The Cabin Is Always Hungry

DEAD PACIFICA

Part 5

When the sun sagged low over the trees, turning the lake into a sheet of pale copper, the emissary and his mercenaries drove through the borders of North Cedar Lake.

I counted thirty-six in total. Two helicopters hovered above the dense canopy of McLaren Forest, blades whining like angry insects, each one vomiting out seven men down on two climbing ropes. After that, the helicopters hovered around the perimeter, waiting for trouble to explode. The rest rolled in by the road in four black SUVs, stopping right where I told them to stop, right at the mouth of the narrow road that eventually wound its way toward the cabin.

They never argued nor hesitated when I told them to leave their vehicles behind and proceeded all the way to the meeting spot (I gave them the coordinates), which told me they were very confident they’d get out of this unscathed. Or arrogant, I reminded myself. And stupid. I’ve learned a lot in under a year how many dumb mistakes people made when stuck in tense and dangerous situations.

The emissary—though he insisted on the more dignified title of Astaroth’s liaison—was James Milford. He introduced himself over the radio when they drove past Point Hope. The instant I knew his name, I reached for his mind with [ Fractal Omniscience ], but I instantly hit a brick wall. Same for the other mercenaries, which was a bitch move. I laughed when I realized Mr. Milford and his men were carrying talismans (that I couldn’t see, unfortunately) or perhaps under the effect of some warding spell that blocked my telepathy. It was annoying, but also delighted in knowing they were cautious of me. That meant they were taking me seriously.

Nothing should be easy these days, right, Mark? I chuckled to myself.

But did that mean they already knew I could read people’s thoughts? I wouldn’t put it past them to know that given the resources they had. Heck, I’ve been using it since I was only a couple of weeks old. But did they also know I could dive deeper than the surface level of their minds? That I could walk their memories as if they were my own, touch moments they’d buried so deep even they forgot where they’d put them? Believed the lies that they tell themselves? They were already paranoid about my capabilities, so they also probably thought about those things, too. I would if I were in their shoes.

At least I had Oracle to do some background check. He identified about a third of the soldiers with their Facebooks and Instagrams from a decade ago, buried in some cache from a data center. The rest were ghosts, not even a single Reddit account, and probably already scrubbed their identities online due to their line of work.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. I was only indulging in this meeting out of curiosity anyway.

Once they bored me, though?

I’d let my archetypes off their leash.

They came armed, of course. Rifles slung tight around their shoulders. Shotguns with matte-black finishes glinting under the waning sun. Kevlar vests, helmets with skull imagery, night-vision rigs—tacti-cool bullshit layered on like armor made of bloated ego. I hadn’t told them to disarm. Hadn’t told them to leave their toys behind. Never would. I’d let them feel special tonight. Made them feel taller. Louder. Manly. More important than they actually were. Bigger in the pants, too. As long as they strayed far away from thinking they were already dead the moment they stepped foot in my domain.

They believed they were warded against my telepathy. They weren’t wrong. But they were thinking too small, you know? Whatever charms, sigils, or magical countermeasures they carried couldn’t hide them from everything. Not from The System. And as a Death Core, I was an extension of it.

I sensed their aura.

I could smell and taste their fear.

All of them glowed with it.

Every.

Single.

One.

Including our very own James Milford.

Bolton waited up ahead in the middle of the gravel road with hands loose at his sides, a cherry-red lollipop clacking softly between his teeth. He looked relaxed. Casual. Like a hitchhiker waiting for a ride, not an execution squad. His demonic grin didn’t falter when Milford and his men came up short and raised their rifles.

“Follow me, girls,” he said.

But thirty muzzles locked onto Bolton’s chest, his head, and his abdomen. Enough firepower to obliterate a concrete wall or an average man into red mist.

Bolton just smiled wider.

“Well?” he said, spreading his hands a fraction, palms up, mockingly. “You coming? Or are we gonna stand around admiring each other’s dicks all night?”

The mercenaries shifted, fingers inching close to the trigger. One nervous breath away from a fucking shootout and Demon decided to make a joke.

Milford studied Bolton carefully. “Are you Mark Castle?” Milford asked, unsure. It was very telling he’d studied my photo before on his way over, but he just got to make sure.

Bolton cackled. “Are you blind, man? Do I look like him? I’m a Black dude. He’s white as a crescent dough.”

“Demon?”

“Ah! Thanks for recognizing me. At your pleasure!” Bolton bowed with theatrical flourish, lollipop still in his mouth.

“Where is he, then?” Milford asked again. “This isn’t the spot on the GPS.”

Bolton turned and jerked his head toward the tree line. “I’ll lead you to the Dungeon Lord,” he said cheerfully. “It’s very easy to get lost in these woods. I have. A few times.”

Milford hesitated only a second before nodding. “Lower your weapons,” he said calmly to his men and turned to Bolton. “And lead the way, Demon.”

Bolton didn’t bother looking to see if they followed. He popped the lollipop back into his mouth and skipped into the woods like a five-year-old headed for grandma’s house.

Captain Kowalczyk stepped in front of Milford before the liaison could move. He was a big man, broad-shouldered, scar at the corner of his upper lip, eyes like cold slate. He leaned in close enough that only Milford could hear him. “As I’ve said earlier, you stay behind me, sir,” he said.

Milford frowned. Mild irritation flickered across his face. He straightened his shoulders as if it could bridge the gulf between them, though standing beside Kowalczyk made him look like a well-dressed dwarf next to a towering greek statue.

“I have nothing to fear, captain,” he said. He patted something in his pocket.

Kowalczyk followed the motion with his eyes, then scanned the trees again. “Can’t be too careful. You sure that’ll work?”

“Quite,” Milford said. “The Collector gave it to me personally. From his collection.”

That earned a nod. Kowalczyk gestured sharply, and three soldiers peeled off to take point behind Demon. The rest followed. The captain kept Milford close to his side.

The forest swallowed them whole. The light thinned, green and sickly, shadows stacking on top of each other. The path narrowed, then disappeared altogether, replaced by churned earth and old tire tracks made to look like they hadn’t seen people in years.

Fortunately, mortals cannot sense my Many-eyes, so I slipped into Milford’s pocket and found a strange-looking talisman made out of clay about the size of a quarter with a stick drawing of a small cloud. I immediately told Mother Gertrude what I saw.

Mother Gertrude hid with Lord Zal and Duke Henry just beyond the edge of the forest, hidden from the cultists. Oracle conjured a crude illusion of the talisman midair, rotating it slowly.

Mother Gertrude squinted at it. “Ah, that is a Ripping Step charm, my lord,” she said. “It looks different than what the mages created back where I’m from, but I am familiar with how it reeks with spatial divination magic.”

“What does it do?” I asked.

“It teleports you to the safest location of your choice, usually within a mile. It depends on the power of the spell cast on the charm, but a mage can increase the distance.”

I nodded. I made a mental note of searching for that in the items I could purchased through The System. It sounded useful. It’s probably one of those crafting items I needed to put together. I’ll let Duke Henry handle it later.

Henry folded his arms. “So if Mr. Milford thinks everything is going south, he’ll just…”

“Fly away? Yup. That’s exactly what he’s going to do,” I said.

Mother Gertrude shook her head. “Bah, these humans are missing half their brains. It can only teleport up to four creatures at most, and the charm can never be used again until the same spell is cast on it by the next dawn. I don’t think Mr. Milford is a mage. He’ll be abandoning most of his men.”

I frowned. “What else?”

Mother Gertrude sighed. Her eyes rolled back as she pierced through the veil. “Aside from basic protection wards etched on their armor—”

“—and the silver-tipped bullets. Don’t forget that part,” Henry interjected.

“—yes, yes,” Gertrude waved him off. “Besides that, they have runes for some shielding, minor resistances, and…oh. What’s this?”

I perked up. “What? What is it?”

Mother Gertrude smiled. “A few of the men…hm, I counted nine…have sigils etched above their brows. Fascinating.”

“And?”

Mother Gertrude pursed her lips, thinking how to explain it. “It is like Oracle’s strange magic with his toys.”

“You mean computers? I know they have body cams, but Oracle already blocked all the feeds.”

Mother Gertrude shook her head again. “No, I don’t mean those, my lord. Someone has cast a Daydream Eye on them. For a short time, it allows someone to see, hear, feel, and even taste through someone’s eyes from a great distance.”

“Someone’s spying on me?”

“I knew it,” Duke Henry said. “It’s like what Goliath assumed. This is a recon operation, my lord.” He looked up at the passing helicopter over the horizon. “I bet that’s what those guys are doing, too.”

“No doubt it’s The Collector watching through them,” I said.

Mother Gertrude nodded. “That is also my guess.”

“They sought to glimpse upon the denizens of this dungeon, my liege,” Lord Zal said. “To lay upon my perfected form...truly, no other beauty in the world exists such as I…well, besides you, of course, my lord.”

Mother Gertrude and Duke Henry rolled their eyes in unison, but Lord Zal didn’t seem to notice, or chose not to.

“Ah, it all makes sense now!” Lord Zal said. “A revelation! I, alone, have pierced through our enemy’s deceit, my lord. Me, alone! Akin to my feats, when I stormed through the Barrowlands and besieged the City of Torren-Vattak, Wonders of the Flaming Suns, it is what this Collector aims to do as well!”

I blinked at him. “Uh…remind me what you did to…I’m sorry, what was it again?”

“I have heard of the mighty tales of the Blue King and his command of his legendary legion. And so I sent fifty thousand of my undead army to swarm his walls for fifty days and fifty nights. And like The Collector, I’ve casted a similar spell to learn of The Blue King’s brilliance. On the fifty-first night, I defeated him, sent him off with his tail tucked and fled to the mountains with his people. The Collector has sent these soldiers here to test you.”

“Ah. He wants me to let you all loose on them.” Hell, I planned to do that after I’ve had enough of what Mr. Milford was selling. Perhaps I should keep that in the back-burner.

“Allow me, my lord,” Mother Gertrude said. “I can sever the connection, but it will take a few minutes. You will have to keep Mr. Milford talking. I can also nullify the charm’s effects if you do not wish for Mr. Milford to flee so easily.”

“Oh. Well, please do. Can you also remove the telepathic block?”

“That will take a few hours, time we don't have.”

“That sucks. Oh well. Um, spell off.”

“Step away.” Mother Gertrude shooed Lord Zal away when she realized he had stepped on her cloak. “Honestly, Zal, you should watch where you step.”

“If you have worn a more practical garment for battle, hag, I wouldn’t have to.”

I blinked and immediately watched as the soldiers hiked through the woods. They still had a few minutes to reach our meeting spot.

“Well, time to blind them,” I said.

I activated [ Unnerving Fog ].