Marcie bolted through Milo Park, following the rest of the Watch. She heard the yells of the police, though she couldn’t see them. Every now and then she caught a voice that sounded like her father’s. That was motivation enough to keep pressing on.

  Whatever Tío had done to her had revitalized her just enough so she could keep up with the Xolo pack. But, they were all tired. Half the dogs were still bleeding from their battle with Demon Marty and the other half that had no visible injuries just looked drained. All of them were soaked in saltwater; Marcie could tell by the smell.

  A dull migraine was pounding in her skull, like the beating of a heart. Her whole body was screaming like every particle of her was getting pricked by needles. Her mind was clouded, unable to think straight, and she relied almost entirely on her bodily instinct to keep herself from tripping over her own feet. She didn’t know where they were going or how they were going to lose the cops. So she just kept running.

  “Stop!” Marcie heard from far off in the distance.

  Further and further they ran, deeper into the forest. The trees were getting denser and they’d fully gone off the normal foot path. Eventually, the Watch led her to a clearing. The flora was almost entirely different in one large patch. Instead of the dull grass that padded the forest floor, this patch was a field of white lilies.

  Tío barked once, and instantly a small hatch sprang up out of the ground, held open by one of the Watch in their human form. All of the dogs ran inside one by one, with Marcie climbing in last. The hatch closed shut and they all huddled in a dark cramped well under the earth.

  Dirt clung to the wood, allowing no light to pass through the slats. She was in the damn dark again.

  “Marcella, you’re hurting me,” said Tío.

  With a shock, Marcie realized just how hard she’d gripped onto the arm of the nearest person. She let go of Tío and clenched her fists hard enough to reign in her panicked fears.

  Outside, there came the sounds of crunching leaves and the clattering of police uniforms.

  “Where the hell did they go!” A voice yelled. “Portillo, you said you had a goddamn lead on the Gillman case and now we’re chasing wild geese through the woods.”

  “They were dogs, Wilson,” Marcie’s father said.

  “Oh, don’t get smart with me,” the other man said. “If you continue to waste my time, I will report your conduct to the Chief.”

  Who the actual fuck thinks they have the right to talk to her father that way? Marcie nearly threw open the hatch so she could teach the asshole a lesson, but a hand gripped her arm to hold her back. Tío shook his head in warning. Marcie ripped her arm away, but stayed put. What the hell was she thinking?

  Boots pressed into the wood directly overhead. Tío and her both tensed when the wood creaked and she hoped to God that whoever was above them couldn’t feel the difference in the ground they stood on. Even though Marcie didn’t have to breathe, the Watch were all panting and out of breath.

  She heard her dad’s voice again. “Wilson, I am really not in the mood. Whatever grudge you seem to have against me is only stopping your own growth. The other guys may not like me, but they understand why I’m fit for this job. They respect me, Wilson. And if you cut the bullshit, maybe they’ll respect you too. Move on. Keep searching.”

  The boots moved off and the sound of their movements got further away. Marcie’s chest sank with relief. Papa was finally standing up for himself. Though, she had no idea where he learned ‘cut the bullshit’. Probably her sister.

  Tío tapped her back. She turned and watched as he flicked open a lighter. The pack of dogs were licking their wounds, and as they did, golden light washed over their injuries. They weren’t healing instantly, but the light was forming something like an incorporeal salve.

  “Is that what you did to heal me?” Marcie asked, fascinated but also a little grossed out.

  “Not quite. We had to take more extensive measures for you.” Tío said. His own injuries were glowing faintly, blood washing away and cuts scabbing rapidly.

  Marcie noticed that this hole in the ground wasn’t just a hole. The entrance was a dirt slope down, but where it leveled out, there were stone tiles leading into a seemingly endless hall. Along the walls there were glyphs and long phrases written in Latin.

  “What is this place?”

  Tío began walking forward, leading the pack with Marcie trailing close behind. “There is a network of man-made tunnels all around Redwood Cove. We’re still in the process of finding and mapping all of them out. We don’t know their exact origin, but we’ve discovered that a handful of them are hallowed ground, consecrated to ward off evil spirits and the like. So we’ll be safe. They can’t reach us here.”

  “I thought I was made of evil or something. I came from the Necronomicon, didn’t I? Why didn’t it stop me?”

  “I had my worries,” Tío said, “But your soul isn't evil. You’re still my diablilla.”

  “Surely you see the irony in that,” Marcie huffed. “You know I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “I know.” Tío looked at her with deep concern, like he was her dad. It wasn’t very befitting of him. The look dissolved quickly, though, when Tío winced from a cut on his cheek. “This tunnel will lead us to the Chapel House. It’s also hallowed. It shouldn’t be too long of a walk.”

  The walk took them all of forty-five minutes, which, according to Tío, was about twice as long as it usually took. Even though the Watch had begun to heal their wounds, many of them could only limp, and others had to take frequent breaks. Marcie had asked if it would be more efficient if everyone were in their human forms, but Tío informed her that their bodies healed faster when they remained in one form for longer.

  “What about you?” Marcie had asked.

  Tío slapped her on the back. “Look at you all worried about your Tío.”

  “I always worried about you,” she responded. She at least had memories of that. Tío’s time away in prison and then rehab.

  “Mmm, well, I’ll be fine. I am fine,” Tío shrugged off. “But something is on your mind. You look like you’re boutta explode. What are you thinking about?”

  Marcie had been trying not to think about it. If she had blood, it would’ve been boiling. If she kept thinking about it while she was stuck in a tunnel with nothing to do about it, yeah, she would explode. She’d throw her arm into the wall like she had into Tío’s dining table. “I know who killed me. They bragged about it to my face. They got away.” Marcie said through gritted teeth.

  Tío nodded. “Mmm. Take the walk to cool off.” Then, he pushed forward without a word.

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  By the time they reached the end, she hadn’t cooled off. She tried, but that gloating voice of the Void kept circling her thoughts.

  Most of the Watch had turned back into their human forms. Instead of a hatch, this end of the tunnel had a door. Tío took out a key and clicked the lock open. Marcie would have expected that some sort of mysterious underground tunnel would have a dusty oversized key or something out of a gothic mystery, but the key Tío used looked like any other house-key.

  Tío led her into another dark room. More darkness, what a surprise. A single hanging light clicked on and she found herself in a basement. They all stepped through and Marcie’s nose immediately caught the smell of mildew coming from damp wood. The walls were lined with work desks and bookshelves, though there weren’t many books left in them. A flight of stairs led up to the rest of the house.

  The door to the upstairs opened and Milton limped down the stairs. His left leg had been badly cut, a slash mark ran across his face through his nose and down his lip, and one hand had a puncture through the palm. His healing glow was a fainter gold than it should have been, compared to the others. In spite of his condition, he steeled himself and spoke to his men.

  “We have a guest. Be aware of when and where you change. We’ll designate this room for healing. But I don’t want to see any magic upstairs. I’ve whipped up the story we’ll tell the girl. But we need to keep it airtight. And Marcie, stay in large groups and try to stay out of her sight. I won’t keep you from your freedom, but use us to your advantage. She’ll think you’re just another brown face.”

  Marcie wanted to say that Annabelle wasn’t like that. She didn’t think of her or any of them as ‘just another brown face’. But, she didn’t know why she felt that way. She knew they’d have to protect Annabelle in some way from the reality of the situation and from…her.

  It still hurt knowing that they were all about to lie to her. A feeling in the pit in her chest desperately wanted to tell Annabelle everything. Just like she wanted to tell her Papa. But shouldn’t she be happy with who she already had? Maybe Tío and Hunter and Grant and everyone in the room with her should have been enough.

  Milton explained the ruse they’d keep up for her sake and soon after, everyone started shuffling upstairs. Marcie wondered what it must have looked like to Annabelle as a small army of men and women exited a basement that she certainly hadn’t seen anyone go into.

  Mr. Ruiz was designated to approach Annabelle. He was light-skinned and the one man Milton thought would be the best to talk to her. Again, Marcie found this to be a pretty damning assumption of her friend. Though, to be fair, the girl was flipping around her red hair, making a fuss over how she deserved an explanation and that if they didn’t tell her what was going on immediately, she’d call the police…and also that this house could use some Antica Farmacista room spray because it smelled like dog-ass. It was annoying, sort of adorable, and certainly relieving that she was acting so normal in such a dire situation.

  Marcie hid among the horde, avoiding eye contact. But still she got the sense that she’d been noticed. Annabelle’s eyes had lingered for a second too long in her direction.

  She filed into a long hallway away from where Mr. Ruiz took Annabelle, but she lingered in earshot. The Watch didn't seem to mind, though Alejandro stayed in the hall with her, surely to keep an eye on her. She couldn’t blame them after the stunt she pulled earlier that day. Annabelle was still raving and Grant was out there with her, trying to calm her down, to little avail.

  A hand came to rest on her shoulder. Hunter conveyed so much with a single glance between them: that he was scared, he was tired, he was confused, and he was there for her. She placed her own hand on his in acknowledgement.

  Mr. Ruiz finally got a word in edgewise. From what Marcie remembered, the voice he was using wasn’t really his own. His accent thickened and he sounded like he was trying to do an impression of a Breaking Bad character. “Annabelle, right? Do you want any explanation or do you just want to keep acting like a spoiled brat?”

  That shut her up.

  He continued, “Martin Gillman got himself caught up with some very dangerous folks. Hunter told me you were friends, so you probably know he was a user of heavy drugs, yes?”

  Annabelle didn’t respond, probably out of spite.

  “Well, your friend has been working for some guys, bringing in new experimental strains into Redwood Cove. We think he took his own hits off the stash and it made him violent. He’s been looking for you obsessively, so we brought you here to keep you safe. Sound good?”

  There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence.

  “So let me get this straight,” Annabelle said finally, “I’m caught up in a fucking gang war because a dipshit incel hasn’t gotten over a rejection from the sixth fucking grade, so he pumped himself with meth and now he wants to…what? Come after me?”

  “Uhh…” Mr. Ruiz trailed, “Sure.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I think I can take the little bitch that had a D average in highschool gym.”

  Mr. Ruiz’s voice went stone cold again. “You can’t. I think you’d really prefer if we handled this for you.”

  “Are you extorting money from me? Do you seriously think you can shake me down for protection?”

  More silence.

  “No,” Mr. Ruiz asserted. “That’s not what I’m trying to do here.”

  “Well that doesn’t make any sense,” Annabelle argued. For someone who believed she was speaking to a gangbanger, Annabelle was speaking awfully casually.

  Mr. Ruiz’s tough guy act was falling apart at the seams. “Well then…you know what amiga? I am extorting money from you. We’ll leave you out to dry unless you pay us 25k. You don’t know the first thing about what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “Seems like you don’t either,” Annabelle laughed.

  Marcie stifled her own laugh. She turned to gauge the reaction of the other Watch members. Alejandro leaned against the wall, close behind Hunter. He seemed equally as baffled as she was.

  “Your dad thought he was the right guy to do this?” Marcie whispered.

  Ale shrugged a ‘don’t ask me!’ sort of shrug.

  “Okay…fine, but I’m only sending you 10k tops!” Annabelle continued. “Do you guys take Zelle?”

  “Maybe we should handle the money later,” Grant chimed in. Thank God someone was out there to stop the trainwreck that was taking place.

  Ale nudged Hunter. “Who is that chick?”

  “Annabelle Warren,” he responded, with only a small helping of disdain.

  “Warren…like the designer? No way. That’s her kid?”

  Marcie almost couldn’t believe it either. But having seen her face, heard her voice…she really was friends with Annabelle. “Yup,” she said.

  “Mierda,” Ale cursed under his breath, “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into. Promise me you won’t do something stupid, okay Marce?”

  Before she could respond, he walked out of the hall into the next room. “Pa!” He called, presumably after Milton.

  Hunter got a buzz on his phone. Marcie saw it was from that Basil person again, some medium or psychic or something Hunter knew at Berkeley.

  “Gotta take this.” Hunter squeezed her shoulder. “Can we talk later?”

  “Okay,” Marcie agreed. Then, it was just her in the hallway. There was a note in his voice that struck Marcie. Hunter had to be upset. It could have been any number of things between her recklessness, her rudeness to Grant, and her insistence when it came to Annabelle.

  She started to follow after him. His call could wait; if this was going to be a serious conversation, they should have it as soon as possible, right?. Didn’t he know they had more pressing things to worry about right now?

  Marcie stopped in her tracks when she caught the last of Annabelle’s conversation.

  “Who was that girl?” She asked. “The one outside the shop?”

  Grant hesitated. “Umm…Maria Ramos…I think her name was.”

  “Veronica has a sister?”

  Marcie’s head started to spin. Veronica? How the hell did Annabelle know Veronica?

  “No she doesn’t–” Mr. Ruiz was cut off. “Ahh nevermind, she does.”

  “Weird,” Annabelle mused. “I feel like I’ve seen her before.”