Little passed between them for the remainder of their walk. Cam had set the pieces in place, and didn’t want to risk accidentally knocking them over. Besides which, she hoped the quiet- or the vibrant lack thereof in a forest full of nocturnal life going about its business- played on Ivan’s nerves, kept him alert to everything that wasn’t her. Dividing his attention away from her, or at least convincing herself of as much, made it a little easier to walk beside him.

When she needed to relieve herself, she put down as much distance between them as she could without losing sight of him, and kept her eyes on him unfailingly. The awkwardness of it had her giggling nervously under her breath. Her gallows humor returned, and she whispered, “I bet you’re just loving this, Foras.”

Cam hadn’t said the name of her father’s demon out loud since leaving home. Walking back to Ivan, she asked herself: Why now? She'd spent the last ten years trying to forget she'd ever heard of a President of Hell. Given the odds of her survival had not strayed far from unlikely in several hours, Cam figured she was either hoping to defy Foras one last time, or grotesquely desperate enough to appeal to him. Perhaps she wanted both, and these two parts of her, which should have been at odds, worked together to get his vile name out of her mouth.

“Ready?” Ivan asked as she approached.

Cam nodded, telling him, “We’re almost there.”

And indeed, they went on no more than another five or ten minutes before the thinning trees revealed an a-frame cabin whose black roof and dark wood paneling could only be seen by a faint light coming from within.

“Good,” Cam said. “He’s awake.”

“Didn’t expect a house,” Ivan admitted.

“No? What did you expect?” She held out a hand and nodded at his flashlight.

Ivan handed it over. “Alter, maybe.”

“The night is young.” She put both flashlights in her bag and took one more swig of water. In spite of seeing no cameras, she pulled her hat further down her head. “Follow my lead.”

Cam brought them to the front door and rang the bell. She heard shuffling inside, but no one answered; she gave three loud, insistent knocks.

A figure darkened the door’s side window as its voice rang out, “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Sorry,” Cam answered. “Our car broke down.” She waited a beat before adding, “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

The door swung open. A tall, broad man, all hair and pockmarks and toothy smile, looked down on them with delighted surprise. He straightened his t-shirt and pulled up his pajama pants as if to look more presentable. “Cameron?”

She nodded.

“Cam?” He confirmed again. “Cammy? Yammy? Candied Yams? Is that really you?”

“It’s me, Dennis,” she answered brightly this time, smiling up at him with all her might. “It’s been a minute.”

“Well come in, girl! What’re you doing standing outside in the wet and muck like a mudskipper? Get in here, the both of ya!”

“Sorry to drop by so late.”

“What- sorry? Are you kidding? I’m thrilled you’re here.”

She looked around the little cabin- a rental, pre-furnished, decorated with a charming if heavy-handed rustic flair. Much like her apartment, it was all one room, kitchen, den, couch and bed, save for the bathroom. This much Dennis had told her over the phone when he first called Con Tact a week ago. Since then, he’d called three more times, giving her the address, asking her to visit, asking to visit her, calling that very afternoon when Cam had laid out her father’s ritual for what she didn’t realize would only be the first time that day.

He hadn’t mentioned all of the windows, but for one thing, why would he? And for another, who would be out there at this hour to look inside?

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Dennis said to Ivan. “I’m Dennis.”

“John,” Ivan introduced himself. He offered a hand, his gloves having reappeared at some point. “Good of you to let us in, Sir.”

“Ha! Sir, he says!” Dennis smiled down on Ivan.

The men had a certain charm in common, an utterly guileless demeanor, and whether the one worked on the other, she couldn’t hope to guess.

“Is this one yours?” Dennis asked Cam. He walked a skillful line between teasing her and being happy for her.

She’d planned to claim that Ivan was a client of her business, but a boyfriend seemed far more believable. “Uh huh.”

“Well, what brings you to my doorstep? Car trouble, you said?”

“Yeah. I wanted to show John my favorite camping spot. You remember the place? Where Mom used to take me?”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Of course. It’s a great little spot.”

Cam remembered how good it used to feel when Dennis was like this. How much he seemed to care. She said, “The weather just kept getting worse. We finally decided to give up and go home, but then my car broke down. We were trying to do an off-grid thing, too, so of course neither of us had our phones. Then I remembered you were staying nearby.”

“I’m just so happy you knew you could come to me for help, Cammy Yams. And happy you managed to find this place!”

“Oh, I knew it as soon as you gave me the address,” she lied. “My friends and I rented this place out last summer. It’s great, right?”

Cam couldn’t very well explain that she had dedicated to memory as much of the map surrounding the cabin as possible, that she had drawn many paths from her home to this spot, not the least of all because she hadn’t even known why she was doing it. She’d wanted to scare him, yes. How far that was meant to go, she’d never pinpointed.

“Oh yeah,” Ivan broke in, “you talked about this place. With the moose.” He nodded at a large oil painting of a moose hung over the fireplace.

“Pretty lucky for us that you were awake.” Cam turned back to Dennis and lowered her voice. “Wait, is anyone else here? I don’t want to wake-”

“Oh, no, I’m all by my lonesome,” he assured her. “Make as much noise as you like. But what can I do for you, Cam-a-lamb? Car repairs? A ride home? A place to crash?”

“For right now, I could really use something to drink.”

“You betcha.” He was already moving toward the kitchen as he listed off, “Water? Tea? Hot cocoa, rum, erm, bad rum, but rum nonetheless…”

This was Dennis. The kindest, most thoughtful man imaginable, ready to move mountains for you, able to make you feel so wonderfully important to him- until you were no longer useful. And here was Cam, lying through her teeth in a bid to appear none the wiser, and here Ivan, with his hand reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket. He slid the knife out and tucked it into his belt for easier access.

“So what’ll it be?” Dennis asked from the kitchen.

“Hot cocoa and rum,” she answered, buying time. “You know, you haven’t really told me what you’re doing here.”

“That’s my line! You planning to stand there dripping all night, or what? At least get out of those soaking wet clothes.”

He was avoiding the question. Cam pressed, “No, I mean why did you track down where I live and rent a cabin here?”

“But I did tell you, Yam. I wanted to reconnect.” He sighed, a classic Dennis maneuver for appearing to take a situation seriously. “I get it. Of course you’re asking. How I left things back then, it wasn’t right. It’s a miracle you’re talking to me at all. I want to make things right, kiddo.”

Ivan gave a little huff, the faintest cynical laugh, his sympathetic expression giving none of his skepticism away. A sincere smile was on Cam’s lips before she could stop it.

She pushed ahead, “Where have you been this whole time?”

“Oh, you know, bouncing around. Picking up odd jobs. Trying to get my act together.” The microwave beeped and Dennis took a novelty mug shaped like a moose out of it. “I’m a programmer now. Did I tell you?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Took a course last summer.” He stirred chocolate powder into the steaming cup. “Got a job with a tech startup in Boston. They’re gonna hit it big soon. I’m never going to have to worry about money again.” He gave a generous pour of rum and turned to face them. “You won’t, either. I’m going to take care of you. It’s the least I can do after everything I put you through.”

“That’s interesting,” Cam observed. “I looked you up when you suddenly popped back into my life.” She let the fake sweetness drain away from her voice. “It didn’t look like you had any job to me. It looked like you had a sea of ruined people in your wake. To me, Dennis, it looked just like you’ve hurt every single person who’s been stupid or unlucky enough to get close to you.”

Dennis shook his head, laughing in an insulted way. “Where’d you get that from? Facebook? A lotta people aren’t happy with the guy I used to be. Hey, I get it- I was a real slime ball back in the day. Now I guess people think they can get even by spreading a bunch of lies about me. That’s something I have to live with. But look, I’m different now. I’m an honest man trying to carve out a little piece of happiness for himself, and maybe even right some wrongs along the way.” Dennis shrugged and walked into the living room, leaving the cocoa behind. “It’s that simple.”

“How far along are you in the ritual?” Cam asked him. Ivan, who had so far been observing the scene with no sign of how he felt about it, turned suddenly to Cam with surprise.

“What?” Dennis asked.

“Expansion, balance, transgression. How far did you get?”

“Aw, no, you don’t really believe in that crap, do you? I thought you were pulling my leg. You were always the skeptic.”

“A lot happened after you left,” she told him. “Do you know any of it? That my Dad joined a cult? Started worshiping a demon? I was still a little girl, lost and terrified. Did you know he and all the rest of them died by suicide five years ago? Do you even care? Whatever happens to people when you’re done with them, does it matter at all to you?”

Dennis put on a sympathetic face. “I had no idea. Look, I’m not trying to say I didn’t play a part, but your Dad didn’t do all that because of one bad relationship.”

“A bad relationship!” Cam laughed caustically. “You broke him. He never recovered. But I did. I took the ruins of grief and fear I’d been handed, and I turned it into a life.” She pulled her backpack off, opened it. “And then you came.” Cam took out the deer skull mask, still directing her words at Dennis, but talking to Ivan, now. “Came to take whatever you could from me with no regard whatsoever for the life I fought for. To walk away again without a thought for what you’ve left behind, and to start it all over again with whoever’s next.”

“Sweetheart,” Dennis whispered, putting a hand over his chest. “Your dad needed help. I think you do, too.”

“What I need,” Cam shouted, throwing her backpack on the ground, “is for none of the horrible shit I’ve been through to ever happen to anyone else, ever, ever, but I can’t have that. So I’m taking what I can get.”

Shoving the mask at Ivan, Cam considered that she was wrong. Maybe she was still broken. Maybe they all were, the three of them standing in that room, and their coming together could only ever end in blasphemy.

“It’s always women, right?” Cam asked Ivan, turning to him. He nodded. She held a hand out to indicate Dennis. “This is your transgression.”

Ivan slipped the mask over his head as Dennis stuttered, “What are you talking about?” He cried out when he saw Ivan take the knife from his belt.

Cam clenched her jaw and prepared to fight the urge to look away. This was her choice. She needed to accept it, eyes open, for all it was. But the urge never came- not when Dennis turned to run, not when Ivan dove after him, not when she could hear Ivan’s leather glove creak as he tightened his grip on the knife or when he used Dennis’s own weight to tip him over or when he dropped down on top of Dennis and plunged the knife into his throat so hard, he struggled to pull it back out. The tip seemed to have caught in the floor.

In the end, her lack of horror was more disturbing to Cam than the scene before her.