I was seriously beginning to
regret my decision to visit the Chithula tonight. We were nearing
the point of
no return, and I really didn't want to have to spend the day locked in my own trunk to avoid the sun. As the lights of Las Vegas were completely swallowed by the darkness, I pushed my coupe further into the Southern Nevada Desert. Well off I-15 and deep onto Rural Highway 93, we were nearing the exit for Rachel, Nevada. To UFO and conspiracy buffs, this was Mecca. Home of the Little A'Le'Inn and the infamous black mailbox, it was the nearest town to the most well-known secret military base in the world, Area 51.
The atmosphere in the car was thick with unease. As we neared the Chithula, Toby's furrowed brow became more intense. Toby and I hadn't said more than five words since leaving Brimstone. Still angry he had used a Goblin without telling me, I was giving him the cold shoulder. I was being petty, I know, but that's my prerogative. I just don't like Goblins, and Toby knew it. He didn't look like he was backing down this time though. He wasn't going to apologize. I'm sure somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain he was certain I was making him go see the Chithula because he made me work with a Goblin. That was Werewolf logic.
"Where the hell are we? We must be halfway to Tijuana by now." "We're going north, Karl, not south. I thought Goblins had a good sense of direction.” For once, I was thankful there was a Goblin sitting in the back. It broke the tension and at least I could yell at him. "Rose,” Toby warned, never raising the tone of his voice. “Ease up on Karl." "Yeah, suckhead,” Karl chimed from the back seat with his annoying helium-filled voice, “be nice to the Goblin. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have gotten to see your boyfriend in the cage." "He's not my boyfriend,” I spat out and suddenly realized I sounded like those snobby hotel heiresses that dominated television.
I wasdefinitely going to smush the little beast, or maybe leave him by the side of the road in the middle of the desert. A devious smirk swelled on my lips. How Karl had persuaded us to take him with us, I would never know. I think less persuasion was involved than sheer will. I wasn't sure if he thought there would be more money involved for him, or if he thought he was helping us, or he was just simply bored and wanted to tag along. Whatever the reason, a nasty, green Goblin was firmly seated in my car. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going. Having only been here once before, I squinted my eyes in the darkness. The headlights barely illuminated the road and surrounding foliage as if they weren't powerful enough to fight the darkness. An oppressive feeling washed over me. I knew we were getting close. No one—with the possible exception of the Air Force—was willing to try and tame this hazardous landscape, explaining why the Chithula had remained secret all these years. Even Bugsy Siegel, when he planted stakes in the middle of the desert for the Flamingo, hadn't known about them. And they wanted to keep it that way.
Spotting an ill-maintained dirt road ahead, I let the car decelerate. Turning the wheel carefully, I felt the shocks bounce as we rolled over the first washboard. The car jolted and bucked as I tried to weave through the deep ruts. Reaching across the center console, I placed my hand gently on Toby's hoping he wouldn't pull away. To my delight, he rolled his hand over and laced his fingers into mine. We were heading into the belly of the beast—all of us. Amidst the rolling valleys, I began to see the lights of the Chithula's compound glowing ominously.
no return, and I really didn't want to have to spend the day locked in my own trunk to avoid the sun. As the lights of Las Vegas were completely swallowed by the darkness, I pushed my coupe further into the Southern Nevada Desert. Well off I-15 and deep onto Rural Highway 93, we were nearing the exit for Rachel, Nevada. To UFO and conspiracy buffs, this was Mecca. Home of the Little A'Le'Inn and the infamous black mailbox, it was the nearest town to the most well-known secret military base in the world, Area 51.
The atmosphere in the car was thick with unease. As we neared the Chithula, Toby's furrowed brow became more intense. Toby and I hadn't said more than five words since leaving Brimstone. Still angry he had used a Goblin without telling me, I was giving him the cold shoulder. I was being petty, I know, but that's my prerogative. I just don't like Goblins, and Toby knew it. He didn't look like he was backing down this time though. He wasn't going to apologize. I'm sure somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain he was certain I was making him go see the Chithula because he made me work with a Goblin. That was Werewolf logic.
"Where the hell are we? We must be halfway to Tijuana by now." "We're going north, Karl, not south. I thought Goblins had a good sense of direction.” For once, I was thankful there was a Goblin sitting in the back. It broke the tension and at least I could yell at him. "Rose,” Toby warned, never raising the tone of his voice. “Ease up on Karl." "Yeah, suckhead,” Karl chimed from the back seat with his annoying helium-filled voice, “be nice to the Goblin. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have gotten to see your boyfriend in the cage." "He's not my boyfriend,” I spat out and suddenly realized I sounded like those snobby hotel heiresses that dominated television.
I wasdefinitely going to smush the little beast, or maybe leave him by the side of the road in the middle of the desert. A devious smirk swelled on my lips. How Karl had persuaded us to take him with us, I would never know. I think less persuasion was involved than sheer will. I wasn't sure if he thought there would be more money involved for him, or if he thought he was helping us, or he was just simply bored and wanted to tag along. Whatever the reason, a nasty, green Goblin was firmly seated in my car. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going. Having only been here once before, I squinted my eyes in the darkness. The headlights barely illuminated the road and surrounding foliage as if they weren't powerful enough to fight the darkness. An oppressive feeling washed over me. I knew we were getting close. No one—with the possible exception of the Air Force—was willing to try and tame this hazardous landscape, explaining why the Chithula had remained secret all these years. Even Bugsy Siegel, when he planted stakes in the middle of the desert for the Flamingo, hadn't known about them. And they wanted to keep it that way.
Spotting an ill-maintained dirt road ahead, I let the car decelerate. Turning the wheel carefully, I felt the shocks bounce as we rolled over the first washboard. The car jolted and bucked as I tried to weave through the deep ruts. Reaching across the center console, I placed my hand gently on Toby's hoping he wouldn't pull away. To my delight, he rolled his hand over and laced his fingers into mine. We were heading into the belly of the beast—all of us. Amidst the rolling valleys, I began to see the lights of the Chithula's compound glowing ominously.