Marcus leaned in, intrigued. "You think you can bribe them?"
"Not bribe," Nix corrected, his ears twitching. "Distract. Confuse. Lead away."
He mimed throwing something. "We are small. We fit in the vents. We fit in the walls. We fit in the grass where the big boots cannot go. We know the smell of gold, yes? We can make the Hunters smell it too."
"A wild goose chase," Marcus murmured.
"A wild Pig chase," Nix agreed, grinning. "We take the scent of the hoard—we have stashes, oh yes, many stashes in the crawlspaces—and we move them. We lay trails. We make the air smell like a king's ransom is hiding just to the left, just to the right, just... away from here."
"We become the lures," Pearl said softly. She leaned forward, placing a small hand on Marcus's wrist. Her skin was warm, vibrating with energy. "They chase the shine. They chase the scent. And while they are looking down at the dirt, looking for the treasure..." She pointed at the M16. "...you use the thunder."
Marcus looked at Eira. She was nodding slowly, her expression thoughtful.
"It is true," she said. "The Hunters are slaves to their appetites. Gold madness is a sickness in them. If they smell a greater prize than the Mark, even for a moment, they will hesitate. They will turn."
"Hesitation is all I need," Marcus said. He looked back at the Glimmucks. "But that puts you out there. In the open. With them."
"We are fast," Nix bragged, puffing out his chest. "We are shadows with teeth. We have been dodging Pig Men for centuries. They are strong, but they are slow. And stupid. And we are very, very hard to catch."
"And," Pearl added, a sly grin spreading across her face, transforming her from innocent starlet to conspiring thief, "there is another thing. A thing about this place. This... Texas."
She said the word like it was a magical incantation.
"What about Texas?" Marcus asked.
Pearl hopped down from the bar and scampered over to the pile of gear Marcus had laid out—the backpacks, the ammo boxes. She picked up a single 5.56mm round, holding it up to the light like a jewel.
"This," she said. "Boom-seeds."
"Ammo," Marcus corrected. "Cartridges."
"Boom-seeds," she insisted. "In the Weald, iron is rare. Black powder is dust for wizards. But here?" She swept her arm wide, encompassing the diner, the parking lot, the town beyond. "This Texas is a garden of iron."
Nix nodded vigorously. "We have been exploring. At night. When the moon is up. We go to the other caves. The ones with the sleeping metal beasts—trucks. The houses with the locked boxes."
He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "Humans in this place... they love their boom-wands. They hide them everywhere. Under seats. In drawers. In boxes in the cold basements. It is not the Void, Marcus. It is a treasure room."
Marcus stared at them. Of course. This was rural Texas. If you threw a rock, you'd hit a pickup truck with a gun rack or a glove box with a concealed carry piece. He had been worrying about conserving his three magazines, thinking he was isolated in a resource desert. He had forgotten where he lived.
"You're telling me," Marcus said slowly, "that you can scavenge ammo? Real ammo?"
"We know the smell of it now," Nix said, tapping his perfect, straight nose. "Sulfur. Lead. Oil. It smells... spicy. Sharp."
He reached into his own pouch, rummaged around for a moment amidst the clinking of stolen trinkets, and pulled something out. He slammed it onto the bar next to the M16.
It wasn't a gold coin.
It was a box of 12-gauge buckshot shells. Federal Premium. The box was slightly crushed, dusty, like it had been pulled from under a truck seat, but the shells inside were pristine.
"Found it in a blue metal beast two fields over," Nix said proudly. "Heavy. Good?"
Marcus picked up the box. He opened it. Five shells, red plastic hulls, high brass. Double-aught buck.
He looked at Nix with a newfound respect that bordered on affection.
"Good," Marcus said, a grin breaking through his exhaustion. "Nix, that is very, very good."
"We can find more," Pearl promised. "The smaller seeds for the black wand. The red shells for the short one. We can fit through the cracks in the trucks. We can open the latches. We bring them to you."
"A supply line," Marcus realized. "I have a supernatural logistical supply line."
He looked at the two living doll creatures. They were small, yes. They were greedy, absolutely. But they were survivors. They understood the stakes better than most humans would. They understood that if the perimeter fell, the food source ended. It was a transaction, pure and simple, and that made it reliable.
"Okay," Marcus said. "You're in."
He reached out his hand. Nix looked at it, confused for a second, then mimicked the gesture he'd seen humans do. He placed his small, four-fingered hand into Marcus's. His skin felt soft, like fine kid gloves, but the grip underneath was surprisingly strong.
"Here are the Rules of Engagement for the Glimmuck Detachment," Marcus said, his tone shifting to command.
"One: You do not engage the Hunters directly. You are fast, you are stealthy, you are bait. You lure them, you confuse them, you make them look the wrong way. If they see you, you run. You bring them into my lanes of fire, but you clear the zone before I pull the trigger. I can't shoot if I'm worried about hitting you."
Nix nodded so hard his blonde hair flopped over his eyes. "Run. Confuse. Clear. Yes."
"Two," Marcus continued, looking at Pearl. She was watching him with half-lidded eyes, her lips curved in a smile that suggested she found his authority incredibly appealing. "Scavenging runs happen only when I say the perimeter is clear enough. Do not go out if the mist is thick. Do not go out if the hesh-kel is vibrating. But if we get a lull... you strip this town of every round of ammunition you can smell. 5.56, .223, 12-gauge, 9mm. If it goes boom, I want it on this bar."
"We will harvest the iron garden," Pearl said solemnly.
"Three," Marcus said. "And this is the big one. If the Gate opens... if the pull happens again and I disappear... you help Eira. You protect Liri. You do not run away and hide in the walls. You stick to the pack. Because if I come back and find out you left them alone, the deal is off. Permanently."
The threat hung in the air, cold and absolute.
Nix swallowed audibly. "We stick," he squeaked. "Pack logic. We understand."
"Good."
Marcus turned back to Eira. She was watching the exchange with a faint smile touching her lips, a look of pride in her eyes. She had known the nature of these creatures, but she had let Marcus find the connection himself.
"It seems," Eira said softy, "that your army grows, Uncle."
"It's a motley crew," Marcus admitted, looking at the assembled force: an elven mage, a teenage lookout, two beautiful kleptomaniac goblins, and a burnt-out sergeant. "But it's what we've got."
He looked back at the Glimmucks.
"Nix, Pearl. Get to the vents. Check the perimeter. Tell me if you smell anything that isn't diesel or cow manure. And if you see anything shine... note the location, but don't grab it yet. We bait the trap first."
"Yes, Boss-Marcus," Nix said, trying out the title. He liked the sound of it. It sounded like protection.
The two Glimmucks scrambled off the bar, moving with a renewed purpose. They weren't just rats in the walls anymore. They were assets. They scurried up the side of the booths and vanished into the ceiling vents with barely a sound, leaving only the faint chinking of their stolen treasures echoing in the ductwork.
Marcus turned back to the M16. He slid the magazine out, checked the top round, and slapped it back in with a decisive clack.
"Texas," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "God bless it."
He looked at Liri, who was staring at the ceiling where the Glimmucks had vanished, her eyes wide.
"Did they really find boom-seeds?" she whispered.
"They did," Marcus said. "And they're going to find more."
He walked over to the window, peering through the crack in the curtains at the heat-shimmering road. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long, bruised shadows across the parking lot. Night was coming. And with the night, the signal from the hesh-kel would seem louder, brighter in the dark.
But they weren't just waiting to die anymore. They had eyes in the sky, thieves in the grass, and enough firepower to make the Pig Men regret ever opening that door.
"Let them come," Marcus whispered.