Turn the key." The woman called.

The car did nothing. The woman came around and looked up at the dome light. "Does the radio turn on?"

"No."

"Did the check engine light come on?"

"Um. Yeah, a few miles back, then when I pulled in here it just stopped."

"Well, I can charge up your battery for you, but it sounds like a bad alternator. If you have far to go, you'd better do both." The woman shut the hood. "I'll order the parts. Probably cost around two-fifty. Plus a room is forty. Looks like you'll be staying overnight. I don't work at night. Can't do it till the morning."

Kim marveled at the length of the cashier/mechanic's monologue.

"I'll have to put in on my card." Kim said.

The woman opened her mouth to reply when Frank walked up closer. He handed the woman a wad of cash. "Please. Allow me."

The woman counted out the cash, it was two-hundred and fifty. "All-right. Come back with me and I'll get you the key. It's room 3 if your friends want to unload." The woman and Frank walked back to the convenience store.

Simon came up next to Kim, holding Jingles in his carrier. "What was that about? I thought that Buddhists took a vow of poverty."

"Yeah. I think that's Catholic priests too." Kim took the carrier from him. "Let's just get out what we need."

Simon opened his trunk and pulled out a box of cleaning supplies. "I know without opening that room door I need these."

Frank walked back and handed a key with a plastic key ring on it with the number "3" on it to Kim.

"You didn't have to pay for it." She said as she took the key.

"I felt obligated. It was my idea to take the car, however brilliant it may have seemed at the time, it still was the root of the problem." Frank shrugged.

"Simon thinks that Buddhists are supposed to be poor, you know like priests."

"Helping people is the fundamental principle of Buddhism. In this case, I used money to help you. I think even you Catholics know that the love of money, not money is the root of evil." Frank smiled.

Simon snorted. "Can we get out of the heat?" He grabbed the key from Kim and hurriedly opened the door. "It's like taking off a band-aid, gotta do it quick."

Kim felt like she had walked on to a movie set for a bad slasher film. The room had one-inch yellow and brown shag carpet from the early seventies, if she had brought her metal detector she probably could find all sorts of things in it. There were two beds, each with yellow and brown coverlets that blended nicely with the carpet. The ceiling was popcorn, probably full of asbestos, but there were enough cobwebs on it to seal it all in. The bathroom was so small, if two of them stood in it and closed the door, no one would be able to move. There were one-inch tile on the floor, counter, and shower, all with grout that may have started a lighter color, but was now definitely black. The shower curtain had metal hooks and was semi-see through...Hitchcock would have loved it... Thank God the toilet was clean, in fact it looked newer than everything else in the room.

"Time to get to work." Simon set down the box of cleaning supplies and pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of it. "What am I going to do without a vacuum cleaner?"

Kim set down the cat carrier with Jingles in it. "Don't get carried away. But even I have to agree I could do with some germ-killing chemicals right now." Kim unloaded the cat box and filled it with litter before unlocking the carrier. "I think there is a conclave of drug-dealers living behind the store."

She watched as Simon started spraying all-purpose cleaner on the small table next to the window.

"Explain your reasoning." Frank asked calmly.

"Well, there are at least fifty trailers down the hill behind the store next to this motel and we are in the middle of nowhere. That usually indicates people who are really poor or really have something to hide. " Kim opened the carrier and Jingles jumped out, growling at Frank.

"I will be meditating in the bathroom." Frank hurried in and shut the door, just as Jingles made a pounce toward him.

"I need to clean in there next. Simon raised his voice after him. "Your cat really doesn't like him." he commented.

"I think it's the red..." Kim hoisted the full litter box into the closet. Jingles walked back and forth behind her, now having more pressing concerns than eating a monk.

"I've never seen a cat cross his legs before." Simon said.

"Laugh away. If I were you, I'd open a window." Kim shut the door of the closet enough so Jingles could get in, but so that he wouldn't have them as an audience.

Simon stopped laughing and sat at the little table next to the window, which he opened and put his face to the screen. "Mmmm. Yummy. Old screen smell." He dug in his box and pulled out a can of air freshener, and began spraying the screen. "Should I clean the window? It's gross."

Kim shrugged and picked up the tv remote and pointed it at the blank wall where the tv stand stood empty. "Great. I guess you don't have to dust the television."

Kim jumped awake and saw Jingles blocking the bathroom door so Frank couldn't step out without being attacked. She saw that she had fallen asleep on one of the beds, and Simon was still staring out the window. It was now dark outside. Jingles walked away from the bathroom with a bored look on his face, jumping on the bed and curling into a ball with his back to the monk.

"Hey, you guys better come and take a look at this." Simon pointed out the window. "I knew I should have cleaned these, everything is blurry."

Kim turned the light off in the room so they could all see more clearly outside. The desert air was clear and crisp, making visibility extremely good. The moon was full, and it was easy to make out two figures standing by the convenience store, which was now dark. A black Escalade was parked near them.

"Do you think they're here for us?" Kim asked.

"Absolutely." Frank replied.

"Do you think we can make a break for the car?" Simon said.

"Yeah. Then we can be trapped in a car that doesn't start." Kim said. She grabbed Jingles and shoved his leash in her purse she had already put over her shoulder.

"We can sneak out the front door and around the back without them seeing us. We're all wearing dark clothes." Simon suggested.

"If we can see them, they can see us."

The figures stood still. They seemed to be just standing around talking. Kim was beginning to think that maybe they were doing just that, and weren't actually going to do anything when one of the men raised his hand slightly in the direction of the motel and said something to the other. The two men began to walk slowly across the dirt and gravel empty lot. The window was open, and the three people inside the room huddled in front of the screen still couldn't hear a sound. If Simon had not been looking out the window the whole time they would have had no warning.

"I think now it is time to go." Frank said.

Jingles struggled out of Kim's grasp and ran into the bathroom, jumped up on the window sill and started pawing at the latch.

"He doesn't seriously think we can fit out the window." Simon asked.

There was a loud knock on the door. "Open up! This is the police!"

Kim looked at the door, then at the bathroom window. It was larger than most hotel bathroom windows, because the motel was so old. She turned the crank handle that opened the window, trying to stop Jingles from jumping out. She pushed the window all the way open and jumped out after the cat, her purse fell off her shoulder with a loud thunk and she hurriedly picked it up, trying to be silent. "Hurry up, you guys, I'm going after Jingles." She whispered as loudly as she dared, hoping that they heard her.

The night was bright because of the full moon, but it was still difficult for her to see Jingles running ahead of her. "Psst." She kept trying to get him to slow down without making too much noise. Not that it mattered, Simon and Frank sounded like two elephants crashing through a lumberyard behind her. She thought monks were supposed to be quiet. It must be the Catholic ones.

Jingles seemed to be following a wash that ran parallel to the highway behind the hotel. He was headed west along the side of it. Every time Kim got far behind him, he stopped and rolled in the dirt, scratching his back. When she caught up and reached for him, he ran off again.

Finally, they came to a road that crossed the wash and he stopped. The moonlight glinted off his silvery fur as he sat washing his paw. Kim had been so focused on the feline in front of her that she hadn't realized the moonlight was accompanied by other bright lights. She stared at the huge casino with cascading lights. "Welcome to Casino Blanco!!!! The biggest casino in Yuma!!!"

Kim scooped up Jingles and turned around. There was no sign of the wash, or motel.

"Frank? Simon?" There was no sign of the two behind her. Jingles began to purr.

Chapter 13: Simon and the Onlookers

Simon struggled out the window after Kim and her cat. He turned to help Frank out after him, but didn't see him in the bathroom . He heard the splintering of the hotel room door, and turned to run. Frank stood in front of him, holding a black pistol.

"Frank? How did you get here?" Simon felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

Simon found himself sitting back at the poker table. His Uncle Buck sat across from him, as before. This time, two other men sat on either side of Buck. One had sharp, angular features and a large nose. The second had bright blue eyes with a crooked smile. Both wore black cowboy hats which made it difficult to determine what color their hair was, or how much hair they had.

The man with sharp features reached toward the silver coins in the center of the table. The knife that had been in the ace on the table materialized in Buck's hand, and he pointed it at the man's neck. "That's enough of that."

"How so? It's mine, isn't it?" The man leaned away from the knife.

"Maybe so, but you need to help Simon first." Buck lowered the knife.

"Help me what?" Simon looked down. There was blood seeping out of his white t-shirt. He wondered how he was going to get it clean, and then fainted.

Simon was hot. The sun blazed down on him and he was on his back. He could see an empty noose swinging from a tree above him. He heard the clink of coins. He saw the man with sharp features lean over him. The man placed a silver coin on Simon's chest. "Be healed." The man's face wavered. Simon reached up a hand to touch the man, "Judas."

Simon woke up in the back of a moving vehicle that he assumed was the Escalade they had seen stalking them. His mind gave him flashes of his Uncle Buck and a saloon mingled with a hot desert day and Judas. He decided it was best if he pretended he was still out. He didn't open his eyes, but he could hear the men talking.

"I think we could have caught them if we hadn't have stopped." The man in the passenger seat said.

"It was necessary. At least we arrived before Frank could take the book from him. What does our friend Tom say in it?" asked the driver.

"Mostly about the hanging. Nothing after we met up with him. Except the spellbook at the end. It was invisible, but someone traced it. Someone with silver, I suppose. This is bullshit." The passenger sighed. "You can probably sit up. I can tell by your breathing that you're awake."

Simon opened one eye. The driver wore a black cowboy hat pulled down his brow, and aviator sunglasses with gold wire frames. He took off the glasses and stared at Simon with ice blue eyes. He was the man in both of his dreams, or visions, or whatever they were.

Simon sat up. "I know who you are," he said to the driver.

"Another time," the driver growled.

Simon looked down at his shirt. It was caked with dried blood. He lifted it up. There was a tiny scar above his belly button. He sighed. He saw his duffle bag on the seat next to him, and rummaged through it for a clean shirt. He noticed the shorter man in the passenger seat was holding the journal.

"Can I please have the journal back?" He asked.

"Is it yours?" The passenger replied.

"The owner is letting me read it."

"Hmpff." The man tossed the book to Simon. "Good luck reading in the dark.

Simon held the book to his chest, wondering how the passenger had been reading it in the dark. He considered getting his flashlight from his duffle bag when the suv swerved onto an exit.

"Are you hungry?" The driver didn't wait for an answer, but pulled off the road and parked in a space in front of a truck stop with a 24-hour diner. "Let's eat and introduce ourselves."

Simon got out of the suv and walked into the diner after the driver. He was startled by the passenger being right behind him as he held the door, he was as quiet as a ninja.

Simon slid into a seat and grabbed a menu from the metal holder on the side of the table. He opened it and pretended to be poring over it with intense scrutiny while he tried to calm down and gather his thoughts.

The waitress came over after unbuttoning the top two buttons on her shirt, and leaned over enthusiastically toward Simon's companions. Both men ordered only coffee, ignoring the flirting smiles of the waitress. Simon asked for the same, and she barely glanced at him as she hurried back and poured the coffee into the three cups on the table.

"What gives? Where's Frank? Did he shoot me? Did you heal me?" Simon decided to go on the offense. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a coin that he had felt in there. It was silver and appeared to be an ancient Roman coin. "What's this?"

"Put that back in your pocket." The driver hissed, and Simon obliged. The driver stirred his coffee with a spoon. "Look. We got off on the wrong foot. My name is Pat, and this is my son, Will."

"I told you we should have used something else." Will said.

"Why do I have it?" asked Simon. He felt the scar on his belly under his shirt, and took a giant swig of his coffee. "Never mind. What the hell is going on?" He looked across at the two men.

"First, let's catch up on what you know. Who is Kim?" Will interrupted and stared into Simon's eyes.

"She's my best friend." Simon stared back.

Will looked at Pat. "You try."

Pat stared at Simon. "What do you know?"

Simon answered, "I know a lot of things. I'm a genius."

Pat sighed. "Do you have native American ancestors?"

"Yes. My great-grandfather married an Apache woman. I think she was only half, and not proud of it." Simon sipped more coffee. The two men sitting across from him sighed and leaned back.

"You seem disappointed. Do you want to tell me what's going on now?" Simon asked, smiling to himself.

"What was your great-grandfather's name?" asked Pat.

"Buck." Simon answered, then couldn't help but elaborate. "He used to use a bow and arrow with arrows made out of iron. It was a combination between the sets the natives here used and the kind of crossbow and arrows used in medieval times in England. I still have two of the arrows..." he suddenly stopped himself from continuing, seeing the interested gaze of the two, reminding him of how Jingles looked at birds before he pounced on them. He noticed a smudge on the table and started rubbing at it with a paper napkin.

"You've got to be kidding me," Will said, "Look, Kid..."

"You know." Simon squinted at Will. "You look really familiar. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were related to Billy the Kid."

"There was only one picture, and if you ask me, it's not very good." Will laughed. Pat nudged him with his elbow.

"I know you guys are vampires." Simon said without looking up from the spoon he was now furiously polishing with another napkin.

"What?" Will laughed. Pat's eyes narrowed.

"The girl, the not wanting to eat food..." he held up the shiny spoon in front of him, "...the lack of reflection. Not to mention that Frank knew you wouldn't bother us during the day."

Pat stood up and motioned for them to follow. "We better finish this conversation on the road. I'll pay. You two back to the truck."

Simon hopped out of the seat and out the door with Will following so close he felt like his shadow. "Is he your boss?" Simon asked as he hopped in the back seat of the Escalade.

"He's my dad," Will growled.

"Right. He had you when he was what, eight?" Simon scoffed, stopping when he saw the glare directed at him. "Isn't the correct term, 'sire'?"

Simon saw Will start to reach toward him from the passenger seat and quickly changed the subject. "This is the cleanest vehicle I've ever been in. Besides mine, of course." Simon commented.

"Thanks."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, when Pat got in the driver's seat. He started the car.

Simon felt Pat looking at him in the rear-view mirror, although from his angle the mirror was empty. He shivered slightly.

"Get the flashlight out of your bag and continue reading wherever you left off. Out loud." Pat ordered.

Simon gladly obeyed, opening the book to where he had stopped and shining the light on it. Anything to not have to deal with the mad possible vampires that held him hostage.

"Ahem." Simon started, finding the place where he left off.

Chapter 14: The Journal

April 2nd, 1859 San Francisco

I have been appointed Commissary Storekeeper by Captain Simpson. It is an excellent outpost to continue my search for a way to reverse the curse that has been placed on my family. I still believe the curse to be in effect, but I do believe it will have a harder time finding us this far north.

I am still combing through every detail leading up to the events from which I barely escaped with my sanity.

The day that Sheriff McCoy and Frances came into the shop together is one that I keep coming back to. McCoy politely showed the only customer out the door then locked it and pulled down the shade. They had my attention, "Frances, this had better not be about that fishing trip." I had been refusing to close the store for an afternoon to go fishing for three months.

The Sheriff kept looking out the window of the door, as if he was making sure no one had followed them. Frances stood in front of the counter. It struck me what an odd pair they were. Frances was dressed in his dark coat, red vest and pin-striped trousers that were the latest fashion from England, I knew this because I ordered it for him. McCoy wore cheap home-sewn frontier pants with suspenders over his light blue shirt, and his gun tied down with a customary piece of leather around his thigh. For some reason the two together caused Frances to look like an undertaker waiting for the Sheriff to release a corpse, rather than the political image I suspected they were trying to cultivate. This caused a great deal of uneasiness in my mind.

"We need to talk about Yankee Jim." Frances put a hand on the counter and sighed. "He's been asking a lot of strange questions to a lot of different people. Has he been in here?"

"Several times."

"Asking anything?"

"Not really." I tried thinking of the last time I had seen him. It had been about a week before, when he came in to buy some things with his pile of poker wins. He had a bottle of mineral water, proclaiming it had healing properties and spent a great deal of time commenting on what a astute businessman I was. There was something about him I didn't like, despite the fact that I appreciated the compliment. It was as if he were mining our conversation as he spoke, the way a prospector will pan out all the rocks and sludge he doesn't want with a lot of water, looking for something specific. It was because of my thinking of this analogy as we spoke that I was surprised when he began talking about silver mining. I told this account to Frances.

"I thought it was strange that he was talking about silver, when most everyone in this area is talking about gold. He thought that there was more money to be made in finding a decent silver mine. He left after he bought two shirts and a rose carved out of wood. I think he struck up a conversation with one of the Mexicans, but I was too far away to understand what he was saying."

"Silver?" Frances and McCoy exchanged glances.

McCoy sighed and walked over to the counter as well. "I don't know what I'm so worried about, he can't very well walk in here if I have him locked up down the street."

"What did he do?" I asked, assuming we were still talking about Yankee Jim.

"That's what is so strange. Last night he finally lost at poker. A few of the boys at the saloon said it was just bad playing, like he was trying to lose. Then he up and starts a fist fight with Miguel Ibarra."

I raised my eyebrows. Miguel Ibarra was unnaturally large, and naturally very dim-witted. Men in town went far out of their way not to cross him.

"Exactly. It was like he wanted to lose the fist fight also." McCoy paused, "Except he didn't. Not really. He held his own quite well until I got there to arrest him. He went amiably enough, even requested the cell farthest from the fire, so as not to inconvenience Chuck, who would probably be wanting to sleep off his whiskey closer to the warmth. The whole thing just doesn't feel quite right, it's like he planned it."

"Is there something he could want in the cell?" I asked.

"Naw. Part of it used to be the old church, but it's been the jail now for at least twenty years." The sheriff answered.

"I think we need to go take a closer look at his cell." My stomach was churning with trepidation, but there was no other recourse than to observe the man in question.

It was with the utmost trepidation that I followed McCoy to the jail. On the way, I questioned him as to the lay out of the cells, and what was behind the cell Yankee Jim was held in.

"On one side is another cell, and on the other side is a storage room. Used to be a chapel, until some pissed off Indians came along and burned the whole thing out. We rebuilt some of it, and left the rest alone."

"How large are the cells?" I asked.

"About ten feet. Give or take," he answered.

I was uncomfortable with approximations. Upon arrival, I first counted the steps from one end of the building to the other from the outside. I then instructed McCoy to lead me directly to the storage room, where we could explore my idea without being observed by the prisoner, although we would have to walk past his cell for access. As we went by the cell, the prisoner appeared to be on his cot sleeping, although I noticed he was breathing heavily and wondered if it was due to a nightmare.

We entered the storage room and saw that on both sides were shelves, and on the back wall sat a table full of old rope and rusted bits of metal. The sort of scrap that a man living on the edge of the world didn't necessarily need, but was reluctant to throw away in the event that a bit of junk in the pile might one day be useful or perhaps even required.

"As I suspected, there is a space between this wall and the wall the cell on the other side. Three feet of space."

Together we moved the junk off the table and onto the shelves, what had once been semi-organized quickly became what would take at least a week to undo. I tried not to think about it as we pulled the heavy oak table away from the wall.

It was evident as soon as we pulled the table away that the wall was false. The bricks were stacked together properly, but without mortar in between. I motioned for us to carefully pull them out, and to try not to make noise that would alert the prisoner on the other side of the space. Alas, it was our careful manipulations of the bricks that were working against us. A small space was soon cleared and light streamed out of the hole.

I stuck my head in the hole in time to see Yankee Jim exiting out the other side of the wall.

"Hurry!" Frank and Jim began to throw bricks aside for a moment, until they each realized that I was running around the storage room to the cell. They followed behind me as soon as they realized my intention.

I came around to the cell and saw that the door was swung wide open. I hurried to the wall. It was made out of the same brick and mortar as all the others, but had a gaping hole the size of a man. I did not have time to examine in thoroughly, but it gave me the impression of having almost been melted through, as there were no bricks or dust in evidence of removing the wall. I hurried into the space. There were three silver crosses thrown on the ground, and several golden artifacts I wished I had time to study further. It was evident that a mound of objects had been hidden here some time ago, and ransacked through recently...I could only assume that Yankee Jim had found what he was looking for, and immediately ascertained that the most certain way to find what that was would be capturing the criminal.

We hurried out of the jail; McCoy grabbed his rifle next to the door. My physical body was rushing, but my mind was calmly working out the most likely place for the criminal to have gone. I headed to the shore, with Francis and McCoy directly behind me.

The sun had just gone down into the water, but there was still enough light for us to see Yankee Jim headed out on the water in a stolen rowboat. He was rowing strongly and was a large man, but it was if the very ocean was working against him and trying to keep him on shore. He was still only one hundred feet out from the beach.

"How far does he think he can get in that?" asked Francis. McCoy shrugged and put his rifle up to his shoulder and took careful aim. I saw the puff of dust on the back of Yankee Jim's shirt as the bullet made a direct hit, but the boat didn't stop, and the criminal kept rowing as if he had only been hit by a mosquito. McCoy shot again. Again there was a puff of dust on the back of the target. We three stood in shock and fear.

I heard a whistling sound go by our heads and saw a shaft sticking out of the runaway's back. I turned and saw a man dressed all in buckskin leathers on horseback.

"That arrow is full of iron. It'll keep him down a bit, but it won't stop him. You all need to finish the job." The man said.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Francis.

"Just call me Buck." He turned his horse around. "Finish the job, but I'm not having anymore part of this."

McCoy started to raise his rifle and command the man to stop, but I pushed his arm down and directed his attention to the ocean. The rowboat was being washed back up to shore, with the criminal and whatever he had in his possession inside. "Let him go. We can find him later if we need to." I wish that we had stopped the man, as I still have pressing questions for him.

We hoisted the body out of the boat. Although it was getting darker, we could see that the body was not wholly that of a man. His hands were longer, with nails that looked like claws. His boots were torn, because the nails of his feet were sticking out of them at odd angles. His face was extended, for another word. His entire face was elongated, and the features were horrifying in their human and yet not human demeanor. I had seen similar pictures in some of the ancient books I had read, especially the one that I was currently trying to translate fully. The iron arrow stuck out of his back. McCoy started to pull the arrow out.

"Stop." I said. "Go back to the jail and get your iron shackles first." McCoy looked at me as if I had gone insane, and then looked to Frances. "Maybe we should listen to him."

Frances pulled the arrow out before either McCoy or I could stop him and then all hell broke loose. Yankee Jim or whatever he was suddenly came to life like a bear trying to break loose from a trap. He was frothing at the mouth like a rabid wolf, but his features were more human as the fight went on. He tore the arrow out of Frances' hand and threw it. It flew about ten feet, its trajectory was mostly toward the ground. I wish I could say the same for Frances. Yankee Jim tore at him with his claws and threw him thirty feet. It was as if his arms were a catapult. McCoy started towards him. I ran back to the arrow and grabbed it. McCoy was being strangled, seemingly by a man, but I knew it was much more than that now. I hurried behind Yankee Jim and plunged the arrow into his back once more. He immediately fell to the ground. His features again took on that of not human and human.

"Are you alive?" I hurried to McCoy first, he was on the ground gasping for air and nodding he was fine. I ran to Frances, who was still lying on the ground thirty feet away.

"Frances." I sat him up. He seemed disheveled and had a large cut on his forearm from where Yankee Jim had slashed him with his nails. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm all here. Am I?" Frances felt around and sighed. "It's just a scratch. I'll be fine." His forearm was bleeding, but not so much I thought it would require stitches. He seemed to be disorientated, but that was to be expected if one were thrown thirty feet, landing in the sand or not.

The three of us stood around the now inert body of Yankee Jim, contemplating the events that had transpired before. We stood looking at each other. "Now what?" said McCoy.

"I think a jack ass just stole a rowboat and needs a hanging," answered Frances. The question was how to hang him without everyone thinking he was already dead.

Chapter 15: Nick Joins the Fray

Nick yawned as he entered the kitchen, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that Suzy had brewed. He took a sip and paused. The kitchen was very quiet. He turned around, "Suzy?"

A piece of yellow paper sitting on the dining table caught his eye. He picked it up and read it. "Bitch." He slammed the paper down. He sat on a chair and closed his eyes.

He opened them, looking across the room at the desk-top that was Suzy's backup computer. She always used her laptop, and had taken it with her, but the desktop was identical as far as programs went. He turned it on and waited a minute for it to boot up.

He clicked on the Simon icon and waited. He clicked through the cameras, saw that the house was empty. That bitch even had one placed in the front yard. He saw that Simon's car was gone, but Kim's was still there. They must have gone somewhere together.

He clicked a few more keys and waited. The sound and video came up, showing the excerpts that Suzy had saved on her laptop. Thank God she was so anal about backing everything up on the desktop, or he wouldn't have been able to watch. And listen.

Nick was simultaneously relieved and furious. Relieved that he could watch the video to see what was going on. Furious that Suzy was such a controlling, overbearing bitch of a mother. He had no way of knowing exactly where they were all headed, but he was sure that Suzy had some way of knowing. He called her phone, it went straight to voice mail.

"Bitch." He said again to the empty room.

He poured his coffee into a thermos and found the keys to his truck. He stood thinking for a second, then called Simon's phone.

Chapter 16: The Casino

Kim put Jingles in her giant Coach knock-off bag and zipped it up so that only his head could stick out. She was at the far end of a parking lot of a casino; it was not busy enough that many people were parked at the end, just semis. She saw a trucker headed towards his truck, whistling, and approached him cautiously. "Excuse me. I was asleep when my friends and I got here, and they must have gone in and left me in the car. Can you tell me where this is?" She was not about to say, hey, I think I just popped through some kind of worm hole, where the hell am I?

"You're about seventy miles outside of San Diego." The trucker tipped his hat. "You might want to try the video poker machines, they seem to be hitting pretty good tonight."

"Um. Thanks." Kim headed toward the entrance of the casino, wondering what she was going to do. She still had her debit card, fifty dollars cash, and her emergency credit card. Her cell phone was in her purse, but the battery had died and she hadn't charged it yet at the hotel room, where the charger still was.

She dug further and saw that Simon had put his phone in her purse also. She smiled. Then she frowned. She couldn't very well call Simon when she had his phone.

She thought about calling Simon's mom, and then quickly dismissed the idea. Suzy hated her. She was staring at the phone when it rang, blinking Dad; she answered it.

"Nick? It's Kim."

"Kim? Where's Simon?"

"I don't know. We got separated."

"Where are you?"

"At a casino right before San Diego." She told him the name and location.

"Okay. Sit tight. I'm on my way."

Kim put the phone back in her purse. She thought about turning it off, but it had a full battery and Nick might try to call her back. Or maybe Simon would call her if he got the chance and figured out she had his phone. She was afraid to use her debit card. Too many movies where someone was tracked that way, except who would do that now? And didn't Frank say that her astral trail is what was easy to follow? She walked through the doors, thinking that perhaps there might be enough native american mojo in the place to cover her trail.

The lights and the sounds bombarded her senses instantly, and Jingles as well, for he tucked his head inside her purse and growled quietly. She wondered if his head had been caught on the overhead camera. She would find out soon enough. "Okay. Here's the plan. I'm going to sit at the bar and play video poker. I play it all the time on the computer at home. Maybe I'll win enough to rent us a car." No one noticed or cared that she was talking to her purse. Everyone seemed fairly focused, if you could call zombie-like staring at the video slots with a blank expression "focused". In any case, it would take a lot more than a crazy girl talking to herself to get attention over the constant dinging of the hundreds of machines, they made noise even when they weren't winning. She imagined that if there were ghosts in a place like this, it would be impossible to ever get the living's attention as it went on twenty-four seven.

She sat at a multi-game machine and pressed the box to play deuces wild, if she hit four deuces or above, the payout would be over two hundred dollars, enough for a room that they could wait for Nick in. The bartender asked her if she wanted anything to drink and she asked for a sprite.

Kim was maintaining her twenty dollars in credits when she felt her purse begin to rumble, not because Jingles was getting restless, a moment before he had been sound asleep, but now he was sitting at the bottom of her purse growling profusely. A moment later a voice at her elbow said, "Have you been waiting long?"

Kim turned, "Frank! I'm so glad to see you! Where's Simon?"

"I'm afraid that in the commotion we parted ways. I had to create another doorway that would open close to yours, and couldn't take him through with me. How did you open a doorway?" Frank probed.

I didn't." Kim's brow furrowed. She looked at Frank. "You have to open one back, we have to go back for him."

"I'm afraid that is impossible."

"No, it's not." Kim was getting seriously pissed, not paying attention to her machine any longer, only pushing the button.

"We need to push forward, your friend will catch up; he knows where we are headed."

"No. Those men probably got him, and we need to help him. I don't care what it takes." Kim angrily pushed a button.

"I have a confession." Frank stated. "Those men want to stop me from rescuing the lost souls in Old San Diego. I feel entirely responsible."

"Give me some credit. I knew all along there were things you weren't telling me," she sighed. "I just figured I didn't need to know."

"Our best bet to help Simon is to complete the task. Then the men won't need him anymore." Frank said.

"Simon has the book." Kim answered glumly.

"That is not good. We need the book." Frank sighed. "Can you remember it?"

Kim pushed another button. "If I could concentrate, maybe a little."

"Perhaps we should get a room. I can help you concentrate." Frank answered.

Kim ignored the growling in her purse. She looked at the video poker machine to cash out, and saw it had dealt her a royal flush in hearts for the previous hand. It was a thousand dollar winner. She pulled the ticket out and headed toward a machine to exchange it for cash. "I guess I can pay for the room."

Frank smiled. He looked at Kim's neck. The cross was glowing. His smile turned into a frown as she walked ahead of him.

Chapter 17: Simon and the Journal

Simon paused in his reading. "Hey. Why can't one of you just open up another wormhole or whatever and we can follow them through that? Why are we driving?"

"We already used silver to heal you, and that broadcasts our location to any Hunters for 500 miles," answered Will. "Besides, we need the truck," he added.

"Why?" asked Simon.

"It's sunproof," answered Will. "Besides. Traveling through doorways makes a vampire very hungry," he laughed loudly, flashing his incisors.

"Continue." Pat interrupted.

Simon sighed, and picked up the flashlight again.

'We bound Yankee Jim in iron chains and pulled out the knife. He appeared human, as I suspected he would. We covered the chains around his waist with his shirt and hauled him back to the jail.

The trial was a formality. We hung him from a tree near the cemetery. He hung for eighteen hours before he appeared dead enough to cut down from the noose...although by then all of the spectators had given up and gone home. We put the knife in his back again and buried him directly under the tree.

I planned to never return but the curse follows me. The store here has burned to the ground; the only thing that was untouched was the grimoire. I finished in the translation. It ends with a spell to complete the transformation from human to demon, although one could translate it to mean "ultimate power". The spell requires not only silver, but some of the exact silver that Judas received for betraying Christ. I assume that this is the silver that Yankee Jim was hunting, and his intentions were nefarious. He is not dead....only buried.

I must go back, and take my family with me. I have finally uncovered this secret of the cursed book. The Judas silver must never be entirely united. I must guard his hanging place and burial spot to ensure that no one will try to finish what he had started. I dare not allow the spot to be available for anyone. I am saddened that my dear wife, Anna, must remain oblivious. I'm so glad she wasn't there; perhaps the curse will not cause her pain. I will build my house on the rock that started this chain of events, and please God, protect us all.'

Simon stopped reading. "Then there's just a bunch of talismans and spells and stuff."

"Who traced them?" asked Pat.

"Kim did. How'd you know that?" Simon answered.

"Has she recently received any silver?" Pat asked.

"She found a necklace with the book in a jewelry box that belonged to her grandmother. It was hidden."

"Hmmm." Pat and Will sat so long without saying anything that Simon began to wonder if they were communicating telepathically.

"Ahem." Simon slammed the book shut. "Care to enlighten me?"

"After Thomas wrote that journal, there was a dispute about where the courthouse should be. It had been in his house, which was built over..." Pat started.

"The demon storage..." Simon interrupted.

"Court documents were removed. Tom's journal disappeared, as did some silver. We thought he was responsible." Pat finished.

"Maybe Kim's grandma got it at a yard sale; she may have never known that the book was in the box." Simon answered.

"Regardless. Frank can't perform the ritual to raise up the demon unless he has the book." Pat stated.

"He has Kim. He can make her remember it." Will said.

"Oh oh." Simon sighed. "So the silver makes people live longer, right? Frank the monk is Francis, isn't he? Am I going to live forever?"

"A lot longer than normal." Will answered, "Unless a demon rips your head off." He laughed loudly. "I crack me up."

Chapter 18: Suzy Catches Up

Suzy pulled into the parking lot of Casino Blanco. The clock on her dashboard read 3:00. It was a few hours from sunrise, yet the parking lot was packed with cars and the bright neon lights flashed and jumped through her windshield with enthusiasm. She typed on her laptop that was open on the seat next to her. Simon was here. She assumed that he probably was in a room, as he never had been much of a gambler, especially the sort that stayed up all night doing it.

She sat thinking for a minute. She pulled her phone out of her purse, five missed calls, all from Nick. She thought about calling him back, and then thought better of it. It would be better to deal with him after she located their son. She hoped everything was all right, but a part of her hoped that Simon needed her help, then she could have an I-told-you-so moment with Nick. She loved those moments, even though they were too frequent for her taste.

She decided to use the hot-and-cold app on her phone. It was an app that drained her battery fast, but she had an extra one charged in her purse. She typed Simon's number into the app and a blinking, blue icon showed up. She was cold. She started walking toward the hotel part of the casino, and the icon started thawing out like a cartoon ice cube. She smiled.

Kim sat in the hotel room at the desk with blank stationery paper in front of her. She was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She took another swig of the Red Bull she had gotten from the bar.

Jingles sat growling on a pillow, staring at Frank. That did not help Kim concentrate. She tossed the pen in her hand down.

"I can't do this. I can't concentrate." She sighed.

"Let me help you." Frank stood behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Kim looked down at the paper and pen. Instead of seeing the hotel stationary, she was looking right at the journal. She flipped forward to the important parts that Frank wanted her to copy.

"Wow." Kim picked up her pen.

"Just trace the images and words, like you did the last time." Frank stated.

"Okay." Kim heard Jingles growling still, and in the back of her mind she wondered how Frank had known that she had traced it in the first place. She didn't remember if they had told him or not. She pushed the thoughts away, and bent over the paper. This wouldn't take long at all.

Suzy stood in front of a hotel room door and looked at her phone. The icon had changed from a melting ice cube to a tiny ball of fire. She was definitely at the right place.

She raised her hand to knock, and hesitated for a second. What if Simon was all right and in there with a girl? She thought back to the video she had seen. She knocked loudly.

Kim had just finished tracing the last page of the journal when there was a loud knock at the door. She turned at looked at Frank, with eyebrows raised. He walked to the door and opened it before they could discuss what to do.

Simon's mother, Suzy, stood in the doorway. "Where's Simon?"

Frank opened the door all the way and motioned the woman in to the room. "Please, come in and have a seat. I'd like to know how you found us."

Suzy hesitated for a split second, then walked through the door and sat on one of the chairs by the table near the window. Jingles moved to the end of the bed, growling first and Frank and then at Suzy. Kim scooped him up in her arms and stroked his head.

"Where's Simon?" repeated Suzy.

"We were separated." Kim replied.

"Then why the fuck do you have his phone?" Suzy asked.

"It was in my purse, he must have put it there when he was cleaning..."

Frank interrupted. "Is that how you found us? From his phone?"

Suzy nodded in reply.

"Hmmmm." Frank sat in the chair across from Suzy and looked into her eyes. They stared at each other without blinking for a long time. Frank sighed and leaned back. "You're very special."

Suzy raised one eyebrow. "That can be taken a variety of ways."

"I think that you know how I mean it." Frank leaned forward again and took one of Suzy's hands in both of his. "I think you've been looking for me for a long time, maybe your whole life."

Suzy flinched, but didn't pull her hand back. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Absolutely you do. You're a scientist. Yet you've always known that there was more to the story than pure science. A scientist that believes in magic."

Suzy scoffed and started to pull her hand away, but Frank gripped it tighter. "You've been channeling all your anger and anxiety toward your son. He deserves better."

Her eyes widened. "I'm just trying to protect him."

"From what?" Frank asked. "Becoming you?" He gripped her hand. "Look into my eyes."

Kim watched uncomfortably as Suzy's eyes momentarily lost their focus, for a split second Kim thought Frank was somehow going to kill her. Then the eyes came back into focus, but looked different. Kim could see the fanatic light in them similar to political or religious zealots. She frowned and coughed, holding Jingles a little tighter. "Um, what are we going to do now?".

Frank turned to answer her, but was interrupted by another knock on the door.

Chapter 19: Vampires Come Knocking

Pat pulled the Escalade into a casino parking lot.

"How does he know where to go?" asked Simon.

"He's tuned into the silver," answered Will.

"Which silver? The necklace Kim found? Or Frank's?"

"Both." Pat and Will answered simultaneously.

Simon was about to bombard the two with more questions when he noticed his dad's truck in the parking lot, and his dad just getting out.

"Wait! Park here." Simon jumped out before the suv had stopped completely. "Dad!"

Nick Harris turned around when he heard Simon call out.

"Simon?" Nick hugged his son. "What are you doing here? Who are these guys?"

Simon quickly caught Nick up on what was going on. Pat and Will stood by impatiently.

"Vampires, huh?" Nick looked at them with disbelief.

Will flashed his teeth. Nick shrugged, "Parlor trick."

Will stepped forward to grab Nick, but Pat stopped him. "We don't have time for this. We have to stop Kim from helping Frank."

"I talked to Kim. She's in room 412. I agree at least we need to get her away from this nut job." Nick said.

"How did you talk to her?" asked Simon.

"I called your phone. She has it," answered Nick.

"That means mom found her." Simon said. "Mom tracks my phone."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Let's hurry. I'd like to have a little chat with her as well."

Chapter 20: Confrontation

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Suzy asked Kim, who was bent back over the stationery, wondering if this was the right course of action.

"Can you give Jingles bath please?" Kim smiled. She really did not like Simon's mother. Jingles sat staring at Suzy with a look of displeasure, as if daring her to try.

Suzy made a polite, fake laugh. She turned toward the door.

Kim heard the knock on the door in the back of her mind, she bent back over the paper; it was almost finished.

Simon and Nick walked in the room. "Mom? Why did you get involved in this?"

"Simon. Thank God you're ok." She gave him a perfunctory hug; Simon's brow furrowed worriedly.

Kim straightened the papers she had been working over. "Done!" She handed the stack to Frank, who placed them in his robe.

"That's not wise." Pat said from the hallway.

"Who are you?" Kim asked.

"Ask them in." Simon said to Kim.

"What?" Kim looked at the two in the hallway. "You might as well come in and join the party."

The two walked in, with Will shutting the door behind them.

"That was definitely not wise," Frank said. He turned to Suzy. "Shall we?"

Suzy grabbed his hand, there was a flash of light, and the two vampires pounced on an empty space.

"What the hell just happened?" Simon asked.

"Encountering silver makes a person choose. Our mom chose the wrong side; I'm sorry." Pat answered.

Nick stood staring at the empty space where his wife had been. "Now I'm a believer. Shit."

"How do I know you're not the wrong side?" Kim asked.

"You don't. This is something you have to go with in your gut." Simon answered before the vampires could. "You should have listened to Jingles." The group looked at Jingles, who was purring and walking in circles around Will's feet.

"What now? I guess I've chosen." Kim said.

"Will and I will follow Frank and fight them. You will drive the suv and meet us." Pat ordered.

"That's three hours and you need all the help you can get." Nick said.

"We could each take one of you, but we don't have time to argue about which ones." Will said, he raised his hand.

"Stop. Look at Jingles." Kim pointed to the bed, were Jingles was pacing around in a circle. His meowing got incessantly louder, and the bell on his collar started glowing. He stopped suddenly, looking behind the group. The five turned around. There was a shift in the atmosphere next to the small table where Kim had been sitting earlier. It turned an opaque purple color, swirled for a second, and then suddenly shifted. It looked like a movie screen, and in it they could see Frank and Suzy in the foyer of an old house. The papers were strewn about, and Frank was intently staring at one in his hand. They were oblivious to being watched.

"What?" Kim stuttered.

"That is a doorway." Will said, staring at the cat as Kim picked him up.

"We can interrogate the cat later; let's go." Nick ran toward the screen and disappeared into it. The rest hurried after him. Kim and Jingles stepped through the window. It blinked out like a television that had been turned off. The room was empty and unnaturally quiet.

Chapter 21: Fighting the Demon

Kim still heard Will's voice echo in her head. "Be ready!" when she found herself in front of Frank and Suzy.

"Keep going. I'll hold them off." Frank told Suzy, turning menacingly toward the group. He didn't look anything like a peaceful monk, as he had before. His face was glistened with sweat, and his expression was violent. He pulled a coin out of his robe and held it in front of him.

"Look out!" Will pushed Kim out of the way, and Jingles flew out of her arms. A bolt of green light hit the spot where she had been standing, creating a smoking burned hole in the wooden floor.

Kim couldn't believe the way that Frank seemed to be in twenty places at the same time. He was so fast; she could only see an orange streak from his robe. The vampires were just as fast, but they seemed to be a split second too late every time they neared him.

Nick and Simon moved past the melee to where Suzy was still bent over the pages in front of her. They stopped three feet away, straining to go further. It was like there was a bubble around her that repelled anyone from getting close enough to stop her. Suzy's lips were moving, but even the sound was not penetrating out of the protective circle. The words seemed to be having an effect. The floor boards in front of the staircase began to buckle up toward the ceiling, as if the earth beneath it was about to explode. The boards splintered and the force of the exploding wood threw Suzy across the room. The sound turned back on.

A gigantic man, but not a man, dressed in grey pants and a tattered shirt stood in front of the piles of wood. The thing was seven feet tall, and his heaving chest was nearly as wide as the staircase behind him.

"You," the being bellowed. He pointed past the group, which had all stopped in mid-fight to stare at the demon. Kim turned to see what he was pointing at, and saw her cat.

Jingles' ears were flat against his head, and he was crouched down, ready to pounce. The bell around his neck glowed a bright blue, and it made a trail of light as he leapt impossibly far across the room, over the demon-man, and onto the thing's back. The creature let out a tremendous yell, three windows shattered in to shards of glass behind the group. An alarm sounded, but it was drowned out by the sounds emanating from the creature with the cat on his back.

Will and Pat moved instantly across the room, each with a glowing object that Kim couldn't make out. They struck the creature simultaneously. The thing withered. He seemed half the size he had been. The vampires drew back to strike again, and were struck in the back by a green streak from Frank's open palm, which still held a coin.

Frank grabbed Suzy's had. The pair took advantage of the split second the vampires were distracted and grabbed the now four feet tall entity. There was a flash, and the three were gone. The room was echoing with the sound of the alarm going off, but that seemed strangely quiet compared to the howling from before.

"We have to go. That alarm is going to trigger a response." Pat said.

"Where's Jingles?" Kim cried. She spotted a pile of fur in the corner, behind where the demon had been. She ran to it. The fur was singed and she couldn't tell if he was breathing. She scooped him up and followed the rest out a broken window. She ran to the side of the house, following Will and Pat, "Where are we going?"

A light turned on in the store across the courtyard next to the house. A Native American man stepped onto the porch. "In here." The man motioned to them.

Kim ran after the others into the door. The man shut it behind them and hurried the group into a back room. She glanced around and saw Native American artifacts. The man turned the light off at the front of the store, and locked the door. When he had shut the door to the back room the group was in, he turned on the overhead light.

The room was a storage space, but there was a bed in the corner, with a lam on a nightstand next to it. A book lay open, as if the man had been reading. Next to it was a pair of reading glasses and a bundle of sage. "I've been waiting," he said.

Kim placed Jingles' limp body on the bed. "Jingles," she whispered.

Will came up behind her, "It's okay," he still had the silver coin in his hand. He placed it near Jingles. The coin glowed. Jingles' form didn't move. "Nothing happened." Will looked perplexed.

The storekeeper gently nudged Will out of the way. Kim began to cry as he placed a blanket over her cat's body. He picked up the sage stick and lit it. The smoke created a cloud over the form. The man spoke several sentences in his language. Kim blinked back her tears, as she saw the form under the blanket change instantly into that of a man.

"Now you can heal him in his true form." The storekeeper stood aside.

"Tom, you son of a bitch." Will stepped forward again. The coin glowed. The man under the blanket stirred, color rushing into his face. He opened his eyes.

"Tom, you son of a bitch." Will repeated. "We've been wondering for eighty years what the hell happened to you."

Tom smiled. "What? You don't remember that winter I kept bringing you rats when you were holed up in Germany?"

"I thought you looked familiar...I mean, before. But the bell..."

"....you don't like cats. It wasn't hard to hide it." Tom laughed.

"And to think, I almost ate you." Will laughed.

Kim, Nick and Simon stood staring at the figure on the bed with an open mouth. Pat stared disapprovingly, with his arms folded across his chest.

"We still have a problem." Nick coughed.

"Three to be exact." Simon took over. "The cops are coming next door. The vampires need a place with no sunlight. And the demon is still on the loose...in site of you changing it into a leprechaun."

"And I need to change back." Tom added.

"Why? Your cover's blown. The demon recognized you," Will said.

"Perhaps. But the others don't know. Frank doesn't know. I have a lot more power in that form. The curse became a blessing."

"But the demon will tell him." Kim said.

Tom scoffed. "That demon will never volunteer information willingly. In fact, I will be surprised if he tells them anything at all."

"Why?" Pat's eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"

"I spent a summer in Wyoming chasing down leads. Hey have a compound up there. Very scientific and partially government funded. Suzy should fit right in." Tom sighed. "I imagine they'll dump that demon in one of their cells and study him to death. I doubt they'll let him regain enough energy to be a physical threat to anyone....psychically, that's another story. Creatures like him love to play mind games."

"Hmmm." Pat stroked his chin.

"Plan." Simon began, "Let's head back to the ranch. We have a back room that will suffice for no sunlight, and we can work on outfitting the whole place for vampires, and hunting the hunters."

"I wouldn't mind returning to an old stomping ground for a while." Will answered, smirking at Pat.

"I don't want to move to Tombstone. I want to keep going to school." Kim said.

"You're not safe." Pat stated.

"I'll change back and stay with her." Tom interjected. "I can still move around the globe at will, and can be useful no matter where I reside." He sighed. "I'm entirely more effective as a feline."

"All right. For now." Pat answered. He turned back to Tom. "Go ahead and change back."

Tom laughed. "I can't do it myself." He looked at the storekeeper.

The man sighed. "I expected nothing less. My grandfather said you might not want the curse broken, but he taught me how to break it." He smiled, "He also taught me how to place it. Try not to be demonically injured again unless I'm around." He relit the sage, circling the smoke around Tom's form, again saying words in his language. In an instant, Jingles sat on the pillow that was still creased by a man's head, satisfactorily licking his paw.

There was a loud knock on the door at the front of the store. "Hurry. You must leave; the police are here to ask if I heard anything. Everyone knows I sleep here often."

Pat extended his hand. "I wish we had more time. I have a lot of questions."

"Not as many as I do," muttered Simon. "I'll be back."

"I look forward to it." The man said. The knock came again. "Now hurry."

Jingles paced around in a circle. The bell glowed the familiar blue. The group looked to the corner and saw a doorway appear. The kitchen of Nick's ranch house was on the other side.

"Another time. " Simon said, with Pat nodding in agreement.

The group stepped through the window, Kim hurrying a thank you as she took one step to be five hundred miles away. Jingles jumped off the bed and meowed over his shoulder as he stepped through and the window blinked out.

The man stepped out of the room into the store portion of the building. "I'm coming." He yelled, tousling his hair to appear as if he had been asleep. It was going to be a long morning.

###

Available June 7th, 2013 at Smashwords.com: Protect the Food Supply by Lizz Dimercurio.

