Chapter 39

Thirty-Nine

Izipped up the entrance of the tent, quietly closing it behind me. Alastair, who had been laying just outside in the grass, rose to his feet, rushing to me. "Hey handsome." I stroked his head as he wagged his tail. The wolf sniffed my hand, noticing the wrapped cut. He shot his golden eyes up at me, whining. "I'm okay, I promise." He snorted, unamused by my new injury. "Hey, where's Ruby and Jinx? Can you take me to them?" Alastair huffed, trotting away as I followed him.

My eyes scanned the woods, noticing countless tents, filled with the oddest mix of people. They were all so different, dressed in a variety of clothing and hunting gear. Some had camouflage paint smeared across their sun-damaged skin, while others were covered in tattoos. As Alastair and I walked by, they would stop whatever they were doing and stare, plastered with a cautious, weary expression. I could feel my fingertips beginning to glow with apprehension. Alastair growled, noticeably on edge, as we traveled deeper into the campsite. I crossed my arms and tucked my fingers in my pits, trying to conceal my magic as the cool rain hit my face.

"Finally." I stopped, realizing whose voice I heard.

Sitting in a dusty old lawn chair across from a large campfire was Ruby, tucked beneath a large serape blanket. She had her broken wrist wrapped in a fresh sling that hung close to her chest. Her ankle was wrapped in layers of bandages, her platform boots missing from her feet. Sitting next to her was Jinx, practically unscathed and wrapped in her own blanket, drinking something from a dark blue camping mug as she held Ruby's good hand. It was beyond exciting to see them both sitting there, smiling as the shadows of the warm fire danced across their faces. I wanted to burst into tears at the joy I felt.

"Where's Lazarus?" Jinx asked with her hands.

"He's resting in the tent," I signed back with a smile.

Ruby raised a brow, shaking her head. "Mhm, I'm sure he's exhausted." My cheeks flushed at her teasing tone, her eyes glowing in the night.

"Welcome." Ahote's voice startled me; I hadn't realized he was here, sitting across from the two women. His long black hair was braided, hanging across both his shoulders beneath a worn leather hat. He moved a large stick, poking at the logs in the fire, shooting flecks of burning embers into the air as they danced with the dark smoke. I noticed numerous faded tattoos on his wrinkled skin—black, indigo, and deep blue markings like the designs etched across the skin of the various strange people wandering the camp.

Sitting next to Ahote was the same old man from the gas station outside town, glaring at me as the orange hue of the fire strobed in his jaundiced eyes. My smile fell, my stomach twisting at the sight of him, holding a rifle. "Have a seat." Ahote motioned to an empty chair next to Jinx. "We have much to discuss."

An unnatural, distant loud shriek made me jump. Alastair growled, listening as Ruby and Jinx froze in fear. Ahote, seemingly unbothered, continued to stare into the flames, waiting until the sound faded away to speak. "You must be wondering what that was."

"No shit," Ruby snapped, returning to her chair. Ahote's dark eyes shot to her.

"That, young lady, was the cry of a Wendigo." The fire cracked, the three of us staring at him, unsure of what to say.

"W-what is a Wendigo?" I asked, leaning forward in the lawn chair. "Is it that thing that chased us the other night?"

Ahote inhaled, retrieving his stick from the fire. He stared at the burning tip, blowing the tiny flame out as a small trail of smoke began to rise from it. "Yes and no." Ruby and I looked at one another, our eyes piercing the night, the three of us visibly on edge. "The creature that chased you the other night was a Wendigo, but not the one you just heard."

"Wait, are you saying there's more than one of those things out here?" Ruby was becoming upset, her good hand lightly glowing. The hillbilly next to Ahote gripped his rifle, threatened by her power. Alastair stood, growling at the old man.

"Easy." Ahote raised his hands; one to calm the wolf, the other to prevent the old man from moving his gun. "There is no reason to resort to violence. Please." He motioned to Ruby, and she exhaled, soothing her emotions as her hand began to fade. Ahote turned to the old man, waiting as he reluctantly lowered his rifle, grunting.

"I'm sorry," I interrupted the moment, "but you said there's more than one of those things? The Wendigos. How can you just sit here, carefree, knowing they're out in these woods?"

Ahote scoffed, shaking his head. "There's much you do not know." He coughed, his age on full display.

"Please, feel free to enlighten us," Ruby groaned, leaning back in her chair. Jinx stared at Ahote, attempting to read his lips as he spoke.

"There are three Wendigos in these woods." The color drained from my face, knowing that we had been ignorantly wandering around such creatures. "There's the one you just heard, which has a broken antler and is the weaker of the group. Papoose is its name, as it is smaller than the rest, like a child. The second, which has been stalking you and your friends, is called Humma; it is larger, and stronger, covered in red fur like cinnamon." Ahote's face fell dark, his tone lowering as he paused.

"That's only two," Ruby said. "What about the third one?"

The fire pit cracked and popped as Ahote stared into the flames. "The third one is old. Ancient. It does not have a name, as it is unlike the others, surpassing them in every way. It has been hunting in these lands longer than any human, skilled and efficient." Ahote's head raised as he looked into the sky, the rain softening into a mist. "Wendigos are demons who have haunted this land long before the arrival of the people of New Bedeville. They are cursed, living nightmares that have plagued our kind since the beginning of time. My people have fought these demonic creatures for centuries, learning their strengths and weaknesses over time. You see, you cannot kill a Wendigo with guns and knives. No, only the blessing of mother nature herself can destroy such a thing. That, or starvation." His eyes fell to me. "You ask how we can dwell within these woods without fear? That is a luxury that has come at a large cost, stretching decades back." The fire popped as he coughed. "Long ago, the Wendigos began to overrun these woods, attacking our tribes. We did all we could, but with settlers from other worlds landing on our shores, invading our lands, it was nearly impossible. These new people came with greed and evil. They attacked our homes, stealing our children and killing our ancestors, their blood forever soaked into the earth. You see, these demons are drawn to blood, but they truly crave is evil. It is like a drug to them, and once they get a taste, they will stop at nothing to devour it whole. It strengthens them, making them nearly impossible to kill."

"That's what's been killing all those tourists who visited to the New Bedeville Cemetery. The Wendigos." Ruby stared at Ahote.

He watched her, studying her. "People should stay away from that place. It is cursed, hidden away for a reason."

"John Crowe," I whispered as Ahote's eyes shot to me.

"Yes. He is another demon who has plagued these lands. It seems one of your members has been possessed by his spirit, but not for long." He spat at the dirt.

"What the hell does that mean?" Ruby asked.

"Your friend is human." Ahote's statement felt harsh, as if he was repeating such obvious information to us. "Human bodies cannot withstand—" He stopped, glancing at the hillbilly next to him. "A witch's magic is dark. It drains human life, sometimes destroying it instantly in the most painful of ways. For a human to host a witch's spirit, they must be strong—resilient. Nonetheless, we are not built to withstand that kind of…power. Your friend will die. It is only a matter of time." The idea of Cain dying made me sick.

"I'm sorry, but I'm still just—confused." Ruby released Jinx's hand, motioning as she spoke. "Why are you out here, living in these woods? Who are you all? And what does John Crowe have to do with the cemetery and the Wendigos?"

Ahote sighed, removing his hat. "My people," he glanced around the campsite, "are called the Triad, an old organization formed by my ancestors in which we work with the mountain men and descendants of the original settlers to protect the town from evil: Wendigos, John Crowe, all of it. It was the Triad who captured the Hemlock Killer and turned him over to the Puritans. When they buried him in the old cemetery, it became our duty to watch over his grave and ensure no one disturbed it. Over time, he was able to use his magic and draw people to his resting place, hoping one would accept his deadly proposal. Until you and your friends arrived, we had been successful at keeping his evil buried where it belongs."

"Wait, but you said the Wendigos were responsible for the deaths of the tourists?" Ruby stared at him, confused.

"They are, but who do you think allowed them to do so?" My stomach dropped, realizing what he was saying. "They have dealt with those ignorant enough to venture in the graveyard. It's all a never-ending cycle of life. Tourists come to find the graveyard to try and release John Crowe's spirit, unknowingly stepping into the demon's hunting ground. The Wendigos then hunt and feast on them, and the people of New Bedeville remain unharmed and unaware of what monsters lurk in these woods. The Hemlock Killer would remain undiscovered, and everyone would be safe. Over time, we even learned how to live amongst the demons—distract them. Now, we can guide them from the trees like cattle."

"Cattle?" Ruby furrowed her brows, unsettled by the truth of what these people were doing. "You use people like bait to feed your stray dogs. It's sick!"

Ahote laughed, his jest immediately falling into a cough. "Those people were fools. They were marked for death the minute they decided to go looking for that witch." The way he pronounced the word made me uneasy. "Their deaths are a sacrifice for the greater good."

I swallowed, sickened by his words, asking the question the three of us dreaded hearing the answer to. "Has anyone survived?"

Ahote raised his head, his amused demeanor shifting to something more serious. "Not if we have anything to do with it." My heart dropped at the realization. "The risks are too much. You see, Wendigos are not bred and birthed like animals. They are created. When a Wendigo bites someone, their evil seeps into their prey's soul, consuming it whole. Only those who choose to accept their fate survive, constantly living with the shadow of the Wendigo. They breathe darkness and crave pain, living longer than most humans, surviving off the flesh of their own kind. Very few have ever been known to embrace that way of life. Most who have been bitten fight the darkness, refusing to give into it. Their souls eventually die and their bodies are then vacant for the Wendigo to possess, transforming it into the beasts that haunt us. Every time someone steps foot into these woods, we watch, waiting to ensure no more than three at a time reside in these woods. It is a balance we must keep to survive."

An eerie feeling danced along my spine. "Oh my god." Ruby tried to stand, gripping Jinx's hand. "You're going to kill us." Alastair stood, remaining by my side. "You're going to fucking kill us!" Her hand began to glow, causing the hillbilly to stand, his rifle firmly in his grasp.

The sound of footsteps caught my attention as a man quickly moved, wrapping a noose-like rope around Alastair's neck. The wolf growled, fighting the man as he pulled the rope, straining to control him. My hands glowed, burning with power when another ran to me, hitting my face with the butt of his gun. I fell to the ground, a ringing in my ears as my head spun.

"Alaska!" Ruby's scream echoed. I blinked, watching helplessly as they grabbed the two women. "Stop! Let go of us!" Alastair barked, fighting as more of Ahote's men tugged at the rope, forcing him to the ground. Alastair.

My head ached, my eyelids heavy as Ahote stood, stepping to my side. "As I said, sacrifices must be made to keep the balance." He walked away, speaking as I struggled to understand his words.

"Wait," I moaned, unable to stand. "No." I blinked and the hillbilly was now in front of me, smiling. He raised his boot, laughing as he kicked my face sending me into absolute darkness.

Lazarus.