Page 62 of No Surrender
“Wow.” Vic turned in a slow circle to take in the room. “This looks like my grandparents’ vacation photos.”
“It’s kinda cute, isn’t it?” Simon agreed as he set his go-bag down. He had chosen this motel because it was newly deserted, and there was a big enough bathroom that he and Eppie could wait for the hag without someone having to sit in the tub.
It seemed strange to use a family vacation motel as the place to catch a monster, but Simon and Eppie had agreed that the positive energy of the location could strengthen their magic.
Vic stepped close to Simon and pulled him into a kiss that said everything they weren’t putting into words.I know it’s risky. I don’t want to lose you. I need you to be okay. I love you.
Simon combed his fingers through Vic’s hair. “I won’t let it get you,” he said quietly. “I promise. Trust me?”
Vic leaned into another kiss. “With everything I have. You’ve got this. Kick it in the ass.”
Simon looked at the king bed with a lime and pink bedspread of beach balls and flamingos. “Guess you ought to start sleeping.”
Vic eyed the bedspread. “Those colors are going to keep me awake.”
Simon pulled a bottle from his pocket. The sleeping pills would put Vic into REM sleep, catnip for the hag, and perfect for nightmares. If things went Simon’s way, he and Eppie would handle the boo hag, and by the time Vic woke up, the worst would be over.
Vic lay on the bed, fully clothed, and got comfortable, then he crossed his ankles and let his hands fall by his sides.
Just in case, Simon slipped an iron knife and a canister of salt under the edge of Vic’s pillow. The one thing he couldn’t add was a hex bag. For the plan to work, the monster had to attack. Despite the strategy, Simon felt like he was betraying his partner’s trust.
“Sleep tight,” he murmured.
“Don’t let the boo hags bite,” Vic returned in a voice already heavy with sleep.
They had arrived even earlier than Eppie requested so Simon could scope out the motel and have the time he wanted to prepare for the evening.
He put his bag in the bathroom and took out chalk, then began to mark sigils on the walls. “It’s like a roach trap—the hag comes in, but it can’t leave,” he muttered to himself.
Finally, he placed an infrared camera angled toward the bed that connected to an app on his phone, giving Simon a way to keep an eye on Vic.
Simon had salt and iron in his pockets, along with his hex bag, an iron knife, and shotgun shells filled with rock salt. The gun was in the bathroom. If all went according to plan, Simon would cover Eppie while she worked the root magic necessary to bind the boo hag. If things went wrong, he had a few backup plans.
A knock on the door broke Simon from his thoughts. He checked the peephole and saw Miss Eppie outside.
She brushed past him, still as full of energy as she had been earlier in the day. Her gaze fell on Vic, and she watched until the steady rise and fall of his chest assured her he was asleep, however lightly.
“Here.” Eppie handed Simon a jack ball and a mojo bag. “Take these. They’re strong protection. They were made especially for you. The bag is a spirit ally. Give it a name, and keep it close. I have a set for Vic when we’re done here. Can’t use it now—the hag would notice. You did good,” she continued, glancing around the room. Eppie took in the sigils, nodding with approval, and added red brick dust and graveyard dirt to the mixture. “Now, we wait.”
* * *
“I thought you said the Veil was thinner at midnight,” Simon whispered. He and Eppie had been in the motel bathroom for more than an hour, and he decided that if they ever did something like this again, he was getting a suite with a Jacuzzi for more legroom.
“It is. But creatures perceive time differently than we do. Don’t be in such a hurry. It’ll be along when the time is right.” Eppie sounded confident, and Simon hoped she was right.
Between his worry about Vic, the tension of waiting for the hag, and copious amounts of coffee, Simon remained twitchy as the hours passed. He checked his phone frequently, assuring himself that Vic was safe.
Just after three in the morning, a flicker of motion registered on the camera. Simon felt the temperature drop, and he nudged Eppie, who had been quietly chanting and trancing.
“Let’s go.”
They moved silently, stepping over the salt mixture line that warded the bathroom door. Simon carried the shotgun with shells already chambered.
He stifled a gasp as he saw the boo hag. The creature looked like a skinned corpse, grotesquely stretched and elongated. It straddled Vic’s sleeping form and leaned over him, mouth open to draw his energy. In the background, Eppie started her chant.
Essence is more than breath and soul,Simon realized, unable to ignore the bone-deep flash of fear. In just seconds, Vic looked pale and haggard.
The hag turned toward Simon, hissing and baring its needle-sharp teeth.
