The rideshare pulled up slowly. Its headlights cut across the dark jungle road. A dented white sedan idled on the gravel shoulder off Highway 9. Steam rose from its hood in the muggy night. The driver squinted into the darkness beyond his dashboard. His fingers drummed nervously on the wheel. His eyes widened as Sawyer and Cormac approached him from the trees.

  They moved like phantoms and they were cloaked in sweat and grime. Their weapons were slung and half concealed beneath their jackets. They didn’t speak to the driver at first, they just opened the doors and slid into the backseat.

  The driver turned and seemed upset at first, but when he saw Cormac’s M4 in his hands, he froze and said, “No, no, no, no—”

  Sawyer reached into his coat and pulled out a wad of bills. He peeled off five crisp hundreds and held them out between two fingers.

  The driver stared at the money. He clenched his jaw. Then with a reluctant grunt, he snatched the cash and shoved it into the glovebox. “Where?”

  “Down highway 9,” Sawyer said. “We’ll point it out when we see it.”

  The man drove. Not another word passed between them. Rain ticked against the windshield, soft and steady. Ahead, the road stretched narrow, cracked and veined by creeping roots. The driver stopped at the edge of the gravel pull-off. It was surrounded by thick ferns and half dead banana trees. As they stepped out, their driver pulled away and sped off. His red taillights faded into the night.

  They stood in front of Esteban’s place, the witch doctor of Room 6 in Guayabalito. They hadn’t encountered him since they failed to retrieve his ashwood box. And yet, they realized they still needed him.

  The place looked the same.

  Sawyer knocked twice on his door.

  There was a pause and then footsteps. A latch clicked. The door opened and Esteban appeared. He was barefoot and bleary eyed, and shirtless beneath a frayed kimono robe. He blinked like a lizard adjusting to daylight.

  “My favorite customers,” he said with a lazy smile. “Have you brought me my box? Is it time to cure your…” He poked his head out of the door and looked both ways. Then he said, “...your little problem?”

  Sawyer pushed inside without waiting. Cormac followed.

  “We don’t have the spell components,” Sawyer said, flatly. “We think an angel took it.”

  Esteban paused mid-step. His face darkened. “An angel?”

  “I don’t know,” Sawyer said. “The guy wore a gray trench coat and a big revolver. He dematerialized into light. We think it was an angel.”

  Esteban muttered a curse in Spanish and closed the door behind them. “I knew I should have left Panama,” he said, pacing. “I told myself it was time to pack up and go.”

  “Well, you didn’t,” Cormac said. “And now we’re here.”

  Sawyer stepped forward. “Ashley’s missing.”

  Esteban stopped. His expression didn’t change.

  “She’s gone rogue,” Sawyer continued. “We don’t know where she is.”

  “She’s always rogue,” Esteban said. “She’s Ashley.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Sawyer said. He closed the distance between them. “Where could she go? Who is she working with? We have to find her. She has something of ours.”

  Esteban remained silent.

  Cormac stepped forward and pulled out a fresh wad of cash. Slowly and deliberately, he peeled away a one hundred dollar bill. Then another. Then another.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  At $1,000, Esteban’s eyes really widened.

  Cormac handed him the stack. “Talk.”

  Esteban took the cash with trembling fingers and stuffed it into a bamboo drawer. He poured himself a drink from a brown jug. Then he slumped into a wicker chair and exhaled through his nose. “I’m more entangled in BlackDiamond than I’d like to be,” he admitted.

  Sawyer leaned against the counter. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m one of Harland’s sources,” Esteban said. “He pays me for rituals.”

  “What kind of rituals?”

  Esteban took one long drink before answering. “Memory wipes, mostly. It’s called Erasure. I can make a man forget the last 24 hours and sometimes more if I have the right ingredients. Some of these ingredients were in that ashwood box you lost. Without them, I’m not very useful to Harland anymore.”

  Cormac’s eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid that he’ll burn you?”

  “I’m afraid he’ll abduct me,” Esteban said. “He’s done it before with other witch doctors. Shamans, too. They vanish and nobody sees them again.”

  “Where do they go?” Sawyer asked.

  Cormac stuck out his thumb and motioned like he was cutting his throat with a knife.

  “I don’t know,” Esteban snapped. “They’re not dead. At least, I don’t believe so. I still see the remnants of their spell work, from time to time.”

  “What is BlackDiamond working on?” Sawyer pressed. “Tell us everything.”

  The witch doctor hesitated. Then he leaned forward, voice low and right.

  “Harland’s building something underground,” Esteban said. “It’s something evil. Reaper tech.”

  “You mean, supernatural?” Cormac asked.

  Esteban nodded. “Not just supernatural. Hellish. It’s magic twisted into something mechanical. It’s a fusion of blood and machines using rituals to bind them.”

  “Ashley’s after it,” he continued. “That’s why she’s still here. She wants revenge, but she wants more than that. She wants the truth. She thinks if she gets close enough to Harland, she can end it.”

  “Or get herself killed,” Cormac muttered.

  “Maybe both,” Esteban said. “But if Harland is anywhere, she has to be close to him.”

  Sawyer’s jaw tightened. “Is there another way to reverse our vampirism? Other than the spell components inside that box?”

  Esteban hesitated. “Not that I know. But if I come across more components, I’ll let you know.”

  Sawyer wiped the frustration off his face.

  “Why are you still here?” Cormac asked. “Why not run?”

  Esteban swirled his drink. “Because part of me wants to stop this. I’ve played my part in feeding the beast. Maybe it’s time I feed it poison instead.”

  Sawyer glanced at his brother. Cormac nodded.

  They turned to Esteban.

  “We want to bring you in,” Sawyer said. “Something bigger is happening. A network of corruption that’s spreading globally. Most of it originates here in Panama and the Darién Gap.”

  Esteban chuckled. “Great…”

  “We want to include you in Project Black Ledger,” Cormac said.

  Esteban stopped smiling. “What is that? Some CIA ghost op?”

  “Not far off,” Cormac said. “But the wrong agency.”

  Sawyer stepped closer. “It’s a continuation of my father’s work. He tracked demonic corporate entities like BlackDiamond. He compiled his intelligence into one big book of evil. It has names, dates, cases, and locations.”

  “And you have it?” Esteban asked.

  “We’re looking for it,” Sawyer said. “That’s why we’re looking for Ashley. She took it.”

  “Oh,” Esteban said.

  The room went quiet for a moment. And then Esteban took another sip of his drink. “If you find it and bring it here, I might recognize some of the names.”

  “Deal,” Sawyer said.

  “But if we do this,” Esteban added. “You have to know we’re dealing with an international psychopath with an army of demons. If we start getting under his skin, he’s going to send everything he can to kill us.”

  “He already tried sending the Panamanian military,” Cormac said.

  “What?” Esteban said, growing pale.

  Cormac slapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. We killed most of them.”

  “Except the vampire, Exavier,” Sawyer said.

  “Oh, and the demon, Caligo,” Cormac remembered.

  “Maybe I should reconsider this…” Esteban muttered.

  Cormac exhaled. “Welcome to the team, doc.”