Ainsley stalked through never-ending tunnels and hallways. They snapped into their proper shape at his presence, illusions dripping away like molten glass. Darkness pooled in his footsteps, monsters following murderously behind him, unable to touch him but unwilling to let him leave without a fight.
Nerves rubbed raw,Ainsley finally emerged into the lobby. The Mojave Desert still waited outside the glass doors, and the sun was rising over the scrub. It had only been one night since he had arrived.
There was someone else standing at the doors, someone Ainsley didn’t think he’d seen before.
“Sorry, sir.” The night man – his name tag says Ciaran, so that isn’t his name – bares too many teeth in a disturbing imitation of a smile, “we’re only accepting new guests at this time.”
Ainsley kept walking.
“Sir?” There was something wrong with his voice, something that made the solidly human part of Ainsley ache and shiver, “Feel free to… check out, Sir, but you won’t be permitted to leave.”
Ainsley knows better. There’s more than one meaning to the term ‘check out’, and if he lost his concentration now, he would be torn apart in seconds.
“I agreed to spend a night.” He managed through clenched teeth, “’A’ here meaning one. I have spent one night. You have to let me leave.”
“Very good sir, but the night is not yet over.”
Ainsley stared at Ciaran, trying to think and keep his shield of ‘human, human, entirely human’ up. He turned slowly and stared out the window at the sun that had just peaked over the horizon. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the image of the sun and sky started to melt.
It dripped away seemingly at the speed of molasses, revealing the barely-lightened pre-dawn sky. A final illusion, hoping to make him break his word to Oriana and leave before the night was done.
Ainsley shuffled to a bench in the lobby and sat down. Hellhound prowled inches in front of him and basilisks gazed unblinkingly through him, but Ainsley kept his aura high. He didn’t know how much time passed, how long he sat there focused purely on brandishing his humanness in a protective layer.
The sun had risen completely when he left the Moonshadow Lodge, magic pulling on his limbs like he was running in a dream. He settled into his car, still waiting patiently in the tiny, overgrown parking lot, and the magic vanished.
The Moonshadow Lodge was gone, vanished to some other lost traveler or wandering fae. It left behind only the old parking lot and the ruined building that had once been attached to it. Ainsley, sitting in his warded, reinforced car, finally reunited with his full arsenal of monster-hunting equipment, found a new goal. He had been hunting aimlessly all this time, wandering from chase to trap with no real aim. Now he knew what he needed to do. He was the only human to ever escape the Moonshadow Lodge, and he would use his newfound knowledge to tear it to the ground.
The ceiling was lined with mirrors. Ainsley knew they were real – unlike most other things in these long, twisting halls – because jingxiang dropped from out of them, reaching quicksilver claws towards him. Ainsley dodged talons that fractured the flickering torchlight and raised his gun to shoot the mirrors above him.
Werewolves howled in the tunnel behind him and murocorrers skittered along the walls. Ainsley could still smell the ‘pink champagne’ that had signaled the beginning of the hunt. He didn’t think he’d ever drink champagne again, not with that image that had burned itself into his mind forever.
Ainsley’s footsteps muffled suddenly as the bare stone changed abruptly to thick carpet. He almost slowed, almost paused to gain his bearings, but a banshee thrummed her song of death and Ainsley practically stumbled over his own feet to move faster.
A door loomed in front of him, sturdy and thick. With the hallway behind him seething with fae and magik, Ainsley had nowhere to go but through it. If it was a magik door it would be locked no matter what he did, but if it was a fae door or an unused room it may be open, and Ainsley was relatively sure he was near the outside wall. It was hard to tell in the confusing winding hallways that went on longer than they should.
The door was unlocked.
Ainsley shoved through it with barely a shiver of foreboding to slow him. It was ominous for sure, but there was nothing he could do about it. He barely caught a glimpse of the room, but it was enough. Rich red furnishing with darker red stains. Glossy stained wood shining with the presence only real things can have. A circle chalked into the ground, warding the inside from the out and the outside from within.
With no other option available, Ainsley stumbled into the circle. Magiks and monsters spilled into the room, seething and swarming in a ghastly hoard. Ainsley could feel his mind failing looking at the crowd and quickly averted his gaze to the chalk circle on the floor. He knew it was a trap. He knew. There wasn’t any other reason for a protection ward to be drawn here. Better the devil you know, though, right? Ainsley knew all the high-ranking devils and demons. His heart wavered then soared reading the name written in the rim of circle.
He wouldn’t lose his soul today. The master of the Moonshadow Lodge – for so long sought after and hunted by his associates – was not what any of them have been searching for.
Ainsley gathered himself together, reaching deep into his soul to find what he needed. Every other hunter he’d ever met was special. Grandson of a demigod, blessed by a dragon, unicorn rider, Phoenix friend. None of them would survive here.
Ainsley summoned every drop of pure, true humanness he had. Every incorrect assumption and mistake. Every clever moment and stroke of genius. Every chink and crack in his mind and personality, fear and hatred and guilt and greed and laziness. Every virtue and strength in his soul, courage and love and redemption and generosity and hard work.
Immundus, demon king of corruption – once the angel of purity – can’t touch humans. They’re perfectly balanced in the middle of corruption and purity, born to be right and wrong, light and dark, good and evil. His servants and guests also can’t harm a real, true, untouched human.
Ainsley stepped out of the summoning circle and walked through the crowd. Silver claws skidded off of his skin and teeth shattered on his unprotected limbs. A screech that would have blown out his eardrums faded and died into strangled silence.
Ainsley stood with his back to the wall, staring hard at the ground beneath him. He knew it was the same scuffed and cratered stonethat the hallways were made of, but the illusions layered so heavily over it that he couldn’t actually seeit.
The whole room was imitation and lookalike, smooth marble floor and glossy wood panelingmere thin layers that hid the true purpose of the courtyard. Ainsley didn’t know how much was real, where the wood paneling blended with the illusions and where the sky startedand magic ended. He wasn’t sure if any of it was real at all.
An array of counterfeit people swirled around Ainsley, their auras and voices and magiks blending together. Some, Ainsley knew, were fae themselves. Shining hooves unhidden by any illusion danced between polished boots and bloodstained claws.
None of the other fae that wandered near him touched him. Ainsley had heard very little of the Moonshadow Lodge – none that entered ever lived long – but from internal reports he had heard that there was a sort of honor among they fae that were permitted there. Ainsley had already been claimed by Oriana, and none would risk the retaliation of the Lodge’s master if they interrupted the hunt of another.
Oriana herself was somewhere in the throng, and Ainsley could hear her laughter – just a little too wild – cut through the low thrum of noise. When he chanced a careful look up, he caught brief glimpses of beings that had once been human. They glittered now with real diamonds and another’s fire, a lost wildness in their eyes that no true human had.
They danced with reckless abandon, whirlwinds of sparkling motion. Some clutched small items in their furious motion, eyes blown wide and trained unmovingly on the item they held. Others clenched their eyes tightly shut, unaware of anything around them yet never once colliding. Both sent chills down Ainsley’s spine and urged him to reach for his rosary.
He ached with his own memories and the urge to dance them away. Memories of his old hunts, losses and failures. Memories of this last night when he fell prey to the Moonshadow Lodge’s curse. Memories of his weakness again just before midnight, when he gave into the Moonshadow Lodge once again to follow the alluring voices down the halls and to the dancing courtyard.
‘Come dance’ the sourceless music hummed through his veins, ‘you are safe and encouraged here, leave your shameful past behind you. The courtyard is beautiful, and those who dance are delighted. Come and join them. Forget your guilt. Never remember again.’
Ainsley pressed his back to the wall and his lips tightly closed. He hadn’t danced since his first hunt years ago, and he knew that someone in his profession – someone who chases fae and captures sirens and mimics– could never afford to give in to the call of music.
He also knew he wasn’t truly welcome here. Not until he let the magic in the music pour through him and danced like the sparkling, perfect victims that flocked to Oriana’s flame. He had no proper piece of etiquette to excuse his refusal to dance, and the fae that saw him braced against the wall would be free to press their magic against his mind in an effort to force him.
He stayed against the wall, tracing lines in the floor with his eyes, and struggled to shrug off the looming pressure of magic and expectation that poured onto his shoulders from sharp, watching eyes.
Her name tag read Oriana, but there was certainly no way it was her real name. She lit a candle with a touch of her fingers, and only in the firelight was her true form visible. Before Ainsley could catch more than a glint of elongated fangs, she had turned away, gliding effortlessly over the pitted, scarred stone.
Whispers echoed across the bare walls, eerie music and inhuman singing. From personal experience, Ainsley could pick out the distinctive notes of a Siren’s song and the warbling tremor of a mimic’s true voice. He tried to shut out the music, focus on the number of turns Oriana led him through.
Still the unearthly song drifted in his mind, and despite all his training Ainsley couldn’t pinpoint where it came from – if it was even still audible.
‘Welcome’ the music tingled darkly in his soul, ‘you are welcome here, let down your guard. The building is beautiful, and the people are kind. Welcome. You are welcome. Never leave.’
On instinct, Ainsley put his hand on the wall. The rough stone scraped against his fingertips, helping to ground him in reality. Oriana glided past rows upon rows of doorways, some closed and forbidding and some cracked open ever-so-slightly to let firelight or darkness or soft murmurs into the corridor.
Ainsley trailed behind her, gaze locked on Oriana in a desperate attempt to keep it away from the tantalizing magic trailing from the open rooms and calling voices. He had to focus now. His life and soul depended on it.
Oriana was dressed much better than Ainsley remembered. Diamonds – real ones, as far as he could tell – glinted in the candlelight, spilling down her shimmering silver dress. Her talons clawsnails shone with real gold leaf, and Ainsley couldn’t tell if they reflected the fiery glow of the candle lighting the path or if they were heated with their own internal flame.
His question was answered when Oriana finally stopped, turning towards him. Her eyes glowed with blazing desire, and her fangsteeth were stained faintly pink with what Ainsley knew without thinking was the blood of many, many unlucky souls.
He entered the room Oriana ushered him to without a conscious thought to do so, and as the door slid shut behind her, he couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. A hunter he may be, skilled and experienced enough to live this long, but he couldn’t help but think that he may be Oriana’s next unlucky prey.
The sun sank lower over the rolling scrub brush and Ainsley knew it was too late. The air was already cooling, and the moon glinted in his rearview mirror. This far from civilization, with only the never-ending expanse of the desert around, the fabric of reality was thin. The full moon only compounded the problem.
Right as he was going to give up completely and stop to fortify his car as much as possible, something caught his eye. In the distance, a little to the right of the road, was something blue. He might not have noticed it if the sun had been any higher in the sky, and he might have given it up as a lost cause had the sun been any lower.
Moonlight gleamed around him, transforming the desert into a hazy, otherworldly landscape. Ainsley’s vision darkened at the edges, magiks and Presences distorting the frayed reality. The line between real and fake was blurring and swirling, and Ainsley could barely keep his head up and eyes fixed on the blue.
The blue light shimmered with the promise of safety, and Ainsley stepped on the gas. He was going far, far faster than the speed limit, but no one was here to witness it. He pulled into the parking lot and barely had the presence of mind to turn off his car before stumbling to the dubious safety of neon lights and glass doors.
Had he been more aware, he would have hesitated, inspected the building closer. He would have noticed the fresh, bright paint contrasting keenly with the pitted, overgrown parking lot. The glaring neon signs and flashing lights that would fit better on the Vegas strip than in the middle of the Mojave Desert. The real gold but fake silver. Too-large doors and too-high ceilings. Hoof marks on the floors. Claw marks on the walls.
Ainsley staggered into the light and through the automatic door. There was a woman standing in the doorway, her smile just a little too wide, her eyes just a little too bright.
“Welcome!” She chimed merrily, “will you come and stay in our fine establishment tonight?”
Ainsley could barely focus on her face. He knew she was beautiful, and there was something wrong with everything about her, but he couldn’t remember why that was a bad thing. He nodded unthinkingly, automatically agreeing with... whatever she had said.
Somewhere, deep in the depths of the building, a bell tolled. In a heart-stopping instant, all the dizziness and confusion left Ainsley’s mind, and reality hit him like a collapsing stone wall. He had agreed with a fae – she had to be, there was no other way to explain it – without knowing what, exactly, he had agreed to.
“Wonderful!” She was just as cheerful and bright as before as she turned to lead him away, “Follow me, then, and I’ll show you to your room.”
Ainsley’s body followed without any thought of his own, and the door slid open in front of the woman. Behind it was darkness and stone, marked from claws and hooves and acid. The woman turned and smiled at Ainsley, her teeth too long and her eyes too vibrant.
He really should have waited it out in his car. A desert full of Presences and magik would have been a far safer option than the Moonshadow Lodge.
