Chapter 8

Seraph bolted upright. A thin sheen of sweat covered her, making her tank stick to her skin. Her breath came in ragged, whimpering pants. The details of her vision– or nightmare, she wasn't sure which– were still holding her hostage. She was still in the dark room. The shadows closed in around her, cutting off her air, trapping her. She struggled to free herself from the sheets that had wrapped themselves around her legs. She needed to get out, the room was too close, too tight, too cramped.

The house was dark and completely silent as Seraph stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway. She blindly walked with one hand on the wall towards the living room. The dim light from the kitchen windows acted like a beacon, drawing her outside.

Fresh snow covered the yard and Seraph fell to her knees on the icy ground. For long moments she simply held herself and shivered. Slowly, she calmed down. The cold helped her find herself, let her think.

It had only been a week since the attack at the bus stop. The attacks had become so frequent that Seraph hadn't even been able to come out of Gabe's room for the last few days for fear of having an attack in front of witnesses. Again. While she was sequestered an early snow fall had hit. Seraph had watched the snow from her window, feeling cut off from the world.

Seraph would have to break her promise to Gabe. She couldn't wait another week to obey the voice– she couldn't even wait another day. She had to go now, before she completely lost her mind. Without a gun, she would need to improvise a weapon. Her eyes fell on the wood pile.

And the axe that rested next to it.

Inexplicably, Brad had spent the morning after the snow fall chopping wood. Seraph would've thought they would just crank up the heat or even buy a Duraflame log if they wanted a fire so bad. But it seemed that Brad cut fresh wood every winter, claiming that it wasn't a real fire otherwise. However strange it was to think of Brad lumberjacking it up in the backyard, she was glad that he had found something to keep him occupied and his attention off of her. He had grown increasingly harder to keep in the dark and his well meaning prying proved more and more difficult to avoid. He knew something was wrong, and while he seemed to be buying Gabe's excuses for now, he was always asking what he could do to help. Well, he could start with loaning Seraph his axe.

She climbed to her feet. The wet snow soaked through her socks, reminding her that she wasn't dressed for high adventure. Slipping quietly inside, Seraph made sure not to wake her brother, who was sleeping in the living room. She dressed in the dark, not wanting to risk waking anyone and having to answer questions. Jeans, a long sleeve shirt, a fleece jacket, her steel-toe boots and she was ready to go– it felt good to be doing something at last. She hated the waiting.

The truck Seraph bought last week sat in the driveway. Considering the safest time from an attack was right after one, she had not waited to purchase the truck. Instead of looking the truck over and getting it taken to a mechanic as she had planned she just bought it outright. It wasn't her only purchase that day either; while she wasn't able to get the hand gun she wanted, that didn't stop her from going on a shopping spree. She bought everything she thought she would need for this, including a crowbar, a new hands free flashlight, and a big first-aid kit.

She would really need a job after this.

Putting the truck in gear, she took off. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, an old alley behind a liquor store with a manhole that you couldn't see from the street. If she got back out before morning, she should be good. If she got out. She was going into the sewers after all.

The sewers were home to every last monster and boogey that wanted or needed to hide from daylight. Nobody could say for sure  what all lived down there, as the kinds of creatures that did had a habit of eating visitors and census takers. One could only speculate as to whether or not fava beans and chianti were involved. Even the brave and hardy sewer workers only went down in teams of ten. Seraph didn't know if working around human waste was worth the prestige of being a monster hunter. It took all kinds, she supposed.

The streets where nearly empty the whole trip and Seraph was able to park right in front of the alley. Turning off her truck, she sat for a few moments. This wasn't the closest manhole to where she felt the items where, but it was the most hidden. It wasn't particularly legal to go into the sewers. Hopefully people wouldn't notice right away if she didn't get out before morning. Of course, hopefully if she didn't get out before morning– that didn't mean she wasn't getting out at all. She checked once more to make sure she was the only one out at this hour before grabbing the crowbar off the passenger seat and ducking down the alley.

Manhole covers and sewer grates were one of the few instances of magic being used consistently in a commercial setting. It wasn't that magic wasn't reliable, it just wasn't practical. It took decades to train someone to use magic, and not just anybody could be trained, you had to be born with the ability. Only about one out of every five thousand people were born with that potential. While that meant there were tens of thousands of magic users in the US alone, it also meant that most people could go their whole lives and never meet one. Magic could be mixed with technology, to a point, but once again it just wasn't practical. Why put a magic battery in a cell phone when you could just put in a normal battery? It didn't help that each piece of magic had to be crafted by hand, precluding any kind of mass production.

Really, the only sensible use of magic was to combat other magic. On the off chance a bogle manages to get in your house, nothing from Home Depot is going to be able to help you.

Seraph hefted the crowbar and fit it into the groove on the manhole cover. The cover was heavy, and lifting it was backbreaking work to Seraph, who felt the strain along every stitch in her back, but it did move.

The sewers tended to be their own deterrent. And for a long time the combination of monsters and sewage was enough to keep everybody that didn't need to go down there, out. But now lots of states were making new covers– not just with spells to keep the monsters locked in, but also to keep people, who didn't have the right charm from opening them. Even though most of the monsters seemed content enough to stay put, it only took one stupid teenager on a dare to open the thing and get eaten. As important as it was, she was glad that the precaution hadn't made it to Maine yet. Locks made breaking and entering so much harder.

Finally the cover pulled free. Seraph straightened and tucked the crowbar into her belt, and walked back to the truck to get the rest of her things. She debated bringing her bag, since it didn't have anything extra in it that would help her and could slow her down if she needed to get through tight spaces in a hurry– which she almost assuredly would– but then so would carrying the horn and arrow by hand. She took the pack anyway, as being slightly encumbered was better than not having a hand free when you really needed one.

Her flashlight went into the breast pocket of her jacket and she turned it on. The axe was the last thing she needed from the truck. She felt conspicuous and couldn't keep from looking around to make sure no one was watching– a move that screamed ‘I am doing something bad' to anyone who happened to be looking her way. Luckily, she was just as alone as the last time she checked.

There was no putting it off. She walked back to the manhole. It was now or never. Looking down, she could see light below her. So. This was it. Taking a deep breath, Seraph climbed onto the ladder and went down.

This was going to suck.

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