The Price of a Soul [Chapter 3.1]

The story so far: Quinn makes a deal with a demon named Azazel - who has somehow been forced into a robotic body. Three years later, Quinn is a runaway and Azazel is going by the name Issac. The two of them are traveling the country in search of the people who made Issac the way he is now, but run into a little roadblock when their newest (and best) lead is killed by a hunter.

After taking a bus to the next town over, they run into Issac's friend Bell at a hotel called Abe's Lodge. But before Quinn and Issac could get to their room, they find out about a series of disappearances that have been taking place around town.

Chapter 3

They left the lobby for the hotel room.

Quinn entered first. She normally would have been excited – she loved seeing what the rooms looked like – but an emptiness had settled in her chest. She made her way over to the nearest bed and sat on its very edge. Terry. Sylvia. Kaia. Percy. Suzanna. Emile. Logan. Adam. Did the others have people missing them like Bell was missing Kaia, too? Was that the normal way people were supposed to react to a loved one suddenly disappearing?

Issac was lingering by the door. His lips were drawn, but his eyes were bright.

Quinn looked back down at her lap. She noticed, in the back of her mind, that she had a little ketchup stain on her faded jeans from the burgers she had gotten at a fast food place she couldn't remember the name of. “You want to do something.”

“Bell said we shouldn't get involved,” Issac said. He paused. “I know it would be dangerous to try finding the culprit. Considering that only the supernatural have vanished so far, it likely means you wouldn't be targeted.”

“But we don't know who is making them disappear,” Quinn guessed. She dug her fingernails in the denim of her jeans, one finger absentmindedly chipping away at the dried ketchup. “If it was a hunter, I wouldn't be safe.”

The silence that followed her assumption was the only answer she needed.

She looked back up at Issac.

“...I know I'm new to the supernatural,” she admitted. “I barely know anything about demons, and I've been traveling with one for the past three years. But I want to do something, too. It just feels wrong knowing that all of those people are vanishing.”

The stain chipped off.

Quinn took a deep breath.

“...But if everyone being supernatural is the only connection they have, I think the only people who can figure this out are those who know about the supernatural,” she finished. She got to her feet again and walked over to the minuscule stretch of hallway that Issac was still standing in. She tried to give him her very best I'm-not-afraid smile. Most of the time, that smile was reserved for when she actually felt scared. Quinn couldn't put her finger on why, but she didn't feel half as terrified as she knew she should feel.

Issac studied her face; Quinn could have sworn she heard the hum of electricity as he contemplated the idea. Maybe, if she was as old as he was, she would have thought the idea was a little more absurd. But then the glow to his eyes brightened, and he let out a sigh of his own.

“How would we even go about dealing with something like this?” Issac asked. “I know nothing about how hunters solve their cases.”

Quinn thought it over.

“We don't need to know about them,” she said. She gave Issac a small smile. “We just have to do what we've been doing to find the person who made you like this – be detectives.”

All of those years of reading the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew were finally going to pay off.

xXx

Quinn quickly realized that solving mysteries was harder than she had thought.

The reason they had traveled so much in the past three years wasn't because they were chasing after a series of clues – they were trying to evade anyone who might have been looking for her. If they were lucky, something would jog Issac's memory. That was what happened with Jean Sullivan. Solving a mystery was like writing a paper for school. No one ever thought about the sheer amount of research that went into it when they saw the final copy.

They were currently in the lounge of the lodge. Issac was scrolling through a slew of websites on a public computer, while Quinn was consulting YouTube. Quinn was thankful that the missing weren't dead, but not having a crime scene made it hard to pinpoint the location where the nine had been taken. It was as if they had all vanished without a trace. The police, generally, weren't supposed to tell anyone anything about the crimes they were solving, either. Quinn had watched enough true crime shows on grainy TVs in dark hotel rooms to know that.

Issac suddenly tapped her on the shoulder.

Quinn paused the video and looked over at his screen.

He had pulled up an article that was just from that morning. It was on Adam. He had technically been missing for the past week, but yesterday was the first day the police had officially declared him as part of the case. Issac pushed his chair over so Quinn could take his place in front of the keyboard.

She skimmed through the article.

It didn't give much information: it just mentioned that he had worked at a place called Lowland Haunts, that he had no known family members, and that his disappearance was first reported by one of his coworkers. But as Quinn stared at the photo of him they had at the very top of the article – of him with messy, dyed red hair and a goofy smile – something clicked.

She checked the description of the news clip compilation she had been watching.

She pointed at the computer screen.

“Lowland Haunts,” she said. “That was the last place Suzanna was seen at. Her friends said she was supposed to go there. They tried drawing attention to it on social media, but the police couldn't do anything about it because there wasn't any clues.”

She glanced over at Issac and gave him a smile.

“I think we just found a clue.”

xXx

Quinn hadn't ever been to a haunted house before, but Lowland Haunts was exactly what she had expected. A large, mansion-like building stood tall over sprawling grasslands. She could see trees in the distance if she squinted, but she didn't even give them a second look. She was too busy taking in the sight of the haunted house – of its fading gray paint and rickety wood, of the mock graveyard that sprawled in front of it, and the old, decaying wooden fence that surrounded the property. The haunted house didn't open until it was dark out, but people in a variety of costumes lingered in the graveyard outside. The only person who wasn't wearing a costume was a man outside the front door, talking to a woman with long, matted black hair and a white dress.

Issac and Quinn's car – an Uber they had taken from Abe's Lodge – pulled into the parking lot that was a short walk away from the building. By the time the car had driven off and the two of them were heading to the house, a cool breeze had settled over the grasslands. Quinn pulled up the hood to her hoodie. It wasn't enough to entirely block out the cold, but at least her ears were warm.

“He must be the owner,” Quinn guessed, gesturing in the man's direction.

Issac nodded. “I had the same assumption.”

She let out a sigh as they neared the wooden gate at the end of the parking lot. “I wish I had searched for his name before we came here,” she said. She gave the gate a little push; it sent a loud creak echoing through the entirety of Lowland Haunts' grounds. Almost all of the employees looked over at the two of them; the only exceptions were the owner and the young woman directly across from him.

Issac gave her a small smile.

“I thought it might be good to know,” he said, “so I took care of that myself. His name is Nolan Keene – we've actually interacted in the past.”

Quinn faltered.

“Nolan Keene, like the actor?” she asked.

Issac nodded. “Yes-” He paused, giving her a curious look. “You know of him?”

She pulled the hood to her hoodie down as far as it possibly could go. “My mom and him worked on the same movie,” she admitted. The curiosity switched to something; Issac furrowed his brow and drew his mouth into a thin little line. Sensing his worry, she hurriedly gave him a smile that barely reached her eyes. “They didn't interact much – he was one of the background characters, and she was one of the lead roles. I...I should be okay.”
She glanced over in Nolan's direction.

“...It might be better if you talk to him on your own,” she suggested. “I can try talking to some of the employees here – maybe one of them knows something?”

Issac didn't look convinced.

“...Please?”

Issac let out a sigh. Running his fingers through his hair, he gave her – and the graveyard – one last cursory look before walking over to Nolan.