It had been a gamble, of course. I had no way of knowing that Hidebehind would accept my challenge. The only clue I had was his name. Going off of his name, I hoped that he had some sort of pride in the act of hiding. Luckily, he seemed more than receptive to the ideas of games in general. Maybe loggers did a lot of that: playing games.
Which landed me in this predicament.
I had to find Hidebehind, a creature whose literal being centered around the act of hiding. The Oxford Dictionary literally defines it so that whatever thing in question cannot be seen or found. And I just had to be in a situation where I had to challenge said preternatural to a game where he was the one doing the hiding. At least, that’s what I think Wol would have done.
Now that I think about it, anytime we were going into a situation where the creature didn’t seem to be receptive to wit and mental games, Wol seemed wary. Something to keep in mind.
Either way, I had to find Hidebehind. And fast too. I only had three minutes(‘less than three minutes now, Jain,’ I reminded myself) and I sure as hell wasn’t getting any younger.
The problem was this: I had no real plan for after he accepted.
I flipped my precious backpack inside out, and an assortment of doodads and trinkets came falling out in a mess. I regretted it immediately—now I had to spend precious time rummaging through all this to sort the junk from what might be useful. Even what might be useful might turn out not to be, and I’d be back to the drawing board. Time that I definitely didn’t have.
A bead of sweat fell from my chin. I was scared, that was a given. And hurt. And in pain. God, I thought I was done getting hurt after fighting Maw in Hell’s Kitchen. And here I was, bleeding and playing some sick game with a preternatural that wanted to eat me.
C’mon, Jain. Less thinking. More doing. I was going to fuck this up regardless of what I did. I just had to make sure I fucked it up to a degree that I could salvage something workable out of it.
My one working hand spread everything out so that nothing was lying on top of another. A box of chalk, colored tape, post-its, a piece of the mother tree, my knife, shards of glass taped together, wardstones, books, and more stuff. God, there was so much to sort through. When did I pack all this?
I needed Wol here. His advice. He was my sounding board, my advisor, my friend, my familiar. He was the one who refined my ideas. Hwari? The one who made it possible.
“One. He’s good at hiding,” I whispered out loud. It helped focus my thoughts to stop this meaningless straying into what I needed and towards what I had. “Two, the second part of his name. Behind.”
If he was listening, so be it. I needed at least this much.
I kept organizing what I knew about him. “He’s some kind of creature who used to hang around loggers. Possibly feed on them. He’s not buddy-buddy with them, that’s for sure.” I thought some more. “He’s a native. Meaning he’s originates from North America.”
While I spoke, my hand picked out things that might be useful. Taped Glass. Chalk. Tape. Post-its. The wardstones were useless in this case. I built most of them for the purpose of protection.
“He screamed when I shone light on him. Now, the question is, was his aversion to light, or what light insinuates?” I thought for a moment. “His name. Hidebehind. Hiding is part of who he is, and light jeopardizes that. Light doesn’t just purify; light has the symbolic significance of revealing. He screamed because light is the opposite of what it means to hide.”
I stopped, thinking about twisting the meaning in different ways. After all, plenty of things could hide in plain sight using brightness as cover. But instinct told me I was taking it a step too far. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, but again, Hidebehind’s name was simple. Direct. His words, his actions, his behavior—nothing to allude to a potentially sly side. My theories had to align with that theme of directness.
“Going off that,” I said. “He’s likely hiding in the woods somewhere behind me.”
In the same vein, he wouldn’t be somewhere hard to spot. That’d be too sneaky, and the idea of this ten-foot-tall monster squishing himself in a cramped hole didn’t sit right with me. No. It’d be blatant. Hiding behind a tree, maybe in the branches, relying more on the natural darkness and forest canopies.
I began tearing the tape off the glass pieces so that I had multiple shards to use. It was more difficult than it should have been, especially since I only had one hand to use. My bandaged arm was still paying the price for my trick with the light rune from earlier. I requisitioned help from my teeth, wrist, leg, anything really. The corner of my lip got cut and started bleeding. Just as well.
I took some blood from my stomach and began to draw on the shards of glass. First, a circle. Then, within the circle, the Sowilō rune.
In the last couple of days I’d been studying, I pored over the different rune systems around the world. Considering the heritage of my practice, it would have been better to adopt the Korean Buddhist-Shamanic runic system, composed of Sanskrit, ancient Chinese characters, and animist caricatures. Or the Hallow Runic System, which was a mishmash of infernal alphabets, Solomon’s 72 Keys, the Theban Alphabet, and whatever other oddity my ancestors picked up over the years. But learning all that would have taken forever.
On the other hand, the Elder Futhark runes were composed of twenty-four letters, divided into three sections: Freya, Heimdall, and Tyr. Norse myth figures, even I have heard of at one point or another. Not perfect, but quick and efficient, especially when I needed some quick wiccan workings like just creating light.
My finger shook. Goddamit, how much time was left? Two minutes? Less?
In the end, I had four shards of glass with the Sowilō rune on them. I messed up one of them and left the last shard clean. So four to work with, instead of the initial five. It’d have to do.
But no rest for the wicked. I dragged myself to my feet, then stumbled a few steps. Goddamit, it hurt. No amount of ‘healing’ rune was going to make my ankle better this time. I knew that even without testing it out. Limping over to the tree line, I picked out a tree, then, taking the piece of glass, taped it to the trunk. Walking a few feet away, I did the same for the other three.
Four glass shards hanging on trees. I got the idea from the windchimes at Sana’s cafe.
I walked over to my backpack and settled down, groaning as I did so. Tearing off pieces of tape, I made a crude circle on the ground. Taking the last of the adhesive strip, I taped the last shard of glass to the blade of my gravity knife. The eldritch creature zoomed in from its prison to study the glass.
“You’ll see,” I said told him, not sure if he could hear me or even understand if he did. Next came the hard part. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for it.
I shoved two fingers into my stomach wound, and the world turned white with pain.
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Moans escaped my lips, and the metaphysical pressure in the woods cranked up by several degrees. It was Hidebehind. His attention was careening over in my direction. Typical predator behavior. Seek out the wounded and the weak. I was just that: wounded and weak. By him no less. No doubt that he’d licked off some of my blood from his claws. Just as well, because the next part depended on it.
I took blood from the deepest part of my stomach that the pain center in my brain could tolerate, just to be safe. Blood that was closest to deepest part that Hidebehind touched. A closer connection meant less spiritual energy spent on my part, more chance of this spell working as I intended. I smeared the blood on the glass and blade, then stabbed it in the center of my circle.
The woods were growing quieter, both in the literal and metaphysical sense. Anticipation. Time was running out. I needed to be quicker.
I went over my mental checklist.Glass shards on the trees with the light rune on them.My knife with a matching glass shard, and my blood smeared on it.
Technically, this was the same working I used to track down the Mother Tree. Just more layers.
No time for doubt.
“Encontrar,” I said, and felt a bit of myself reach out towards a circle. A trickle at first, then a steady stream. It refused to grow bigger than that. Infinitely weaker than the workings I’d done with Wol, even accounting for the complexity of this thaumaturgical spell.
“Encontrar,” I repeated the chant, feeling the connection between myself and my knife start to grow—and in turn, start to widen the channels so that I could feel the other glass shards hanging on the trees. I reached further, coaxing, nudging, pushing, and trying to give more.
Something coppery entered my mouth. My nose was bleeding. Whatever.
Next, I began to shove my presence into the Eldritch Shadow domed inside of my blade. It was still tired from its own stint in Sana’s Cafe. It didn’t stir, so I shoved it again. I felt an emotion that vaguely resembled annoyance. Dismissiveness. I refused to give it, opening up the knife to the shard of glass, then using that as a channel to connect the abomination to the other glass shards. It finally perked up at that, peering in at the connections and only seeing darkness.
“Encontrar,” I said it again, swallowing the blood and groaning. My blood, used to track down the blood stains on the Hidebehind’s claws.
A small whisper of power drifted through the woods, and I felt Hidebehind’s presence.
He knew I was doing something now.
I heard growling from the trees behind me. He sniffed, somewhere between a hog and a human.
Too late.
I wanted to yell it out, but the words barely came out. “Sowilō.”
The glass shards on the trees all lit up like a computer screen in a dark room. Remember what I said about circles? Focus.
Instead of just glowing, the glass shards gave off laser beams of light that seared through the darkness with impunity. And as if that weren’t enough, the Sowilō runes were drawn in my blood. Following my intent prescribed within the circles, the glass shards on the trees swiveled, intersecting the makeshift searchlights to a spot behind me.
The Hidebehind was already screaming.
“CHEAT! YOU CHEATED! LITTE LOGGER CANNOT—”
And I opened my Third Eye to its fullest, utilizing my connection with the Eldritch in my knife to see through the mirrors.
“Hidebehind,” I gasped, “I know you’re there. You’re not hidden at all. And I see you, like you’re right in front of me.”
Hidebehind went ballistic.
He jumped high up into the trees, climbing through the branches, but the light from the shards followed him, never leaving his body. I saw more parts of his body—misshapen bits of people, some furred creature. But whenever it seemed like I got a good look at him, a tree branch happened to get in the way, or the search lights were a second too late. Just as well, seeing him with my Third Eye was painful.
He howled, jumping from branch to branch, and when that didn’t work, fell to the ground in a heap. Lowering his posture, he prowled akin to some feral animal and squirreled himself away behind a particularly large knot of roots. Just as the Sowilō runes dimmed, they brightened once more. Not from my will, but the Eldritch Creature—he was taking an interest. The dozens of eyeballs were focused on the sight of the ten-foot-tall preternatural, taking an interest in this debacle.
“LIES!” Hidebehind crowed, “Cheat!”
“I win, Hidebehind,” I repeated, and there was a certainty about my words. Truth. Assurance. Tired, I lay down on my side, cutting off my connection with the Circle and everythinge else with it.
The lights dimmed immediately.
Hidebehind screamed for a few more minutes. I let him.
I must have dozed off for a few seconds, because when I came to, I felt a cold, inhuman presence standing over me.
Hidebehind. And he was quiet.
“Ha,” I sputtered, spitting out dirt. “You remember our deal?”
I only got a growl for an answer.
“Little logger, cheated. He did not look for me. He used trickery. Not fair. NOT FAIR.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, my cheek feeling the coolness of the earth. I didn’t feel confident, but I had to keep up the act. Show weakness and bullies like Hidebehind—that’s what he felt like to me, a bully—would capitalize on it. “You ready for this?”
“For what, little logger?” It sounded a lot like ‘I dare you to say what we’re both thinking. I dare you. Double dog dare you.’
“You. Me. Conjurer, to conjured. Contract,” I said.
“Me will not be at little logger’s beck and call. Smell of fire, and metal. Cut down trees. Little logger’s kind always take, and take. Me rather die,” he said.
I almost turned around to make eye contact, but stopped at the last second. It was unsettling, exposing my back to the creature that had almost killed me scarcely three minutes ago. I kept my mouth moving while adrenaline was still keeping me from passing out.
“Not at my beck and call. A partnership. And trust me, I’ve never cut down a tree. Ever,” I said.
Hidebehind snarled. “Lies. Loggers always lie.”
“Jesus, I’m not a logger. I’m a—” I shook my head. Well, as best as I could while it was on the cold dirt. “Then how about this? You’ve agreed to make a contract with me. That’s not up for debate. But I won’t ever force you to do things. I’ll ask you, and if you think that requires a price, you ask for a fair price.”
“Me do not want to be little logger’s familiar,”he said.
“Trust me, we’re on the same page as that,” I said quickly. “You won’t always be at my side. You’ll be like… a contractor. Working for me, as needed. With payment. Did I mention payment?”
There was a little hesitation. Room for more negotiation. Should I threaten him? No. That wouldn’t end well. He was receptive to my words right now.
“As part of my initial contract binding with you, I’ll find you a place. A place for you to roam. To make a home. Not here. Not in this enclosed space, made of dead wood and dead dirt,” I offered. “Consider it a down payment.”
“A new home?” Hidebehind said, his voice harsh.
“Provided you don’t hurt people,” I said way too quickly.
He let out a growl. “Me require food.”
“We’ll figure it out together. We can talk about that too.”
Crap. Was I promising too many things? Definitely. I definitely won, but didn’t feel like it.
But I needed to make a contract with this guy. If his earlier words were any indication, there was one more thing in this place. Something called Underthebed. I was being aggressive, yes, but I was also bleeding out right now. I felt so weak. The working for Hide-and-Seek had left me with nothing but my mental faculties. I couldn’t feel my toes.
I felt empty, and that was bad.
Wol was not going to like this.
Find him first. And you need Hidebehind to do that.
“To reiterate,” I said. “Part of the contract will be for me to find you a place to live, and a way to keep being fed. You offer your services and reserve the right to demand appropriate payment based on the task.”
“If the little logger cannot pay?”
I frowned. “Then… you don’t do it? Duh? I’m not going to force you to do stuff.”
Hidebehind stopped snarling.
He was quiet for a long time.
“One more condition, Little Shaman,” he said.
“What is it?” No promises there. Just listening.
“Swear that Little Shaman will not harm trees. Life of the forest. It’s children. Ever, for as long as blood still flows.”
Damn it. An absolute. “No deal,” I said, licking my lips and trying to think of a way out. “But I can swear that once a year, I’ll plant a tree. To give back to the forest in a way that I deemed fit. I can promise that I’ll try my best to protect wildlife if it comes to that. But again, I’m not making promises right now. Telling you what conditions I’m willing to cooperate with you on. Compromise.” I thought for a moment, then added, “I promise to make a deal of such caliber, once we’re out of this predicament as soon as you and I have a moment to ourselves. With my familiar present.”
Hidebehind let another long stretch of silence hang in the air.
“Little Shaman will make such promises no more than three moon falls after tonight,” Hidebehind growled.
“Done,” I said quickly. “Let’s do this then.”
I took the growl as an affirmative.
This was a shoddy little contract, one which we’ll have to hammer out the details till later. I thought of the words, the situation, and what appropriate chant I could use to bind Hidebehind to me. Of course, binding him to me as a conjured meant binding myself to him to some extent. But no time to deliberate on that now. My brain felt… fuzzy.
“I, Jain Shin Hallow, accept Hidebehind as a conjured in my capacity as a Practitioner on the condition that we will further deliberate on a permanent binding oath in three moon nights,” I said. Not as archaic-sounding as I liked, but wordy enough to make me think I did it right.
“Me, Hidebehind, accept,” Hidebehind said simply.
“Then for your first task,” I said, my eyes starting to close on their own. “Wake me up in fifteen minutes.”
Those were the last words I remembered before everything blacked out.