"Somebody should do something about it." Marina said.

Shen ma.s.saged her hair and scalp. "I think it's a sign."

"Of what?"

"The end. A true shaman told me the other day the world is getting old. It might die soon."

"How soon?"

"Three years from now," Shen said.

"Wow," Marina said. "That is soon."

"Or maybe four years."

"I guess true shamans don't have a strong sense of time."

Shen nodded. "They're immortal. Time means little to them." She rinsed out Marina's hair.

"That's true," Marina said. "You're so insightful."

Shen used a warm towel to dry her hair. "Thank you."

"I'm still worried about the tuberculosis. What have you heard?"

"I don't pay attention to crazy rumors."

"But you must've heard something," Marina said eagerly.

"Maybe. Does it matter?"

"Please, tell me."

Shen walked around and stood in front of Marina. "Let's see. I think I'll bleach your hair, just a little, to lighten the color. That red is too aggressive. Then maybe I'll give it a little frizz to add volume."

Over my dead body. "What about the tuberculosis?"

Shen shrugged. "I keep hearing about some punks who are bragging about being responsible. Can you imagine? As if killing innocent people were a good thing. They want to look tough, I guess, but it's just sick. Death lovers with diseased auras."

"What kind of punks?"

"They wear black all the time. The boys dress like zombies and the girls are wh.o.r.es. They hang out at Kendall Park, near the train tracks. Why are you so curious? Are you into that kind of thing?"

"No," Marina said, "I'm just asking."

"This used to be such a nice town, but now it's going to h.e.l.l. Another sign the end is near."

"But you don't believe these punks are actually responsible."

"I don't see how it's possible," Shen said, "unless they use black magic. But I would sense that. I'm attuned to the slightest hostile influences."

"Of course." Marina nodded. "Have you heard any other rumors?"

"No." Shen went to a cabinet and looked inside. "Where did I put my bleach?"

Marina got out of the chair, put a hundred dollars on the seat, and fled.

"This is a waste of time," Aaron said.

"Probably," Marina said, "but it's our only lead."

He looked out at Kendall Park. A small play structure stood at the center of a large field of gra.s.s, which had faded to a pale green due to the recent cold weather. No children were playing. Closely s.p.a.ced trees ran along the far side of the park. During the summer the trees would screen a railroad track, but the leaves were gone now, and the black rails were exposed.

He spotted a group of teenagers dressed in black on the far side of the park. They were sitting on a wooden bench behind a baseball backstop.

"How do you want to handle this?" Aaron said.

"They're just kids," Marina said. "We'll scare the c.r.a.p out of them. If they know anything, they'll talk. We don't have to be subtle."

He walked over to the teenagers with an aggressive stride and a scowl. She stayed with him, step for step.

"Hey!" he yelled. "I want to talk to you."

The teenagers stood up. The largest among them, a young man with spiky black hair, came forward. Apparently, he was their leader. He was big and beefy for a teenager.

"What's your name, kid?" Aaron said.

"Hardcore. What do you want, old man?"

Hardcore wore black eyeliner all around his eyes and looked like a racc.o.o.n. His black leather jacket went down to his knees.

Aaron stepped forward until their chests almost b.u.mped. "Saint Athanasius. Does that name mean anything to you?"

"Maybe." Hardcore glared aggressively and didn't back down.

"Tell me what you know."

"I don't talk to f.u.c.king cops."

Aaron landed a roundhouse punch on Hardcore's jaw with enough force to knock him down. "I'm not a cop."

Hardcore lay on the ground and rubbed his jaw.

Aaron kicked him in the chest. "I'm still waiting for an answer, punk!"

The other teenagers started to back away.

Marina drew a knife from her sleeve, crouched down, and held the blade against Hardcore's neck. "n.o.body leaves," she yelled, "or I'll give your friend another mouth. Stay where you are."

The teenagers froze.

Hardcore was still trying to catch his breath, so Aaron looked at the others and said, "I heard a rumor that you a.s.sholes know all about Saint Athanasius. Is that true?"

n.o.body spoke, but he could tell from the pale faces and wide eyes that the "scare the c.r.a.p out of them" part of the plan was working.

Aaron walked over to another boy. This one wore plastic fangs and black sungla.s.ses.

"Well?" Aaron growled.

"I don't... I can't...," the boy whined.

Aaron took the sungla.s.ses off, dropped them deliberately, and stomped on them. The crunching noise was satisfying. "Oh, sorry. How clumsy of me."

The boy glanced at Hardcore.

"Eyes forward!" Aaron ordered. "Start talking, or I'll rip out those stupid fangs and shove them up your a.s.s."

Hardcore opened his mouth as if to speak, but then Marina pressed her knife against his throat. "Shh," she said. "Wait your turn."

The boy with the fangs had tears on his cheeks. "We didn't do anything!" he cried. "It's not our fault! We just..."

"What?" Aaron said. "Tell me."

"Hardcore has the card."

"Card?" Marina dragged the tip of her knife across Hardcore's neck. "What card?"

He slowly reached into his pocket and took out a black business card. Aaron s.n.a.t.c.hed it.

The card had "Order of Eternal Night" printed on top in gold, Gothic lettering. Below was a stark, red symbol. It was a half-circle with lines radiating from the center, and it reminded him of a sunset. There was also a phone number.

"Who are these jokers?" Aaron said.

"They were here a month ago," Hardcore said. "They know all about Saint Athanasius."

"Then why were you bragging about it?"

"It sounded so cool..."

Aaron snarled. "Stupid kids. What does this red symbol mean?"

"The end of sunlight, the beginning of eternal night, death."

"I get it." Aaron nodded.

Marina released Hardcore and stood up. He quickly crawled away from her on all fours.

"Are we done?" Aaron asked.

"Yes," Marina said. "I think so."

They started back to the car.

"Hey!" Hardcore called out. "Those Eternals will f.u.c.k you up. They'll drink your blood!"

Marina glanced back. "They drink blood?"

"They call it warm, red wine."

"Interesting." She raised her eyebrows.

She and Aaron continued walking.

"Waste of time?" she said.

He grunted. "Maybe not."

They sat in the car, where it was warm and quiet. He took out his gray phone and called the number on the card. He turned on the speaker so she could hear, too.

Instead of a person, a machine answered with a recorded message. "The next public meeting will be on Wednesday night at 10 PM. The location is the Shroud of Steel Nightclub. Mention our name at the door, and be appropriately dressed." The message ended.

"That's tonight," Marina said.

Aaron nodded. "I'll call Edward."

He called another number, one programmed into his phone.

Almost immediately, Edward answered, "h.e.l.lo?"

"Are you in front of a computer?"

"Always."

"Check out a name for me," Aaron said. "The Order of Eternal Night."

"Hold on." Keyboard keys clattered in the background. "They have a website. It's all black. There are pictures of skulls, blood, and maggots."

"What does it say?"

"Not much. No contact information. But listen to this. For billions of years, Earth was lifeless. Inevitably, the Earth will return to that pristine state, and it will remain so for the rest of time. The existence of life is a temporary departure from the natural order. Death is simply the universe eliminating that which is aberrant and unsustainable. We must celebrate death. We must embrace the eternal night!"

"Nice," Aaron said. "A death cult with a taste for human blood."

"I'll find out more about these guys," Edward said.

"Make that your top priority. Also, tell Ethel we're going to an Order of Eternal Night meeting at ten tonight. It's at someplace called the Shroud of Steel Nightclub."