And I never had a chance to ask Grandpa about his original message: “The village is in danger; the door is opening.” He hadn’t said the door was already opened, but that it “was opening.” Why hadn’t I asked him about it? Maybe Jolene could use the Ouija board later.
If only I could ask Erasmus…
I shut that down. No way. A Soul-eater. Well, wasn’t that just swell. And I’d slept with him! And I’d wanted to do it again. Doc and Seraphina warned me, but did I listen?
I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel. One thing at a time. Maybe Daniel Parker could enlighten me or maybe it was a dead end. Either way, it meant I could check something off my list.
I must have passed Hawes Stream Road several times before I doubled back and finally found it. It was another one of those little lanes off a regular neighborhood, much like Ed’s. Just a street sign and a dirt road. The road sloped downward and followed a stream—Hawes Stream, I presumed—and I took it, keeping a wary eye on the water till I came to a ramshackle house. Reverend Howard said the house had been in Parker’s family for years, and he wasn’t kidding. Probably for generations. He might have kept the church in good repair, but he seemed to neglect his own property. I couldn’t tell if it had ever been painted, but the clapboards were a slate gray that warped and wobbled along the structure. The shingled roof had seen better days, and the stone chimney was leaning a bit away from the house. A steady puff of white smoke emerged from it and rolled down its sides. I guessed he was home and starting his day. The old-fashioned way.
I parked the car in front of his place and got out. It was actually sunny today, though clouds were gathering over the hills. I was hoping it was a good sign.
He had a carelessly laid brick walkway. It was a lawsuit waiting to happen, though I doubted he had many visitors. The yard was overgrown and the large tree out front had dead limbs barely still attached to the trunk. I stepped carefully over the uneven raised brick path and made it to the porch. When I knocked, the door pushed open. In Moody Bog, no one locked their doors, but didn’t they at least close them? I poked my head in.
“Hello? Mr. Parker? It’s Kylie Strange. Are you here? Your door was open.” I stepped in halfway and paused. It wasn’t a very big house. I could see a glimpse of the kitchen off the living room and a hallway where the bedroom likely was. “Hello? Mr. Parker?”
And that’s when I saw a smudged bloody footprint.
Maybe it’s paint, said the optimistic voice in my head.
“M-Mr. Parker?” Why was I going in? The logical part of my brain was saying, Kylie! Get out of there! But I couldn’t seem to help myself. I was drawn in down the hall. I stepped carefully, wishing my chthonic crossbow was in my hand and that the floor would stop creaking. A bathroom door stood open to my left. No one there. The other door on my right was closed. I gathered my courage and knocked. “Mister…Parker?”
The doorknob was cold when I grasped it. I turned it and pushed the door open. A large pentagram was chalked on the floor and Mr. Parker was sprawled in the middle of it…his insides torn out and spattered around him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I waited in the living room by the fire till Ed arrived, which didn’t take any time at all. He noted the bloody footprint before he took several strides toward me, yanked me to my feet, and enclosed me in a fierce hug. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
He pushed me back and studied me. “You’ll be okay. Wait here.”
Ed left to go down the hall. I hadn’t even noticed Deputy George standing there. His hands were hooked into his gun belt and he stood feet apart, eyes scanning the room.
“Hi, Deputy,” I said weakly.
He touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.”
He said nothing else, just twisted to look into the kitchen, out the back window—all around him. Ed came stalking back out of the hallway and pushed his hat up his head till the rim tipped back. “Jesus,” he said. “I gotta call the coroner. George, can you take some pictures of that footprint and secure it? Then get some shots in the bedroom. Be warned. It’s pretty bad.”
“On it,” he said, his voice more certain than he looked. He left the house, to get a camera I presumed, while Ed got on the phone.
Ed talked a long time with the coroner, Gunther Wilson, and then he looked at me. “Did you see anything? Hear anything?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Why are you here?”
“I was coming to talk to Mr. Parker.”
“Why?”
“There was…something I needed to talk to him about.”
“What?”
“Ed, I’m not a suspect, okay? You don’t have to interrogate me.”
“I know that. But I’ll need it for my report.”
Which meant I was a suspect. Not his fault. He was only doing his job. So I lied. “I was going to talk to him about a donation to the church. You know, a coffee urn. They’ve been really nice to me.”
“I see.” He stood a moment across the room just staring at me before he took a few steps closer. “I missed you. I’m sorry about…everything.”
“Jeff’s back in town. Never really left, I guess. You can talk to him personally, see that I had nothing to do with his getting knocked around. He’s staying with Doc.”
He sure looked as if he wanted to ask about that one, was desperate to even, but all he said was, “Okay. Will do.” He was closer now—that safe, imposing presence. “I’m more concerned with you. And me. I don’t want this stuff to come between us. I…care about you, Kylie. I want to see you again. I don’t want you to…hate me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t hate you. I know that you’re only doing your job. I’m sorry for getting wound up about it.”
“You had every right to be. I came on a bit strong. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
He was right in front of me and I was sure he would have taken me in his arms if Deputy George hadn’t come in with a camera and police tape.
“Listen, Kylie. You don’t have to stay here. You can go.”
“Should I…call Reverend Howard? I’m sure he’ll want to know.”
“I’ll take care of it. You just get yourself out of here. You don’t need to see any more of this.”
“Okay. Listen, Ed. Call me, okay?”
He smiled. “I will.” This time he did step forward and touched a kiss to my lips. “Soon.”
Standing on the porch, I took a deep breath of cold, cleansing air. I felt better about Ed. Pretty crappy about Mr. Parker. Whatever happened to him spelled bad news all around. I’m sure the Wiccans would be questioned next. I dug my phone out of my coat pocket and disappeared into the warmth of my car to call Doc.
“Oh dear goddess,” said Doc when I told him the whole thing. “Poor Dan.”
“Listen, I think this is too important to keep for later. Can you rustle up the coven and come over to the shop now?”
“Jolene will be in school, but we can carry on without her for now. Yes. I’ll call everyone.”
He hung up before I could say anything else.
I left the closed sign on the shop door and waited in the quiet. The radiator banged and clattered, and the fireplace was warm enough, but I couldn’t seem to warm myself. I was wearing a pullover but threw on a cardigan as well. It didn’t help.
The Booke took to following me from room to room now. Even the bathroom wasn’t sacrosanct. Pervy Booke.
When the Rambler pulled up in front, I jumped to my feet. Didn’t realize how jittery I was until I swooped on the door and opened it even before anyone got out of the car. I was a bit relieved Jeff wasn’t with them, though Seraphina was. She was supposed to be working on the wolf’s bane potion. I was too wound up to even ask about it.
We took our spots before the fire. Seraphina had a haggard and worried expression. I had never seen her other than bubbly and that in itself was a bit disturbing. I s
upposed the Booke was getting to all of us.
Nick was serious but determined as he laid out his laptop, ready to go. Doc sat on the wingback and stared thoughtfully into the hearth.
“So,” I began. “What do we think happened?”
Doc gathered himself. “It could be that Dan was trying to summon something perhaps too strong for him to control. It might also be—dear goddess—that he himself was used as a sacrifice. But without seeing the pentagram, it’s hard for me to say.”
“I…took a picture.”
Nick gasped. “Kylie!”
“What? I thought you guys should see it. Believe me, it’s not something I want on my phone.” I called up the picture and passed it around. Seraphina shrieked, paled, and passed it quickly to Nick. She fanned herself with her scarf.
Nick stared at it with a horrified grimace. “I can’t believe you had the presence of mind to take this.”
“The picture doesn’t do the scene justice, trust me.” I hadn’t looked at it since I took the picture. My stomach turned every time I thought about it. The smell of all that blood…
Doc got the phone last and sat with it for some time. “Well, it’s not a pentagram, it’s some kind of seal. I don’t know that I recognize it. Nick, can you do a search?” He handed the phone back to Nick, who seemed disinclined to look at it again, but the man did his best, under the circumstances.
“Could be a seal,” he said, typing away. “Could be a mandala.”
I wondered what the difference was but didn’t have the will to ask. Instead, I watched distractedly over his shoulder as he scrolled through the images that came up.
Sitting on his chair arm, I began to think. “Were you guys close enough last night to hear Doug’s rant?”
“We heard some of it,” admitted Doc, “but not all.”
“Well, when I accused him of doing whatever Shabiri asked, he said something about having friends in higher places than her.”
“Maybe he meant Baph—I mean, Goat Guy,” said Nick, still typing.
“I didn’t get that impression,” I said. “After all, I don’t think they’re smart enough to be able to summon a demon—let alone Goat Guy—on their own.”
“Their powers are enhanced by the book,” said Doc. “We already established that.”
“Their magic powers, maybe, but not their intelligence. No one in the Ordo is a Nick or a Jolene. I mean, they’ve got enough gray matter to fix their Harleys but that’s about it.”
Doc nodded. “I see what you’re saying. Perhaps there’s something to that.”
“And maybe this other person whom we don’t know is in charge, giving them tips. This mastermind could have been Daniel Parker.”
“Then what?” asked Nick. “They got tired of being pushed around and offed him?”
Doc squirmed in his seat. “I’ve known Dan a long time, and with all due respect to the dead, I never took him for a very great wit. It can’t be him. He had to have been a tool.”
“That leaves us guessing who. Hey.” I pointed to Nick’s computer screen. “What are those?”
“These? They’re sigils in the form of mandalas, decorative designs. You see them in Muslim and Hindu cultures. They may look just decorative, but each design means something. Protection, or danger, or, well, summoning. Witchcraft in these cultures has been mostly hidden. No one likes a witch, it seems. So they hid their importance in these intricate designs. You just have to know what to look for. There’s always a flaw in a witch sign.”
“But that one.” My finger touched one of the pictures. “I’ve seen that one before.”
Nick clicked on it and looked at the description. “Whoa. That’s a powerful mandala. Used sometimes as a sigil or seal. Major protection from nasties. Something you would have seen on a sorcerer’s house or even a palace to protect a king or sultan.”
“I know where I saw that. At Ruth Russell’s house.”
“What?” said Doc. He and Seraphina got up and stood behind Nick’s chair, looking over his shoulder. “Where did you see that, Kylie?”
“On her front porch. In the stone, this glass mosaic tile. It looked kind of like this.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’ve been to her house, haven’t you?”
“A few times over the years, but I don’t remember…wait. She’s always had a welcome mat there. Was there a welcome mat when you went?”
“Neither metaphorically nor physically. Just that mandala or whatever you want to call it. Could the previous owner…?”
“She and her husband built that house.”
“And where’s Mister Russell these days?”
“In Moody Bog Cemetery. He died twelve years ago.”
“What if Doug didn’t mean supernatural high places…What if he meant something more local? Like really local. What do any of us really know about Ruth Russell?”
“Whoa, whoa!” said Nick. “Are you accusing the High and Mighty One? She’s a bitch, yeah, but Satan Central? I don’t know.”
Doc walked to the fire. “I’ve known Ruth a long time. And her husband. We haven’t been close but…that’s a far cry from calling her a…what? An intermediary? A sorceress? As far as I know, she’s never been a practitioner.”
I looked at each of them. “And how many people in town could be a practitioner without you knowing it? Is there some sort of sign? Do they sparkle in the sunlight? Won’t go out on a full moon?” I winced. That was nothing to joke about anymore.
“Charm pouches,” said Seraphina. “They’d be wearing them, or have them in their pockets, or nailed above their doorways.”
“But wait a moment,” said Doc. “I can’t believe for one minute that she would have killed Dan Parker. Ritual or no ritual.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re putting it in our heads.”
“What kind of ritual was it?”
Nick bent back to his computer. “I was looking that up, remember?” Doc returned to Nick’s chair, where he and Seraphina hovered while I clung to the chair arm. No one said a word. For the umpteenth time, I wished Erasmus was there to offer some advice…but I just as quickly shut that down.
“Wait,” said Nick suddenly. “Does that look like the same seal from Dan Parker’s house?” He turned his computer toward Doc.
Doc studied it with care and slowly nodded. “Looks like it.”
“Then we are in big trouble.”
“Why?” I asked. “What is it?”
“This is big mojo. We thought that other vortex was big. This one is the mother of all vortexes.”
Breathless, I looked down again at the photo on my phone, trying to get past the…the viscera. “Do we know if it’s opened?”
“I don’t think so. It’s a multistep ritual anyway. This one sort of puts the key in the lock.”
“So when you say ‘mother of all vortexes’…”
“The big time. Hell’s Gate, that sort of thing. Everything that ever went bump in the night gets to crawl out…including the succubus you already put back in the book.”
“Okay, that’s not good.”
“Understatement,” he muttered.
I exchanged glances with Doc. “My grandpa’s message? ‘Opening the door’?”
“Ay-yuh. That would be it.”
“Shit. What are we gonna do?”
We fell quiet again until I blurted out, “I planned on going over to Ruth’s to make peace with her. But I guess now it’s a reconnaissance mission…with Bundt cake.”
“No!” they said all at once. Doc took my hand. “No, Kylie. I’ll go.”
“But I have a perfect excuse. Besides, the more she goes off on me, the more clues I can gather.”
“Maybe she should,” said Seraphina calmly. Everyone turned toward her. “Now just think about it. If she knows that Kylie is her nemesis, it would behoove her to have Kylie there, to study her. Maybe even take a sample from her.”
“A sample?” I wasn’t keen on the sound of that.
“A hair. A thread from your clothing. You will have to try not to leave anything behind.”
“Like DNA? Isn’t that impossible?”
“Don’t eat or drink anything she offers.”
“Just suppose I can’t help leaving something behind. What could she do with a…a sample?”
“Oh my,” sighed Seraphina, hand to her cheek. “All kinds of voodoo.”
“Voodoo? Right. Got it. Don’t leave samples.”
Doc joined me at the hearth. “I don’t want you going alone.”
“I’ll take…” I had been about to say Erasmus, but I had no intention of calling him. “How about Ed? That’s innocuous enough. And not suspicious. It’s just a friendly drop by.”
Nick closed his laptop. “It’s not ideal, but I think it’s a good idea, your going over there. Though I wish it was one of us. Maybe Doc.”
Doc shook his head. “Ruth isn’t enamored with our little coven, or have you forgotten? No, I think Ed is good cover for Kylie. If there is a way you can do any, well, snooping, that would be a bonus.”
“Ruth is already suspicious of me.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
I felt better with a plan. Someone had put poor Mr. Parker up to making that seal in the church janitor’s closet and then used him in a ritual. That wasn’t very cricket. And it was way better to be actively investigating than sitting around as a victim.
So. Now to bake a cake.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Kylie, it’s so good to hear from you,” said Ed when I called him later. He sounded relieved. “And not in an official capacity for a change,” he went on.
I felt terrible that I was about to use him.
My cake was cooling on a baking rack, but I couldn’t help but peel a few crumbs from the side and pop them in my mouth. “That was pretty horrible what happened to Daniel Parker.”
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