Over my hips and thighs I expect to see bruises but find only smooth pale skin, nothing looking hurt about me to explain all the ache. My reflection in the mirror is a scared-looking kid, someone slim and blonde drowning their way out of a too-big hooded sweatshirt. I clean the inside of my underwear with some paper towels, wash my face and hands, stare at my face in the mirror for much too long because of the vivid red scar that crosses my lip. It’s the only mark on me from what Cain did, or else I’d think the whole thing never happened.
Aidan’s waiting with our drinks once I squeeze through a group of teenage girls in line. He hands me a paper cup and blows into the plastic lid on his coffee. Heat presses through the cardboard sleeve into my palm as I grip a soy latte with my name scribbled onto the side.
We wander away from the cafe and into the rest of the bookstore. From my pocket comes the beep of my phone, and I bet it’s another text from my mom. I told her I’d eat dinner with Aidan, she told me to come home, I haven’t looked at my phone since because I’m not going back. I can’t go home yet. I can barely tolerate the bookstore. On the drive over here, I told Aidan more or less everything without actually saying what I did with Cain, because there is no way I’m going to admit anything about how this scar got on my lip.
Aidan pulls a book from the shelf and flips through it with one hand. I lean into the shelves next to him and turn the cardboard sleeve around on the cup. Aidan sets his coffee on the shelf so he can look at the book with both hands. I’m not sure what useful information he thinks he’ll find when we both already looked up ‘necromancer’ on our phones while waiting in line to get coffee. I doubt a book on the shelf of the local suburban mall is going to have more to say on the subject than the entire internet.
I take a sip of my latte and curl my fingers against the warmth of the cup. I’m staring out of the aisle at nothing when someone pokes around the corner and says, “Hi!”
It’s that bossy blonde called Phobos, standing there in a navy pea coat trimmed in white, tan suede pants that are slim and fitted, he looks too entirely normal. There’s even a small messenger bag slung across his shoulder, some plush leather thing I’m certain is designer label like the rest, so he looks nothing at all like someone who just chased me around a bright glowing red pentagram.
Phobos flops out his hands to show they’re empty and then lifts them up further like it’s a stick-up, like I’m the one who’s threatening. I glance to the side, glance over my shoulder, I’m looking for Deimos or anyone wearing all-black holding a knife.
Aidan shuts the book and looks ready to throw it, so that Phobos lifts his hands and says again, “Hi! Hi, sorry, yeah, I followed you. Or, I traced you — don’t worry. Deimos and Praxis aren’t here. It’s just me.” He looks me over in a way I don’t like, appraising and judgmental, just because he’s dressed like a model and I’m slouching in a sloppy hoodie and jeans.
“What do you want?” Aidan asks.
“To talk,” he says. “I just want to talk.” Phobos tugs a creamy-thick scarf from out of his coat and then works open the painted-wood toggles. His cheeks are pinked from the cold, like he came straight inside the store to find us since apparently he knew where to find us and how, so there’s not much point in trying to run.
Aidan glances at me, I give him a shrug in return, so that he nods and looks back to Phobos. “Okay. So talk,” he says.
“Maybe not here,” Phobos says. “Although we’re in the right section for it.” His smile starts off bright and then slowly fades when neither Aidan nor I make any effort at returning it. We’re exchanging another long, silent look where I just end up shrugging.
“Here or not at all,” says Aidan. Apparently he has stronger feelings about this than I do, or at least a better awareness of not wandering into dangerous situations.
Phobos sighs. “Fine. Let’s find a place to sit.” He slides out of his coat and puts it across his arm as we wander back to the cafe. It’s entirely too normal as he stands in line for a drink while Aidan and I find a table. We get one near the back corner and sit together to guard it while waiting for Phobos to join us.
I make sure to look at everyone in the cafe, but none of them are the right size and shape to be Deimos with that knife again. Anyone that Cain recognizes just has to be trouble, so I immediately distrust Phobos by association. Beside me Aidan fidgets with an unopened sugar packet and watches the back of Phobos’ head.
Presently Phobos comes to take the empty seat at the table carrying a large blended concoction of sugar, whipped cream, and assumably coffee. “I know it’s silly to get something frozen when it’s freezing outside, but I love these things,” he says. “They’re so good.”
His lips close over the straw, and I watch as the line of drink inside disappears up into his mouth. Aidan stares at him looking horrified by the cheerful casualness of the gesture. After a bit Phobos stops with a wince and says, “Ooh, brain freeze. Okay.”
He looks between the two of us and then resettles into the chair. His ankles cross delicately as he repositions and says, “Okay,” again like he thinks we’re going to make this easy. He glances to me. “Abel,” he says. “That’s what Praxis said to call you, right?”
I shrug and say, “Sure.”
“Well, Abel and friend. I’m Phobos, if you didn’t remember our very brief introduction when I totally didn’t peg you as a necromancer. Clearly I’m out of practice.” He snorts and shoves the straw back into his mouth, huffy about it like I’m personally to blame for his mistake. “I think it was probably the sixties last time I actually ran into a necromancer. Ugh, my hair back then. I don’t even know what I was thinking for that whole decade. Anyway you crossed to the Otherside, right? Can you do it again? Without Deimos, without the exorcism I mean, could you?”
There’s a lot of emphasis with the way he asks it, and I feel somehow insulted as if I should be able to retort that of course I can, I’m a necromancer. According to Cain there’s no one better than me at this kind of thing, except I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, and I’m pretty sure I just heard him mention a decade there is no way he could have been alive for.
Aidan puts his hand on my arm, even though I’ve only shifted around like I want to say something. “You said you just wanted to talk.”
“And I’m talking. I’m the only one talking, you two are just sitting there looking terrified.” Phobos gestures with his drink around at the cafe. “Is this not pleasant enough for you? Do we need to do this in a woodland forest with fucking butterflies and frockling baby deer? Come on. How dangerous do you really think I am?” He taps his foot impatiently and frowns at us like he wishes he was the one with the knife.
“Are you a demon?” I ask.
Phobos bursts into a long, snickering laugh. “M-me?” He cackles loud enough to draw glances from neighboring tables. “No, honey, but that’s cute. That’s really cute. Ask me another.”
“What are you?” Aidan asks. He’s quick with it, like he had the question ready.
“Not a demon,” Phobos says. He smirks again as if we should be laughing at the same joke. “Although you asking means Deimos was probably right. I hate when he’s right.” He eyes my lip as he sips down more of his drink.
We sit in matched silence as Phobos stabs around with the straw to better mix the whipped cream into the icy dwindlings of his drink. “Look, I don’t want to make this sound like a threat, but if you don’t help me then I’m going to have to keep helping Deimos. And I don’t think you want that, because I’m pretty useful — case in point, I’m the one sitting here having found you while Deimos is still probably trying to talk Praxis into throwing a handful of sticks on the floor for a dowsing. I’m even giving you a bargain — all I want is to cross into the Otherside. I’m not asking for the moon.”
Aidan grips into my arm so I won’t blurt anything out, and that’s probably for the best. I’m tempted to offer to kill Phobos, surely that will get him across, but with my luck it would just summon Cain into his body instead. My stomach churns uneasily at thoughts of Cain, because of how empty I feel without him now. He said he was going to find me, but I’m not sure he can. I think he would have done it already, if he could, or at least if it was going to be easy for him.
Aidan glances over at me, but I shake my head. Cain didn’t mention knowing anything about Phobos, even though he seemed to recognize Deimos, so I’m not sure what to think.
Aidan looks to Phobos. “Abel’s not doing anything for you.”
Phobos swirls in last floating bits of whipped cream and drawls out a long suffered sigh. “I was so afraid of that. Let’s not talk about how much Deimos is going to want to kill you. Ew, tragic.”
“What?” Aidan straightens in his chair. I clutch at the paper cup in my hands, although most the warmth has leached out of it now.
Phobos nods at my lip. “Because of your demon problem. I wish demons were as pretty and nice as me.” He laughs in a way that is certainly pretty but not nice at all, because he’s laughing at us. Me, specifically, because I never should have said anything about demons.
“There’s no problem,” Aidan says. “We’re fine now. Abel’s fine. He doesn’t need any help from you.”
“I think maybe he does,” Phobos says. “Soon as all those sticks point Deimos in the right direction, he’s going to come looking for you. When that happens, I’d really appreciate the two of you not blurting out anything about me being here. If not, whatever. No hard feelings. Deimos doesn’t trust me anyway.”
“Then why should we?” Aidan asks.
Phobos laughs and brings his messenger bag around from the back of the chair without looking and reaches into one of the outside pouches. “You know, good point. You probably shouldn’t. I wouldn’t trust me.”
Aidan glances at me, but I shake my head again. He says, “We’re not going to, then. We’re not going to help you.”
“Right? That was pretty obvious.” The crisp white rectangle of a business card goes across the table. Phobos scoots it in front of us with one slim finger and then taps at it. “But this is me, in case you change your mind. Ignore the Deimos half.”
Aidan and I both lean forward to look at the card without touching it. ‘Equinox Investigations’ is emblazoned along the top of large, curling font and beneath that is a logo of black and white circles overlaid to form a small slivered crescent. Contact information forms two squat pillars of text in either bottom corner on the front of the card, but for Deimos there’s an email address, ICQ number, and a pager number. I think that’s ridiculous until I look to see Phobos just has Twitter and Instagram accounts listed. There’s not a phone number or mailing address printed anywhere on the card.
“I cannot believe you have business cards,” I say aloud.
“I know, right? Aren’t they great?” Phobos snatches the card up to admire it for a moment. He flips it around between his fingers and then offers it out again. “Here, take it. I already have a ton of them.”
Aidan gingerly takes hold of the card and pulls it in closer for inspection. “This is the person you say wants to kill Abel? I can take this to the police.” He glances over at me briefly before looking to Phobos. “I’m going to tell the police about this.”
“Sure,” Phobos says. “You do that. Literally no one has ever thought to do that, ever. No way that won’t work. You’re so brilliant to think of it. What a perfect thing to do. Of course the police will believe you that a man named Deimos is going to kill to your friend to stop a demon from crawling its way into this world now that it’s found a necromancer stupid enough to listen.”
He stands slings into his scarf and coat. The wooden toggles loop the pea coat closed as Phobos works them with nimble, slim fingers. “But you don’t need my help, of course. The police are going to help you.” He laughs and snatches up the empty drink cup. He slurps noisily at the last few drops of moisture and then pauses to laugh again, cruel and mocking.
Aidan jerks to his feet and I stand up with him, because I’m genuinely concerned that my shy, awkward best friend is about to snap and throw a punch at Phobos. I grab Aidan’s hand to keep it down at his side instead of going into Phobos’ face, because I’m pretty sure mall security will come kick us out if we start a fight here in front of the entire bookstore cafe.
“See ya around,” Phobos says. “Good luck with Deimos. I’m going to pretend we never spoke like this when he drags me with him to come kill you. Holla at me you change your mind though.” He gleams a smile at us and wiggles his fingers in a wave.
I sit and tug Aidan with me, but he stays standing to watch Phobos leave before slumping down next to me again. He sets his elbows on the table and then leans his face into his hands with a groan. “Ethan, please don’t be offended, but I wish you were just crazy.”
“No. I get it.” I kick at the center post on the table and then pull my phone from my pocket. “My mom wants me home.”
“Yeah, mine too,” says Aidan. “Are you going to school tomorrow? Am I?” He glances at the rest of the cafe and looks for too long at someone who ends up being an Asian girl with short hair when she turns around and takes off her coat.
I shrug and start to pick apart the cardboard sleeve of my cup. More than ever, I wish Cain would pop up with some sarcastic remark and then tell me what to do. If he’s so certain he can use my body to kill someone, then a great time to do it would be when someone’s trying to kill me because of him.
Aidan and I sit there until the cafe and the bookstore both close, and then we sit in his car with the heater running for another half-hour before leaving. He drives slow past my driveway so I can look for my dad’s car to be gone, but it isn’t. Both my parents are home.
I flip down the visor to look at the scar again in the mirror. I still haven’t thought of what I’m going to say when she asks. I know she’ll ask. I slam the visor into the roof of Aidan’s car and sink low into my seat. I’m going to sound crazy again, soon as I leave Aidan’s car and go inside my house. I’ll have to say I don’t know how I got this jagged red mark on my face. It doesn’t hurt and I’m fine, but she won’t let me leave it at that and neither will my father. It’ll be another unexplainable thing about me, something new for my mom to cry about.
“I can’t go home.”
“Okay,” Aidan says.
He puts the car into gear so we leave, because if I’m not going home then he won’t either. I turn to look back at my house, my nice quiet house, because the front porch light but none of the other lights are on in the house. Usually I leave all the lights on, I like to turn them on as I walk through the house at night when it’s empty. I tend not to to turn them off again as I leave, but my mother or cleaning lady will get them off again while I’m at school or out with Aidan or just elsewhere.
“Where do you want to go?” Aidan glances over at me briefly.
I think of going to a cemetery, because I need dead people to be a necromancer, but I feel like if it were as easy as that Cain would have told me just to dig him up a corpse. I might have been crazy and stupid enough to do that for him. I think of Cain hobbling around in a half-flat dead cat, and his insistence that however I kill his body for him that I keep it nice and clean.
“Where’s somewhere with a lot of dying people?” I ask Aidan. “Not dead people, but people about to die.”
It’s a testament to exactly how much he no longer thinks I’m crazy that I see him thinking about it. His fingers tap at the steering wheel for the red light. “Old folks home?” Aidan switches the direction of his turn signal and checks quickly before turning right out of the neighborhood instead to avoid the long light.
“Old people aren’t really actively dying.” I slump an arm into the door and rest my chin on my hand. “They’re just likely to die.”
“Hospital,” Aidan says. “Dying people get taken to hospitals, nearly everyone actually dies in hospitals these days.”
“Yeah.” I look out the window at the passing ramble of gateways into neighborhoods and dense-packed stretches of shops fighting for attention on turns. “And the morgue’s full of bodies.”
“Ethan, you can’t steal a body from the morgue. We are not doing that,” Aidan says. “There’s no way we can do that. We would get caught so fast.”
“Yeah, I know.” I think a morgue would be the same as a cemetery anyway, even if the bodies would be in better shape. “But I’m not killing anyone.”
“Um, yeah.” Aidan glances over at me. “Yeah, Ethan. We are definitely not going to kill anyone.”
Aidan drives us out to to the half-closed shopping center out on the edge of town that has a huge parking lot. It’s the best place to come try jumping curbs on a bicycle or to spin donuts in the snow with a car, or sometimes just to sit because we can’t go home.
For the next three hours we sit and talk about ways to get me a dead body without killing anyone or doing anything else illegal, and then Aidan falls asleep while I stay up looking at stuff on my phone until the battery dies. Once it’s morning enough to be awake I tell Aidan I need to buy a new phone charger, I’m not going to school so neither is he, and that we’re going to the pet store to find something to kill.