Indigo Shadow - Hemlock

Chapter 18

"The devil you all know, baby, it's me... it's me..." A lonesome blues song echoed out of the door of a bar in downtown Laramie, as Hemlock walked down the alley. It was just past sunset, the bright neon of signs blinked at him and lamps lit up the street. A crunchy looking man blew a cloud of cigarette smoke in Hemlock's direction as he passed the bar's back door. The smell of grease, steam, and old ash filled Hemlock's nose as he bypassed more restaurants, gift shops, and bars. He was headed towards the train tracks, and besides that, a crossroads that split the town in two.

He knew, as he neared the tracks, that his guard needed to be up. His black boots slicked across the uneven stones, and the sound of the music faded behind him. The lights were becoming less and less, shedding darkness onto the lonely streets.

As he crossed the street, he realized this area was historic, all the buildings radiated paranormal energy. Only the flickering of distant passing cars over a viaduct allowed him to see his footing. The wail of a feral cat made Hemlock's skin prickle and he picked up his pace. The directions he'd gotten pointed him down an alleyway. A broken pipe above the entry to the alley spewed steam out of it, giving off a high-pitched scream. The alley, like the street before it, was lit with only oil lanterns. Oil lanterns? They flickered with golden light, sending the whole place back in time. Hemlock wasn't paying attention to where he was going and stumbled unexpectedly over something.

"Watch where you're going!" An old woman with skin the color of cinnamon and crinkly eyes peered up at Hemlock from the side of the alley. Her accent was thick, probably from the southwest. She was dressed in a richly colored dress, a soft leather hat sat on top of her head; her ears were adorned in bright gold. Hemlock had stumbled over her box of bottles. They had weird markings all over them, but they seemed to be empty. A clove cigarette hung from her full lips, its smell wafted up Hemlock's nose. She grinned at him kindly.

"Espíritu in a bottle. Do you want one?" She said, noticing Hemlock's curious eye.

"No thank you, ma'am." Hemlock tried to smile. The thought of one's soul trapped in a bottle made his stomach drop.

"I can try and bottle up that diablo you got hanging on your shoulder." She uttered. That caught Hemlock's attention.

"What devil?" Hemlock inquired. Could she see Hemlock's demon?

"He's staring at me now. With those big red eyes of his." The old woman seemed un-phased. As if she saw this kind of thing every day.

"How much would it be?" Hemlock asked, interested. Maybe this old woman was his answer.

"No gracias, sabia mujer, no queremos nada," A distinct voice echoed its way into the alleyway. And Hemlock felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Hemlock turned and stared into the obsidian eyes of Nox.

He was dressed in his usual business casual black garb; a button up shirt, black peacoat, and tight fitting dress pants. His white blonde hair seemed to glow, even in the dark of night. Nox led Hemlock away; his tight grip on Hemlock's arm was so firm he could feel a bruise forming.

"Ow! Geez. What'd I do?" Hemlock cursed and rubbed his arm once Nox had let go. They were halfway down the alley now.

"You were about to sell your soul. Literally." Nox replied calmly.

"What? No! She said she could take whatever's on me away." Hemlock said and glanced over his shoulder. The old woman was gone.

"The only way she could do that is if she takes your soul too. She was a bruja... a very cunning woman. Respect it, but I assume you don't understand brujeria," He glanced around himself, as if looking for something. He scrunched his nose in frustration. "Also, I think you sort of stepped into my Time-Gate," Nox said, annoyed; he watched Hemlock carefully. Hemlock shrugged and stared at him in confusion.