Page 5 of Thunder Road

“A long time ago, my club made a bargain to stop something bad from happening,” Edwards said. “We agreed to pay a powerful third party in exchange for keeping the peace. For forty years, that maintained a truce that saved a lot of lives.”

“You want to change the bargain?” Simon knew from folklore that such things never went well.

“No!” Edwards looked frightened, as if they might be overheard. “Every year, to keep the peace, someone from ourclub goes to…join…the third party. They pick someone according to their own measures. I don’t know who they intend to choose this year, but I want them to take me.”

Simon’s intuition picked up a powerful mix of feelings—sadness, regret, and resignation.

“Why do you want to be taken?” Simon noticed that Edwards didn’t clarify what was involved in the taking or who the third party was, but it tracked with what Pete had uncovered.

“I’ve been with the club for forty years,” Edwards said. “They’re more my family than anyone who’s blood kin to me. We’ve been through a lot together. They’re my brothers, sons—hell, grandsons. I haven’t lived a good life, and it’s catching up to me.”

He paused for a deep, wracking cough, and Simon reademphysemafrom his thoughts as if the sound left room for doubts.

“All those cigs I smoked finally caught up to me.” Edwards gave a bitter smile. “Then again, I never thought I’d live long enough for it to matter. James Dean didn’t.”

He paused to cough again, and it took longer for him to catch his breath. “Fucking COPD. Doc says I don’t have much time left. That’s why it should be me. Got nothing to lose.”

Simon read the sincerity in the man’s voice. “You don’t know how they choose who to take?”

He wanted to ask who “they” were. Such deals could rarely be broken, but sometimes alternate bargains could be struck depending on what the entity valued.

Edwards shook his head. “I’ve watched it happen all these years, heard plenty of talk. All anyone is sure of is that it’s one person, once a year, to stop the bad things, to keep the peace and all the other members safe.”

If that’s the deal Edwards’s long-ago club president made with an entity, the man was an idiot,Simon thought. Creatureslike the fay or demons were the origin of the phrase “the devil’s in the details.” Both were more meticulous than any lawyer, with centuries of experience in deception.

Simon didn’t want to believe the bargain was quite that awful, but it wouldn’t be the first time a clueless mortal got led astray by a smooth-talking supernatural creature.

“Do you know any details about where the original deal was made?” Simon asked. “Location, date, any special ceremony or offering?”

This didn’t sound like a crossroads deal, not that demons wouldn’t welcome a steady tribute of souls. It had all the earmarks of something fey, which was much worse.

“That’s where I was hoping you could help.” Edwards licked his lips nervously. “I don’t know if the ones who were taken died, but I assume they did. Can you contact them?”

If this was, as Simon feared, a deal with the fay or a similarly ancient creature, there was no way to guess their willingness to make a trade. Some might find human sentiment amusing and do so out of ennui. Others were legalistic in the extreme and likely to take offense.

“Who do you want to contact in the afterlife?” Simon believed Edwards was sincere, and he appreciated the man’s willingness to offer himself to save someone who might have more years ahead of them.

“Dennis disappeared last year. Michael the year before that. Rodney and then Aaron. Can we start with them?”

Simon put his hands out, palms up, and Edwards’s cold fingers gripped him. “Close your eyes. There are spirits near, but I’m not sure whose.” Simon focused inwardly on the ghosts he sensed were close. They weren’t visible, but they were definitely tangible.

“Dennis. Rodney. Michael. Aaron. Your friend Carter Edwards is here, and he would like to speak with you.” Simon spoke into the ether and waited for a response.

He could feel the spirits’ agitation but wasn’t sure of the reason.Is something keeping them from answering, or don’t they want to respond?

One of the ghosts ventured closer. “Carter—is that you?” Simon relayed what the spirits said, supplying as much detail as he could.

“Denny? Yes, I’m here. God, Denny. Are you dead?” Despite his tough appearance, Edward’s voice broke.

“Yeah, Carter. That was the deal. They took us, and we died. All of us.”

In Simon’s mind, he saw Denny as a wiry man in his forties who looked like he had seen hard times. Close behind him were three others, all equally rough-looking, still clad in biker leathers.

Edwards choked back a sob. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you.”

“It was time, bro,” one of the other ghosts, a large, broad-chested man, replied. “Wasn’t gonna live forever, and my number should have been up long ago.”

“Are you okay?” Edwards’s voice shook.

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