Peter trailed behind us, maybe to keep me from running away, maybe because he was curious as to why the boy that he feared would take such an interest in me. I had a slight suspicion on the answer to that question.
The mall boy walked with ease besides me, his hands inside his jean pockets like he was strolling with a friend. He was wearing a black T-shirt and no shortage of silver jewelry.
"I love winter," the boy said. I still didn't know his name. "I like the cold."
"Of course you do." In the corner of my vision, the demons stirred. "You must be boiling from the inside out."
"You're better than we were promised." He slows down, forcing me to also slow down.
I eyed the empty street, the houses looked abandoned, with a lamppost lazily leaning over a messed up fence, the light blinking from time to time. "Can I call my brother?"
The boy nodded. "Go ahead."
Peter grunted behind me, handing me the phone. Please, pick up, I remember thinking.
"Mitch?" My brother's sleepy voice seemed disoriented. "Are you out yet?"
"No. I'm gonna have to stay a bit. Is everything alright?"
A slight pause. "It was, before you woke me up. Ugh." He sounded annoyed, and I suppressed a smile.
"You call me. Anything. Remember? Anything, and you call me."
"Okay."
"And answer the phone when I call you... I almost had a heart attack when you didn't answer." I added for measure.
"Yes, sir." I could see the military salute through the screen.
I sighed. "I'm gonna hang up."
"Okay."
"Bye." The knot in my throat was slightly smaller, although that didn't mean I was free of problems. One of said problems was having a walk with me.
"Have fun."
I disconnected the call, reaching to give it back.
"You keep it." The boy said, pushing my hand back. "In case your brother calls you."
"What do you want?" I whispered, daring to make eye contact until a claw closing around the boy's neck made me look away. "Who are you? Who promised you I was what you were looking for?" I focused my vision on the cracks that split the street in chunks.
I should've known that he'd search for me since I met him at the mall. It was inevitable.
"I'm Mark. You also know Peter." His hand pointed at his back. "He's my father's subordinate. You're Mitchell Cassidy, right?"
I nodded.
"Nice to meet you. I've been looking for you. I didn't know you were indebted to us, but it would've made the search easier... I wonder, do you take clients?"
There was a point in life—right after my granny died—that I had tried to take over her business. It didn't bring much money to the table, but the customers were loyal, and it was a way to keep a tangible part of her alive. As long as I saw her neon sign blinking alive, I could convince myself that I'd see her sitting at the tarot table when I came inside. She'd smile at me and tell me to eat the fruit she'd prepared as a snack. It was a beautiful lie until I flipped the lightswitch inside, and it revealed an empty table, an empty chair. No cut-up fruit.
Sabela's Reading and Tarot closed its doors three months later. After what had happened with Harry, I couldn't bring myself to keep doing it. My grandma was strong, and I wasn't prepared to burn my body and mind to protect others. I promised myself I'd never put myself in such danger as long as Silas was in my care.
"No. I don't do those things anymore."
"Why won't you look at me?" Mark placed his hand in the crook of my elbow. I stopped. "Look at me." He ordered.
My hands tightened into fists, and I breathed out a cloud of vapor. My cracked lips hurt when I bit into them. Slowly but surely, I turned my head toward him, something that I had been avoiding. I didn't want to see it. I had promised myself so many years ago that my days as a seer were far behind me, that Silas was my first priority through and through. Seers tended to have short lives, and I didn't want to suffer the horrible fate others like me had suffered. My eyes journeyed from the street to Mark's feet. Then, my gaze travelled upwards to Mark's torso, and then his neck, and lastly, his face.
I involuntarily blinked, still astonished at the sight before me.
"You look like I've hit you." He grins. "What do you see?"
"How did you know?" I look over his head. At them, at the black aura, at the abyss with protruding arms.
He inhales, his chest lifting. "I guess it's the way you avoided looking at me.. You may be good at seeing that shit, but I'm good at reading people, and you're like an open book. So, I think you know the reason why I'm requiring your services. Get rid of it."
I laughed, a genuine surprised croak that bubbled up my chest and left my mouth before I could think of the consequences. "I haven't even told you 'yes'."
Mark smiled. "Say your price. I'll double it."
He was absolutely crazy, no different to the other Bad Omens I had met. Not only was he convinced I could help him, he was confident that I would willingly help him. Remember Harry, Mitch, my grandma would've said. He had no idea the danger that lurked around him. "I have no intention of taking clients. Not even well-paying ones. I'm sorry."
"What about this... I will make your debt disappear." A demon hand untangled itself from the abyss that surrounded him, clawing at his cheek. Mark scratched his face. "Not only that, but I'll pay you on top of that. That's a good deal, right? Take it."
I frowned, pity almost swaying me away. Through the knot in my throat, I shook my head. He looked so... vulnerable. Desperate. All of them were, at first. they promised to bathe you in gratitude if you could just rid them of their suffering. Some seers tried. They always failed. Then, the madness came. And they turned into monsters. "I can't. I don't do that anymore. There are plenty of people like me in this city. You'll find someone better suited than me."
Mark nodded slowly. "Okay. Peter," he called in a fake joyful pitch. "How much did you collect from our friend?"
"About 30$."
"What about the rest?" Mark asked me.
"They—They usually come on the last day of the month... I don't have the money ready yet..." I stuttered, not liking where this was heading.
"Well, things have changed. The interest has gone up, and the pay schedule as well. You're gonna have to pay us tonight. Three thousand." Mark looked at the silver watch on his wrist. The demon claw moved down to his ear, his chin, his neck. It smeared blood all over him. I fought the desire to move away, to look in any other direction but his. "Three hours? That sounds fair. We'll come to collect the money at home, and if you don't have it... Well, you're clever. You'll know what happens. It won't be pretty, make sure your brother isn't there."
Three thousand? That was barbaric.
Mark patted my shoulder as he gestured for Peter to go. Who would say money can't buy anything? I'd have punched them in the face at that very moment. Money was power, and I was completely screwed, stuck between two impossible paths. I watched both of them cross the road and head into the shadows.
I didn't have that kind of money. I was grateful I had enough to maintain me and my brother and pay the old fee by working double shifts most of the days. With the new interest rate, Silas and I would starve to death. We'd lose our home. No amount of saving would save us from that.
The ghost of a dog circled my legs, likely searching for a ball or a rock that wasn't there anymore. The golden retriever strode away, silently barking at his owner, who was also a ghost. Human ghosts were sometimes difficult to distinguish from live people, the gashes and wounds the only things that would give away. Sometimes, ghosts were piles of bones and flesh in a form that had rather not decided what it wanted to be. When they forgot what it meant to be human, they didn't know how to pretend to be one. The owner of the dog looked like a person. But he was missing an arm, and his chest was caved in. I tried not to look at the ribs sticking out.
I thought of calling Silas, tell him to pack his things and go. But where would we go? I wasn't as brave as my abuela, I just couldn't leave my life behind and head into the unknown.
**********
Three hours later, I was sitting on the sofa, waiting anxiously for the knock on the door as my leg bounced furiously. They will knock now. I sprang up, almost pulling the door from its hinges. Mark's hand was up, frozen before his knuckles could rap on the wood.
"I'll help you."