Summoning the Night Read Free

onto the monthlies’ level. I spotted a tight corner space, not too far from the elevator.
    â€œWe’re parking here?” Jupe asked, wiping away fog to peer out the window. “Gross.”
    â€œWelcome to glamorous big-city life.”
    â€œI bet the Snatcher would have a field day down in this dump.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe Sandpiper Park Snatcher,” he repeated, as if I were the dumbest person in the world. When I shook my head in confusion, he explained. “Some kid went missing in La Sirena a couple of days ago. Everyone at school says the Snatcher’s back.”
    I grunted and warily glanced out the window. Leave it to me to get spooked by a teenager inside my own parking garage. “Look, you said you wanted to see my bar before it opens today.”
    â€œI do, I do!” he confirmed, throwing off his seat belt.
    â€œThen help me haul this shit out of the car and let’s get going before the rain starts.”
    I popped the trunk as Jupe slammed his door shut and jogged around to meet me. The restaurant supply guy had screwed up our delivery yesterday, so that meant I had to take care of this weekend’s garnish supplies by tracking down mondo sacks of lemons, limes, oranges, and pineapples. Jupe and I made a quick trip to the wholesaler’s warehouse before the whole savings account fiasco earlier in the day. Along with the fruit, I let him pick out Halloween candy both for home and the bar, so we also had enough Tootsie Rolls, Pixy Stix, and severed gummy body parts to feed an army of demons.
    While we unloaded the trunk, Jupe started in again about the Snatcher. In the oceanside Northern California town where he and Lon lived, this was apparently a local urban legend: a bogeyman whom no one had ever seen. When I pressed Jupe for details, all he could give me was a tangle of motley stories about young teenage Earthbounds who were picked off one by one at Halloween in the early ’80s.
    Great. That was the last thing I wanted to think about. Several weeks had passed since Jupe had been held hostage and his arm broken, but those memories continued to send a familiar pang of guilt through my gut. And from the worry shading his eyes right now, I guessed he wasn’t all that keen on pondering the possibility of getting kidnapped again, either. Best not to talk about it.
    â€œSmells like someone’s been pissing all over the walls,” Jupe complained, wrinkling his nose in disgust as we toted the bags of fruit and candy to the elevator.
    â€œSomeone probably has. Lots of someones.” I glanced over my shoulder and scanned the dirty garage. The concrete floor shook with the dull boom of a car on the level above us driving over speed bumps. Otherwise it was quiet. Usuallywas during the daytime on weekends. “Inhale through your mouth,” I suggested. “And stay sharp.”
    He followed my instruction as I stopped in front of the elevator and used a knuckle to press the cracked plastic button to go up. I started to ask Jupe a question but was interrupted when something hit me in the shoulder, knocking me sideways. My cheek smacked into the concrete above the elevator button panel. Pain flared. A bag of limes fell out of my hand as Jupe yelled behind me.
    â€œAgainst the wall! Move!” A man in a bright blue hoodie towered in front of us, his face shrouded in sharp slices of shadow under the dim garage lights. No halo, so he was human, not Earthbound. His blond hair was shaggily cropped. He carried a curved hunting knife in one hand and stood with his legs apart, bouncing on the toes of his tennis shoes, ready for a fight.
    I dropped the other bag I was holding and backed into Jupe. The scrape on my cheek was on fire. My heart galloped frantically inside my chest.
    â€œMoney. Now!” the man shouted. As he did, his head shifted out of the shadows to reveal a mouthful of yellow, rotting teeth. Meth head, I assumed, pairing his dental