“Here’s what we know.”I flip a second poster board around, pointing to my list. Rene and Keith are seated at the dining room table with Ethan and Nik. They came over for pizza and to formalize a plan.
“The groundskeeper was a whackadoo witch hunter. He went after witches, but not ones with real powers. I’m guessing because we know to keep our houses warded and attacking a coven was too dangerous. But he believed anyone who practiced Wicca or had an interest in the supernatural was the real deal and needed to be killed.”
“So these girls, they weren’t real witches?” Rene asks.
“Not in the sense that I am, but they believed in spellcasting and knew the power that lies in swaying the elements in your favor. All those Instagram witches…they wouldn’t be able to step through a door to a Covenstead. But they’re onto something with pairing crystals to the zodiac and casting basic spells, like putting a lemon cut in half under their beds to absorb negative energy.”
“Right,” Nik says. “Like how a lot of the witches burned at the stake you read about in your history books weren’t magical at all.”
“Exactly. And Stuart Little-dick Energy must have felt threatened or was driven by, I don’t fucking know, voices in his head telling him that was doing God’s work by killing witches. His first victim was actually in 1986 in Ohio.” I grab a stack of papers from the table and pass them out to everyone. “And as you can see, he’s been a busy boy.”
“Wait.” Rene’s brows push together. “This says the most recent murder was this year.”
My heart skips a beat and I look at Ethan. He’s always calm and collected and is leaning back in his chair, unfazed.
“I’ve only seen it once before, but there have been other accounts. A dying person makes a deal with a demon to keep going somehow. Most probably thinking they’ll get to keep on living, but in the case of someone like our groundskeeper here who has a soul rooted in evil, their deal will be different. He gets to keep doing what he likes, which is murdering women, and the demon cashes in each time a life is taken.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Rene shakes her head. “You’re telling me that last night we taunted and teased a serial killer who can move through walls unnoticed, without a sound?”
“Yeah,” I reply and fight the urge to shudder. It could have ended so badly last night. “Which is why I want you to wear these and put this around your room tonight.” I had them each an amulet and a bag of Devil’s shoestring. “If you want to smudge your room and put a circle of salt around your bed, that wouldn’t be a terrible idea either.”
“Holy shit,” Rene whispers and puts her protective amulet around her neck. “Now what?”
“We all get some sleep,” Ethan answers. “Spirits thrive on getting into your head. Being sick or tired makes you vulnerable. Then we’ll regroup, find Stuart’s grave, and burn what’s left of him and salt the remains. It will sever his tie from the demon and he’ll be forced to move on.”
“To hell,” I add. “Where I hope he’s stuck in an endless loop of being strangled, having his tongue cut out, and then burning to death. Over and over.”
“Benadryl and wine at my place tonight?” Keith asks Rene, who eagerly nods.
“Sounds perfectly healthy,” Ethan quips. “You got your aunt to stay out of the house for a while longer?”
“I bought at least another day. She didn’t seem too concerned about the radon lie so I told her the place is really haunted and got my little cousin to wake up tonight screaming that a ghost from the bed and breakfast followed her home. Kid’s a good actress.”
“Let’s just hope it works.”
We wrap everything else and I walk Rene and Keith out to their cars. I get that weird feeling again, almost like something is wrong but not in a dangerous sense. It doesn’t make sense, even to me.
“Be careful tonight,” Rene says, pulling me in for a one-armed hug.
“I will be. You guys too. The Devil’s shoestring acts like a temporary warding, so nothing will be able to get into your house. I’ll keep my phone by me, so call or check in anytime.”
“Same. At least let me know you made it through the night.”
“Hah. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
I wave goodbye and go down to the barn, calling the horses in from the pasture for the night. They have a run-in shelter and the weather is decent for them to stay outside all day and all night, but current events make me a little nervous.
I’m not sure how to ward someone else’s familiar away, or if it’s even possible to do so without affecting my own familiar. One lone wolf probably wouldn’t be able to take down a healthy horse. They’d still cause considerable damage, and my donkeys are miniature donkeys and much more vulnerable to an attack. They would still be able to land a few good blows to the wolf, making them most likely to get away too.
But this wolf isn’t a wolf.
After tossing everyone more hay, I tell myself I’m just going to spend a few minutes grooming. Nearly an hour later, I’m closing up the barn and heading inside. My body is exhausted and I’m relaxed after spending time in the barn. But I know as soon as I lay down to sleep, I won’t be able to turn my brain off.
I feel more and more tired as I go about my nighttime routine, taking care of Romeo, showering, brushing my teeth, and then finally crawling into bed and snuggling under the blankets with Ethan.
“How did you learn to sleep with so much danger looming overhead?” I ask, walking my fingers up and down his chest.
“Survival instinct, I guess,” he tells me. “Being tired makes you sloppy and at risk. It took me until I was an adult to realize that being able to stop thinking and just sleep was not something most people do.”