Chapter 185: Chapter 185: The Walk

THE WALK BACK to the car felt longer than Mailah remembered. Maybe it was the weight of Lucson’s words still pressing on her chest, or maybe the forest just looked different in daylight—less menacing, more indifferent. Trees stood silent and bare, their branches reaching toward a sky that couldn’t decide between gray and white.

Lucson moved ahead of her with that same effortless grace, not bothering to check if she was keeping up. His posture remained alert but relaxed, like someone accustomed to danger but not currently expecting it.

Which somehow made Mailah more nervous.

“You’re quiet,” she said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them since leaving the lodge.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“About the fact that we weren’t attacked, trapped, or otherwise impeded during the night.” Lucson pushed aside a low-hanging branch. “It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe whoever left that lodge there actually just wanted to help?”

“No one helps without wanting something in return. That’s a fundamental truth of both human and supernatural interaction.” He glanced back at her. “The lodge was too convenient. Too well-stocked. Too perfectly positioned.”

“But nothing happened.”

“Which is exactly what makes it suspicious.” Lucson stopped, turning to face her fully. “Either we were meant to be there for a reason we haven’t discovered yet, or someone wanted us stationary while they accomplished something elsewhere.”

The implication hit Mailah like ice water. “Grayson.”

“Possibly. Or it could be unrelated. Or it could be that whoever set the trap underestimated how quickly we’d leave.” Lucson resumed walking. “I won’t know until we have more information.”

They emerged into the side of the road where they’d abandoned the car the previous night. It sat exactly as they’d left it, looking pathetic and broken in the morning light.

“If my suspicions are correct,” Lucson said, approaching the vehicle, “the car should work now.”

Mailah waited, hope and dread warring in her chest. She watched him lean over the engine, checking connections and components with methodical precision. His hands moved with confidence, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

Which, given three centuries of life on earth, he probably had.

Finally, Lucson straightened, wiping his hands on a cloth from his pocket. He turned to face her, and Mailah’s stomach dropped before he even spoke.

He shook his head.

“Still broken?” she asked, even though the answer was obvious.

“Still broken.” Lucson closed the hood with a decisive thunk. “We’ll need to walk until we find a signal. There’s no cell service in this area.”

Mailah stared at the car, confusion making her head hurt worse. “I don’t understand. Does that mean the car breaking down wasn’t supernatural? That it was just… bad luck?”

“It’s a possibility,” Lucson said, already moving past the car toward what she assumed was the direction of civilization. “But I’m not banking on that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means.”

Mailah jogged to catch up with him, irritation flaring hot in her chest. “You know, for someone who claims to value direct communication, you’re being incredibly vague right now.”

“I’m being appropriately cautious about drawing conclusions without sufficient evidence.”

“That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re being vague.”

Lucson didn’t respond, which only made her more annoyed. They walked in silence for several minutes, following what might have been a hiking trail or might have just been a gap between trees. The morning sun climbed higher, bringing minimal warmth but at least better visibility.

“How far to the nearest town?” Mailah asked.

“Based on our location when the car died, approximately eight kilometers.”

“That’s like five miles.”

“Five point three, to be precise.”

“Of course you know that.” Mailah shifted her bag, already feeling the beginning of blisters forming on her heels. Her shoes weren’t designed for wilderness hiking. “And you couldn’t have mentioned this distance before I agreed to walk?”

“You didn’t ask. Besides, what was the alternative? Staying with the broken car and hoping for rescue?”

“A normal person would at least pretend to be sympathetic about a five-mile hike.”

“I’ve never claimed to be normal.” Lucson paused, tilting his head slightly. “Do you hear that?”

Mailah stopped, listening. At first, she heard nothing but wind through trees and the distant call of some bird. Then—faintly—voices. Multiple voices, raised in what sounded like argument.

“People,” she said, relief flooding through her. “Other people means help, right?”

“Or complications.” But Lucson was already moving toward the sound, his pace quickening slightly.

They emerged into another clearing, this one dominated by what appeared to be a Renaissance faire that had taken a very wrong turn.

Half a dozen people in elaborate costumes—think medieval meets fantasy meets someone’s fever dream—stood in a loose circle around a teenage boy who looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“—cannot believe you forgot the ceremonial chalice!” A woman in a velvet cloak and what appeared to be homemade elf ears was gesticulating wildly. “The entire ritual is ruined! Ruined!”

“I told you, it’s in the other bag—” the teenager started.

“The bag you left in Minneapolis,” another man interjected, wearing a wizard robe that had definitely come from a Halloween store. “The bag that is currently five hundred miles away.”

“Okay, this is either the saddest LARP group I’ve ever seen,” Mailah whispered to Lucson, “or the most dedicated.”

“I’m going with sad,” Lucson murmured back.

The elf-eared woman spotted them first. Her eyes widened with the kind of desperate hope that suggested she was about to make their problem everyone’s problem.

“Travelers!” she called out, sweeping toward them with her cloak billowing dramatically. “Perhaps you can aid us in our hour of need!”

“We’re just passing through—” Mailah started.

“We’re conducting a very important ritual to commune with the spirits of this sacred forest,” the woman continued, undeterred. “But our ceremonial vessel has been… misplaced.”

“Left in Minneapolis,” the wizard added helpfully.

“It was one mistake—” the teenager protested.

“A critical mistake, Brandon,” Elf Woman said severely. She turned back to Mailah and Lucson. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cup or chalice on your person? Preferably silver, but at this point, I’ll take anything that can hold liquid.”

Mailah opened her mouth, then closed it. “You want to borrow a cup?”

“For spiritual communion with the ancient powers of nature,” the woman confirmed solemnly.

Lucson reached into his jacket—because of course he had been carrying supplies—and pulled out a collapsible metal camping cup. “Will this suffice?”

The entire group stared at the cup like he’d just produced the Holy Grail.

“That’s… perfect,” Elf Woman breathed. “You are truly blessed by the forest spirits.”

“I’m truly prepared for hiking,” Lucson corrected. “It’s a camping cup from REI, not a blessed artifact.”

“All vessels can be blessed through intention and ritual,” the wizard said seriously. “The spirits don’t care about retail provenance.”

Mailah bit her lip to keep from laughing. She could feel Lucson’s profound irritation radiating off him like heat.

“You can have the cup,” Lucson said, “if you can tell us how to get to the nearest town.”

“Of course!” Elf Woman clutched the camping cup to her chest. “Follow this trail for two kilometers, then turn left at the fork with the lightning-struck oak. Another three kilometers will bring you to Route 47, and from there, you can—Brandon, stop sulking and get the map.”

The teenager grudgingly pulled out a very modern, very non-medieval smartphone, tapped at it, then frowned. “No signal out here. But I can just tell you—follow this trail straight for about two kilometers, you’ll see a big fork with the lightning-struck oak. Can’t miss it. Take the left path, keep going another three kilometers, and you’ll hit Route 47. From there, civilization.”

“Perfect,” Mailah said, committing the directions to memory. “Thanks. Good luck with your… ritual.”

“May the spirits guide your path!” Elf Woman called as they continued down the trail.

They walked in silence for a full minute before Mailah started laughing. She couldn’t help it—the absurdity of finding a LARP group in the middle of their crisis was too much.

“They just… wanted a cup,” she managed between giggles. “A camping cup from REI.”

“I’m out forty dollars’ worth of equipment,” Lucson said, but there was something in his voice that might have been amusement. “That was titanium.”

“You’re a centuries-old demon. I think you can afford to replace it.”

“It’s the principle. That was a good cup.”

Mailah laughed harder, the tension of the past day finally breaking. “Did you see the wizard’s robe? I swear it had a price tag still attached.”

“I did notice that. Also, the ’sacred forest’ they’re communing with is about ten miles from a Walmart.” Lucson’s mouth twitched. “Their dedication to authenticity is questionable.”

“Says the demon who owns titanium camping gear.”

They continued walking, the mood considerably lighter. The trail was clear now, well-maintained and obviously used regularly. Birds sang overhead, and patches of sunlight filtered through the trees, making everything feel almost normal.

Almost.

“Lucson?” Mailah said after a while.

“Yes?”

“Back at the lodge, what you said about Grayson…” She paused, gathering courage. “Do you really think he wouldn’t want me if he embraced his demon side?”

Lucson was quiet for several steps. “I think,” he said carefully, “that want and need are different things for demons. We can want many things—power, influence, pleasure. But we need very few things to survive. For three centuries, Grayson convinced himself he needed to be human. If that belief shatters…”

“He might not need me anymore,” Mailah finished quietly.

“Or he might need you in a way that’s dangerous for you both.” Lucson glanced at her. “Demon bonds are intense. Consuming. Without his human restraint, his attachment to you could become obsessive. Possessive.”

“That doesn’t sound like the worst thing.”

“It does when you’re the possession.” But Lucson’s voice wasn’t unkind. “However, this is all speculation. We won’t know what we’re dealing with until we find him.”

“And then?”

He pointed ahead, deciding to end that conversation. “There’s the lightning-struck oak. Two more kilometers to the road.”

Mailah looked at the massive tree, its trunk split down the middle but still somehow alive, new growth emerging from the devastation.

It felt like a metaphor for something, but she was too tired to figure out what.

They turned left and kept walking.

Behind them, faintly, they could hear the LARP group beginning their ritual, complete with what sounded like badly played recorder music.

“At least someone’s day is going according to plan,” Mailah muttered.

“Their chalice is from REI,” Lucson reminded her. “I guarantee nothing is going according to plan.”

Despite everything—the nightmare, the uncertainty, the five-mile hike ahead—Mailah smiled.

The road would bring cell service. Cell service would bring help. And help would bring them closer to finding Grayson.

Whatever condition he was in.

Whatever he’d become.

She’d face it.

They’d face it.

Even if facing it meant discovering that the man she loved no longer existed in any recognizable form.

The lightning-struck oak stood behind them, broken but surviving.

Mailah held onto that image as they walked toward civilization, toward answers, toward whatever waited at the end of this increasingly bizarre journey.

At least they wouldn’t have to face it without a titanium camping cup.

Well, Lucson wouldn’t have to face it without that cup.

She found that thought unreasonably funny and started laughing again, earning her a long-suffering look from Lucson that only made her laugh harder.

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