It was too dark to find the faint path climbing the hills among the brush and rocks, but my surefooted mitema didn’t care. I trusted him and kept my eyes on the retreating ghost. My only chance was to rely on my mount’s speed and get out of there as soon as possible. Kyrabdel bounded ahead, barely slowed down by my weight. The ghost didn't take any notice of us, just glided on as we quickly gained in on them. I could make out their vaguely human figure now.

“Hey! Hey, you!” I didn’t know why I tried to keep my voice low. As if anything in those hills could still remain unaware of us. “Come with me!”

I thought the ghost had turned their head in my direction, but I couldn’t tell for sure, what with their lack of features. Something flattened the ichu coming toward us: several somethings, from my left and my right. I refused to look at them, though their sickly glow burned at the edge of my vision. If the ghost wouldn’t come with me, I’d have to leave them behind.

Then, that howl again, so close it made my skin crawl and my ears ache. Poor Kyrabdel picked up speed.

I was so close to the ghost, I could almost touch them; so I stretched my arm out. The ghost clung to me with both hands. They didn’t weight anything, but their touch chilled my skin. I pulled them up behind me.

“And don’t let go.”

I shouldn’t have bothered; the ghost soon wrapped themself around me like a silvery vest. We couldn’t turn around, not with those yellow lights still approaching; all we could do was keep on running, further up and to the south and away from home. Could we simply outrun those things? Not likely. Their stench of rotted meat and clotted blood greased its way into my lungs. Did they even tire? Kyrabdel would.

Unlike them, though, I knew the hills. Was there anything I could use? Running water. Creatures from the Underworld can't cross it. The Rekul was close enough. All we had to do was keep running. There were at least three or four lights between us and the river, so we'd have to fight our way through the creatures. On the good side, after that we'd be out of their reach. Unless we found more on the other side, that is. But I’d rather take those chances.

No time to lose, then. I let go of Kyrabdel's halter and readied myself. Up ahead, pale long shapes crouched in all fours.

I felt for the wind spells necklace and cracked a bead between index and thumb. The spell hovered about me for an instant, in need of directions. I thought of it shoving those things behind me, and it obliged me with a sudden cold blast. The glowing yellow figures were lifted into the air and tossed over my head. I had a better glimpse of one as it passed me by. Far, far too many needles as long as my hand on its maw.

Too bad creatures from the Underworld aren't easily harmed by magic, or I could've done something better than delaying them. I used another spell on the ones following me, but didn't look behind to see how well it'd worked. Would I have any kind of warning before they struck? Their howls sounded always the same to me. Maybe their foul stench would grow even fouler. I didn't want to spend more wind spells unless I had to, and I didn't want to risk a brush fire.

With every bound, Kyrabdel knocked the breath out of my lungs. I was barely enough of a rider to know how to sway on his back for balance. The Rekul couldn't be so very far ahead now. In the moonslight I would've seen it shine. If I was headed in the right direction, that is. Surely I hadn't let the birdy run in a different direction? I knew these hills, but it was my life I was betting on that knowledge. Wait: I could just about make out a ribbon darker than the dusty ground up ahead.

Then Kyrabdel tripped.

He didn't fell, I did. The ground leaped at me and all I could do was curl myself on a ball and roll with the impact. I was dragged over pebbles, down down down. I couldn't draw breath. My lungs protested. At least I didn’t roll over a cactus before I reached the ground and managed to scramble to my feet.

I didn’t see Kyrabdel anywhere. I did see those things, far more than I ever cared to. They walked on their knuckles like apes; their plucked-chicken skins glistened in their own sallow glow. I tried not to look at the teeth, but those were too big and far too many to miss. The ghost slipped inside my shirt.

My head felt ready to float away from my body. Another wind spell was the best I could do—I still had two or three left. Too bad I was already surrounded on every side.

And then, two things happened at the same time. A rumble of machinery came from up ahead—a sound I couldn’t remember hearing in those hills. The creatures sank to the ground, trembling like grass in a windstorm. They even seemed to dim their sickly glow. And they sure as all hells didn’t give a fuck about me or the ghost anymore.

A part of my mind was screaming at me to get out of there. The bigger part, though, had to see what was coming my way before I made a decision. I couldn’t run blindly into the night.

An instant later, something appeared on top of the hill, as if darkness itself had become solid. I could just about make out someone on a gleaming black motorcycle. The rider drove down the hill and stopped not far from us. Those things still hugged the ground. Theoretically, I could’ve tried to run past them, but I doubted it’d make any difference.

“Good ni—” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat before starting again. “Good night, however you prefer to be called. I do believe you're blocking my way.”

Sometimes audacity will carry you through.

“‘Sir’ is fine.” His voice was close to the freezing point, but I did detect a hint of amusement. If he wanted to blend in with the night, he was dressed the right way, all in black leather from his dark-visored helmet to his boots. “From experience, ‘asshole’ seems more likely.”

The necromancer, of course. Come to finish whatever he'd started. Unfortunately for me, I doubted he'd come unprepared. More prepared than me, at least.

“Let me pass through and I'll call us even.” Though I was still trying to catch my breath, I managed to sound as if nothing was out of place. Past him was Calabaza, not home—but then, anything was better than being in the open with this weird man and those things.

The necromancer chuckled without much humor. He waved his hand lazily, like a lord of yore banishing an inconvenient servant. The gloom dispersed. It was one of those nights when all three moons are full and everything’s so bright it almost looks like daylight: a silver noon.

He dismounted leisurely, as if he’d guessed I wasn't much of an opponent for him. If we were talking spells he was likely right. Just for his shitty attitude, though, I really wanted to beat him up. And never mind he had like a head on me. Good spellworkers don’t necessarily make good fistfighters, and though I didn’t look like much, I did manual work every day. I knew my strength. A complete stranger wouldn’t know, however. That was to my advantage.

All of this, of course, assuming I could come close enough to land a punch on him.

The necromancer removed his helmet. A cascade of black curls fell way past his shoulders. Bone-white skin, eyes and lips in pitch-black.

“You'll give me that ghost.” It wasn't a request. It wasn't even an order. It was a fact too trivial to even put into question, as if he was telling me the hour.

“Man, I don't know what you're talking about.” I had no idea if he knew about the ghost or if he was just bullshitting, so it’d be dumb to just agree.

He walked toward me, unrushed, more graceful than you'd expect from someone with those long limbs, like an egret poised on a branch that looked barely capable of bearing its weight. “I won't repeat myself again. Give me that ghost.”

I backed away slowly, without taking my eyes off of him.

He was fast, but I saw his knee coming. I had barely enough time to raise my arms in a protective stance before he smashed right into me. And hells, he had a kick a mitema would envy. For the second time that night, I hit the ground and curled myself up in a ball to roll away. There went the constellations, swirling like a stew being stirred. Gravel scraped my left cheek.

Fuck him if he thought I'd give up so easily. I had an utility knife folded in my right boot, if I could reach it and distract him long enough to strike a blow.

But wait. Why hadn’t this guy used a spell already? There was no reason for that, none unless—he didn’t want to hurt me. What was I missing?

One advantage of kissing the ground is being able to feel vibrations much better. Such as, in this case, the distant rattling of wheels coming from the northwest. From home. All I had to do was hold on until help arrived.

“Hey,” I said.

He went down in one knee by my side, gripping a fistful of my hair. Looming over me, he felt larger than life, covering both of us in darkness; his fingers sent an electric rush over my scalp.

My stomach twisted with dread and delight. My cock stirred and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

Look, haughty men with overbearing attitudes turn me on. I very much enjoy being roughed up. If I’d happened to meet this man in a bar, I’d be making bedroom eyes at him in seconds. That night may not have been the right time and place, but my cock didn’t care.

“You're real pretty,” I said. “Did anybody tell you?”

He raised his eyebrows, probably wondering if he'd given me brain damage.

“Though you'd be prettier without the stuck-up sneer.”

His hand clenched on my hair, and for the briefest moment, that aloof look in his eyes was replaced by something scarier. I tensed, expecting him to smack my head into the ground. Instead, he let go.

For the briefest moment, I was disappointed. I mean, I didn’t want to be hit again. But a kiss, maybe, pushing me hard and unforgiving against the gravel. Something that’d leave marks.

I could see wheels coming to a stop not far away: our other cart, pulled by our other male mitema. My grandmas had to be there, and Auntie Estrella and Untie Lago.

The necromancer stood up slowly, looking at them as if they were nothing more than sand up his nose. For that, I could’ve slammed his head right on the gravel. Unfortunately, I was still trying to get my bearings.

“Leave the boy alone,” Grandma Alba said from behind his back.

He only bothered glancing at her for a few seconds, but that was enough. As he turned around, Auntie Estrella hit him with a blinding spell. The man grunted, seemingly more in surprise than pain, stumbling backwards as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. That was enough time, though, for Grandma Cielo to throw a barrier spell around me.

I finally managed to get up on my knees, wheezing as if I'd run all the way to El Meandro. The ghost made for a convenient cold pack on my ribs though.

Just as soon, the necromancer freed himself from the blinding spell. He didn’t care to keep fighting. Instead, he gave my family an appraising look. “Who are you?”

He sure had a hoity-toity accent. We only really heard people talk like that in plays and radio shows. You know, the token snooty aristocrat everyone makes fun of. As long as the Department of Decorous Behavior thinks the butt of the joke are only aristos from the olden days and not anybody more recent, they’ll let you butt along.

“The ones who'll kill you if you don't leave that boy alone,” Grandma Alba said.

The corners of his mouth tightened as if he was cutting off some remark. Instead of saying whatever he thought, he went down on one knee, lifted Grandma Cielo's barrier up, and shattered it with a simple tug.

I'd never seen anybody get rid of one of her barriers so easily.

Wait a moment.

Suddenly, everything made sense. As much as I’d prefer it didn’t.

“You're not the necromancer,” I rasped out.

He made a face as if someone had kneed him for a change. That at least I could enjoy, if only for a moment. “You thought I was the necromancer?”

We exchanged a single look and understood we'd fought for literally no reason.

“There's been a misunderstanding,” he said.

“Ya think?” snapped Untie Lago.

“Yes, I do think so. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Vanth Umbra, King of the Dying Sun.”

Other than the person who had summoned those things, who would show up out of nowhere, if not the person who came when necromancers showed up? And who else would frighten those things so much, if not the one who held sway over all creatures of the Underworld?

I was dead. All of us were dead.