Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Blood Creek Beast - Chapter 1

Looking for more?

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Immortal

Immortal Works LLC

1505 Glenrose Drive

Salt Lake City, Utah 84104

Tel: (385) 202-0116

© 2018 Jay Barnson

http://rampantgames.com/blog

Cover Art by Ashley Literski

http://strangedevotion.wixsite.com/strangedesigns

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For more information email contact@immortal-works.com or visit http://www.immortal-works.com/contact/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-0-9990205-6-2 (Paperback)

ASIN B07B293JT9 (Kindle Edition)

For Julie, Rowan, and Brenna.

Jenny Morgan waited on pins and needles all day Friday, hoping for a text from Eric, the cute boy from her jiu jitsu class. She came home from school to find her parents gone, and half-packed cardboard boxes everywhere. Jenny barely managed to shut the door and cover her face with a couch cushion before screaming. She paced and sobbed. She read and re-read the note on the refrigerator: “Help yourself to anything, and get packed. We’ll be back late tonight.”

After two years, Jenny had almost convinced herself that the constant moving was over. Before High School, they’d rarely lived anywhere longer than six months, and never more than a year. Still, maybe this time would be different. Maybe she misunderstood. Maybe they were just moving to a bigger apartment. She debated calling Cyn Arbuckle and preemptively asking if she could stay with their family for the last weeks of school. Cyn was as close to a best friend as Jenny could remember. Wasn’t that something friends did?

She made no calls. She knew better.

Jenny packed most of her things, a process which took longer than usual. She had more things, now. She made herself some soup and found a bag of microwave popcorn in an unsealed box labeled “pantry.” Her father hadn’t unhooked the television yet, so she turned it to a movie channel and sat in the darkened room, eating popcorn and trying not to think that by this time tomorrow, they could be out of the Chicago suburbs, maybe outside Illinois, heading to who knew where.

This time, as soon as Patricia and James Morgan came through the door, Jenny would ask questions. As a child, they ignored her protests. Now she was nearly seventeen, and she had a right to know why they were uprooting her life again. Why not in five weeks, at the end of the school year? Why not in a year and five weeks, when she had a diploma in her hand, and could choose whether or not to go with them?

Fury and frustration gave way to sleepiness. Around midnight, she fell asleep curled up in the love seat while the TV played some forgotten film from the 1980s. She dreamed. In the dream, she played with Vanessa, a childhood playmate she had nearly forgotten. They were out in the backyard of the house she’d lived in when she had known Vanessa in real life, when Jenny was in the first grade. Her mother appeared beside her.

“Jenny, we have to talk.”

When this had really happened, years ago, there’d been no talking. Her mother had been upset at seeing Vanessa. Jenny didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Vanessa had such strange, dark eyes. They’d moved days later. Jenny had never seen Vanessa again. In this dream, Vanessa’s eyes were normal, and Jenny’s mother ignored the child. Patricia stared sadly at Jenny.

Distantly, a man’s voice called out. It wasn’t her father’s voice. This voice was older, nastier, with a southern drawl. Jenny made out the word “troublesome” amid other barely audible speech.

“I don’t want to move again,” Jenny said.

“Didn’t want this…” the man’s voice murmured, almost like an apology.

“I know,” her mother answered. “I’m so sorry. I tried to keep you safe. Cities are safer. Lots of people, emotions drowning things out. It’s easy to hide. We always taught you to hide and to blend in with crowds. Maybe that was wrong, but we wanted to protect you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I wish you didn’t have to.” She glanced over at Vanessa again, who played by herself, oblivious to their presence, trying to jump on her shadow’s head. “Did you know you have an aunt in West Virginia? My sister, Hattie. Hattie Rose.”

“I remember hearing her name.”

“Her phone number is in my old red phone book in the kitchen. I don’t think it’s packed yet.” Her mother turned to her, tears in her eyes. “You should call her in the morning.”

“What’s going on, Mom?”

The stranger’s voice mumbled something inaudible, followed by, “…love you Amelia.” Jenny didn’t recognize the name.

Her mother ignored the voice. “Your father and I love you very much. Give me a hug?”

Jenny embraced her mother, and felt the warmth coming from her body. She felt something else, too. Fear. Something was wrong. These were strange details in a strange dream.

In the next moment, Jenny and Vanessa were alone. The little girl played as if nothing had transpired. Jenny searched the backyard of her temporary childhood home, calling, “Mom? Mom, where are you?”

No one answered.

Jenny awoke in a panic. The living room felt unfamiliar, a minefield of cardboard moving boxes. On the TV, a pitchman enthused about the virtues of a paint roller that wouldn’t drip. The clock on the wall, not yet packed away, read 1:07 AM.

Jenny took a deep breath, and tried to convince herself nothing was wrong. It had only been a dream brought about by shock and the heartbreak of having to move again. She undressed and prepared for bed, but it was impossible to take comfort in routine when half her life was packed in boxes. The lingering fear from the dream didn’t leave. She tried calling her mother’s phone, and then her father’s. Both went directly to voice mail.

She took her phone with her into the bathroom, setting the ring tone to full volume before placing it on the counter and taking a shower. As she’d hoped, the shower calmed her down and cleared out the worst of the dream’s lingering horror. She texted both of her parents before going to bed. “Call any time! I’ll be up!”

Sleep didn’t come easily. She stared at the shadow of her phone in the darkness, expecting it to light up and play Fall Out Boy’s “Uma Thurman” any minute. As her worry grew, an old memory surfaced, a rhyme her mother had taught her to say when she was frightened as a little girl. It took her a moment to remember it, and she recited the words out loud for the first time in years.

Angels surround me

Angels protect me

Angels enfold me

Angels direct me

Protect me asleep

Protect me awake

Keep evil afar

And never forsake

Somehow, as silly as it was, the childhood rhyme comforted her and made her feel safe. She could imagine being encased in light so well she could almost see it, like an electric-blue night light. Her worries didn’t entirely recede, but sleep finally overtook her.

* * *

The sun was streaming through the gaps in her blinds when the doorbell woke her. Jenny waited for her parents to get the door, but the bell rang a second time. Her annoyance evaporated after the third ring. The rest of the house was silent. Even if her parents had let her sleep in, they should have been packing up the last things in preparation for the move. Her family moved so often they had it down to a very efficient system, and the apartment should have been a bustle of activity.

Jenny was alone. She threw on sweatpants and a t-shirt before padding out to the living room and peering through the peephole. Two police officers stood at the door with a woman in a charcoal-gray pantsuit.

Jenny opened the door, standing partway behind it as if it were a shield. “Can I help you?” she asked in her most neutral voice.

“Are you Jenny Morgan?” asked one of the officers, a black man with a scar along the side of his jaw.

“Yes. What is this about?”

“I’m Sergeant Thompson, this is Officer Balenko, and Claire Daniels. May we come in?”

Her parents had told her never to allow police into the house without a warrant. She meant to refuse, as they’d taught her. Instead, she opened the door, as if in a trance.

“Were you going somewhere?” Office Balenko asked, looking over the boxes.

“We’re moving today,” Jenny answered, a little too flatly. Innocent people didn’t act bored when questioned by the police, her mother had taught her. Play to their expectations so you don’t attract their attention. But this was different. She already had their attention. Something was wrong.

Sergeant Thompson motioned to the couch in front of the television. “You may want to sit down.”

Jenny sat on the arm of the couch, bracing herself with a white-knuckled grip. She didn’t want to sit on the cushions. It would be admitting that something terrible was happening. The world seemed to tilt, and her heart raced. She practiced her best poker face and calm voice, because maybe if she acted like everything was fine, things would turn out okay. “What is it?”

Thompson took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Miss Morgan. Sometime shortly before one o’clock this morning, your parents were in a single-car accident on South Chester road. Paramedics pronounced both dead at the scene. At this time, we haven’t determined the cause of the accident, but we believe no other vehicles were involved.”

Jenny’s world quit tilting and simply dropped out from beneath her. If not for the arm of the couch, she would have fallen to the floor. Yet, she’d known. She’d had the dream. While she’d convinced herself otherwise, she’d known her parents had died around 1:07 in the morning.

Thompson clenched and unclenched his hands, glancing to the other two adults. After some hesitation, he said, “I’m truly sorry for your loss. If there’s anything we can… If you have any questions, just ask. Claire will stay with you today and make arrangements for your care.”

A question shot through Jenny’s shock. “How did they die? What kind of accident?”

Thompson hesitated. “Uh, is this something you want to talk about right now?”

Balenko spoke up. “The car flipped over on the side of the road. There were no skid marks we were able to see. We don’t think they were going too fast or trying to brake. We haven’t determined if alcohol or any other substances were involved.”

Thompson glared at Balenko. Balenko shrugged. “Hey, she asked.”

“Thank you,” Jenny muttered, slowly sliding down onto the couch seat.

“We’ll show ourselves out. Claire will be here for you as long as you need her here. Claire, is there anything you need before we go?”

Claire waved them off. “We’ll manage, thank you.” She turned to Jenny. Jenny expected tears to flow, but nothing came, yet, beyond the weight of the sheer impossibility of it all. She must be dreaming again, but this time she couldn’t wake up.

Claire touched her hand. “Is there someone you can call? A relative who can come?”

On autopilot, Jenny answered. “My aunt. Hattie Rose. In the old red telephone book. With the kitchen stuff.”

Claire searched through empty drawers and two boxes before finding the phone book and Hattie’s handwritten number. “Do you want to call her, or should I?”

“I’ll do it,” Jenny said, even though she’d never spoken to her aunt before. She dialed the number.

“Hello?” came the voice on the other end of the line. Even with a single word, the West Virginia accent came through.

“Aunt Hattie? This is Jenny Morgan.”

“Oh, my sweet little girl. Something terrible has happened, hasn’t it?” The woman on the phone didn’t sound surprised. Like Jenny, she knew.

“Mom and Dad are dead.”

“Your area code is near Chicago. Is that really where you are?”

“Yes. We live in Naperville.” As Jenny realized the word “we” no longer applied, she choked back the first of many sobs.

“Give me your address. I’ll be there late tonight.”

Sean Williams graduated from high school early and sailed through his program at West Virginia University, on track to graduate in only three years. His councilors called him “highly motivated.” They had no idea just how motivated he was, and they never asked why. He had no time for a social life, nor did he care. At least not until the night he met Debbie.

He didn’t go home during the break between summer and fall classes before his final year. If it weren’t for obligatory holidays and closed campus, he’d never go home at all. Temporarily without an overloaded schedule, he didn’t know what to do with himself. His idiot of a roommate, Blake, suggested the back-to-school party on campus. “There’ll be a whole bunch of incoming freshman girls,” Blake said. “They are like, barely out of high school age!”

“I’m barely out of high school age, Blake.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” It wasn’t what he meant. “It’s perfect! And you can let off steam before going back to school.”

“I just finished summer term classes last week. I’m not going back anywhere.”

“Then you need this more than anyone, Sean! Go! Find some girl you can get to first base with, man!”

Agreeing with anything Blake suggested made Sean feel like he needed to take a shower, but he grudgingly admitted the party sounded better than sitting around the apartment aimlessly browsing the Web while Blake got drunk. Again.

While all students were invited to attend, the party in the “Lair,” the student union building, was really geared for incoming freshmen. The more veteran students held their own parties off-campus with a lot less free popcorn and sodas, and a lot more alcohol. A mirrored ball straight out of the 1970s acted as the centerpiece of the decor, probably inspired by the theme on the banner proclaiming “a proud legacy.” Sean didn’t recognize the music, but a few brave souls gravitated to the center of the floor and danced.

He spotted her hovering within easy retreat distance of the exit. She wore a green floral skirt and a white short-sleeved blouse, her dark brown hair simple and straight. Unlike the two girls beside her, she bore no visible tats. She seemed lost and out-of-place, as ready to bolt for the exit as Sean felt.

It took him seven minutes and thirty seconds to build up the courage to ask her to dance. He timed himself, looking at his watch every thirty seconds. She started glancing toward the door, and he knew he was out of time. As he drew close, he nearly lost his nerve and changed course to the refreshment table. Then she looked his way. Their eyes made contact, and he realized he’d passed the point of no return. She seemed both fearful and hopeful. Raising his voice over the music, he asked. “Do you want to dance or something?”

She bit her lip as she hesitated. Sean mentally prepared himself for a rejection. “I ain’t… I’m not very good,” she said. She made an effort to conceal her accent, much thicker than those of most students from the state.

“Neither am I.”

She shrugged and offered a faint smile. “Okay, then.”

They threaded their way to a clear section of the floor and started dancing just as the music ended. Sean smiled an awkward apology. The next song was much slower. They stepped closer together, and spent several seconds in mutual confusion determining where their hands were supposed to go for a slow dance. They settled with his hands on her hips, and hers resting on his shoulders.

They swayed more-or-less in time with the music. “I hope I’m not embarrassing you,” Sean said, and then felt himself flush with embarrassment that he’d said something so stupid.

She tilted her head back, eyebrows raised to an exaggerated height. “Why? Are you doin’ something behind my back that ought to embarrass me? If you are, you’ll have to try harder, because the only soul in this room who is paying me any mind at all is you.”

He shook his head emphatically, and grinned in spite of himself. “I’ve just never danced before.”

“You’re doing better than them. They ain’t…they aren’t even trying.”

After two more songs, they introduced themselves, sat down, and talked. Then they danced some more. Then talked some more.

Debbie explained she’d spent the last year in a tiny town called Davidson, but originally, she came from an even tinier one called “Blood Creek.”

“What’s in Blood Creek?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she answered. “I got relatives there, but that’s Blood Creek for you. Everyone there is related to everyone else if you go back three or four generations.”

“That sounds, um, cozy.”

“It ain’t. Isn’t. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing to you. I’m apologizing to myself. Folks won’t take you seriously if you sound like a hillbilly. I intend to become a nurse. So I’m working on my accent.”

“That sounds fantastic. I think you’d make a great nurse.”

“How do you know? You just met me!”

He smiled and shrugged, thinking fast. “You sound like you have a great bedside manner.”

She smiled back. “I been… I’ve been…studying while I went to community college and working to save money for school. So what about you, Sean? You said you were a senior, but you are only eighteen?”

“I graduated from high school early.”

“You must be really smart.”

“Just really desperate to get out of the house. My home life sucked.”

“But you are graduating from college early, too? What are you going to do next?”

“I don’t know.”

She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to read his forehead. “Why are you in such a hurry to graduate if you don’t know what you are going to do after this?”

“Inertia, maybe.”

The music picked up, and they danced some more. Near midnight, Debbie said she had to leave. Sean volunteered to walk her home, but she politely turned him down. “I live off-campus with my aunt. She’s coming to pick me up.” Debbie looked off in the distance, and her shoulders slumped. She turned back to Sean. “Would you mind waiting with me down by the parking lot? It won’t be but a few more minutes.”

“Sure. I mean, no, I wouldn’t mind.” They walked together down to the curb.

She’d grown quiet on their way down. Expecting her to leave at any moment, Sean gathered his courage and asked, “Can I call you?”

She nodded. “I’d like that. Do you have a pen?”

He produced one. She wrote on the palm of his hand. “I think this is the number,” she said. “I just got moved in last week. So easy to forget.” She looked at him guiltily.

“You don’t have your own cell?”

She hesitated, then said, “Oh, yeah, them…those personal phones? Yeah, we didn’t have them at Blood Creek. It’s really out in the sticks. I told you, I’m a hillbilly.”

“No reception there?”

“No. We…” She glanced over her shoulder at the busy parking lot. “Oh, my aunt’s here! Call me!” She kissed him on the cheek. As she walked away, she said, “Find me.”

He wanted to say something cool, or witty, or even functional, but it came out, “Sure, call, bye, nice…” She was already gone, and he hadn’t even seen which car she got into. He concentrated on the numbers written on his palm. His sweat threatened to turn them into smudgy blotches. He copied the number into his phone’s directory while it was still mostly legible, but he wasn’t sure he’d read all the numbers right.

He called the next day, but the number belonged to a nail salon. He couldn’t remember Debbie’s last name. He spent weeks obsessively looking for her, even lurking in freshman Biology classes and the Health Science Center to see if he could find her. He knew he should just chalk it up to a missed opportunity and move on, but he’d always been embarrassed about his age and hadn’t really hit it off with anyone before, especially not with a girl as attractive as Debbie.

He was smitten, but Debbie had disappeared.

* * *

He finally found her again at another on-campus party on Halloween night. Sean hadn’t worn a costume. Debbie had drawn cat-whiskers on her face and had blackened the tip of her nose. Homemade cloth cat-ears poked out from her hair ribbon. Their eyes met, and she immediately beamed at him and waved. They met along an unoccupied stretch of wall, where Sean started apologizing.

“I tried to call you, and look for you. I’m so sorry. I must have put your number in my phone wrong and—”

She stopped him by holding her finger against his lips. “It’s okay. I might have given you the wrong number. I’m an idiot.”

“Then I couldn’t remember your last name. I’m the idiot.”

“Arnot.”

“Yes, I am.”

She stared at him with a confused expression, and then laughed. “That stupid joke. No, that’s my last name. Debra Ann Arnot.”

He felt himself blush. “I’ll never forget it, now.”

“You’d better not. Are you here with anyone?”

“No. You?”

She shrugged. “Sure, I can be here with you.”

They stayed together the rest of the party. Later in the evening, Blake spotted them, and wobbled over with a beer in his hand. “Hey Sean. Nice,” he said while staring at Debbie’s chest. “Is this that girl you been obsessin’ over all semester? You’re right. She really is hot.” The alcohol gave Blake even less tact than normal.

Debbie’s expression grew cold, almost fearful. Sean stepped forward between the two, clapping his roommate on the shoulder. “Okay, Blake, this is Debbie. Debbie, this is my jerk of a roommate, Blake. He’ll apologize when he’s sober. Right Blake?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. For what?”

“Bye, Blake!”

“Wait a second, man! I wanna get a picture! You want proof that you aren’t a loser, right?” Blake held up his phone, but seemed to have trouble remembering how to work the camera.

Debbie’s expression thawed enough to smile. Sean put his arm around her waist, and her smile brightened. Sean still wore a goofy, pleased grin when he turned toward Blake and the light flashed.

Blake studied the screen for a moment and raised his fist in the air. “Hah-hah! You guys look cute. You two get lucky tonight, okay?” He waved, turned, and took several tries to put his phone back into his pocket.

Sean kept his arm around Debbie’s waist, and led her outside where they joined several other couples escaping the noise and crowds inside the Lair. The air was crisp, but not yet cold, as they stood on the steps overlooking the green. “I’m sorry about that. Blake’s actually an okay guy until he gets a couple of beers in him.”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Sean shook his head. “Actually, I’m lying. He’s kind of a douche all of the time. The beers just accentuate that part of his personality.”

She grinned, and then cocked her head to the side. “Have you really been obsessing over me all semester?”

“I went a little crazy trying to find you.”

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

She tugged at his jacket and tilted her head up. He leaned forward, but he didn’t know what to do next. Then they were kissing. Sean didn’t quite know where to put his nose, or if he was expected to do anything else. Then he didn’t care. When she pulled away, Debbie giggled.

Sean covered his mouth self-consciously. “I’m sorry, did I do it wrong?”

Debbie laughed even louder. “No, I’m sorry. You’ve got a black streak on your cheek from my makeup.”

Sean laughed, too. “It’s okay. I needed a costume anyway.”

They kissed again. She shivered, and Sean gave her his jacket. This time, he walked her home. They talked the whole way, and Sean didn’t mind that the temperature had turned chilly. When she took his hand, he felt warm all over.

As they reached her street, she stopped and turned to him. “Sean, I want you to know this was one of the best nights I’ve ever had.”

“Me, too. I’m so glad I found you again. You are like no one I’ve ever met.”

She sniffed. The welling liquid in her deep brown eyes reflected the streetlights.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Debbie?”

She shook her head, wiping an eye. “Nothing. I’m happy. I want you to know that right now, I’m happy.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. I have to say goodnight here, though.”

“Why? You don’t want me to see your house?”

“Not tonight. It’s a bad night.” She stared past him, down the street. “It’s always a bad night. Come by during the day.” She began to take off his jacket.

He shook his head. “No, keep it. It’ll give me an excuse to visit tomorrow and pick it up.”

Her eyes twinkled, and she kissed him one more time. “Okay. My aunt’s house is number 1321. Find me. Promise!”

“You’d better believe it!”

She smiled one last time, wiped her eyes, and then hurried away. Sean walked home. He was cold, but happier than he ever remembered being. He hardly slept, replaying every bit of their conversation in his head.

The next day, he visited 1321 Sycamore Street. The address belonged to a drug store. Inexplicably, the manager had found Sean’s jacket folded on the counter that morning. He told Sean the commercial buildings had gone up in the 1990s, so if there’d ever been a house numbered 1321, it had been torn down decades ago. Nobody there had heard of a Debra Ann Arnot.

Back at the apartment, Blake was still hung over from the party. He managed a bleary-eyed smile when Sean walked in. “Dude, are you just getting in?” he asked. “Did you get lucky with that hot cat-girl?”

Sean stared at him. “Do you remember her?”

“I don’t remember too much, but yeah, I remember her. Did I take her picture?” He fished out his phone and fiddled with it for a minute, then showed Sean the photograph. It was blurry, but it was real.

Armed with her full name and her picture from Blake’s phone, Sean scoured the Internet for Debbie. Arnot was a popular name in West Virginia, but there weren’t many Debras, Debbies, or Deborahs by that name. As far as he could tell, Blood Creek didn’t exist. He couldn’t find out much about Davidson, either. Had it all been a lie? He gave up a dozen times, only to return a few minutes later with another idea of how to search for her.

By late afternoon, he found her. The black-and-white scanned newspaper image showed a fuzzy picture of Debbie in a floral skirt and white blouse, exactly as he’d seen her at the back-to-school party. The accompanying article described how eighteen-year-old Debra Ann Arnot had been murdered by drunken local men on Halloween night, in 1974. Every once in a while, the story continued, her ghost could be seen wandering the streets or university campus in Morgantown, West Virginia, especially on Halloween night.

He'd fallen in love with a girl who had been dead long before he had been born.

Hattie Rose was four years older than Jenny’s mother, and stood exactly Jenny’s height. Not much red remained in her shoulder-length hair, and her sun-soaked skin was darker and more weathered than Patricia’s pale complexion. However, Jenny couldn’t deny the family resemblance. Under normal circumstances, she’d have been overjoyed to finally meet a relative.

Instead, it all came out in tears when Hattie arrived. Hattie comforted her, made the arrangements for the funeral, helped Jenny sort through their things, and handled legal arrangements. Above all, she was strong for Jenny.

For a few days, Jenny almost resented her aunt—a stranger calmly taking care of her parents’ business. Then late one night, Jenny went to bed early, but she was unable to sleep. She heard her aunt’s muffled sobs as Hattie went through Jenny’s parent’s things in the next room. Jenny felt infinitely closer to her aunt, but afterwards couldn’t bring herself to share as much of her pain with Hattie for fear of increasing her aunt’s burden.

Few guests came to the funeral. Jenny hardly knew anyone to invite. Patricia and James Morgan had lived their lives the way they had taught Jenny: inconspicuously and unnoticed.

Jenny received her wish to stay in Naperville until the end of the school year, but felt wracked with guilt over it. Hattie filled out the paperwork to become her legal guardian, and they lived in her family’s apartment for six weeks. Jenny never answered Eric’s texts. She never returned to her jiu jitsu class. She never told anyone at school what had happened, but somehow word got around. Where she’d once been ignored by everyone, she was now the subject of stares and whispers, or worse, a sudden politeness. She wasn’t invisible anymore.

She finished the school year on autopilot. She offered little opinion on what they should save, sell, or store of her parents’ things. They packed the remnants of Jenny’s life into the back of Hattie’s pickup truck, and on the morning after the last day of school they began the long drive to Maple Bend, West Virginia.

They drove almost non-stop and arrived late that night. Jenny snoozed through the latter part of the trip, and didn’t fully awaken until well after Hattie had left I-79, driving along an unlit road that didn’t seem wide enough for two full lanes. The summer sky blazed with stars, blotted out on either side by dark, low mountains.

They stopped for gas and groceries at a place called, “Dyl’s Super Stop.” They were the only customers in the shop. A mounted flat-screen TV played The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, which the lone, overweight employee in his early 20s watched from behind a counter with bored indifference. Aside from a refrigerated section selling live fishing bait, there wasn’t much difference between this convenience store and any Jenny had visited in the Chicago area.

After returning to the truck, they drove up switchback roads. The black woods all but engulfed them. Jenny clutched at her seatbelt as Hattie navigated through a tunnel of light created by the high-beams. The twisty journey over ancient, cracked pavement seemed to last half the night. The lighted windows of occasional houses winked on and off through the thick trees.

Shortly after midnight, they arrived. Hattie shut off the engine, and the night filled with the sounds of insects.

“Crickets?” Jenny asked. The chorus of insect sounds didn’t resemble the familiar little chirps she’d heard on summer nights in the suburbs.

“Mostly, yep. Jessabelle tells me the cicadas are in season right now, so it might get pretty loud during the day.”

They opened the doors and got out of the truck. “So what do cicadas sound like?” Jenny asked.

Hattie scanned the darkness, and took a deep breath. “Not like crickets,” she answered. “Now, I apologize, I didn’t really have time to set up your bedroom, so it’s still part of a library.”

Hattie’s home was a mobile home with a concrete porch and foundation. Hattie opened the door for Jenny, and even warmer air rolled out, carrying unfamiliar, faintly herbal smells. “There’s an AC unit in the window of your room. I’ll turn it on for you now so your room will be cool once we’re done moving stuff in.”

This would be her home now. Jenny had learned to adapt as she was forced to move throughout her life. Until now, she’d always relocated to almost interchangeable suburban sprawls, filled with people who seemed, on the surface, just like her family. The haunted, alien backwoods of West Virginia left her grasping for anything familiar. It felt like a camping trip, deep in the mountains outside of the cell-phone coverage, where the nearest real grocery store required a terrifying trip through switchbacks.

At least she had family. Getting back to anything resembling “normal” might be impossible, but she could adapt. Once she settled down into the new situation, she could become part of the background. That was the one thing she could do well.

* * *

The next day, Maple Bend had a funeral for one of its own. The deceased woman, Grace Alls, had only a few relatives outside of Maple Bend, but much of Maple Bend was related to her, or at least knew her.

Jenny got ready as well. Hattie tilted her head to the side as Jenny came out in her Sunday dress. “You don’t need to go,” Hattie said. “You didn’t know Grace.”

“Is it bad if I go with you?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“But a lot of people in town will be there.”

Hattie nodded. Jenny couldn’t quite sort out her feelings. She could almost hear her mother’s voice telling her to be where the crowd was, and get lost in it. Mostly, she felt so lost within the town, within Hattie’s home, even within the library-turned-bedroom that she didn’t want to be left alone yet.

Shortly before ten, they walked down to the church together. The heat of the day was already building. The cicadas, true to Hattie’s word, droned in a constant song, rising and falling with precise timing. Sweat began to trickle down Jenny’s back before they were halfway to the church, making her dread what kind of smell she might give off before getting there.

The church was a large, but otherwise unassuming, white building along the only road into town, next door to a small house and a graveyard. One grave stood wide open, dark with freshly-dug earth. Only when they reached the steps to the church entrance could they hear the sound of an antique electric organ over the cicada drone.

The old window-set air conditioners whirred and creaked, unable to keep up with the June swelter and all the body heat generated in the chapel. Some people in one of the back rows scooted over to give Jenny and her aunt a tight-fitting place to sit. Hattie sang the congregation’s warbling hymn from memory. Jenny sat in silence, hoping no one would notice her failure to join in the unfamiliar song. Fortunately, few paid her any attention.

The hymn concluded, and the preacher gave a lengthy prayer that sounded more like a sermon to Jenny’s ears. After a staggered chorus of “amens,” the preacher began the eulogy for the deceased. His words faded in her mind, replaced by the memory of the eulogy at her parent’s funeral. One of her father’s coworkers delivered the address—someone she’d never met, but she’d heard his name mentioned around the dinner table a couple of times. The feeling was obviously mutual, as the man knew almost nothing about them. Words like, “Good neighbors,” “private,” and “seemed nice,” tore at her. Didn’t anyone else know that her mom’s love of Phil Collins’ music bordered on obsessive, or that her dad loved to play chess, and he always played it with her on Sunday nights after the dishes were done?

Her sight blurred. Crying during a stranger’s funeral would be unacceptable. People would think she was crazy, or at least overly emotional. She needed to focus her attention on something else, something to distract her.

A woman in an old-fashioned, polka-dot print dress with a broad collar stood near the casket as the preacher spoke. At times, her mouth moved, as if she were speaking to the dead woman. Nobody paid the lady any attention. As she’d only attended one other funeral in her life, Jenny assumed the woman had some kind of role in the program.

The woman stopped speaking and stared across the chapel directly at Jenny. Jenny’s blood froze. The woman’s eyes seemed wrong, somehow. A darkness hovered around her eyes, like they were painted on her face with muted colors, and then dabbed with a hint of violet. Jenny dropped her gaze to her lap, staring intently at her hands.

Hattie sucked in air, and leaned over. “Jenny,” she whispered with a surprising urgency. Jenny felt a cool presence nearby. She looked up.

The woman in the polka-dot dress stood in the aisle only two pews away, staring with her shadowy, violet-tinged eyes at Jenny. The woman stretched out her hand, as if she meant to grab Jenny, while her mouth animated in soundless syllables.

Jenny bolted out of the pew as the woman lurched forward to touch her. Heedless of the gasps around her, she fled out the double doors and into the daylight of the dirt parking area.

The woman didn’t follow.

Once her instinct to flee subsided and her heart quit pounding, Jenny stopped and considered her options. She’d just made a spectacle of herself in the middle of a funeral and freaked out some obviously mentally disabled lady. Only a few hours in her new home, and she’d earned herself a terrible reputation. How quickly she’d forgotten everything her parents had taught her.

A young boy stared at her through one the church’s arch-topped windows. Jenny pretended she hadn’t seen him, but he waved at her. She awkwardly waved back.

Standing in the parking area until the funeral was over wouldn’t do. Jenny began making her way back to Hattie’s home. The tears started partway into the walk, drying on her cheeks in the warm air. They had quit flowing by the time she reached the mobile home. Hattie hadn’t locked the door, which seemed unnatural to Jenny. Even in the suburbs, leaving a door unlocked invited trouble, and her parents were sticklers about security. This time, Jenny was grateful for the oversight. She went straight to her “room,” and turned up the window air conditioner to occupied levels.

* * *

Jenny bunched up her pillow and buried her head into it. She had hoped to fall back asleep and forget any of the morning had happened, but there was no chance of that. Finally, she got up and explored the room in the daylight.

When she had time, she would make the room her own. Hattie had hastily half converted it from a library and storage room. Shelves were over-packed with books, magazines, and loose pieces of paper. Dust-free gaps in the stacks suggested some recent removals.

Jenny couldn’t grasp the organization, if any existed, but the subjects ran the gamut from gardening, history, and religion to building a website. A photo album caught her eye. She pulled it down and began browsing through it on the bed.

All the pictures had been taken with old-fashioned cameras that used film. Some of the earliest photographs were in black and white, and most were labeled with names and dates. A few were dated as far back as the 1930s. She recognized none of the names until the last few pages. Hattie and…Amy? The young woman in the pictures could have passed as Jenny’s older sister. Her hair was a brighter shade of red than Jenny’s, and her freckles far more pronounced. And of course, the photo was taken in the 1980s. Was it another aunt? Or even her mother, under a different name?

The front door opened. Jenny closed the album and went into the living room to face the music. She began a sputtering apology, but Hattie rushed forward and embraced her tightly. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I should have warned you about Esther.”

Tears came again, but only briefly. “I’m sorry, Aunt Hattie. I didn’t think. She just freaked me out. Now everyone must think I’m a horrible jerk for how I treated her and ran out of the funeral like that.”

Hattie shook her head. “If anyone asks, I’m telling them you were overcome by emotion from your parent’s deaths. And nobody else saw her.”

Jenny stepped away. “What?”

“Don’t you know? This hasn’t happened before?”

“What happened? Embarrassing myself in public?”

“No.” Hattie’s eyebrows wrinkled as they come together. “Oh, honey, this is not the way to learn.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Have a seat, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Sit down!”

Jenny sat. Hattie sat in the chair beside her. “Esther’s dead, Jenny. She’s been dead since before I was born. She was something of a busybody in that church in her day, and her ghost haunts it still. I don’t think anybody but you and I can see or hear her, at least consciously, but she still gets her demands across from time to time.”

“Are you telling me I saw a ghost?”

Hattie arched her eyebrows. “Your mama never told you about ghosts? You’ve never seen them before?”

Jenny considered her dream the night her parents died. Her childhood friend, Vanessa. In real life, they’d moved shortly after her mother learned about Vanessa. “I don’t know,” Jenny responded.

Hattie sighed. “You have what we sometimes call ‘the Sight,’ honey. All witches have it to some degree. I’m surprised your mama didn’t tell you about it.”

“Wait, what? Did you say ‘witches’?”

“Oh!” Hattie’s hand rose to her throat. “You don’t know that either? We really do have a lot to talk about.”

Jack Parsons had barely graduated from high school at the beginning of the month. He tolerated education itself well enough, but the other kids made school hell. Now it was over. He found himself only a few months away from what people considered “adulthood,” and he was educated on very few matters. About the only thing he really knew better than anyone else was the woods and hills around Maple Bend, where he spent the majority of his spare time. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the sort of thing his guidance counselor referred to as a “marketable skill.”

The woods were his refuge when he was a child and Pa got violent, in those years when Ma was skinny and scared, and Jack was too young to understand what was happening. “Go hide in the woods, Jack,” she’d whisper when Pa came in late and looking for trouble. Jack would return home hours later, to find Pa snoring and Ma with a few new bruises, but happy to see him safe.

One day, when he was twelve years old, Jack disobeyed her. He fought back. He gave as good as he got, and had a permanent scar across his left cheek to show for it. It was a badge of honor to him, even if the girls at school didn’t think so. He’d fought only one battle with his father, the decisive one. Pa left their mobile home before dawn, and never returned.

The joy of that victory didn’t last long. Ma grew more withdrawn, fat, and drunk with each year. Jack couldn’t figure out how it was his fault, but he felt guilty about it all the same. When the guilt grew too strong, he’d think about the bruises she’d carried most of his life and the feeling subsided.

Now he had one last summer before he turned eighteen and people expected him to act like an adult. In Maple Bend, that often meant taking welfare or disability, drinking to stave off depression, and sometimes dying under mysterious circumstances. After his pa’s behavior, Jack wouldn’t touch the bottle. But, he knew the dangers of the woods better than anybody else. If he couldn’t convince his ma to leave this place, maybe those dangers would claim him as the next unexplained death or disappearance.

But, not on a beautiful June day like today. With the afternoon sun shining through the rich canopy of leaves, the cicada song surrounding him, and no demands on his time, he couldn’t imagine any better place to be in the entire world. He took a less familiar route, and pushed his hike as far as he could until he knew he couldn’t make it back until sunset. Satisfied, he turned around, and followed the overgrown trail back to what passed for town.

An old house stood not too far from the trail. While obscured by trees, it wasn’t exactly hidden, particularly from this direction. It looked like it had been there for decades, and something familiar about it tugged at Jack.

The problem was he was sure it hadn’t been there before.

He drew closer and cautiously orbited the house to get a better look. It was an older style home, with low stone walls along the bottom giving way to unpainted, treated wood walls up to a peaked roof. Weeds and vines grew over the walls, and it showed no indication of having been inhabited in years, but otherwise the place seemed to be in good condition.

Three silvery nails jutted from the front door, bright in the subset light in spite of age and elements. They formed the points of an inverted triangle, and served no purpose Jack could see. He peered in through two of the windows, but the grime covering them made the glass practically opaque. He discerned only vague outlines of furniture and walls in the darkness within.

It was getting late. In a half an hour, it would be hard to follow the trail. He had no time to explore, and it was too dark inside to see anything. Besides, he’d watched a few horror movies. The house might look abandoned, but his imagination conjured up images of psycho hillbillies with chainsaws and shotguns. Even as he forced that kind of silliness out of his mind, a nervous old hermit with a double-barrel wasn’t silly and could end his day badly. No, it would be better to come back during the light of the morning and properly knock at the door. The mystery would keep for one night.

He left the house and made his way back, hoping he’d hit the more familiar and better-traveled path home before it got too dark.

He almost made it.

He smelled the smoke before spotting the campfire. Once again, curiosity compelled him to investigate. As he crept forward, the firelight spoiled his vision in the deepening shadows. His shoulder caught on a branch, which made a swishing noise as it sprang back into position.

The three boys around the campfire jumped up. Alan Mecham, Samuel Colton, and Mason Beach stared at Jack. While he knew it was irrational, Jack felt like they were intruders on his private domain. As far as he knew, their families owned the property and he was the trespasser. He pushed his annoyance and played it casual, forcing a smile and waving as he stepped into the firelight. “Hey guys. It’s just me.”

Sam was Jack’s age, and the other two were twenty years old. They were as close to a peer group as Jack had had growing up in Maple Bend. Assuming “peer group” meant similarly-aged boys who ignored and bullied him. Any group like that gained its sense of superiority based on who they excluded, and there just wasn’t anyone else to exclude. By his age and his reputation, Jack became the designated outsider.

“Hey, Jack,” Mason said, wearing his all-too-familiar fake grin. That grin meant he was up to no good, often at Jack’s expense. “Have a seat, and have a smoke. Enjoy the summer!”

Each of the young men held a hand-rolled cigarette. The smoke smelled of something other than tobacco. Jack pretended not to notice. “Nah, thanks. I gotta get home, make dinner for my ma.”

“Little late for dinner, ain’t it?” said Alan. Alan was twenty years old, but looked like a tall fourteen-year-old. Freckles and red hair offset his wiry build. He and Sam advanced. “Besides, your mama should probably skip a few meals, right?”

Jack smiled for a moment like he approved of the joke, and then bolted. He didn’t get far before Alan tackled him below the knees. Jack caught his fall on his hands, but then all three were upon him. One on one, he could have held his own against any of them, but three was something different. Within seconds, Alan and Sam dragged him to a tree and Mason tied Jack’s arms behind the trunk. Mason started by using cords that had held the fire logs together, and then he pulled Jack’s sneakers off his feet and tied Jack’s wrists together with the laces.

Jack pulled and struggled the whole time, more to minimize the effectiveness of the knots than out of any hope of escape. Unfortunately, for all of Mason’s faults, he knew how to tie knots. Had he been a Boy Scout? How much could he have possibly learned in the two minutes it would have taken them to kick him out of the organization?

“What do we do now?” asked Alan. “He’s seen us.”

Mason said, “I don’t know.”

“I can’t get caught with this shit again, Mason. I’ll be tried as an adult.”

“Shut up! I’m thinking.”

Jack shook his head. “I ain’t telling anybody anything. Just let me go.”

Mason stared at Jack, his blond mustache twitching up at the ends. “I don’t think you will, huh Jack? You’re a good guy, right? I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you have a beer and a smoke with us, and then we’ll call it good, right?”

For a moment, Jack wavered. He remembered his father. “Don’t ever start,” his ma warned him, even as she dove into the liquor herself. Jack figured he was in trouble from both sides of his family, an alcoholic waiting to happen. On the day his pa left, he told himself he’d never start, not even once. He’d held onto it this long. He wouldn’t weaken tonight.

Besides, what would these guys do? They were bullies, not murderers. So far.

He shook his head. “You guys do whatever you want. It ain’t none of my business.”

“’Course it ain’t,” Mason replied. Then he turned to his two companions. “Okay, here’s what we do. Alan, get the stuff. Sammy, put out the fire. We’re leaving.”

“Come on!” Jack said as the other young men returned to the campfire to hide any sign of their presence. “Untie me.”

Mason sneered at him. “You’ve gone and ruined our party, Jack. Now we gotta hide our stuff in case you go blabbing your mouth again. Behave, and we’ll come back and untie you. Just remember, in case you feel like telling folks about our little campfire here, it’ll be your word against ours. And your word doesn’t carry much weight, does it, Lyin’ Jack?”

Jack seethed. He hadn’t heard anyone call him “Lyin’ Jack” in over a year, but it still stung. He tried not to look at Sam. That old betrayal hurt the worst. “If nobody will believe me, why do you care? Just let me go. This is crazy!”

Mason ignored him. Alan came back with a paper bag in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other, carefully avoiding eye contact with Jack.

Sam returned from putting out the fire, standing close to Jack. He spoke quietly. “We ain’t going to leave you here all night, idiot. Just long enough to stash our stuff, and then we’re coming back for you. Just be cool for once.”

Jack pulled at his bonds again. “You know this is worse than what you were doing, right?”

“We’re just playing around. You got my word, Jack. As soon as we’re done, I’ll come back. On my own if I have to, okay?”

Sam’s face was still visible in the dying sunlight. It had been years since they’d been close, but Sam seemed earnest. Jack opened his mouth to respond just as a woman’s horrified scream sounded from the woods. The throaty, strange cry sounded either not quite human, or like a human in extreme pain. Jack’s flesh grew cold and clammy.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Sam said. “Who would be out here? Some kid?”

As if in answer, the primal, terrifying cry split the air again.

“Panther,” Alan said. “They sound like a woman’s scream.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mason replied. “Those things are extinct around here.”

“Bobcat, then. Something like that.”

Mason considered the growing darkness for a half second, and then said, “Doesn’t matter. We gotta go.”

Jack pulled at the cords. They cut into his wrists, and didn’t feel any looser. “You can’t leave me like this if there’s a panther around!”

“It’s no panther, you idiot. It’s just…” Mason trailed off, recognizing that the alternative—abandoning a girl in mortal terror—was no better. “We’ll be back for you in a half-hour.”

They disappeared into the woods. Jack yelled at them. “Mason! Mason, come back, you asshole!”

The unnatural, predatory scream answered him, closer than before.

Jack struggled to bring himself to a stand, pulling one arm painfully around the stub of a small branch to allow more movement. He tugged and rubbed the cords against the tree trunk behind him, but imagined he did more damage to the bark and his flesh than to the cords.

Only faint blood-colored traces of sunlight radiated over the top of the hills, and little of that penetrated through the trees above. Until now, Jack had always loved being in the woods at sundown. But now the darkness concealed the source of the noise, and Jack felt a terror he’d not known in years.

Minutes passed. In the darkness, the once comforting forest noises grew threatening. Leaves rustled ever-so-faintly a short distance away. He gave the cords one last, frantic strain, hoping the adrenaline of fear would give him the strength he needed to break them. They dug deeper into his wrists.

From the darkened brush twenty feet away, a black, feline head emerged, much larger than any housecat he’d ever seen. Two yellow eyes, glinting in tree-filtered twilight, glared at him.

Sean awoke in a sweat in the tiny hotel room. For a moment, his nightmare persisted, Debbie fleeing her faceless attackers. Her momentary shadow passed across the neon light, bleeding through the slats of the window blinds. Sean’s feelings of panic and powerlessness bled away as his consciousness reasserted itself.

He fumbled for the light switch, and got up to get himself a drink of water to replace the gallons he’d surely sweat from the dream and the over-warm blankets. After consuming two clear plastic cups of faintly off-tasting tap water, he checked his phone. The glowing screen displayed the time—4:30 in the morning—and announced he’d received a text message from his stepsister and two voice messages from his father. He deleted his father’s messages without listening to them. He already knew what they said.

“Sorry, Dad,” he said aloud to his face in the mirror. “I’m eighteen and graduated from college. I fulfilled grandpa’s requirements. I didn’t do it for the money. I didn’t do it for you. I did it to get away from you, and I’m not going back.”

It sounded a lot more confident and grown-up in his head. But the voice he heard and the image of himself in the mirror were those of a kid. A geeky, gawky kid. Three days without shaving left him with little more than peach fuzz and a few straggly blond whiskers on his chin.

His stepsister Lacy’s text didn’t surprise him. “Dad’s gone full paranoia. Don’t talk to him until you’ve talked to me. Love you!”

He half-smiled at the message, and texted back. “No worries. Not going to talk to him at all. Love you too!” Lacy was five years older than him, and they’d grown up living together every other weekend and half of the yearly holidays.

Seconds later, the phone rang. It was Lacy. He answered and said, “Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night waiting for my text!”

She laughed. “I got up early. Like you, apparently. Dad realized you are hitchhiking across West Virginia, but he doesn’t know why. He’s been bugging us to find out if we knew anything. Whatever you do, don’t tell him about your ghost.”

“Why would I? Do you believe me, Lacy?”

She hesitated, but only a bit. “Do I believe in ghosts? I don’t know. But I believe you. What happened to you happened, and I totally understand you wanting to see this through.”

“Dad wouldn’t give me the benefit of that doubt.”

“No. What’s more, he’s talking about hiring a PI to track you down and provide proof of your ‘mental instability.’ I think he’s trying to make a case that he should be the custodian of your grandpa’s trust fund.”

“Hah! Yeah, I know what he’d do with the stipend.” Grandpa’s fund had taken care of Sean’s schooling, and would pay him a reasonable stipend every month for the rest of his life. Sean never voiced it aloud, but he believed his father married his mother because of grandpa’s money. Grandpa loved his only daughter more than the world, but when the doctors had diagnosed her with terminal cancer, no amount of money could save her.

“My roommate is a paralegal, and doesn’t think he’d have a leg to stand on, but don’t give him the slightest ammunition. You’ve escaped! Just enjoy it! Be safe, and go find yourself. Or that girl, or whatever works for you. I love you!”

“I love you too.”

Sean ended the call and sighed. His father constantly talked about him returning to live at home once he graduated. The confrontation was coming. Sean knew he’d win, but at what cost? At least he could put it off for a few more days while he searched for a town the Internet didn’t believe existed.

He took a shower, shaved, and packed yesterday’s clothes into his industrial-strength hiking pack. He checked out of the hotel, and crossed the street to the little waffle shop, the only one of the three restaurants he’d counted on his way into town yesterday that wasn’t a fast food place.

The restaurant smelled of fresh coffee and stale grease. He gave his order to a woman who looked badly in need of some fresh coffee herself. All the tables were empty, so he chose one in the corner. He pulled out his phone and began, once again, to search for the location of Debra Arnot’s home town of Blood Creek. He took notes on a pad of paper, as many places in this part of the world had spotty or nonexistent cell service. He scrolled far down the search, trying to dig out real information behind a wall of scathing reviews of a movie by that name, past the handful of entries that had previously caught his attention and proved fruitless, and deeper into entries that had something to do with blood or creeks but not with the two of them together.

He found nothing new to write on his pad. His quest might have finally arrived at an unsuccessful end. He tapped the notebook with the end of his pen, as if it might magically produce the clue he needed.

The door to the restaurant opened with the dull thunk of a bell long overdue for replacement, and a thin man in a white suit entered. He appeared to be in his early sixties, and stood a couple of inches shorter than the waitress. His steel-and-soot wreath of hair surrounding his bald pate prevented him from looking too much like Colonel Sanders in his white suit and black string tie. He took a seat at the table next to Sean’s. The sleepy waitress approached the table, and he ordered eggs and bacon with a thick drawl, and began looking over the newspaper he’d brought with him.

The waitress came back with Sean’s breakfast. The waffles on his plate were cooked from an off-the-shelf mix, but the eggs were probably laid by a neighbor’s chicken. Sean thanked her, and then on a whim asked, “Hey, have you ever heard of a town called Blood Creek?”

She looked at him in confusion and shook her head. “Ain’t heard of no place like that near here, sorry.”

“Thanks anyway.”

She nodded and went back behind the counter.

“I know that place,” the man in the white suit said in his rich accent. “But it hasn’t been called that in a long while.”

“Really?” Sean suppressed his excitement as he rolled his pen around in his fingers. The older man had a creepy vibe. He probably didn’t know anything, just wanted to talk. “What’s it called now?”

The man at the other table sighed. “Well, that comes with a small story. Price of admission, but it’s quiet on the road. My name is Tad, by the way.”

“I’m Sean. I’m a student at UWV.” Sean realized after he said it that it he’d lied. He’d graduated almost a month ago. Technically, he was now an unemployed drifter. The thought amused him.

The waitress brought Tad his coffee. He accepted it without looking at the woman, and sipped without blowing on it first. If the drink was too hot, he didn’t show it. “Well, Sean from UWV, look up a place called Maple Bend. The locals used to call it Blood Creek. I’ve heard it was because of the minerals in the creek, copper or somesuch. But the name might have some other connotations, too, considering the history.”

“Why did they change the name?”

“Some developers in the 1980s expected a highway to go in near there, and spent a lot of money buying property and building a few houses, and getting it officially renamed Maple Bend. They thought it’d be a more palatable name than Blood Creek, I s’pose. The proposed highway didn’t go in, though, and they lost a lot of money. One of them even committed suicide, or so I hear.”

Sean only half-listened to the man’s explanation as he wolfed down his food. More than anything else, he wanted to pull up information on the town on his phone, but that would be rude. As Tad paused, Sean swallowed a mouthful of half-chewed waffle and asked, “Are you sure it’s Maple Bend? I thought I saw that on the map. It’s not far from here, is it?”

“Yes, it’s Maple Bend, and no, it’s not far. I have been there a couple of times. About thirty miles northwest of here, as the crow flies. I met a girl I was fond of there, once. But that was a long time ago.”

Sean shoved the last bites of egg into his mouth and washed them down with his orange juice. “Thanks for the information,” he said. “Hey, can I buy your breakfast or anything?”

The older man happily accepted. “Far be it for me to turn down such a kind offer. I’d give you a ride to Maple Bend myself, but I am heading in the other direction.”

Sean paid for the meals and left the restaurant, beginning his long trek of walking and hitchhiking. He could afford to rent a car, but the companies wouldn’t rent to anyone under twenty-one.

As he reached the edge of town, unsuccessfully trying to thumb a ride from the two cars he’d encountered in the early dawn, Sean wondered how the old man had known he had needed a ride.

* * *

Many hours and long uphill hikes later, Sean came to the conclusion nobody ever went to Maple Bend. Assuming he was on the right road. It would have been hard to choose the wrong one, as there weren’t many ways out of Branton, the nearest community that could loosely be termed a town. Only two vehicles had gone by in the last half-hour, dodging the potholes in the crumbling switchback road, and both had been driving in the other direction.

Far beyond the road, mobile homes perched on thin ledges on the side of the mountain, barely visible through the trees, accessed by impossibly steep dirt trails. Beyond those, Sean saw little sign of human existence. Occasionally the bones of a roadkill animal or a bottle with a label bleached white peeked out from the weeds at the side of the road. Down one ravine, plants grew around the hulk of an ancient truck, victim of a too-fast turn along the switchbacks at least a decade earlier. That, or someone had decided to save themselves a tow to the junkyard.

The sun inched closer to the treetops blanketing the western mountains. Darkness came early in the tree-shrouded valleys or “hollers” as the locals called them. There were no street lights along the crumbling road. At least the cicadas had quieted as the ambient light grew dim.

Sean came around a switchback. Debbie waited for him in the distance. A wind caught her dress as she stood to the side of the road in the deep shadow of two elms. He blinked and squinted, telling himself that his obsession over the dead woman was driving him crazy. No matter how he tried to process it, the figure was still there. Incredulous, he drew closer to get a better look.

He was wrong. A piece of old fabric had gotten stuck on a sapling. The shadows and leaves had given it a vaguely human shape. The gloom, a gentle breeze, and his imagination had done the rest. Maybe his father was right, and he was going crazy. While hiking and getting a tour of the beautiful Appalachian country was no doubt great for his physical health, he wasn’t sure about his mental well-being. The smart move would be to go out to the west coast or some other place far from West Virginia or his home in Ohio, find a real job and a girlfriend, and forget all about Debbie and his last year of school. For the thousandth time, he asked himself why he was obsessed over this long-dead girl. His answer always came in the form of a memory he had started to doubt—her voice pleading, “Find me.”

The sky darkened as he continued along the road, a sign that real dusk was approaching now that the sun was hidden behind the mountaintops. It was the furthest he’d hiked in one day since starting his expedition. He’d expected to hitchhike most of the way and get there by mid-afternoon, but he’d had no such luck. His flashlight and LED camping lantern, which he’d never needed yet on this trip, were buried deep in his backpack. If he stopped now to dig them out, he wasn’t sure he’d regain his momentum.

All along the hillsides, lights flicked on in previously unseen windows. He pushed himself another quarter mile, fighting on two fronts between fatigue and mosquitoes. He had half a bottle of mosquito repellent in his backpack, too. One way or another, he’d have to stop soon.

Somewhere below him, a pair of lights flickered as they moved through the trees. The strobing lights whipped around a turn and emerged on the road behind him. He hopped over to the side of the road where he hoped he’d be visible, yet safe, and stuck out his thumb.

The red SUV slowed and stopped exactly in front of him. The passenger-side window slid down smoothly, and a mocha-skinned, dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties peered through it. “Are you lost?”

“I hope not. I’m trying to get to Maple Bend. That’s up this road, isn’t it?”

“Up and over, yes.” The automatic lock popped open. “Get in.”

Sean got into the car before considering how quickly she had been driving a moment ago. With more urgency than he’d intended to show, he grabbed the seatbelt and buckled in.

“My name is Evelyn Rodriguez. I live in Maple Bend.” Her rich, sultry voice held no trace of a local accent.

“I’m Sean Williams. I’m a…student.” The lie sounded less alarming than the complicated truth. “Are you originally from here?”

She shook her head and started driving—too fast. “Not even close. I’m from Los Angeles, originally. I’ve only been in Maple Bend for a little over two months.”

“Why did you move here?”

“I wanted to get away from it all?” She made it sound like a question.

Sean felt himself pushed toward the door by the force of the next turn. He stared down at the ravine three feet from his window, without any kind of safety rail. The image of the disintegrating old truck at the bottom of a similar ravine flashed into his mind. Had anyone been in the truck when it fell? Evelyn straightened her turn and asked, “So what about you? What brings you here?”

“I’m visiting relatives of a friend.”

“Will you be staying with them?”

“They don’t know I’m coming yet. Are there any hotels in Maple Bend?”

She laughed. “No, not even close. You’re the first visitor to town since I moved in. I’ll tell you what. I’ve got plenty of room in my house. I can be a bed-and-breakfast for you until you get things sorted out.”

Unsure of what to make of the offer, Sean mulled it over. He hadn’t thought about where he’d spend the night, which embarrassed him. “Um, thanks, Ms. Rodriguez. How much will I owe you?”

“No charge. It will be nice to have someone else around. I’m a city girl, and I’m still getting used to the peace and quiet. Oh, and call me Evelyn. This is a first-name-basis kind of place. Who are you looking for, by the way?”

“Caleb and Liesel Arnot.”

“I don’t recognize the names, but that’s not surprising. I am the one person in Maple Bend who doesn’t know everyone else.”

At a hairpin turn in the opposite direction, the seatbelt dug into his shoulder. Sean expected to hear the squeal of tires, but they held firm. Evelyn giggled, a barely audible sound almost like a cackle. The car hit a bump in the broken pavement as she straightened out. She corrected effortlessly. Sean played it cool, even grinning in spite of thoughts of what the headlines might read when they were both found dead in the wreckage halfway down a mountain.

Four minutes and eighteen seconds later, they turned off onto a road in even worse repair that spanned perhaps a lane and a half. Evelyn finally slowed. They drove through a tunnel of trees, emerging in a slightly less thick area of mountain wood. To the right of the road stood a small church with a stubby gravel parking lot sufficient for a dozen vehicles, on the other side stood a double-wide trailer on a concrete foundation with a soda machine out front and a hand-painted sign that read, “Hap’s.”

“Welcome to downtown Maple Bend,” Evelyn announced with mock enthusiasm.

Hattie’s explanation didn’t help Jenny’s understanding much. “Jenny, you come from a long line of witches. The Sight is one of those things we all have to one degree or another. Some of us can see ghosts, auras, enchantments, stuff like that. It usually runs through the women in the family, but not all equally.” Hattie looked at Jenny’s face, probably noting the incredulous expression, and Hattie stood. “Would you like some iced tea? I made it this morning.”

Jenny nodded from the chair, feeling numb. Either she was crazy, or her aunt was. The third option made no sense.

Aside from a change from carpet to linoleum, no clear boundary existed between the living room, kitchen, and dining room in the mobile home. Hattie pulled a glass pitcher from the refrigerator and removed the plastic wrap acting as a lid. She filled two glasses and replaced the pitcher. Jenny caught a glimpse of the inside of the refrigerator, largely empty but for the things they had picked up in town the night before, and a few Mason jars filled with liquid and plant pieces stored on the bottom shelves.

Hattie sat down with two tall glasses of tea. Jenny took the offered glass and sipped at it, hoping that the presence of something real and ordinary would ground her. It didn’t do much good. She had a million questions, but couldn’t form the words to even ask one.

Hattie started talking. “Folks come to me looking for the usual stuff: potions, poultices, charms. Stuff to help them be successful at their job, dispel bad luck, heal from sickness, find love, that kind of thing. I guess I have a reputation that extends a ways. Granny witches aren’t as common as they were when I was a little girl.”

“Granny witch?”

“Just a term. Folks, usually women, especially the older and wiser, who can cast blessings and spells and make magical brews and charms.”

“I don’t believe in any of that,” Jenny said, shaking her head. “It’s just superstition.”

“Is it? Tell me, what kind of person believes such things?”

Jenny wisely kept her mouth shut. Hattie turned the corner of her mouth up and continued. “Would it surprise you to know that I have a bachelor’s degree in agricultural science? I was halfway to my MBA when…” She hesitated a beat too long before saying, “When things happened.”

“What kind of things?”

“Just things. Our family can be complicated sometimes.”

“Our family?” Jenny grew alert at the words. “Are there others still…um, around?”

“Not so many now. I’m still not used to Amy being gone. Patricia, I suppose. Your mama. Now it’s down to you, me, and your cousin Jessabelle. You should probably meet her soon.”

“I have a cousin?” Jenny couldn’t explain why her heart soared for the first time in weeks, but to her ears, Hattie might as well have said she had a long-lost sister. Nothing in the world mattered as much as meeting this cousin.

“Yes. She lives with her mama down the way, but you’ll find her hanging around here as often as not. Jessabelle’s normally shy, but once she takes a shine to you she won’t stop talking. She’s a year or so younger than you. She’s your Uncle George’s daughter. He was a soldier and died in the Middle East a few years back.”

“Mom mentioned his name a few times, as well as yours. But she never told me much about either of you. Do we have other family close?”

“If you go back far enough, most the folks around here are related in some way or another. But close? Jessabelle, you, me, and Jessabelle’s mama, although I hardly see her. Your grandma… Well, she’s been gone about five years.”

“Gone? How did she die?”

Hattie hesitated, and a knock at the door saved her from having to answer. She set down her tea and opened the front door and storm door to admit a thin woman dressed in a simple, but somber, dark-blue dress. “Maybelle, it’s good to see you again,” Hattie greeted the woman. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say hi to you at the service. Can I get you some iced tea?”

The woman half-smiled, and shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you.” She turned her small eyes on Jenny. “This must be Jennifer.”

Jenny stood to meet the woman. Hattie introduced them. “This is my niece, Jenny Morgan. Amy’s daughter.”

The woman nodded, taking Jenny’s offered hand in both of hers. “So sorry to hear about your mother. Amy and I went to school together.”

Jenny looked from Hattie to Maybelle and back. “Why do you keep calling my mother Amy?”

Hattie said, “Oh, I keep forgetting. When we were growing up her name was Amelia Rose. She changed it when she married your daddy.”

Maybelle looked at Hattie curiously, eyes widening at the scrap of gossip. Hattie changed the subject. “Jenny, this is Maybelle Norton. Maybelle, Jenny and I were just talking about family relations. Maybelle’s husband Bob is related somewhere about three generations down the family tree?”

Maybelle shrugged. “I can’t say. I’m originally from Harper’s Ferry, myself. Hattie, I know you just got in last night and all, but I need charms for my family. I imagine a lot of folks do.”

Hattie glanced over at Jenny with a “see, I told you so” expression, then nodded to Maybelle. “What kind of charms?”

“Protection, obviously.”

Hattie tilted her head back slightly. “What’s so obvious?”

“Haven’t you heard how Grace died?” The sides of Maybelle’s mouth twitched. For a moment, Jenny imagined the woman salivating.

“No. Botch only emailed me two days ago to tell me about it. I haven’t had time to ask.”

Maybelle began wringing her hands together. “They kept the casket closed for a reason. They found her last week, mauled and half-et by an animal between her home and the mailbox.”

“Oh, no, not ag…not that! That’s terrible. Have they found the animal yet?”

Jenny listened, half-worried that her aunt had driven her to another world. Ghosts, witches, and animals that ate people on their way to the mailbox? The people who had these kinds of conversations were the attention-gathering sorts her parents taught her to avoid. Was this what they were protecting her from, all this time? Was Hattie the crazy side of the family they never talked about?

Even if that were the case, Jenny had seen the creepy woman with the strange eyes. Had she really been a ghost? Was Jenny going crazy right along with her aunt?

Maybelle shook her head. “Not a trace. They tried to keep it quiet, but I reckon everyone knows anyway. The police and forestry service folks think it was big, either a bear or a large hunting cat. They ain’t seen fit to tell nobody. Like they think we’ll be safer if we don’t know?” She inclined her head. “I need a way to protect my family. Darlene’s got two little ones, you know. We’ve got her husband Hank’s rifle, but that might not be enough if it’s a bear.” As she spoke faster, her accent grew thicker. She pronounced “bear” like “bar.”

Hattie sighed and nodded. “I have nothing prepared right now, but I promise I’ll look into it. You’ll be the first ones on my list. Give me a call tomorrow.”

Maybelle had a satisfied look on her face. “I’ll do that. I just hope we’ll be able to manage another day. The town is shocked by Grace’s death. I expect there will be others wanting your help.”

Hattie nodded. “I’m sure there will be. Thank you for coming with the news, Maybelle.”

Maybelle nodded, still looking satisfied, and turned toward the door. Hattie opened it. Before stepping outside, Maybelle hesitated, and turned back toward Hattie. “You know, it just occurred to me, there might not be as many wanting your help as I might have thought.”

Hattie’s face froze in a pleasant, temporizing expression that Jenny memorized for future reference.

“While you been absent, the preacher has said some things about you. He says we shouldn’t come here, and that the prayers of the faithful are all we need.”

Hattie nodded thoughtfully. “Preacher and I don’t see eye to eye on a few things, it’s true. We’ve had our differences of opinion for a while now, but I’d agree with him that prayers come first. I know I’ll be saying mine tonight, and you should pray over your family too, Maybelle.”

“Oh, I will. I got them two little babies and Darlene…”

“Yes, you do. I’ll get started right away. Thank you for coming by, Maybelle.” Hattie ushered her out with a surprising amount of grace and haste. Hattie closed the door firmly, and stood with her back to it for a few moments, looking worried. She closed her eyes and muttered, barely audible over the air conditioner, “Maybelle, I know you like to be at the center of things, but not this time.”

“What do you think killed that woman?” Jenny asked.

Hattie broke from her reverie. She shrugged, adopting a neutral expression. “Oh, like she said, probably an animal. It’s a rare thing, but it does happen. The woods aren’t entirely tame around here.”

Jenny memorized Hattie’s new expression. This would be the face Hattie made when she lied.

Jack struggled to stand on his tiptoes. It was uncomfortable, but his only chance was to appear as large as possible so the creature might leave in search of easier prey. If that didn’t work, the best he could hope for would be to go down kicking and fighting.

The feline eyes glowed in reflected twilight. The beast’s body blended seamlessly with the shadows of the brush. By Jack’s best guess, the rest of the creature would be the size and weight of a large dog. Weeds rustled as it crept backwards, the eyes disappearing in the darkness.

Jack counted his heartbeats, every muscle tense. He strained his ears to hear the beast’s approach. Every rustle of wind could be the big cat circling behind him.

After several tense seconds of silence, human footsteps approached. Did Sam leave the others and actually come to save him? If so, Sam, or whoever it was might be was in great danger as well. Jack called out, “Look out! There’s a wild animal or something close!”

A girl stepped out of the brush, close enough he could make out her features in the dim light. She wore a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. Her wavy short hair was a black that looked like it had been dyed, but it had always been that color.

Jack knew her, of course. Everyone knew everyone in this town. Jessabelle Rose was a strange one, even by Maple Bend standards. But then, so was Jack. She had a simple beauty and never wore makeup. She rarely talked to anyone. Two years younger than Jack, they had never been in the same classes at school. She spoke little, and often stared at other people. She crossed in front of him. “What did you do to get all tied to a tree, Jack?”

“I ran into Mason,” Jack answered.

Jessabelle nodded, immediately understanding.

“Mason was mean and dangerous when I was in elementary school,” she said. “He’s a lot worse now.”

“He’s an asshole,” Jack agreed. “But I don’t know if he’s that dangerous.”

“He is. Trust me.” Her voice was earnest, suggesting a story Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. “You got a knife?”

“In my front left pants pocket.”

She started to reach for his pocket, and then shook her head. Even with a dangerous predator lurking in the darkness, her sense of propriety prevailed. “That won’t do. I’ll see if I can untie you.”

“It’s too dark.”

“I can see pretty good.”

“Hurry. There’s something out here.”

“I know.”

“I think it’s a panther.”

She circled behind him and began working at the cords around his wrists. “No. It ain’t a panther.”

Jack bore the pain stoically as her tugs and pulls dug into his abused skin. “I’m grateful you came by, but what are you doing out here at night?”

She gave another cord an extra tight tug, making Jack wince, but the end slipped and pulled out through a loop. “Nothing. What about you, Jack Parsons? Why were you out here? Smoking some of Mason’s stuff?”

“No. You knew about that?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t everybody?” With two more movements, the cord loosened, and he pulled his hands free. Jessabelle handed the shoelaces to him. “Are these yours?”

Jack nodded, rubbing the abrasions on his wrists. He accepted the laces and sat down to lace his shoes. Jessabelle ignored him and scanned the tree-tops.

“I just try and ignore them,” Jack mumbled. He didn’t really know or care about Mason, and the feeling was mutual. Sam, on the other hand, had been his best friend when they were children. That lasted until first grade. Sam had made other friends, who recognized Jack’s thrift-store clothing, and had heard stories about Jack’s family. “Your daddy’s a drunk!” they gleefully reminded him daily.

Sam hardly spoke to him again after that.

Jack brought his mind back to the present. Somewhere nearby, a predator lurked. “Thank you for the rescue, Jessabelle. Um…maybe we should take the southern trail? It’ll take us a little longer to get to the road, but we run less of a chance of running into Mason, Sam, and Alan. I don’t want to give them another chance to tie me up.”

“There ain’t time, Jack. We need to get back indoors as fast as we can.”

“Alright, we’ll take the shorter way, then.”

“Keep your voice down. And stay low.”

“Stay low? Because of the panther?”

“I told you, it ain’t a panther.”

They hurried down the trail in silence. Jessabelle regularly glanced behind them and up at the treetops. Halfway to the road, Jack asked, “So if it ain’t a panther, are you going to tell me what it is?”

Jessabelle didn’t answer. Jack took that for a “no,” until she spoke up nearly a minute later. “I reckon that depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Did you really see a giant in the woods when you were a kid?”

Jack nodded, but realized that she probably couldn’t see him in the darkness. “I thought so. I was twelve, and everything seemed bigger back then, but yeah. I got a pretty good look. Caught a lot of trouble for saying so.”

“Why didn’t you just lie and tell people you made it up?”

“Because then I’d be what they all say I am.”

She hesitated, and then said, “If I saw a giant, I wouldn’t tell nobody about it.”

Jack didn’t push her further. Five minutes later, they reached the “road.” It was really more of a clearing along a gentle hill slope where tire ruts followed an ancient gravel path, visible from a distance by fewer weeds. Smaller trees grew along the road, where their ancestors had been chopped down for fences and sheds.

Jessabelle once again searched the sky, swiveling her head around nervously. She seemed to grow more anxious as Jack grew more relaxed. Those glowing eyes in the darkness might not have been those of a panther, but Jack knew they belonged to a wild creature. It was less likely to follow them out here.

Jessabelle’s intensity disturbed him. Jack tried to lighten the mood. “Giants aren’t that tall, Jessabelle. They won’t swoop down from the sky.”

“Other things might.”

He didn’t have an answer to that. Jack felt stupid, but he kept his head low as they made their way down the road. Where the road leveled out in a tight bend near the Castos’ barn, they heard someone else on the road approaching them. The moon hadn’t yet risen over the hills, so it was too dark to see clearly, but Jack thought he could make out a shadowy blob against the dark ground ahead.

Jessabelle stopped, lowering herself almost onto her hands and knees. Jack looked back at her. “What are you doing?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down!” she said. She wasn’t looking at the figure in front of them.

“Jack, is that you?” Sam’s voice called from down the road. A light flashed on, wrecking Jack’s night vision.

“Yeah,” Jack said, not as loudly. He kept his voice flat. Sam all by himself was unlikely to be any trouble, but not even an hour ago he’d helped tie Jack to a tree while knowing there might be a deadly predator nearby.

“Hey, I was just coming to get you.” Sam came closer, shining his flashlight first at Jack, and then at Jessabelle, still crouched beside Jack. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t want to tie you up. Mason and Alan made me. I was coming back to let you go. They just didn’t want you following us.”

Jack nodded, shielding his eyes from the glare. “I ain’t going to say thank you.”

Sam lowered the light toward the ground. “I know. I’m sorry, man. But you know I was fixing to let you loose. Just remember I came back for you.”

Jack was about to grudgingly say something else when he felt a powerful rush of air. He instinctively ducked.

Sam’s flashlight flew up, spinning. The arcing beam of light briefly illuminated Sam, fifteen feet in the air, his face frozen in a look of utter confusion that hadn’t yet given way to terror. By the time he cried out, his voice came from at least fifty feet away and far above them.

“Run!” Jessabelle screamed.

“Where’d he go?” Jack yelled back. “We’ve got to save him!”

“We can’t. We’re dead too if we don’t run!”

She raced toward the Casto’s barn, and Jack followed behind. The door was latched, not locked, and they barreled in and shut it behind them. The building was almost pitch-black and silent, but for their ragged breathing. Jack heard Jessabelle move deeper into the barn, and he followed until he stumbled into a wooden post. He wanted to call out to her, but he didn’t dare make noise.

They waited. Terror and guilt tore at Jack, yet his mind refused to accept what he’d just witnessed. He’d nearly brought his heavy breathing under control when something heavy hit the roof. The support posts shuddered and the beams creaked under the strain. A rain of invisible dust fell all around him. The creature shifted and scratched at the shallow-pitched roof with a slow, raking action. The weight shifted again, and more dust rained down on Jack. With the sound of giant wings beating a slow rhythm, the creature took to the sky, and all was silent.

More minutes passed. Jack was almost too terrified to breathe, but couldn’t help but draw quick, ragged breaths.

The barn door opened, and the figure in the entrance shone a light on Jack. Jack squinted in the glare. An older man’s voice asked, “Is this your flashlight? I found it on the middle of the road. That’s how I guessed you broke into my barn.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “It’s Sam Colton’s. Something happened to him. We hid in the barn.”

“Sam’s in here with you?” The man waved the flashlight around the barn.

“No, Jessabelle Rose.”

The old man, wearing a bathrobe over his pajamas, scanned the barn. Jack recognized him as John Casto. At sixty, he still worked the farm with his own hands and cut an imposing figure even in his bathrobe. After a few quick searches, Casto said, “I don’t see her. Now you tell me what you were really doing in my barn?”

Jack turned to look for Jessabelle as well. Half-empty, the barn provided few places to hide. There was no sign of her, or whatever had been on the roof. Nothing made sense.

He turned back to Mr. Casto. “I can tell you, sir, but you ain’t gonna believe any of it.”

Someone pounded on the front door and called Hattie’s name. Jenny awoke confused, taking a few seconds to remember where she was. According to the bright red LED numbers on the old alarm clock, it wasn’t yet midnight. Jennie hadn’t been asleep long.

The aluminum frame of the house rocked as Hattie stumbled to the front door with only a bathrobe over her nightgown. Jenny threw her own bathrobe over her pajamas and followed, standing between the kitchen and living room as Hattie opened the door.

The girl on the steps looked to be about Jenny’s age, maybe a little younger, with close-cut black hair, wearing shapeless sweats and a too-large t-shirt. Her hazel eyes reflected the light from the living room strangely, but it may have been the welling tears. “The snallygaster got Sam!” the girl cried.

“Hold on a sec, there, Jessabelle. What happened?”

“Ain’t no time!” The girl looked sideways at Jenny, and then at Hattie. “We gotta go now!”

“I need to grab my shoes and my keys.”

For a moment, Jenny hesitated. Would she be invited to come along? Were they going to be in danger? Who was this girl?

Stay with the crowds so you don’t get noticed, her mom had told her. Jenny doubted this was the kind of situation her mother meant, but it justified her curiosity. She grabbed her own sneakers and stepped past the girl outside, slipping her sneakers on as she drew close to Hattie’s truck.

Hattie rushed out behind her, the girl keeping pace. Hattie glanced at Jenny, and seemed about to say something, but then shook her head. “Get in,” she told the girls.

They piled into the cab. “Where are we going?” Hattie asked as she started the engine.

“The Castos,” the girl answered.

Hattie flicked on the headlights and tore off along the dirt road. “Jenny, this is your cousin, Jessabelle Rose. Jessabelle, Jenny. Now what’s going on? Where’d the snallygaster come from?”

Jessabelle braced herself against the dashboard and the cab ceiling as the truck bounced and jumped, and recounted rescuing Jack from the tree, and encountering Sam on the road back. “We were just talking when it snatched Sam right off the ground! Jack and I ran to the barn, but I left Jack there. We gotta rescue him ‘n Sam if Sam ain’t dead already.”

Jenny could barely make out the road in the bouncing glare of the truck’s headlights as Hattie sped up the hill. She braced herself with one hand to keep her head from hitting the cab’s ceiling. The seatbelt jingled somewhere behind the seat, but they hadn’t had time to fish it out.

Jessabelle leaned forward, staring up into the sky through the windshield.

“What exactly is a sally…?” Jenny asked between bounces.

“Snallygaster. Kind of like a dragon,” Hattie said.

“Seriously?”

Jessabelle answered, “I can’t tell you. Ain’t never seen a dragon.”

Before Jenny could respond, Hattie slowed the truck. They stopped near a house and a barn in a cleared, relatively flat section of hillside. From the ambient glow of the headlights, Jenny saw two men standing by the large open barn door. Hattie shut off the headlights, but left the engine running.

“Jenny, you stay here,” Hattie said. “Jessabelle, keep an eye out, and holler if you see anything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jessabelle said, following Hattie out of the truck. Hattie jogged to the two people outside of the barn. Jessabelle stood between them and the truck, staring at the sky.

Jenny looked over at the barn as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The two men—a young man around Jenny’s age, and a much older man with balding hair and a flashlight—pointed at the road and the sky. As Hattie joined the discussion, they grew more animated. The younger one pointed to the top of the barn, and the older man directed the flashlight to reveal recent damage, as if something large had struck the roof.

Jenny felt a chill along her neck as she invented plausible explanations for the damage. Assuming Jessabelle wasn’t lying, nothing explained the evidence. Her heart began pounding harder, and the childhood rhyme returned to Jenny’s mind. She could almost hear her mother singing it while holding her. Somehow it calmed her down.

From the direction opposite the barn and field, a figure approached. He emerged from the trees along a slope on the driver’s side, barely visible in the darkness. He caught Jenny looking at him, and marched toward her. He seemed a little older than Jenny, with hair paled colorless in the moonlight. She slid out of the truck through the open driver’s side door and met him.

“Can you help? Someone’s been hurt,” he said. He looked more bewildered than distressed. He had rugged country-boy good looks and a strong cleft chin. He reminded Jenny a little bit of Eric from her jiu jitsu class.

Jenny glanced back at Hattie and Jessabelle. They were busy. Turning to the young man, she asked, “Is it far?”

“Nope.” He pointed up the slope a little over a hundred yards away. “Just up yonder by that big tree.”

She nodded and said, “Show me.” She vaguely remembered some first-aid classes she’d attended with her father before their last move. Maybe it would come in handy. At least she’d be useful instead of waiting in the truck.

Long-established warning bells went off in her head. She’d been taught never to go alone with a stranger, or with anyone, without informing her parents of every detail. But this was West Virginia, and her parents were gone, and she wasn’t going far. The rules no longer applied.

The slope proved steeper than it looked from the truck. The hike taxed her, leaving Jenny short of breath. Her martial arts classes had helped her stay fit, but she wasn’t used to this kind of thing. The boy beside her showed no sign of being winded. She grabbed at saplings to steady herself, and forced herself to breathe evenly to hide her exertion. She didn’t know if he’d notice, or why she cared about impressing him. Actually, the last bit wasn’t hard to answer. She remembered how she’d violated the “stay in the middle of the pack” rule to practice disarms and take-downs with Eric past the point of exhaustion, trying to impress him with her stamina and dedication. This boy didn’t exactly resemble Eric, but why make a bad first impression?

They reached the tree as she heard voices calling her name below. Jenny cupped her hands to her mouth and called, “I’m up here. I’m okay. We found someone who is hurt!”

The young man beside her said, “That looks really bad.”

She turned and followed his gaze. A figure lay motionless near a large tree, his body bloody, torn, and twisted. Jenny held back the bile rising in the back of her throat. She knew he was dead, but was afraid to touch the body to confirm it, or to see the face of the dead boy. She also couldn’t pull herself away from looking at the body. Something bothered her about the dirty, bloodstained clothes on the corpse.

She turned to the young man beside her. He wore exactly the same jeans and t-shirt as the corpse. “What’s your name?” Jenny’s voice cracked even as she asked. She already knew his answer.

“Sam. Sam Colton.”

“That’s you, isn’t it?”

Sam peered at the remains. “Holy shit, yeah. I think it is. Does that mean I’m dead?”

“I’m sorry.”

The calling voices became louder. Hattie’s voice rose above them all, yelling, “Jenny, run!”

She looked back at the apparition. He didn’t seem dangerous. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Why would I hurt you? You didn’t do this to him. Uh, me.”

“What did?”

A terrible sound came from above her, a noise like the roar of a lion mixed with the blast of a freight train horn. Jenny ducked. So did the spirit of Sam Colton. A tremendous winged form dropped from the stars, tree branches cracking as it smashed through them to land in the only clear spot large enough for its bulk. Jenny couldn’t see many details of the thing, but it had a head like a crocodile and multiple tentacle tails that writhed like giant snakes.

“That thing,” Sam said, and he faded away.

* * *

Jenny dodged behind the tree, nearly tripping over Sam’s body. The tree might have shielded her from being snatched away from the air, but it provided scant protection from the ground. The snallygaster roared again, challenging her over the bloody meal at her feet. The air filled with the decayed-meat odor of its breath. Perhaps it hadn’t determined if she was a threat or prey, but it wouldn’t take long to decide. Jenny was about to die, torn apart by this savage creature that shouldn’t exist.

Her mother’s voice came to her mind again, singing the childhood rhyme. Even in the midst of her terror, it brought her comfort. She’d be with her parents again soon. Without realizing it, Jenny starting singing.

Angels surround me

Angels protect me

Angels enfold me

Angels direct me

Protect me asleep

Protect me awake

Keep evil afar

And never forsake

The beast shifted position, using its many tails like a spider’s legs. Then it struck. It seemed impossible that something so large could strike so fast. At the moment its sharp teeth would have snapped shut on Jenny’s head, brilliant blue-white light exploded around her. The beast reared back, screaming its lion-locomotive roar.

A tail whipped out to her side, striking with a force that knocked a sapling over. Again, the light exploded around her, although not as brightly as before. The tail, thick as a man’s leg, stopped inches from Jenny, striking an invisible barrier.

The creature reared backwards, its crocodile head whipping to glare at Jenny and the shouting people at the bottom of the hill. It roared, but Jenny could only stand in paralyzed terror. With a leap and strong strokes from its wings, the monster took to the air and disappeared into the night sky.

Jenny sobbed in both terror and relief, collapsing onto her hands and knees beside Sam’s body. Minutes later, hands lifted her, and helped her back down the slope. Her legs had the strength of spaghetti noodles, and she couldn’t see where she was going through the tears. Finally, she gave up and closed her eyes. Someone helped her into the cab of the pickup truck. She thought it was Hattie, and clung to her arm, sobbing and soaking the sleeve of her shirt with tears and snot.

“I don’t know what I saw here,” a man in front of the pickup said.

“Good enough,” Hattie said. “And that’s what you’ll report to the police. You heard a scream, you found the body. Keep it simple.”

“What about all the damage? And what do I say to his mother?”

“I’ll worry about that. You just worry about keeping your story simple for the police. It’s obviously an attack by a creature, so I doubt they’ll go deeper than that. I’m more worried about a bunch of people running around these mountains looking for a bear and getting attacked by that thing.”

Hattie stood outside the truck, and Jenny saw the sleeve she’d been crying into wasn’t Hattie’s bathrobe. Mortified, Jenny pulled away and opened her eyes, staring at a young man with curly brown hair poking out from under a John Deer hat. She sniffed, and wiped her eyes. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I slobbered all over your sleeve.”

The young man looked down at his shirt sleeve and shrugged. “You can take my whole shirt if you need it. We were all fixin’ to be monster-food a minute ago.”

Jenny took several deep breaths. The mundanity of the truck cab helped her recover some of her composure. “I thought I was dead.”

“Yeah, we were all pretty shook up. Jessabelle saw it flying, and you weren’t in the truck, so Hattie and Jessabelle called for you. You hollered back from the hill, and that caught the thing’s attention. I reckon it thought you were stealing Sam’s body. How’d you find it, anyway?”

“This is going to sound weird, but I met his ghost. It took me there.”

“After everything else tonight, that don’t rate high on the weird scale no more.”

Half a laugh escaped her, and it took most of Jenny’s terror with it. The young man smiled and said, “I’m Jack Parsons, by the way.”

“I’m Jenny. I’m Hattie’s niece.”

Hattie and Jessabelle entered the cab. “Y’all squeeze in,” Hattie said as she took the truck out of park. They drove back down the road at a much more reasonable speed than they’d driven up. Jessabelle still leaned over the dashboard, scanning the skies for attack.

“It’s startled, so we probably won’t have to worry about it attacking again tonight,” Hattie said.

Jessabelle nodded and said, “Uh-huh.” But, she kept scanning the sky.

The rest of the short drive back to Hattie’s trailer was silent. When they arrived, they piled out of the truck and into the living room. Hattie took charge. “Jessabelle, start up some tea. I should still have some of my herbal blend in the pantry, unless you used it up while I was in Chicago. Jack, call your mama, tell her you are here. When word gets out, she’s gonna be sick to death if she hasn’t heard you are safe. I’ll leave it up to you what you want to tell her.”

“She probably don’t know I ain’t home,” Jack said, but got up to use Hattie’s phone.

“Now Jenny,” Hattie said, sitting down beside Jenny on the couch. “How long have you known how to do that?”

“Do what?”

“That spell up on the hillside.”

“The what? I don’t know what happened.”

Hattie pursed her lips, and then asked, “What exactly did you do? What happened up there?”

“Nothing. I remembered a rhyme my mom taught me to say when I was scared. I think I started saying that.”

“Is it the one that goes ‘Angels Enfold Me’?”

“Yes, that one!”

“Sweetheart, your mama taught you a protection spell, bless her heart. And all this time you had no idea what it was. She kept it a secret even from you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Jenny, I don’t know a good way to explain this to you, and the way things are going, I don’t know that I have time to do it gently. Like I told you, you are a witch. You come from a long line of witches. Your grandma was a powerful one. Amy—your mama—was more powerful still. But even on her best day, I don’t think your mama could have done what you did tonight.”

Jenny’s head swam. “I told you, I don’t believe in witches.”

“Dammit, hon, every time someone says that, a witch falls off her broom and dies!”

Jenny’s mouth dropped open, and she clutched her throat. Then she frowned. “Wait, what?”

Hattie laughed. “I’m kidding. Dumb joke. But we’re real, honey—you, your mama, her mama, and her mama before that. Me too, but I hardly count. I got the Sight, but I don’t have the gift, leastways not like mama or Amy had it. Or like you got it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“That’s a good reaction, but it ain’t a matter of choice. That’s a good thing, too. It saved your life tonight.”

“What do you normally do about snallygasters?”

“Normally? I’m pleased to say that normally we don’t have anything like that around here. Not in decades, thanks to our grandmothers. The closest thing we ever had to deal with was a giant.”

Jenny looked at her sideways. Was this another joke? “Seriously? A giant? What happened?”

“I’m not really sure. That young man on the phone encountered it. He managed to escape, which says something for his resourcefulness. I don’t know where the giant went. Maybe it went back where it came from. I’d love for the snallygaster to just go back where it came from, too, but we can’t count on that. It’s killing people, and we’ve got to figure out a way to stop it.”

Evelyn’s home was large by local standards. Sean guessed it’d been built during the development of the 1980s the old man had told him about. She’d only been there a few weeks, and what few furnishings and decorations could be found probably came with the rental. She treated it like Sean treated his hotel rooms. She didn’t belong there, and she didn’t plan to stay.

When he awoke the morning after his arrival, Evelyn had already left on errands. Three boxes of cold cereal sat on the table with a bowl and spoon. A note next to the bowl read, “Had to run errands. Milk and OJ in fridge. Make yourself at home!”

He had his own errand. Maple Bend didn’t rate cell coverage, so his phone was no help, but he’d studied the online maps whenever he could and had some idea where he needed to go.

His search took him to a dead end, and then on another road that seemed to be a dead end as well. Finally, he located a mailbox that read “Arnot” in faded letters, along with three others along what passed as the “main road” through town. Not far from that, he found tire ruts leading up the hill into the woods. At the end of this trail, well hidden from view from the main road, sat a dilapidated house, badly in need of a new roof and a coat of paint. A goat, chained to a stake in the front yard, stared at him.

The house bore signs that it had once been a happier, nicer home, before time and neglect took their toll. Remnants of hand-painted woodwork lined the porch, and rocks marked off a section of the yard that had once been a garden, but now grew only weeds.

Sean stepped onto the porch and knocked on the frame of the screen door. Only a barking dog on the other side of the main door greeted him at first. Eventually, the door behind the screen opened, and an elderly, shirtless man, missing two fingers on his left hand and holding a shotgun in his right, stared through the screen.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asked, his voice barely audible under the dog’s barks.

“Hello sir. My name is Sean Williams. I’m a student from WVU.”

“You’re a long way from school, ain’t ya?”

“I just wanted to ask you some questions. Are you Caleb Arnot?”

“Are you wanting me to sic my dog on you?”

“No, I just wanted to ask you about Debra.”

The man frowned. “I ain’t got nothing to say to you about her. Now get off my property, or I’m going to put some rock-salt in your ass.” He hefted the shotgun to emphasize his point, and then shut the wooden door.

Sean pounded on the screen door again, causing the dog to increase its fervent barking. If he had to, he’d annoy the old man into talking. That, or force him to shoot. Either way, he stood his ground.

Caleb whipped open the inner door again, and pressed the shotgun muzzle against the screen. “You know rock salt this close might kill you, right?” he growled.

“I need to talk to you about Debbie. She asked me to find her.”

“Kid, my sister was dead long before you were born. Maybe before your mama was born. She didn’t tell you nothing.”

“I know that! I know what happened to her. But I still met her last year at WVU.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw her ghost or something. We met. Twice. I need to find out about her.”

The muzzle wavered, and Caleb lowered the shotgun entirely. “I should have figured,” he muttered. Leaving the dog and the firearm in the house, he stepped out onto the porch and closed the doors behind him. It muffled the dog’s barking only enough to hold a conversation.

“So you think you saw Debbie’s ghost,” Caleb said.

“I met Debbie,” Sean said. “Maybe it was a ghost, but she seemed plenty real to me. We even—” Sean checked himself. Best not over-share. Besides, the idea that he kissed a ghost seemed really strange, even to him.

Caleb sighed, and scratched his bare stomach. “I saw her too. The night after she died.” He cast his gaze down at the ancient porch floorboards. “She appeared right in my bedroom. Woke me up. She told me to find out what happened to her. When she disappeared, and I realized I weren’t dreaming, I knowed she was a ghost. I knowed she was dead.”

This news hit Sean as an almost physical wave. After months of researching Debbie’s story and looking into sketchy, unconfirmed reports, this was the first person he’d met who had seen her ghost, too. “You hadn’t been told?”

Caleb shook his head, still not looking up to face Sean. “The police didn’t know she was missing. I called to find out, and it took ‘em days before they found the body. I reckon they wouldn’t have knowed it was her if I ain’t called ‘em. Then they thought I’d killt my own sister, on account of me calling them like I did. But everybody knowed I hadn’t left town, and then they found those boys.”

“So you did what she asked you. You helped the police find out she’d been murdered, and who had done it.”

Caleb looked up briefly, shaking his head, and then looked back at the porch floor. “I thought so. But a year later, she came back. Halloween night, same night she died. Right in my room. Said the same thing, that I needed to find out what happened to her. I told her that I done that, and that she’d been murdered by them three boys, and that she should cross over to the other side and go to Jesus. Then she said the strangest thing. She said, ‘Well, that don’t seem right. That don’t make no kind of sense.’ And then she disappeared again, just like before. I ain’t never seen her again. But Annie did.”

“Who is Annie?”

“Annabelle Rose. Folks say she was a witch, like her mama, Grandma Norton. She used to live up yonder in the hill.” He pointed up a slope, thick with trees. “She and Debbie were best friends growing up. Sometimes it seemed like Debbie was more kin to them than us.”

“Where does Annabelle live now?”

“She’s gone now, too. Died about five years back. She used to live in a house up yonder, about a mile up past the Casto’s farm.” He waved towards the mountains. “Debbie lived there near half the time, too. Annie’s daughter Hattie lives close, though. First house up the road that goes behind the church.”

Sean’s hopes had been raised and crushed several times during the conversation. He tried not to let his disappointment show as he said, “Well, thank you Mr. Arnot. I’ll check in on Hattie, then. I appreciate your time.”

Caleb glanced back at him once more, and nodded. Sean stepped off the porch. Caleb started to go inside, but stopped. “Hey, kid,” he said.

Sean turned. “Yes, sir?”

“If you see Debbie again…tell her I’m sorry.”

“I will,” he said, for lack of anything else to say. That seemed to satisfy Caleb. The older man nodded, went back into the house, and closed the door.

Sean walked back down toward the main road. He hoped more than anything he’d get the chance to fulfill that promise, even as he consciously doubted he’d ever see Debbie again.

He made his way along the dirt roads in the direction that Caleb had pointed, and found himself nearing what Evelyn had called “downtown Maple Bend.” The parking lots at Hap’s and the church were full of a surprising number of vehicles, including a police car and a white SUV bearing government license plates. Evelyn stood in front of the church, speaking with two police officers and a sweating, slightly overweight man in a khaki-and-green outfit. As Sean drew closer, Evelyn concluded her business. The officers thanked her. The sweating government employee turned toward the SUV with a vacant look. He made it to his vehicle and turned toward Evelyn. He raised his hand as if he was about to ask her a question. Then he smiled, as if he’d received his answer, entered the SUV and drove away.

Evelyn turned, spotted Sean as he approached, and her face transformed into a friendly smile. “Good morning, Sean. I hope you found breakfast okay. I know it wasn’t much.”

“Uh, it was fine. Thank you. What’s going on?”

“A young man about your age was killed last night. Mauled by a wild animal. They were just concluding the investigation.” Her voice was light, more thoughtful than concerned, as if she were discussing something she’d seen on TV not a real tragedy.

“Does that happen a lot around here?”

“No idea. That’s the second death in just over a week.”

“Why were the cops talking to you?”

Evelyn shrugged. “They were just asking questions. They hoped I knew something, I guess. So did you find the Arnots?”

Sean knew she was changing the subject, but didn’t want to push his host. “Yes. Now I’m looking for someone named Hattie Rose.”

An icy look flicked across her face. “Oh? What do you want to bother poor ol’ Hattie with this morning?”

“Caleb Arnot mentioned her.”

“Should I expect you back by dinner time?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t mean to impose. I appreciate you giving me a place to stay.”

“No, you aren’t imposing at all. It’s nice having someone else in the house. Besides, I’d like to hear all about what you talk to Hattie about.” She narrowed her eyebrows. “I’d just avoid exploring these woods alone if I were you. They aren’t safe.”

“Thanks. I won’t,” he said. He waved as he made his way to the road behind the church. His eyes kept drifting up the tree-carpeted mountain. Caleb had indicated that Annabelle Rose had lived there, and she’d encountered Debbie’s ghost several times. In life, it sounded as though Annabelle and Debbie had been inseparable. If Sean wanted any chance of seeing Debbie again, it made sense it would be in Annabelle’s old home. He wouldn’t leave Maple Bend until he tried to find it, wild animals or not.

When Jack returned to his house, his mother still lay snoring on the couch in front of the television. Even though he knew little would wake her, he crept past her to the hall closet. Inside, boxes of Christmas decorations poorly hid his father’s shotgun in the back corner. Jack found only twelve shells, but he thought it would be enough. If he couldn’t kill the creature that killed Sam in three or four shots, then it probably wouldn’t matter.

He took the long way to Hattie’s home, avoiding the church. A police car had been among the vehicles he’d seen arriving this morning on his way home, and he didn’t want to risk being seen toting his father’s shotgun around. Nobody in town cared, but police could be touchy about a minor carrying a gun, even someone only weeks away from turning eighteen. Best to avoid the trouble.

What he did know was all the official-looking cars meant Sam’s death had caught a lot of attention, and that meant the snallygaster would be found and killed before nightfall. By morning it would be in the news. And maybe when everyone learned about the snallygaster, they’d finally believe him about the giant. Jack felt guilty being excited to receive validation after all these years, especially when Sam had to die for it.

Maybe that’s why he wanted to be the one to kill the monster. He could get revenge for Sam’s death, which would even things up a little bit. Sam was a jerk sometimes, but they’d been friends once. The vision of Sam being jolted, screaming, into the air wouldn’t leave his brain. Even as he slept on Hattie’s little couch during the night, the scene replayed in every dream, to the point where he now remembered little details that he wasn’t sure really happened or not.

The one thing he was sure of was that he wouldn’t let it happen again if he could help it. Most creatures that hunted at night slept during the day, and the morning was half over. After last night, he knew two girls who could help. Jenny had the power to hold the creature at bay. Jessabelle had eyes like a hawk. She’d seen the snallygaster coming before anyone else, twice. Maybe she could find where it hid during the day.

Jessabelle, coming up the road from the church, met Jack just before he reached Hattie’s trailer. She motioned toward his shotgun. “Going hunting?”

“Maybe.” Jack kept his eyes set on the path before him. “I figure everyone in town is going to be going after that thing that killt Sam. I am, too.”

“Nope. Ain’t happening. Nobody’s going after it.”

“What? Why not? What did Hattie say to everyone?”

“Nothing. She left for Branton to pick up supplies right after you left this morning. I reckon she was avoiding the cops. Folks were all worked up when they got here, but now nobody’s doing jack… I mean, squat. The government people are supposed to be catching a bear, and everyone’s just gonna go home and wait for the funeral. Except that government guy left without doing anything and nobody cares. But I don’t think anyone is going after the snallygaster.”

Jack chewed on her information as they drew closer to the trailer. He stopped short. “What about Hattie? Can she blow it up with magic or anything?”

“No. I don’t think she can do much against it. She ain’t that kind of witch.”

Jack’s mouth set, and he looked up at Hattie’s trailer. “Maybe Jenny is.”

Jessabelle put herself between Jack and the trailer. “No. No you ain’t. You ain’t taking my cousin out to get her killt by the snallygaster. No way.”

“You said yourself that nobody is going after it. You want to just wait around until it kills someone else?”

“No, I don’t, but going after it is crazy.”

“Is it? You saw what Jenny did last night.”

“I also saw what the snallygaster did to Sam Colton last night. Besides, Jenny scared it off. Maybe it won’t come back.”

“I ain’t counting on that.” He sidestepped half-way around her, then stopped and considered Jessabelle. “I was kinda hopin’ you’d come along too. Maybe we can catch it while it’s sleeping during the day.”

She blinked. “You really are crazy, Jack Parsons! Do you know what I do when I see trouble? I run the other way. Like I ran away from the barn last night.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe. But you took the time to rescue me even when you knew that thing was hunting, didn’t you?”

Jessabelle didn’t answer.

Jack set his shotgun beside the steps to the front door, and knocked. Jenny called him in. She sat on the sofa where he’d slept the night before, a handful of books stacked on the end-table beside it. Her eyes were red, but she warmed the room with her smile.

“You learn any new tricks from those books?” he asked.

Her shoulders drooped. “No. Hattie found a mention of using a seven-pointed star to ward the snallygaster off, but she didn’t find much more. It’s supposed to be enemies with a giant wolf-man called a Dwayyo. You don’t have one of those stashed around this town, do you?”

“No, I do not. I reckon if we did, we’d have a whole mess of other problems. So did Hattie give you any witching lessons?”

Jenny snorted, and then covered her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “No. She found me some notebooks with recipes on how to get rid of bad luck or how to stop a cough, and a couple of books on identifying wild herbs or something. I don’t see how much good that would be against a monster. Monster! I can’t believe I’m even talking about this. Last week, ghosts and monsters were stories. Now, I just wish I could go to sleep and when I wake up find out this has all been a dream. I’ve been wishing that for a long time.”

“You stood against it last night.”

“I have no idea what I did last night.”

Sitting on the couch with hand-sewn upholstery in the daylight of mid-morning, Jenny didn’t seem like a fearsome witch or a dragon-fighter. She seemed like one of any other girls he’d seen at school, a plain old nobody, just like him. But last night, she had stood up against the attacks of a giant creature with wings, teeth, and swinging tails. She’d sent it flying off in defeat.“Do you think you could do it again if you had to?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe? I really don’t ever want to find out. Hattie will do something. She knows about this stuff, right?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. I brought my dad’s old shotgun, though. I’m going after it.”

“Are you crazy?”

“That’s what Jessabelle keeps asking. That thing killed Sam. He was a friend of mine once. I reckon between whatever you did up there, and a few good shots with double-aught buckshot, we ought to be able to catch it and kill it.”

“I’m sure somebody else is going after it.”

“Not by what Jessabelle told me. Something weird is going on. Folks are suddenly… I don’t know. Uninterested.”

“Why do it yourself?”

“Someone has to. I reckon during the day, I might catch it asleep.”

She met his eyes, and then slowly shook her head. “You really are crazy. What if it catches you?”

“I’m hoping that if you can do your thing, and if Jessabelle can spot it early, that ain’t going to be a problem.”

“I’m from the city. I don’t do anything well. I don’t think a few months of jiu jitsu will help me fight that thing. I’d be useless.”

“That ain’t what I saw last night. You stopped it cold! But it’s okay if you’re scared. It’s dangerous, I know. I hate this place, and I ain’t too fond of a lot of people here. But it’s still my home, and I figure someone’s gotta go make sure that thing won’t kill nobody else.”

Jenny closed her eyes. “Don’t say that. I’m not afraid. It just seems like it should be somebody else’s job.”

“Whose? I can’t even tell anybody, because they won’t believe me. They never do. Anyway, I’m losing daylight. I should go.” He shrugged and offered a half-wave, and turned toward the door.

“Wait.” He turned back, and she looked him in the eyes. “I’ll come with you. Just promise me we’ll be back before dark.”

Even as he grinned at her, worry gnawed at his insides. Was he going to get her killed, too? No, this would work. What could go wrong, anyway, especially during the day? “We kill that sumbitch, we’ll be back by lunch.”

That almost brought her smile back. “Okay.” They stood together, and left the trailer.

Jessabelle waited for them outside. As Jenny and Jack came out of the door together, her eyes widened. “You talked her into it? Y’all are doing this?”

Jack grabbed the shotgun. “Yep. You comin’?”

Jessabelle shrugged. “Sure. Hattie’ll just kill me anyway if she hears I let y’all go off without me. Let’s go.”

* * *

By the time Sean arrived at Hattie Rose’s trailer, nobody was home. It probably didn’t matter. Hattie had been a young child when Debbie died, and was unlikely to know much. At best, she might be able to direct him to Annabelle Rose’s old house. Maybe Debbie’s ghost still haunted that place.

Or maybe he was an idiot for trying. In all his research on ghosts, he hadn’t heard of one haunting two locations at the same time. Sometimes they’d move locations, or follow and haunt a person, but there was no legitimate reason for him to expect to find her there. His justification for going on this quest was to learn more about a girl who had been murdered decades before his birth. That was what he told himself, and anyone asking in his imaginary arguments. He’d done that.

But, he also learned her ghost had been seen there, after she died, talking with Annabelle Rose. It was a long shot, but that was all that he had left.

But where to find the house? Caleb had pointed in this general direction. Sean reasoned he’d just hunt around until he found an old road or path that led up the slope. From a distance, the slope Caleb had pointed to didn’t seem that big. As he hiked past the farmhouses, the trees grew larger and the slopes grew steeper. The dirt road he followed never really ended so much as it became indistinguishable from the hillside, surrounded by smaller trees and old stumps. With each step, the cicadas whirred and droned their inescapable, endless song.

Sean began searching along the tree line for some sort of trail. Twice, his movement disturbed something in the tall grass. Each time, the noise froze his blood. While his hiking boots should’ve protected him from a snakebite, he didn’t want to take his chances in copperhead country. Especially when nobody knew where he was or would even notice his disappearance. As much as he wanted to meet Debbie again, dying in pain in tall grass where his body might never be found was not the way he wanted to go about it.

Within a few minutes, he found a rough trail that showed signs of recent use. He pulled out his notebook and drew a quick map, taking note of the position of the sun. He promised himself that he’d follow the trail in only one direction until it ended, and would otherwise keep track of each branch in his notebook, even marking the trees if necessary.

With preparations and discipline, he stepped forward confidently up the trail.

An hour later, he was hopelessly lost.

“It flew off in this direction?” Jack asked Jessabelle for the third time. Jenny giggled even before Jessabelle responded.

“Jack, it was dark. We’ve got the whole mountainside. It could have flown all the way to Kentucky as far as I know. You were the one who thought we could just haul ourselves up the mountain and find it roosting in the trees.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You thought it, though. Admit it!”

Jenny intervened with what she hoped to be a deft change of subject. “Listen to you two. Is this what having a brother and a sister is like?”

“How should I know?” Jessabelle threw her hands up in the air. “I’m an only child.”

Jack glanced over his shoulder at Jenny. “You didn’t find any spell in those books for locating monsters in the forest, did you?”

“I skimmed over something about finding a lost object, but I don’t think this counts.”

“You sure?” Jessabelle asked. “Wouldn’t hurt to try. It’d beat wandering around.”

“I’ve been a witch for all of about twelve hours, guys. If I’m really one at all. I seriously have no clue what happened last night.”

Jack kicked a clump of weeds. “So one day, when we’re famous monster hunters, we’re gonna tell ‘em all about how we went up into the hills and got lost looking for a snallygaster.”

Jenny giggled again. She hadn’t giggled or laughed since before her parent’s death, and rarely before that. Now she’d done it twice in one day, probably out of nervousness. Fear and excitement rolled together in one. She’d never even imagined hiking through such beautiful country before. She was on an adventure with two people she didn’t know yesterday who treated her like an old friend today. She had friends. She had family again. The darkness and terror of the night before melted under the warm June sun and the repeating cicada song. Alien or not, something felt like home to her here.

If only her parents were here, too.

“You are a liar, Jack Parsons,” Jessabelle said. “You practically live in these woods. I ain’t sure you could get lost in them if you wanted to.”

“How would you know?”

“Everybody knows.”

Jack shrugged. “I reckon. But just last night, I discovered something I’ve never seen before, and I’ve been that way hundreds of times.”

“What was that?” Jessabelle and Jenny asked in unison.

“Some house in the middle of the woods. It ain’t even a ruin, either. Don’t think anybody still lives there, but it’s in good shape. It’s a little spooky is all.”

“You never noticed a house?” Jessabelle asked.

“Nope. Don’t ask me to explain.”

Exploring a mysterious old house sounded a lot more fun to Jenny than hunting the snallygaster. “Where is it?”

“Just down yonder.” He waved indistinctly. He seemed satisfied with his answer, like he’d given exact GPS coordinates.

“Let’s go there,” Jenny said, not realizing she’d said it until the sound of her voice faded under the cicada’s growing chorus.

Jessabelle nodded, grinning wide. “We might as well. We ain’t finding much else but a sunburn. Unless you know of a cave near here where that thing might lair up.”

Jack shook his head, and scanned the ridge line one more time before turning. “Okay. This way I s’pose.”

What they followed wasn’t a trail, exactly. Jenny’s wardrobe, intended for suburban wear, proved poor armor against a determined assault by hundreds of snaring tree branches, sticker-bushes, burrs, and thorny weeds that tripped and grabbed her no matter how clear the spot or how carefully she stepped.

If the flora did the same to Jessabelle and Jack, they didn’t show any indication. Jack strode forward steadily, keeping the shotgun’s barrel low and pointed toward the ground in front of him. Immediately behind him, Jessabelle drifted along with improbable grace, as if she’d rehearsed each step around the grasping plants. Jenny failed to imitate Jessabelle’s movements. She was the Jar-Jar to their Jedi.

After fifteen minutes of this, Jenny started taking it personally. She couldn’t keep up, and was developing new and interesting scratches on her skin and holes in her clothing. Her hair tangled in a branch when she tried to duck under it. She reached back to untangle her hair, and her hand brushed through the spiderweb now entwined with the twigs and her hair. She screeched in spite of herself, and yanked her head free, barreling forward to catch up with the others.

“I think I need to get my hair cut if I’m going to keep—” she started, when Jack grabbed her with a free hand. Jessabelle cupped her hand over Jenny’s mouth. Jenny made an annoyed sound, thinking it was some kind of joke as she looked over at her cousin.

Jessabelle stared at the trees, eyes wide with terror.

“Shit,” Jack whispered. “I think it heard us.”

The thrum of the cicadas ceased. For the space of four heartbeats, silence gripped the entire forest, an inhale before a roar. Then, behind a rise of trees, something tremendous thundered toward them, half hidden behind a wall of green and brown. What Jenny could see behind the thick foliage in no way resembled the snallygaster.

“Jenny, do your witch thing!” Jack shouted as he stepped forward, hunching and raising the shotgun to his shoulder. Jessabelle removed her hand and stepped off to the side, crouching like a sprinter awaiting the starting gun.

“I don’t know how…” Jenny started to say, and then she thought of her mother’s rhyme. Was that really it? Was the poem actually a spell that could protect her?

The thing exploded from the trees ahead of them. Like a pale-faced King Kong, the ten-foot tall beast charged forward, all hair and hunched back where bony ridges protruded from its shoulder blades. It roared from a mouth full of jagged-edged teeth, yellow eyes almost glowing in the sunlight with primal fury.

Jenny began trembling, and couldn’t remember how her mother’s rhyme began. In desperation, she closed her eyes to the monster in front of her, and focused on old memories of her mother’s voice. Jack’s shotgun blasted near her, a powerful and terrible explosion that was only half as terrifying as the sound of the monster in front of her, but it broke her concentration again.

Think! Remember! The distant memory of her mother’s voice came to her. Jenny recited the old verse in a quivering voice:

Angels surround me

Angels protect me

Angels enfold me

Angels direct me

Protect me asleep

Protect me awake

Keep evil afar

And never forsake

Her eyes flashed open and she continued the song, her voice rising in volume in challenge to the monster’s roars. It closed the twenty feet between them in two bounding strides.

It towered over her, ignoring Jack as it might a housefly. A tiny part of her brain noted that her entire head, probably shoulders too, could fit inside the creature’s oversized mouth. The monster reached down with both clawed hands to scoop up its motionless prey and shove her into its eager, slavering jaws.

She hoped her death would be quick.

Brilliant light flashed around her as the monster grabbed at her. It jumped back as if it had touched a hot stove. Jack, barely an arm’s length away, fired again. Blood streaked the creature’s face from deep gouges along its left cheek and stubby ape-like nose. It roared like thunder as it balled its hands into fists and swung them down with its full weight down onto Jenny’s head.

The light flared again, less brilliantly. The air compressed around Jenny, knocking the wind out of her. She wheezed and coughed, and started repeating the words of the poem. “Angels surround me,” was all she managed before the creature took one more side-swipe at her, almost casually as it focused its attention on Jack. A dull glow surrounded her when the beast’s palm and claws struck, knocking her backwards into the side of a half-fallen tree.

She couldn’t tell if it was witch light or simply her vision which flashed with the impact. Something stabbed into her shoulder, and she collapsed beneath the tree.

* * *

Stupid weak reloads! Jack reeled backwards after the second shot, breaking open the shotgun’s action and frantically jamming two fresh shells into the chambers.

He was too slow. The monster sent Jenny flying into a tree, and was almost instantly in front of Jack, poised to pounce with its claws extended.

Jack fired as it reached for him, the shot tearing strips out of the monster’s left hand. It roared and reared backwards, wary. Jack fired again, this time hitting it high on its chest. It was impossible to see the damage through the matted hair, but the monster howled and lashed at him with its uninjured hand. The blow missed, but knocked the gun out of his hands. The beast could catch him in a heartbeat if he ran, but that was one more heartbeat than he’d get standing around waiting to get eaten. If nothing else, maybe he could draw it away from the girls. He ran.

Something else roared. This was different, the shriek of a woman mixed with a bestial howl. It was the terrifying sound he’d heard while tied to a tree. Things crashed behind him, and the giant monster roared again. Powerless, Jack kept running. Seconds later, he stumbled into the clearing around the mysterious old house. He crouched on the far side of the porch, listening to the terrible noises of the monster smashing its way through the forest. Jack had never been much one for religion—Preacher Harris’s sermons put him to sleep—but he silently prayed for the girls’ safety. At this point, nothing but divine intervention could save them.

* * *

Sean finally rediscovered the trail. This far up, it was hard to tell the faint trail from a random stretch of bare ground. As he made his way back down the hillside in temporary defeat, a terrible roar ripped through the air behind him. His blood froze. The predatory sound wrenched his insides on a primal level. He wanted to flee, to hide, to bury himself underground and stay there until the hunter had left. He also wanted to investigate. His curiosity won out. He had to find out what had made the sound.

He turned around and clambered up the path, ready to leap into the cover of the weeds at any moment. A gun fired, and the thing roared again. Had the authorities taken down the wild animal that had killed the kid last night? If so, Sean had to revise everything he thought he knew about bears. This one sounded more like something that would destroy Tokyo in a monster movie.

Another roar sounded, then crashing, growing closer by the second. For a moment, he considered trying to hide up in a tree. He recalled an online video showing the speed and ease with which a bear climbed up and down a tree. No, a tree wouldn’t work.

The crashing drew closer. Sean’s curiosity fled, as did Sean, but it was too late. He couldn’t outrun the crashing and thunderous footsteps behind him, but he didn’t dare look to see how close death chased him. Or even what form death took.

A giant black cat the size of a large dog appeared beside him, quickly passing him alongside the trail. At any other time, its appearance would have terrified Sean, but at the moment they were both racing in the same direction, away from the thunderous noise behind them. In no time, the cat had leaped ahead of Sean and down toward the clearing.

“I don’t need to outrun the bear, I just need to outrun you,” the old joke came to his head. It was less funny now than when he’d first heard it. The monstrous thing behind him closed the gap, taking a single stride for every three of Sean’s.

Inexplicably, the cat—a panther?—spun around and raced back up the trail toward Sean. It passed him again, and leapt at the creature mere feet behind him. Roars and shrieks and crashes continued as Sean bolted out through the ragged tree line where he’d first found the trail.

Evelyn stood beside her SUV at the top of the overgrown dirt road.

“Go!” was all he could shout without seriously breaking his stride. His hoarse voice was barely audible even to himself.

Evelyn took off her sunglasses and stared as he raced toward her. He dodged ancient ruts and overgrown tree stumps before stumbling to a halt in front of her car. He waved down the road as he tried to gather breath to speak.

Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “That’s a great way to fall and break your leg, you know.”

Sean sucked in some air and gasped, “Get in! Drive!”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.” Breath. “But.” Breath. “Here!”

She looked up the hillside. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

Sean turned. What burst out into the clearing took Hollywood’s version of Bigfoot, stretched it to ten-feet tall, and adorned it with an oversized head, a predator’s mouth, and bony horns and claws. Creatures out of Sean’s worst nightmares did not compare.

Evelyn approached it.

“Evelyn, what are you doing? We’ve got to get out of here!”

“Silence,” she said.

Words died in Sean’s throat. She continued toward the creature. It charged down the hill at her. As it reared up to attack, it froze. It stared down at the woman, and then sat on the ground in front of her. She circled around behind it and calmly stroked its head.

Jenny wasn’t sure if she’d lost consciousness, or just all sense of time as growing pain forced her back into focus. Everything hurt, even her ragged breathing, but her shoulder throbbed more painfully than anything else, and her foot was caught in a tangle of old branches at an awkward angle. The only good news was that she was not being chewed up by the monster. The roars grew more distant by the moment as it inexplicably crashed away through the forest.

She wiggled and pulled at her ankle to tug it free of whatever held it stuck. Pain shot up her leg as it came loose. Was her ankle broken? She didn’t know. She’d never suffered a broken bone before. The pain from the ankle quickly receded as the throbbing pain from her shoulder grew worse.

The monster’s sounds faded in the distance. A disappointingly large part of her wanted to just lie still and wait for help. She reminded herself that no help was coming, and that Jack and Jessabelle might be hurt. Or worse.

She clenched her eyes against tears of both pain and loss. A sob surprised her, and she coughed from the dust coating her throat.

“Jenny?” Jack’s whisper came from nearby. “Jenny, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes. She tried to wipe them with the back of her hand, but the motion caused more pain behind her shoulder. Carefully controlling her voice to avoid another cough, she called back, “I’m here, Jack. Where did it go?”

He appeared around the tree, crouched low. “It ran off. Why it did that, I don’t know. Something else caught its attention, I reckon. But we gotta get to safety before it gets back. Have you seen Jessabelle?”

Jenny shook her head and tried to push off the ground. She winced in pain. Jack reached out to her to help her, and glanced at her shoulder. His eyes widened. “Is that your blood?”

Jenny shrugged, which increased the pain. “Probably,” she answered. “Something jabbed me.”

He turned to the fallen tree behind her. A short, thick stub of a broken branch glistened with blood where it had stabbed her. Jack exhaled and shook his head. “Whatever it is you do, it saved you. I would have been dead three times over from that thing.” He took her by her uninjured arm and helped her up. “Can you walk?”

“I don’t know.” Jenny put weight on her injured ankle, and almost collapsed. She steadied herself on the fallen tree. “I think my ankle is twisted.

“That means you can’t run if that thing finds us again.”

Jenny stopped herself from shrugging and hurting herself again. “We really couldn’t outrun that thing anyway.”

Jack nodded slowly, scanning the forest. “I reckon so. We’re near the old house. Maybe we can hide out there for a bit until we know the coast is clear. And we’ve got to find Jessabelle.”

Jack put his arm around Jenny and helped her down the hill. As they walked, she felt out how much weight she could put on her ankle. She could still move her foot around, which she guessed meant it wasn’t broken. After five minutes, Jack gingerly let her sit down next to an unnatural formation of rocks. “I’m gonna go see if I can find Jessabelle. And maybe my shotgun,” he said, and left her.

Jenny panted from the exertion. She couldn’t breathe deeply without wheezing or coughing from the dust and who-knew-what-else in her lungs. She stared at the rocks. The formation included a thick sheet of plywood sandwiched between stones. Eventually, she realized she was looking at a well.

Several minutes passed. Jenny wanted to lie down and just take a nap, but her shoulder hurt too much to try. She started to worry about how long Jack had been gone when soft footsteps approached. Jenny turned as much as her pain allowed. Jessabelle crouched next to her.

Jenny stage-whispered. “Are you okay?”

Jessabelle nodded. “I’m fine. How about you? That thing sent you flying into that tree.”

“I’m banged up, but I’m pretty sure I’ll live.”

“We’ll take you home. Hattie will fix you up, if she don’t kill us all.”

Jenny winced through a wave of pain from several places. “What were we thinking?”

“You might recollect I was the one saying this was stupid. But I wouldn’t want to be the one to mention it.”

Jenny’s laugh turned into a cough. It tasted like dirt. She’d be coughing stuff up for days at this rate. She was saved having to respond to Jessabelle’s I-told-you-so by Jack’s appearance through the trees, shotgun in hand. “Hey, Jessabelle,” he acknowledged simply. “You didn’t see what made that critter run off, did you?”

“You mean that giant that almost killed us all?”

“That ain’t no giant. Least not the same kind I saw before.

Jessabelle stared down at the ground. “It went down the trail. There was some guy coming up this way. I didn’t recognize him.”

Jenny’s heart turned cold. “Did the giant…?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “No. It was the weirdest thing. It chased him into the clearing a ways up from the Casto’s and just stopped. Not attacking or anything. Just standing there. It was still there when I left and came here. We’re going to have to go around the long way if we go at all.”

For a moment, Jessabelle’s explanation confused Jenny. They’d hiked for hours before getting here, and while they’d taken a longer, circular route, she didn’t think they were so close to town that Jessabelle could have gotten there and back again in fifteen minutes. But her own perception of time was pretty confused by this point, and she dismissed her doubts.

Jack took off his John Deere hat and wiped his forehead against his shoulder. He replaced the hat and motioned to Jenny. “Jenny’s too hurt. It’s going to be hard enough getting her down the short way. We could hole up in the house for a bit. That thing ain’t touched it. Then maybe I could go get help.”

Jenny’s ankle didn’t hurt without weight on it, but she knew it would be a terrible hike down. “That depends. How far out of our way is it?”

“What?”

“The house.”

“We’re here.”

Jenny and Jessabelle looked at each other. Jessabelle wrinkled her brow and bit at her lower lip. Neither of them got the joke. They looked back at Jack, waiting for the punchline.

Jack looked from Jenny to Jessabelle and back again. Scratching the back of his neck, he suddenly smiled and said, “Oh, I get it. While y’all were waiting for me to show up, y’all decided to play a joke on me. Funny. Hah-hah. Right. I’m going crazy or something. But seriously, ladies, shouldn’t we try to get inside before that thing comes back?”

He motioned toward empty slopes and forest and weeds. Aside from the sealed-up well, there was no evidence any humans had ever lived here. Jenny cleared her throat. “Jack, I honestly don’t know what we’re supposed to see.”

Jack made an exasperated sound, and marched a few feet away. He knocked on a door that Jenny hadn’t noticed several seconds ago. Three nails, dirty but still bright, projected part-way out of the door as points of an inverted triangle. The attached house seemed old-fashioned and boxy. Grime had accumulated on the windows, and weeds grew large along the walls, but otherwise the house appeared well-kept.

Jessabelle gasped. “That house weren’t there a minute ago.”

Jenny looked at Jessabelle and nodded. “It’s weird. It’s like it was there the whole time, but I couldn’t get myself to focus on it or notice it.” When Jenny turned toward the house again, she couldn’t see it. She focused on the area next to Jack, and after a few moments the house returned to plain sight. It was like looking at 3D stereograms. Once she knew what to look for, she could see the house, but until then her eyes slipped over it and her mind ignored it.

Could a person do something like this? Could this work on something that didn’t stand still? While it wasn’t exactly invisibility, her mother would have loved the ability. There were many times in Jenny’s life she would have done anything to make herself magically unnoticed.

Jessabelle stood. “I think I know…” she started, but then stopped and helped Jenny to her feet. Pain flared again, and Jenny clenched her teeth to fight it back. Jessabelle looked at Jenny’s back and said, “You might be bleeding from your shoulder again. That wound looks pretty bad.”

“It hurts pretty bad.”

“We’re gonna have to get Aunt Hattie. I don’t think you ought to be going any further like that.”

“Aunt Hattie is a doctor, too?”

“Not exactly. She is pretty good at fixin’ folks up, though.”

Jack jiggled the door knob. “I don’t s’pose either of you know how to pick a lock?”

Jessabelle said, “I’ll go ‘round back and see if I can’t find another way in. You stay here with Jenny.”

The three nails driven halfway into the door transfixed Jenny’s attention. The longer she stared at them, the more she became aware of a faint electric blue glow around them. It flickered a bit, and could only be seen as a razor-thin nimbus of light around their edges. Was it her imagination, or did the bump on her head damage her vision? The glimmer didn’t appear over the door handle or anything else but the nails. She turned to Jack, about to ask if he could see it too, when the door opened. Jessabelle stood in the doorway, beckoning to them.

Jack helped Jenny inside.

Dim, smoke-colored light filtered into the house through the grimy windows. The room smelled of dust and mildew. A tattered couch sat against the opposite wall of the living room. Jessabelle made a face. “This place ain’t been dusted in years. Ain’t no place clean to set her down. I’ll go see if I can find any towels in the hall closet that ain’t dirty.”

“What closet?” Jack asked. “Do you know this place?”

“Sure do. It’s my grandmother’s place. Um, our grandmother’s place, I suppose. It’s been a long time since I was here. It seemed a lot bigger then. I reckon I was just a lot smaller.”

Jenny’s heart pounded faster. “Grandmother Annabelle lived here? You stayed here with her?”

“Sometimes, yeah. This is where our parents grew up. Hattie too. I’m going to go fetch some towels.” Jessabelle disappeared around a corner into the hall.

While Jenny knew it was only her imagination, the room seemed to grow brighter. She imagined the old, boxy television on the stand turned on, with her family watching whatever was on television back in the 1970s and 1980s. Maybe they watched Bugs Bunny cartoons together. And they all ate at the tiny wooden table in the kitchen opposite the living room, over linoleum that might have been off-white when clean and lit.

“You gonna be okay, Jenny?” Jack asked.

“I think so. Once I get bandaged up and get some rest.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Jenny dusted off the couch with her uninjured arm, but it just filled the air with more dust—not the most hygienic environment for an open wound. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know about that thing. We’ve got to give it a better name than not-a-giant. An ogre, maybe?”

“That fits. I’m still sorry.”

Jessabelle came back into the room, bearing towels. “The ones down the stack were in good shape. Good enough to give you a clean place to sit at least.” She draped the towels over the couch and helped Jenny sit down.

Jack glanced out the door. “Coast still seems clear for now. Jessabelle, can you shoot a shotgun?”

Jessabelle shrugged. “I don’t know. I never tried.”

“I’ll leave it with you. You stay with Jenny.”

Jessabelle put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Who put you in charge? No, you stay with Jenny. I can get there faster than you, without getting squashed by that thing.”

“I know the woods better. And it’s my fault for suggesting this whole thing. I should go.”

“You hoping to repent by getting yourself killt? No, you stay here with the shotgun. Jenny needs help soon, and we gotta get her out of here before dark, when that snallygaster starts hunting again. I’m fast.”

“Not fast enough to outrun an ogre!”

“Yes, I am.” Jessabelle looked at Jenny and back to Jack. “We ain’t got time to argue. I need to swear y’all to secrecy.”

Jenny shifted uncomfortably. Her shoulder was already stuck to the towel draped over the back of the couch. “Secrecy about what?” she asked.

“What you are about to see. Swear it!”

Jenny glanced over at Jack. Jack shrugged and nodded. Jenny said, “Sure. I won’t say a word.”

Jessabelle stood in the open front door. She looked over her shoulder at Jenny, and said, “I’ll be back with Hattie soon. I promise.”

With that, she squatted over the threshold. Her body and clothing transformed into a great black cat in a fluid motion that took little more than a second. Her tail twitched as she sniffed at the air, and leaped out into the forest.

Jenny would have fallen over if she wasn’t already slumped on the couch. Jack stood in the doorway, staring at where Jessabelle had vanished. Neither of them said anything for a long minute.

“Well, ain’t that something?” Jack said as he closed the door.

Sean gaped at the monster while it sat calmly, staring at the jagged, mountainous horizon. Evelyn motioned to Sean to join her. Every bit of survival instinct screamed at him to flee, but he drew closer. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t form words.

“You may go ahead and speak now,” Evelyn said.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I had to charm you both so that it’s safe. I’m sorry to do that to you, but while I was seizing control over the ogre, I couldn’t risk you interrupting me. Now we’re all perfectly safe.”

“That thing is an ogre? How do you know?”

“Yes. I’ve met one before.”

Sean shook his head. “Met? Who are you? What are you? What did you do?”

“I’m a witch. I charmed this beautiful monster so that he wouldn’t kill you. I believe one of the best ways to deal with an enemy is to make them your ally.” She smiled brightly at Sean. “How does it feel to be friends with a witch and an ogre, Sean?”

The creature opened its mouth wide. Sean went cold with dread, staring into the snaggle-toothed maw, but realized it was only yawning. That didn’t comfort him much. “Um, I don’t really know.”

“But this isn’t your first time dealing with strange people, is it?” She said, maintaining the sweet expression.

“What do you mean?”

“Rumor has it you’ve been all over the northern half of the state researching a ghost.” Her smile took on a menacing look, and he gulped. “I was out looking for you last night, you know. That’s why I picked you up.”

His world seemed to swim. “How did you hear?”

“I have my sources, sweet boy. I specialize in finding things. Including people. Sometimes dangerous people. I help convince them to come along peacefully.”

“You control their minds? That sounds bad.”

“It just saved your life, Sean. Be more respectful.”

He exhaled deeply, suppressing a shudder. “I’m sorry. So you are a little bit like a witch bounty hunter?”

Her smile became bright and cheerful again. “Yes. Yes, you could say that.” She tugged idly at the course hair on the sitting ogre’s head. It half-lidded its eyes, and made a cooing sound with breath that reeked of dead flesh.

“So why were you looking for me?”

“Because I wanted to ask for your help.”

“That’s it? How can I help?”

“Can you see ghosts?”

Sean shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve seen only one that I know of.”

“But you saw it clearly?”

Clearly? He’d kissed her. They danced together. He’d obsessed over her for weeks. Weeks? He was still obsessed over her. He knew all too well that there was no way this story could have a happy ending, because half of it had ended in tragedy before he’d been born. But still he pursued it. When he thought about it, he didn’t think these were the actions of someone who saw anything clearly.

“Clear enough,” he said.

“Good. That’s what I need. That’s a weakness of mine, and I need someone clairvoyant enough to assist me. In return, I will assist you in finding whatever it is you are looking for.”

He hesitated. He’d read enough folklore to know that in the old stories, making a deal with a witch or similar supernatural creature rarely led to anything good. Evelyn was a real woman from southern California who drove an SUV and had cold cereal and milk in her house. This was just an agreement between real people. The folklore was cautionary tales for superstitious people. They were just stories.

But then, witches, ogres, and ghosts were only supposed to be stories, too.

“I suppose I could help you out,” he said. Was his hedging obvious? “When would we do it?”

“Tonight, if…” She glanced at the ogre, and absently stroked its shoulder. “Actually, we’d better plan on tomorrow night. I’ve got to find food and lodging for our new friend, here. That might take me a while.”

“What are you going to do with him?”

“I have friends that can take care of him eventually. For the short term, that’s another story. Anyway, take this.” She pulled a key off a key ring and handed it to Sean. “Here’s a key to the house. It’s late afternoon now. Whatever you do, return before dark. The ogre isn’t the only dangerous creature in these woods, and the other one hunts at night.”

He nodded. She obviously meant the panther. It didn’t terrify him nearly as much as the ogre, but it remained a real threat. He imagined even chances that the cat was smashed and dead along the trail. If not, the animal should be fleeing to the next county by now. Animals were smarter than humans that way.

Evelyn turned to ogre. “Okay, big boy, let’s see if we can find you a place to stay for the night.”

The monstrous creature stood and shuffled along behind her. Even as he watched, Sean had trouble believing his eyes. Until a half-hour ago, the ghost of Debra Arnot had been the strangest thing to happen to him in his entire life. Suddenly it seemed mundane by comparison.

He glanced back the way he’d come from the woods. After being chased and nearly killed by the ogre, he just wanted to go home and hide and sleep for days. But what was home? His old college apartment? A witch’s house? His father’s house? Another cheap motel room? None of them sounded appealing.

The ogre’s heavy footsteps left an easy trail to follow. He’d heard gunshots. Were there more people up the mountain? Were they okay? Could they tell him where to find Granny Norton’s house? He was out of other ideas for finding Debbie’s ghost. He had little else to go on. If he could find her and talk to her one more time, then maybe he would know what to ask Evelyn for as her part of the bargain.

He made his way back into the woods, following the ogre’s trail.

* * *

Sean made it much farther before getting lost this time. He tried to retrace his steps, and succeeded only in getting lost in a different place. One might think it’d be easy to find something as big as a house, but Sean already knew how tricky it could be to find anything in the Appalachian Mountains, with or without the heavy woods.

“I really suck at this,” he said out loud. His voice barely carried over the constant insect drone. His shirt stuck to his sweaty skin, making every sliver of sticker or dirt that found its way through the fabric scratch at him all the more. The sun was still a couple of hours away from sunset, even in the mountains. The potential relief of the coming darkness came with Evelyn’s warning. But would he be more likely to find Debbie’s ghost at night?

“Debbie, if Annabelle really was your best friend, where did she live?” He didn’t expect an answer, and none came. He struck out in a new direction, vaguely in the direction he thought he’d come from, but a little higher. Fifteen minutes of struggle and growing frustration was finally rewarded when he stumbled upon a path.

The game-trail was faint and seemed rarely used, but better than nothing. He opted to take it in the downward direction, as it was more likely to lead back toward town. Ten minutes later, he encountered two figures coming up the path.

“Hello there!” he called.

“You!” one of the figures said, a teen-aged girl with dark black hair.

“Um, me?” Sean said.

The other person, a middle-aged woman carrying a backpack, put her hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. “Hello young man! You are wandering around these woods awfully late. It’ll be dark soon. Do you need help?”

“I’m trying to find a house up here.”

“Nobody lives up here.”

“I was told I could find the home that used to belong to Granny Norton and Annabelle Rose up this way.”

That got a reaction from both of them. The girl looked angry and accusing as she stared at him. The older woman seemed more surprised. She spoke. “Nobody lives there anymore. I’m Annabelle’s daughter, Hattie Rose. And this is her granddaughter, Jessabelle. And who are you might you be?”

“I’m Sean Williams. I’m a student…or I was a student…at UWV. Did Annabelle move? Where can I find her?”

“She’s been gone for many years, Sean. Maybe I can help?”

Jessabelle burst out. “Don’t trust him! He’s got some control over that monster that tried to kill us! It stopped and it sat down in front of him and that new lady!”

Sean stood in stunned silence for several moments. His best effort at explanation came out as “Uh…” Hattie glanced between the two of them.

Jessabelle added, more softly, “I saw him.”

Hattie leveled her gaze at Sean. “I think that means we have a lot more to talk about, then. As a matter of fact, we’re heading to the house ourselves, but we won’t be staying long if we can help it. We need to be back in town before nightfall.”

Sean nodded. “I know. There’s a panther or something prowling around here, if the ogre didn’t kill it.”

Hattie glanced sideways at Jessabelle. “You say it was an ogre? Interesting. Well, I don’t reckon the ogre got that panther yet. But, I’d be interested in hearing your story. Were you the one that stopped it?”

“No, ma’am. It wasn’t me.”

“Then it was that lady that done it!” Jessabelle said.

Hattie nodded. “Evelyn Rodriguez. Is she a witch, too?”

Sean said nothing. ‘Too?’ How many witches lived in Maple Bend?

Hattie continued. “Time’s a-wasting. Let’s take care of Jenny and get back home, and then there’ll be plenty of time for talking.”

Jenny snored faintly. In spite of being worried for her, Jack thought that was funny. His mother snored, too, but those sounds were anything but faint. To him, old and overweight people snored, but not pretty girls. However, Jenny was injured and sitting with her head tilted over the back of the couch. Under the circumstances, he made allowances for her tiny little snores. They were kind of cute. He felt bad for thinking about cute snoring, because he knew she was in pain, but he couldn’t help it.

He peered out the dirty window one more time for a sign of Jessabelle and Hattie. Doubt and anxiety nagged at him. His woods had become very dangerous in the last twenty-four hours. Or had they always been dangerous, and he’d spent the last five years convincing himself otherwise?

Once upon a time, Jack had seen a giant. He had told everyone. Young and naive, he had believed he could protect his neighbors by warning them. Instead, they had laughed at him. The other kids at school had started calling him “Lyin’ Jack.” Even Sam Colton had called him that, behind his back. One day, Jack had overheard. He and Sam hadn’t really talked much after that. Until that moment, Jack had thought Sam might be the one person who believed him.

Now Sam was dead, killed by another monster from the woods.

Then Jessabelle, a girl he’d seen around almost his whole life, turned out to be a cat. Or could turn into a cat. He didn’t really know what that made her. At least folks acknowledged some general superstitions about her whole family. She might be dead now too, for all he knew.

Yesterday, he’d gone into the woods wishing he could be far away from this stupid place, where everyone thought of him as a liar and a loser. Twenty-four hours later, he realized he’d never be able to return. Physically, Maple Bend might still be there, but his entire world had changed since he’d discovered this house.

A knock at the door broke him out of his reverie. Jenny woke, blinking, as Jack opened the door. Hattie and Jessabelle stood in the doorway, with another young man around Jack’s age. He had light-brown hair, jeans that looked like he lived in them, hiking boots, and a clean shave. Jack stepped aside to let them in.

Hattie took in the room with a quick gaze. “I see mama’s spell isn’t working on this house anymore. That was bound to happen sooner or later. Now Jenny, let’s see about getting you fixed up. We don’t got much time.” She knelt by the couch, and pulled out a Mason jar half-full of yellow-brown liquid and floaty bits. The young man stepped inside, scanning the house with obvious fascination. Jessabelle came in after him, glaring at him the whole time.

After carefully removing the lid on the jar, Hattie handed it to Jenny. “Let’s start out by having you drink this. It won’t taste good. You don’t have to drink the whole thing. A few sips ought to do.”

Jenny tasted the liquid and made a sour face. “What is this stuff?”

“It’s good for what ails you,” Hattie replied. “Just trust me on this.” Jenny forced down a few more sips, and Hattie began to sing softly.

Fever a-falling, bones are a-mending

Itching and ailing relieve you

Blood run pure, skin mend up, limbs regain strength

Sickness shall no more aggrieve you

The young man watched Hattie intently. Jack asked Jessabelle, “So who’s your new friend?”

Blinking, the young man turned to Jack. “Oh, sorry. Hi. I’m Sean Williams. I’m, uh, new here. Just visiting.”

Jack snorted. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

Jessabelle frowned. “He was with that new lady, Evelyn. She stopped the ogre. We think she’s a witch. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I didn’t want…questions.” She glanced furtively at Sean.

“Another witch?”

Sean asked, “Are there a lot of those here?”

Jack shook his head. “Not normally. I mean, everyone knows about Hattie, but not everyone…” He was going to say, ‘not everyone believes her,’ but that felt like a terrible thing to say. “Not everyone takes advantage of it.”

At the couch, Hattie told Jenny, “Okay, see if you can turn around. Let’s get a look at that shoulder.”

Jenny winced as she turned on the couch. Hattie examined the wound, and said, “Okay, let’s clean it up. If we can get it taped up and keep it from getting infected, you may not need stitches. That healing juice will do most of the work for us.” She looked at Sean and Jack. “Okay. Men, for modesty’s sake y’all go into the bedroom for a few minutes while we disinfect and bandage up Jenny’s shoulder, alright?”

* * *

Sean and Jack made their way down a short hall, passing two tiny bedrooms and a hall closet, and found the master bedroom. There wasn’t much room to walk between the bed and the furniture. Photographs in cheap frames covered most of the available wall space. Flat surfaces were filled with things that Jack would consider “old lady knick-knacks,” and some other items that were particularly strange and even disturbing. A cat’s skull, decorated with strange runes, topped a shelf and the list of bizarre items. Others included crystals dangling from chains, hand-written books, creepy-looking hand-made dolls, and pendants of various religious symbols.

Sean ignored the stranger items, searching over the array of photographs. He stopped at one, peering carefully at it, and then announced, “It’s her!”

“It’s who?” asked Jack.

“This girl. That’s Debra Arnot.” He pointed at a young woman in the grainy photo. It had been taken in the living room, albeit with a different couch in the background. Three women stood in the photograph. The one in the center, probably no older than Jack or Sean, held a baby in her arms. The woman to her right was older, probably her mother, and resembled Hattie. The girl to her left seemed her same age or a couple of years younger. Sean pointed emphatically at the younger girl.

Jack looked at Sean. “How do you know her? That picture’s got to be fifty years old.”

“Take a look!” Sean activated his phone and pulled up a black-and-white photograph from a newspaper scan. The girl on Sean’s phone bore a strong resemblance to the girl in Annabelle’s photograph. “Debbie was a student at WVU in 1974. She was murdered that year.”

“Huh. You kin?”

Sean shook his head, and thumbed up a different picture. In the blurry color photograph, Sean and a girl in cat make-up stood together at some party. In spite of the blurriness and the make-up, the girl looked a lot like the one Sean called Debbie.

Jack compared the photos, and then looked at Sean. “How old did you say you were?”

Sean put the phone away. “My roommate took that picture last Halloween. She looked and felt plenty real that night. I’m not the only one who has seen her. But I saw her, talked to her, and spent time with her.”

“So was she a ghost, or just a girl who looked a lot like Debra?”

Sean shrugged. “Ghost, I’m pretty sure. I couldn’t find her afterward. All I found was my jacket that she’d been wearing. All folded up at the place she used to live.”

Jack whistled. “So is this why you came here?”

Sean nodded. “Yes. I wanted to find Annabelle, or anyone who could help me understand what’s going on.”

“This day keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“Tell me about it! It’s crazy, I know.”

“The crazy part is that ain’t even the weirdest thing I’ve seen today.”

* * *

The young men returned to find Jenny wearing a clean shirt. Tape along the edge of the bandage on her shoulder peeked out from under the collar. Hattie held up the Mason jar and asked, “Anyone else in need of the tonic? There are few sips left.”

“Like a potion?” asked Sean.

Hattie nodded. “Much like.”

“Why not just give the rest of it to Jenny? It looks like she needs it.”

“Too much of a good thing. Same thing with medicine, but in this case, she just needs enough to get the magic to take. What she needs now is time and rest. We don’t have much of either right now. The sun’s getting low, and the snallygaster is likely to come out after too long. If it has our scent, it might be hankering for a rematch. We need to leave as soon as she’s able to walk.”

Jack couldn’t help but think of Sam being snatched away in the darkness, too surprised to even make a noise as he flew through the air. “Does it do that? Would it hunt one of us down like that?”

Hattie’s eyes darted between Jenny and Jack. “It might.”

Jenny had caught the look. “And by one of us, you mean me. I’m the one that threatened it.”

Jack shook his head. “If it tries for any of us, it’ll face all of us. I promise.”

Jessabelle frowned. “I just don’t see why we don’t all stay here through the night, though. Let Jenny get some sleep, and head out in the morning.”

Sean spoke up. “I’m okay with staying the night.”

Jessabelle nodded. “Thanks. Wait, when did you get a vote?”

“I can think of three reasons,” Hattie said. “The most important is the risk of that wound getting infected. That happens and we will need to take Jenny down to a real doctor, maybe in a hurry. I’d rather not do that in the middle of the night from up here. Secondly, this house probably isn’t much protection right now. All y’all broke the protection on it by opening the door. Not that I blame y’all for that. Considering what the snallygaster did to the roof of the Casto’s barn, I wouldn’t want to rely on this place for shelter without any chance of getting help.”

Hattie stood up, and then said, “Now, I’m going to find some of my mama’s old things to take with us and then we’ll go.”

Jack might not have done so well in school, but he could count to three. “Wait, Hattie. That was two reasons. You said you had three.”

She looked at him seriously. “You’re right. I did.” Then she walked away down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

After she’d left the room, Sean asked, “Um, sorry if this is a stupid question, but what’s a snallygaster?”

Jack looked to Jessabelle, but she had her arms crossed and her mouth closed. Jenny didn’t seem to be volunteering anything either. So, Jack answered simply. “Sort of a dragon with tentacles on its tail. It killed Sam Colton last night, and probably killed Grace Alls a few days ago. It attacked us, but we drove it off.”

Sean absorbed this news with an expressionless face, staring off at nothing for a few moments. Then he shrugged and said, “Huh. Okay then.”

Hattie returned from the bedroom a few minutes later, with two books under her arm. She stuffed these into her backpack. Sean asked to borrow the photograph he’d found in the bedroom. She looked at him strangely. “Why would you want a photograph of my family?”

“Research,” he answered. “I’d just like to make a quality copy of and I’ll return it to you. Um, do you know the other girl in that picture?”

Hattie peered at it. Behind her, Jenny craned her neck to get a look, but then winced and settled back on the couch, smoothing out the tape holding the bandage in place. “No, not really. I think she and my mama were friends before I was born, but she died a little after that.”

“That’s all you know?”

“That’s all we have time for. Jenny, how’s your ankle feeling?”

Jenny stood up awkwardly, and tentatively put some weight on her foot. “It’s better! I don’t think I want to run on it, but it barely hurts.”

“We just need everyone to hold up until we get back to the house. The sun sets fast up here, but hopefully that snallygaster isn’t an early riser.”

Hattie ushered everyone out, and closed the door behind them. She sang something that sounded only half English, and then nodded with a satisfied look.

“What did you do?” Jenny asked.

“I’m reinforcing your grandma’s spell. At least I hope I am. It’s not something I can do from scratch. Those three silver nails make it hard to notice, especially for a witch or someone of witch blood.”

“Why hide it?” Jack asked.

Hattie hesitated. “She has secrets she didn’t want anyone to stumble over. Like in those books I just took. But that’s why y’all ought to forget that the place is here. Now let’s get going.” She and the girls started forward. Jenny favored her uninjured ankle.

Jack looked over his shoulder. He could still see the house just fine. Maybe now the protection only worked against witches. Maybe Hattie only succeeded in hiding it from herself. If so, it was not the most useful trick.

Sean lingered, searching around the clearing as if he lost something. Jack called to him. “Hey, you coming?”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming.” He turned and hurried to rejoin the girls.

They continued along the narrow path, soon merging with the ogre’s destructive trail. Jenny’s limp slowed the group, but at least she could walk, thanks to Hattie’s treatment. Sean and Jack took turns supporting her over the rougher parts of the trail. Jessabelle grew more sullen each time, regardless of which boy assisted. Jenny even caught her making a disgusted face when Jenny stumbled and Jack nearly dropped his shotgun to rush to her aid.

She wanted to scream at her cousin, “They are just helping me walk! It doesn’t mean anything! Next time, you can be the one to sprain your ankle!” But even as she thought that, she grudgingly conceded she enjoyed the attention. She didn’t want her cousin mad at her. “Jessabelle…” she called.

Jessabelle turned with her finger to her lips. At first Jenny thought her cousin was merely being grumpy again, but then she saw Jessabelle’s terrified look. Jessabelle waved her other hand in a motion to stop. After a moment of confusion, everyone stood still, glancing around with various levels of nervousness. Sean seemed about to ask a question, but shut his mouth as Jessabelle shook her finger in front of her lips.

The sun sat low behind the mountains, extending deep shadows, but it wasn’t dark yet. They were almost out of the woods and into relative civilization, but they all knew the snallygaster wasn’t the only creature to haunt the woods.

“What is it?” Jack whispered, nervously gripping the shotgun.

Jessabelle shook her head as she focused her attention at the treetops. Her head swiveled back and forth, and she ducked down into a semi-crouch. “It’s here,” she whispered.

“It’s not dark yet,” Jenny whispered back.

Jack raised the shotgun toward the sky. “Early bird gets the worm?”

Jenny shuddered at the mental image of one of them being pulled from the ground like a worm in the creature’s mouth. Hattie pulled her to the side and whispered to the group, “Move to the trees! Don’t let it swoop down on you!”

A dull pain rose from Jenny’s ankle as Hattie propelled her toward the nearest tree, rather than the lance of agony she felt earlier. The pain reminded her that failure was a single misstep away. Sean followed suit, hiding beside Jenny and Hattie as Jack and Jessabelle ducked behind another tree. “What is it?” Sean whispered.

“Snallygaster,” Jenny answered.

“Seriously? The dragon-thing?”

Hattie and Jenny nodded. Hattie put her finger to her lips.

They waited for several tense seconds. Jessabelle crouched, appearing catlike even in her human form. Jenny could almost imagine her tail twitching as she scanned the sky. Jack searched for a target, shotgun held at the ready. Jenny leaned against the tree. Her hand itched as a bug crawled over it, but she didn’t dare brush it away.

Sean leaned in closer to Hattie. “Is it gone?”

Hattie shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “We can’t stay here forever.”

Jenny listened. She heard nothing, not even the insects. “I think it’s still here.”

The forest top exploded above them. A half-ton of flesh, wings, and teeth pounded into the ground a few yards away. In a flash, the snallygaster charged forward, snapping with its tremendous fangs. Hattie pushed Jenny down, protecting her with her own body. The beast caught Hattie’s backpack in its jaws and lifted her off the ground.

Jenny stood, reciting her mother’s spell. The creature hurled Hattie into a tree and faced Jenny, hunched down in a fighting crouch. Jenny took a confident step forward, and the creature backed away, cautious. Jenny continued to recite the song, feeling its strength around her.

It attacked with blinding speed. The first hit met with a blaze of light that engulfed Jenny. It continued its assault relentlessly, striking again and again in the space of heartbeats. Jenny reeled backwards, focusing on the song. She felt the power in her words bolstering her protective shield, but not enough to keep up with the monster’s barrage.

She sensed the protection faltering as the beast launched forward on its four tentacle tails. Feeble protective light, the last reserves of her spell saved her from being caught between its teeth, but the force of the attack knocked her back. She tumbled backwards as the snallygaster shrieked in victory, coiling for a final pounce.

Jack’s shotgun roared with sound and flame, and the creature’s left eye disintegrated in smoke and blood. It whirled toward Jack, mouth opened wide as it changed targets. Jack fired again, directly into its open mouth.

The beast collapsed, thrashing and flailing. Its tails flew wildly, smashing into trees and tearing up the ground. Jack pulled Jenny free of the deadly lashing of the dying monster, while Sean did the same for Hattie.

Once clear of the snallygaster’s death throes, Jack reloaded the shotgun. He reapproached the monster as its flailing weakened. Jack fired into its head, ending all motion but for some tiny muscle spasms along its tails.

Jenny attempted to stand, but pain from revived injuries put an end to that plan. Even that wasn’t enough to dampen her jubilation. “You killed it, Jack!”

Jessabelle and Sean looked at Jack with unconcealed awe. Sean took a step toward the creature, but Jack held up a hand and said, “Hold up!” Jack stepped around the front of the creature, took aim, and sent a final blast of the shotgun into what was left of its head. Looking back at Jenny, he said, “I’ve seen the horror movies. You always want to shoot it one more time after you think it’s dead.”

“Guys?” Jessabelle called out. “I think Aunt Hattie’s hurt really bad.”

* * *

Blood soaked the left side of Hattie’s head. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing shallow. They crowded around her and tried to wake her up. Nothing worked.

“We have to get her to a hospital,” Sean said. “Where’s the nearest one?”

Jack shook his head. “An hour or so down the road, once we get her to the truck.”

Tears welled up in Jenny’s eyes, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. This was her fault. Hattie came to save her from her own stupidity, and now things were worse. Part of her wanted to crawl someplace by herself and cry, wait for someone else to come and put their arms around her, protect her, and make everything better. She wanted her mother. She wanted none of this to have happened, to never have known about witches or monsters or houses that hid from plain sight.

Somebody else would come. Someone had to have heard the noise, the roaring of the monster, the shots from Jack’s gun. Someone would come and fix this mess.

She looked around at the others. They all looked confused, glancing at each other, waiting for someone else to come up with a plan. Her aunt lay unconscious, and in real danger. She had been their rescue. Jenny’s parents were gone. Nobody else would ride in to make everything better. She sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “Does anybody here know first aid?”

Sean shrugged. “A little. I got a first aid merit badge as a Boy Scout.”

Somehow, the idea of Sean in a Boy Scout uniform fit. “Okay. Do what you can. Especially the bleeding from her head. Didn’t she have more of that juice she gave me?”

Jessabelle nodded. “It’s in her pack. But she can’t drink it right now.”

“I know.”

They removed Hattie’s backpack. The snallygaster’s bite had torn a hole in it, but nothing else seemed damaged. Sean took off his shirt to use as a bandage for Hattie’s head, holding it against the gash to stop the bleeding. Jenny dug out the Mason jar buried with Jenny’s bloodstained clothing, a first aid kit, and a number of books Hattie had rescued from the house. She handed the kit to Sean.

Jessabelle asked, “Is there anything you can do to help her?”

Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what I’m doing.” She couldn’t remember all the words Hattie had used in her incantation after Jenny had sipped the terrible drink. Would the words have any power without Hattie drinking the potion? Would she be doing everything wrong?

If she had the ability, she might as well try to use it. It couldn’t make things worse, could it? She began the chant, focusing on Hattie’s body and willing it to be repaired, even if she didn’t know exactly what was injured.

“Fever a-falling, bones are a-mending

Itching and ailing relieve you…”

She couldn’t remember the second part, so she started making up words.

“That ain’t what she said,” Jessabelle announced.

Jenny offered a mic-dropping rejoinder: “Shut up!”

Hattie’s eyes fluttered open, but it took her a moment to focus. Seeing Jenny, she broke out into a wide smile. “Amy! You’ve come back! I’ve missed you!” Jenny didn’t know how to respond, terrified that Hattie was hallucinating. Hattie’s expression changed, and she said, “No, you’re…you’re Jenny. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What about you? Are you okay, Aunt Hattie?”

“I have no idea. How bad do I look?”

“Hard to tell.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.” Her eyes focused better, and her face grew hard. “What about the snallygaster? Where is it?”

“We killed it,” Jenny said. “Or, really, Jack killed it.”

Jessabelle shook her head. “Don’t believe her. She stood in front of that thing and kept it distracted until Jack came up next to it and blew its eye out.”

Hattie’s smile was thin, but sincere. “You kids. My personal band of ass-kickers. In case I forget when I’m chewing all y’all out later, I’m real proud of you.”

Jessabelle helped Hattie drink the potion. Hattie partly gagged halfway through, but finished off the rest of the jar. “Oh, laws, I forget how terrible that tastes.”

Hattie helped Jenny recite the spell again. The results were dramatic. The gash along the side of Hattie’s head sealed and faded to something that resembled a fresh, tender scar. Her breathing deepened and grew more regular, and within minutes Hattie stood and was ready to move out. Her arm remained injured, and they made a barely-functional sling out of a strip of gauze from Hattie’s pack.

They made slower progress, but they exited the woods and found Hattie’s truck before the last of the sun’s fading red glow had been swallowed by the mountains.

In the twilight, Jenny could still make out the Casto’s farm, and the hill where she’d found Sam’s body. Had it only been last night? So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that it felt like it had all started a week ago.

“Jenny, can you drive?” Hattie asked.

“I don’t have a license.”

“I didn’t ask that. Nobody’s going to be checking your license up here. Can you drive?”

Jenny nodded. “I got my learner’s.”

Hattie handed her the key. She and Sean rode with Jenny in the cab, while Jack and Jessabelle rode in the truck bed. Hattie gave her directions. Even driving slowly, each bump in the dirt road felt like a ramp propelling them into orbit.

Hattie held on with her good arm, and asked, “Sean, are you sure you don’t want to stay with us? It won’t be much, but I can make up the couch for you. We’ll have pancakes in the morning.”

“No, that’s okay. I agreed to help Evelyn out with something tomorrow, anyway.”

“Nothing that concerns us, does it?”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

Hattie nodded. Her eyes focused on the dirt road ahead, jaw set. Jenny was certain Hattie wanted to offer suggestions about Jenny’s driving, but her aunt avoided even looking at her. They dropped Sean off first, then Jack. After Jack waved goodnight, Jessabelle came to the driver’s side window.

“I don’t trust him,” Jessabelle said.

“You don’t mean Jack, do you?” Jenny asked.

“No, I mean Sean. I saw him and Evelyn together. One of ‘em bewitched that ogre like it was nothing.”

“Good thing, too,” Hattie said. “Or both of them would be dead right now, and maybe the Castos and their neighbors, too.”

Jessabelle shrugged. “I reckon so. I still don’t trust ‘em.”

“You probably shouldn’t. But that’s no reason to be rude.”

* * *

When they got home, Hattie dug through a bedroom drawer to uncover a medical sling. Jenny helped her put it on, replacing the tied gauze strips which had bunched up to become little more than a cord. Once the sling was in place, Hattie turned to her and said, “Now we need to decide something.”

Jenny prepared for the onslaught. Her mother would have ripped her up one side and down the other for any one of the things they’d done today, much less all of them together. Instead, Hattie said, “Dinner. I’m starving, and I reckon you are even worse. We’ll have to do simple. Are hot dogs okay?”

Jenny nodded, half-expecting “hot dogs” to be some kind of West Virginian code word for the trouble she was in. Instead, Hattie gave her instructions for making coleslaw and started boiling hot dogs. With her free hand, she motioned to the pot and said, “You keep an eye on this. I’m going to call a doctor I know in Branton. Not meaning to slight your healing abilities, but my arm is still busted good. I’ll see if he can come up here and make a house call.”

“Doctors around here still make house calls?”

“He will, because I have. I reckon he’ll be glad to have a chance to reciprocate.”

Jenny took a few moments to mull that over. A doctor called on a witch for help? Certainly not for medical help, right?

A few minutes later, Hattie returned from making the phone call. She opened a can of finely-ground chili, dumped it in a bowl, and heated it in the microwave. Then she put the hot dogs in buns and poured both the chili and coleslaw on them like condiments.

Jenny looked at the mess in the buns and back at her aunt. Maybe Hattie’s head injury was worse than she’d thought. “Um, did you mean to do that?” Jenny asked.

“Do what?”

“Put the coleslaw on top of the hot dogs?”

“Of course I did. Didn’t your momma ever fix you West Virginia hot dogs?”

The idea sounded horrible. “Um, no. Is that even a thing?”

“Come on, I’ve been to Chicago. They have stranger hot dogs out there.”

“Maybe, but come on! Coleslaw?”

“Try it. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it. But ‘round these parts, it’s how you eat a hot dog!”

Jenny tried. After she got over the strangeness of it, she had to admit it tasted pretty good. Maybe it was simply that she was starving after having skipped lunch, but she ate a second one and enjoyed it even more.

Afterward, she washed dishes while Hattie offered what help she could with one hand. When Jenny finished, Hattie said, “Doctor ought to be here in about twenty or thirty minutes. That should to be enough time to take a shower and clean up. You are a beautiful young lady, but right now you rightfully look like you’ve been through hell. Don’t volunteer anything for the doctor. He’s smart enough not to ask questions.”

Jenny waited for the other shoe to drop. Hattie hadn’t said anything about what had happened, and Jenny couldn’t wait any longer. “I’m so sorry. I know this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to go up into the woods.” Tears came to her eyes as she spoke. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. Everyone could have died and it was my fault.”

Hattie said nothing. Jenny continued. “I had no idea what I was doing. Then we both got hurt. It was stupid and irresponsible. I just got so excited thinking that Jack needed my help, that I could do something nobody else could. I thought I was invulnerable. I was so wrong.”

Hattie looked at her sternly. “Jenny?”

Jenny wiped her eyes and stared at the floor. “Yes?”

“My arm really, really hurts. Would you mind getting me a beer out of the fridge and two ibuprofen from the shelf next to the glasses? My doctor friend is probably going to get on my case over it, but I need something while we wait.”

“Umm…okay.” Jenny found the beer, opened the can and put it and the two pills on the table for Hattie, who downed the pills and half the can in thirty seconds.

Jenny sat down, still hanging her head down. Hattie stared at her. Jenny looked up. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Hattie shook her head. “Why? Sounds like you done said it yourself better than I could.”

“Aren’t you angry?”

“A little. Mostly I was terrified, and now I’m relieved. Every one of us could have died up on the mountainside today. We’re all pretty lucky to be alive. Now, I ain’t going to fault you for going up there to keep Jack from getting his fool self killed. But, you don’t know what kind of danger you brought on yourself.”

Jenny looked down, and nodded. “I know. The ogre could have killed me. Should have killed me. I didn’t know what I was doing.” The tears were flowing now, but they were made of more complicated stuff than just sorrow or fear.

Hattie frowned. “Look, Jenny. I ain’t your mother. I never was a mother. I don’t know how to do this. You look at me, and you see an adult. You see someone trying to finish what your parents started. I’ll do what I can. But when I look at you, I sometimes see my sister. You are different in many ways, but the same in others. Both good and bad. I want to spare you from the bad, if I can. But my first and most important job is to keep you alive. I just ask that you try and keep that from becoming too much of a chore.”

Jenny sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I don’t see how my mom and I were alike. She was really good at fitting in everywhere, with anyone. I try, but I always zig when I’m supposed to zag.”

“Is that right?” Hattie pursed her lips together and shook her head. “She wasn’t always like that. She found herself in plenty of trouble growing up. Honestly, compared to her, you’re an angel. Not that I’m encouraging you to be otherwise. I reckon she learned to fit in as a way to camouflage herself and your family. It must have been hard on her.”

“Really? I can’t imagine her getting into trouble.”

“I reckon motherhood changes a woman. Especially after what she went through.”

“What do you mean?”

Hattie raised her good hand and fanned the air. “Never mind that right now. Anyway, my point is I can’t be her. I never knew her plan, if she had one. What I do know is no matter what we do, trouble’s going to find you, like it already has. The best I can do is prepare you.”

Jenny wiped her eyes again. They stayed dry this time. “How?”

“I’m going to teach you what I can of old-fashioned Appalachian folk-magic. That ought to keep you busy, at least. I can’t do as good a job as your momma or my momma could, but I’ll do my best. This isn’t a reward. But if you feel inclined to pull something like this again, you should learn how to do it right. Besides, I could use someone to help me out around here.”

Three days ago, learning witchcraft would have seemed ridiculous. After the terror of the last two days and encountering ghosts and monsters, it sounded like a luxuriously safe and mundane way to spend time with her aunt. “I would love to.”

“You say that now. Most of it is memorization, repetition, and straight-up practice. And you definitely need the practice. I think the healing you worked on me today left plenty of room for improvement.”

A tiny smile broke through Jenny’s face. “I’d better get a shower,” she said.

Hattie nodded and took another drink of her beer.

After her shower, Jenny collapsed onto her bed. The after-effects of grief and terror and the most physical day of her life ganged up on her. She fell asleep before the doctor arrived.

Evelyn wasn’t home when Sean returned. Now that the terror had subsided, hunger gnawed at his insides. In spite of Evelyn’s request that he “make himself at home,” he didn’t feel right going through her kitchen looking for something to eat. He dug around his backpack for the dregs of week-old trail mix and a protein bar. As he prepared to take a shower, Sean caught sight of himself in the mirror. The combination of shirtlessness, farmer’s tan, and dirt and grime from the trail made for a ridiculous image.

After the shower, he collapsed into bed. He started thinking about the house, and Evelyn’s promise, but soon his thoughts, and later his dreams, were full of monsters. In spite of this, he slept soundly through the night.

The smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs drifting through his door woke Sean late in the morning, and his growling stomach would not allow him another minute of rest. He found his one remaining change of clean clothing, dressed, and entered the dining room to greet Evelyn.

She made small-talk. The dark circles under her eyes belied her alert manner and light discussion. Happily, she served him brunch, letting him start eating before beginning the interrogation.

“So Sean, were you involved in that fight last night, with the guns and the dragon-thing?”

Sean froze with the food on his fork halfway to his mouth. How did she know about all that? Was the snallygaster found? Was there a crowd of people there right now? “Kind of. I mean, I was there.” He shoveled the eggs into his mouth and took his time, pretending to chew.

She waited between his overly-long bites before she asked, “Who shot it in the head with a shotgun?”

“Um, a local kid. He’s named Jack.”

“Interesting. You are lucky he was with you. Who else were you with?”

“A couple of local girls,” he said, before shoveling in another mouthful of food.

“Was Hattie Rose there?”

He nearly choked on the bite. He nodded without thinking, and then added, “Yes. She was hurt, but not too badly.”

“Two monsters in one day.” Evelyn’s eyes sparkled. “Are you out there looking for trouble?”

He shrugged. “I don’t mean to.” Feeling defensive, he opened his mouth to explain his actions, but stopped himself and changed the subject. “By the way, what did you do with your ogre?”

“I found a safe place to hide him away for a while. Someone is going to come and take it away in a few days.”

“Take it away? Not kill it?”

“I prefer not to kill, Sean. Besides, it could be useful. Like if another monster comes out of those woods.” Something in how she spoke gave Sean a subtle chill. “But this evening, we’ve got other plans. I trust you’ll be free?”

Sean shrugged. “What’s up?”

“I’d like to find out if you truly have the Sight and can see spirits. That is, if you haven’t lost your spine already. Since what you are seeking drove you back into the woods after nearly being eaten by an ogre, I’m going to assume you are not easily dissuaded. Let’s test your abilities.”

* * *

Evelyn brought Sean to a church a few miles outside of Branton. Or at least, it had been a church once, decades earlier. All of the windows had been shattered long ago, and the floor bore signs of more than one party. The roof remained intact, although it sagged in spots, and most of the pews had been cut up for firewood. In broad daylight, it probably seemed sad and pathetic. But in the moonless twilight dim, the old church genuinely creeped Sean out.

Evelyn unslung a bag from her shoulder, and began setting up six thick, white candles in a wide circle on the floor. She drew lines and squiggly characters between the candles with chalk. She finished just before it grew too dark to see what she was doing. She checked her work with a flashlight, then pulled a long-stemmed lighter from the bag and lit each one of the candles.

“So what happens now?” Sean asked.

“Now, you talk to ghosts.”

“Talk?”

“You’ll ask them some questions for me. I’m not so gifted with the Sight, but I will call them for you.”

“How many ghosts are you talking about?”

“Many. There are a lot of ghosts here.”

“Why here? What happened here?”

Evelyn didn’t answer. She stepped carefully into the center of the circle of candlelight, and removed the pins from her brown hair and let it spill out onto her shoulders. Then she recited something in Spanish. He recognized a few words, like espíritu and los vivos, but little of it even sounded like contemporary Spanish. As she finished, she seemed illuminated by a faint blue glow.

“You shouldn’t be here!” a sharp voice scolded behind him. Sean whirled to see a man in an olive three-piece suit with stringy long hair. His beak of a nose bore an inverted forest of hairs that might never have been trimmed. And there was something strange with his eyes. They didn’t reflect the light like real eyes should. Except a hint of violet.

Another figure emerged. This was a dark-haired girl, fifteen at most, wearing a navy blue dress with white polka dots and large white collars. “You’d better get going now, before he gets you!” she said.

“See anything yet?” Evelyn asked.

Sean nodded, his gaze darting between the two forms. A third appeared, a half-bald man with ratty clothes and a scraggly beard. He spoke, not to Sean, but to himself. “I should have listened,” the man moaned. “Now, I’m stuck.”

“Can you hear them?” Evelyn asked.

“Yeah. They don’t seem happy.”

“Happy people don’t leave ghosts behind. Now, talk to them.”

“About what?”

“I need to know where Annabelle Rose is.”

“I thought she was dead!”

“Then talk to her ghost if you see it.” She glared at Sean. “If she is dead, find out where her remains are. One of these ghosts knows what happened to her.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Sean turned to face the ghosts. They’d become distracted, milling about. The dark-haired girl sat on the rotten remains of a pew, clutching at the hem of her dress. Sean stepped toward her and knelt down to be as nonthreatening as possible. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Annabelle Rose. Do you know her?”

For a moment, the girl’s image wavered, and then she shook her head. Like the others, her eyes seemed wrong. Not at all like Debbie’s.

“What about Debra Arnot?”

Again, the girl shook her head.

Another figure appeared, a sandy-haired teenager in jeans, corduroy shirt, and a thick vest like a sleeveless coat. He spun around in a circle near one of Evelyn’s candles. “Hey, y’all, this is perfect!” he announced to an unseen audience. Evelyn glanced up and looked in his general direction, but unfocused, as if she struggled to see him.

“Check this place out!” the young man continued. “Richie, help me push these pews out of the way. We can set up sleeping bags over there.” He paused to listen to something Sean couldn’t hear, then answered, “What are ya afraid of, Ellen? Ghosts? This here’s a church; why would there be ghosts here?”

Sean stood to try and talk to the boy, when the girl caught his arm. Her touch lacked warmth, but it felt solid. “You’d better get going now, before he gets you!” she repeated, and then she was gone. Sean stared into the rotten wood, stripped of its varnish and protection by decades of neglect. Around him, the other figures darted away, becoming nothing but empty air at the sides of his vision. Only the kid in the jeans remained.

Sean glanced back at Evelyn. “Hey, Evelyn? Something’s happening.”

Evelyn released a loud breath, shaking her head. “It’s about time.”

Sean waved to the teenager’s ghost. “Hey, do you know Annabelle Rose?”

The young man shimmered and changed form. He now wore white long-johns. The boy looked confused, lost, peering into the darkness with his dull, violet-tinged eyes. “Hey, what’s going on? Who are you?” the teen asked.

“It’s okay. I just want to know if you know Annabelle Rose.”

The young man squinted, at neither Sean nor Evelyn. “What’s going on? Is this a joke? Guys?” He backed toward the wall. Sean followed the youth’s gaze, but saw only the empty ruins illuminated by the candles.

“No, you’re not real!” the teen protested. “This must be a dream. Go away!” He stopped at the wall, and stared into nothingness in horror. Then he started screaming, staring down at his stomach as the long-john top split in the center and the white fabric blossomed with a dark, blackish red stain.

The figure vanished, and the lack of even an echo of his scream was almost as disconcerting as the sound itself. Sean backed away. He turned toward the candles. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Evelyn, we’ve got to go. This is a bad place. Something really bad happened here.”

“Of course it is. That’s why we’re here.”

“What? Why?”

“Several murders and disappearances took place near here. Some people blamed the preacher, but he was also murdered. The slayings continued for years after his death.”

“I don’t think we’re safe here.”

“I’m safe. You aren’t. Not until you find out what happened to Annabelle.”

“What?”

She didn’t answer. Sean’s eyes darted around the empty space, alert for movement. For the moment, all was quiet, and Sean desperately wanted it to stay that way. As much as he wanted to find Debbie again, he couldn’t see how this helped. He didn’t understand what Evelyn expected to get from this, either. She had something in mind other than helping him test his abilities. This felt like an agenda.

“Welcome, brother,” a voice spoke behind him. Sean whirled around to face an unassuming, silver-haired man in a dark suit with a string tie. Except for his eyes, dull and dead-looking but for blazing violet sparks deep within the pupils, he seemed real and physical. Even Evelyn within her circle of candles took notice of this new presence.

“Uh, hello?”

“Folks ‘round here call me Preacher Thomas. You can call me that, or Brother Thomas, or just Avery. Call me anything but late for dinner.” He grinned wide. “I heard you had some questions you wanted answered.”

“I’m looking for Debra Arnot and Annabelle Rose. Do you know what happened to them?”

“Why seek you the living among the dead?”

“What?”

“Sorry, little Biblical joke there. Neither of them can be found among the dead, young man.”

“But Debbie died many years ago.”

“Did she? I never got the memo. I didn’t know her well. But Annabelle…” The preacher looked past him, off into space, and his lips twitched. “I would have known when that witch passed. She hasn’t.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“So you can tell that pretty lady hidden behind the circle of lights? I wish I did. I’d like to find her myself, and pay her back.”

“What do you mean?”

“She is responsible for my current condition. Oh, not directly. That’s what witches do, you know? They bewitch. Just as yours has bewitched you.”

“Evelyn? No, she hasn’t…”

“Hasn’t she? Are we here at your own bidding? Wake up, son. You are being used, as surely as that coal miner who shot me was being used by Annabelle. Funny thing is, both Annabelle and your friend there were being used as well, by the man in the white suit.”

“God?”

The man laughed. “Oh, that would be mighty funny. But no. He plays for the other side. Now your turn. Answer me this: What do you know of the other witches?”

“What others?”

“The ones descended from Annabelle. I smell them, even as far away as this.”

Sean hesitated. His immediate reaction was to tell Avery their names, in the interest of fair play. But Avery was dangerous. He knew that at a subconscious level. “They are just friends. I met them yesterday.”

“Do they know you are here?”

“No. Why would they?”

“That’s really too bad.”

“Why?”

“They won’t come looking for your body.” The preacher opened his hands, which blazed a dark violet to match his eyes. In his left hand, the glowing light coalesced into the form of a knife. “Death is what fertilizes this land, son. The man in the white suit knows that. That’s what you are. Fertilizer.”

Sean backed away. Avery Thomas casually walked toward him. “Come on, son. Might as well claim your heavenly mansion now.”

“Evelyn! Help!”

She didn’t respond. Avery laughed. “She don’t care if you live or die, son. Don’t matter anyway. I got your scent. I can find you anywhere. Go ahead and run. Maybe you can make it to the car. Maybe I’ll even let you run a few days, start to hope. But I’m a bloodhound.”

Sean bolted for the door. Avery already stood there, laughing. “Or maybe I won’t…” He took a couple of practice swings with the violet-tinged knife. “Fun thing about this place, boy. Every death leaves something behind for this place to feed on. You might say it’s my little piece of heaven.”

Sean cast his eyes around for something to use as a weapon. An unbroken beer bottle lay near one pew. He picked it up and threw it at the apparition. Avery laughed as the bottle passed harmlessly through him. He stopped laughing when black fire encircled him, flickering and leaping. Avery looked around in confusion, and then stared balefully at Evelyn as the ring contracted about him. “She ain’t saving you, boy,” he said. “When the full moon rises again, so will I, and you’ll be mine forever!” The ring enclosed him, and then both Avery and the darkness winked out of existence.

Evelyn licked her fingers and pinched out the flames of the candles one by one. “That was a waste of time.”

“He was going to kill me,” Sean said, panting.

She nodded. “Yeah, that’s what it looked like. I couldn’t hear him too well. Please tell me he said something useful.”

Sean stared, incredulous, as she calmly packed the candles and returned them to her bag. Without the candles, he couldn’t make out her expression or body language. He could only imagine Avery appearing at any moment, violet knife in hand. “Is he gone?”

“For a while, yes. Spirits aren’t hard to temporarily banish, but like a bad penny, they have a tendency to keep coming back. Now, what did Avery say to you?”

“He said Annabelle isn’t dead.”

Evelyn froze, and said nothing for a long moment. Finally, she spoke, her voice a forced monotone. “Where is she now?”

“He didn’t know. He said if he did, he’d pay her back for convincing a coal miner to shoot him.”

Evelyn handed him the bag and said, “Maybe this wasn’t a total waste, after all. Let’s go.”

In the car, driving too fast in the dark around the tight mountain turns back to Maple Bend, Sean asked, “Did you bring me here to find Avery Thomas?”

“The preacher? Yes. I suspected she’d been responsible for his death. I’d hoped he bore enough of a grudge into the afterlife to tell me where she’d been buried.”

Sean began shaking, but not in fear. “He killed that kid. As a ghost.”

“I thought so.”

“He was going to kill me!”

She laughed, shaking her dark hair. “No, I wouldn’t let that happen to you. You are still safe.”

“He said when the full moon rises, he’s coming after me again. He said he had my scent.”

“He brags. But don’t worry. I’ll protect you from him.”

“What if you aren’t around?”

Evelyn didn’t answer, eyes fixed on the road ahead as if in deep concentration. Then she began her high-pitched chuckle. Her wide grin sparkled in the dashboard lights. “Then if you don’t want him finding you and gutting you like a pig, you had best stay close to me and keep me happy, right?”

In Maple Bend, people were divided into two camps—the saints and the sinners. Jack avoided taking sides in that particular division. He didn’t see any value in it. His father had firmly ensconced himself among the sinners. Jack didn’t see that it led to any long-term happiness. His mother often pretended to be with the other group. She’d dress up for church every few Sundays and drag Jack along with her to get a monthly dose of preaching. Jack couldn’t tell if that group was particularly happy, either. As far as he was concerned, the jury was still out, and he needed to get a better look at the rest of the world before making his decision.

After the events of the last two days, Jack hedged his bets. The snallygaster killed Sam before either of them knew they were in danger. Jack should have been killed too, three times over in the last two days. Jack chalked it up to dumb luck rather than the Great Almighty that spared him, but he figured a bit of gratitude wouldn’t hurt. His mother wasn’t making any of the usual efforts to prepare for Sunday services, so Jack took the initiative and cleaned himself up and dressed in his Sunday best. That meant clean trousers instead of jeans, and a white button-up shirt. He had his father’s necktie, but he’d never learned how to tie it. As always, he wore his hat. When his mother saw him getting ready for church, she hastily did the same.

Preacher Harris, a widower in his early fifties with tight, curly gray hair and a bulbous nose, greeted them as they arrived. He smiled, shook their hands, and addressed them by their names. They sat in their usual pew. They occupied it so rarely that Jack wondered who else considered it their ‘usual’ pew. Did they resent it when Jack and his mother showed up and forced them to relocate? Or was it normally vacant?

People filed in. By the time the sermon started, more people filled the tiny chapel than at any time in Jack’s memory. The collection plate had to be emptied before it finished its rounds. People were scared. Maybe they thought God ran a protection racket and would save the biggest donors. Maybe their fear simply reminded them to be more generous. Maybe getting words of comfort from Preacher Harris was worth a bigger fee today. It didn’t matter.

Jack was just relieved to be rid of the snallygaster, that Sam had been avenged, and that he and his companions had survived. The terror had come slowly to Jack, after he’d returned home and had the privacy of his own room to ponder just how close their brushes—plural—with death had been. He faced them anew in his nightmares through morning. A dose of religion to go with the dawn seemed like an appropriate antidote to the night’s dread.

His attention returned to the preacher’s sermon, now firing up into its midpoint. Harris had started with words of comfort and escalated to real fire-and-brimstone stuff, with actual pulpit-thumping when he paced past the pulpit long enough to emphasize his points.

“Now some of you may seek other means of protection from the terrible whims of nature. Now I agree, prudence is a gift of God to all of us which we should exercise. By all means, be careful, and be safe. But some of you might be deceived into seeking supernatural means for protection. I wanted to share some words from the good book about such efforts. In Leviticus it is written that the soul that turns after such as have familiar spirits, and after wizards, that God will set His face against that soul, and will cut him off! Regard them not who have these familiar spirits and these wizards, or you’ll be defiled by them! Saul was rejected as king, and died for the sin of consulting with soothsayers and witches!”

It took Jack a few moments to parse the preacher’s words. Sure, wizards and witches and that sort of thing could be dangerous. But almost everyone in the congregation had to know that Harris was talking about Hattie. Hattie had nearly died last night trying to protect people. Wasn’t it witchcraft that had held off the snallygaster so Jack could get a killing shot?

“For they are deceivers! If you have been led away by such deceptions, fear not! You must confess and repent, and sin no more. Even those who have engaged in such practices themselves are not without hope. They need to turn away, and turn to the Lord, and all can be forgiven.”

Righteous or not, fury propelled Jack out of his seat. He wouldn’t tolerate the preacher, or anybody else, telling lies about his friends. Preacher Harris looked at him expectantly, as if he anticipated Jack’s public confession. For a moment, Jack debated yelling right back at the preacher, and telling the town what they’d fought in the forest, and how they’d fought it.

That hadn’t gone so well the last time. Some people probably still thought of him as “Lyin’ Jack.” He decided it wouldn’t do any good this time, either.

He and Preacher Harris stared at each other for a second that seemed to last for weeks. In that moment, Jack recognized the fear in the man’s eyes. It was the same fearful reverence that drove the congregation to fill the collection plate. This was the preacher’s offering, the best way he knew how. In that moment, Jack’s fury abated. He felt pity for the man.

But that didn’t mean Jack had to go on listening to him. Jack stepped out from the pew. His mother stared at him in wide-eyed horror, suppressing cries for him to stop into a strangled series of shushing noises. Jack hoped God wouldn’t be too offended as he made his way to the exit at the back of the church. He didn’t notice the startled stares he received as he strode out.

He had important things to do. He didn’t know what they were, exactly, but he knew they’d be the right things.

* * *

Jack hadn’t climbed trees in years. He wasn’t sure when he’d stopped. Somewhere around puberty, he guessed. As a child, nobody could keep him out of the branches, the higher and more dangerous, the better. He grew older and his interests changed. Or maybe he just didn’t want the vantage point to see how far he had to go to get away from this place.

After leaving the church, he found himself climbing a tree, out above everyone’s business and away from the people who lied and accused of lies. Somewhere over twenty feet in the air, he found a comfortable perch. To the nearly-adult Jack it didn’t seem very high, but a younger Jack would have thought he was near the clouds. From here, he could see the church and many of the homes in Maple Bend. The bell ending the service rang and people started to exit the church. He wondered what they thought of his performance. He told himself he didn’t care what they thought, just as he didn’t care that they still thought of him as a liar.

The sound of someone approaching startled him. Considering what he’d seen the last few days, he didn’t feel too embarrassed about it, but he reached out to stabilize himself as he looked down.

Jessabelle cupped her hand over her eyes and looked up. “Got room for another up there?” she asked. Jack nodded, and she ascended with far more grace than he had. She found a branch opposite him, two feet lower.

When she found her balance, Jessabelle said, “That’s a lot easier as a cat. At least climbing up.”

“Cat? You mean like a house cat?”She nodded, and he caught the hint of a blush in her cheeks as she looked away, looking out toward the few rooftops visible through the trees. “I’m a cat almost as much as I’m a girl. It’s weird. Only Hattie knew about me until yesterday. It feels strange not to have to hide that all the time.”

“Not in front of Jenny ‘n me, at least. Doesn’t your mama know?”

She shook her head vehemently. “She knows about the witches in the Rose family, and says she’s so glad I didn’t turn out like them. I don’t know what she’d do if she found out.”

Jack nodded. He knew. His mother still turned a little red whenever he mentioned the giant. When he was younger, she threatened to beat the lie out of him. She never carried out that threat. His father would have.

Jessabelle looked at him again. “The snallygaster is gone. I went up there this morning. There was plenty of blood and busted-up plants, but nothing left of its body.”

“Must have been the ogre. Or a giant. Don’t know what else could have taken it.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. I wish we had proof. We should have taken pictures last night. I was scared and pushing for everyone to leave, and I should have thought.”

Jack shrugged. “Pictures are easy to fake. It’s okay. After the giant, all I wanted was to prove to everyone that I told the truth. Now, I don’t know what things would be like if everyone believed me. People would get all worked up, so maybe it’s for the best.”

She nodded. “People can be stupid, especially when they get scared. Sometimes I think about showing people what I can do. It might could amaze some people. But others wouldn’t handle it well. I reckon I’d be locked up in some government testing place before the day was done.”

He nodded. She was right, much as he’d wish otherwise. He looked to his left, at the forested mountains surrounding the town. He’d seen pictures of the Rockies and they looked far more impressive. He wanted to see them. Someday. “I always wanted to leave this place. I would, if I could convince my ma to go. She needs me, and she ain’t leaving. So I guess I won’t ever go very far.”

“I lived in Georgia for a while,” Jessabelle said. “When I was little. Near Savannah, I think. I don’t remember much of it.”

“Why did you move back?”

“My dad was in the military. He died overseas, so my mom came back here to be with kin. Grandma Annabelle and Aunt Hattie were here to help us, and the Kings sold her the house cheap.”

“Did you like it in Savannah?”

“I think the place we lived was called Liberty or something like that. It was warmer in the wintertime, and not as hilly. Lots more people than around here, but that’s true just about everywhere.”

“Monsters might outnumber people at this rate.” Jack stared into the wadded blanket of green that marked his horizons. “Where are they coming from? The monsters?”

Jessabelle frowned. “Am I a monster? If so, I was born here. Maybe the monsters were born here too.”

“You think you’re a monster just ‘cause you can turn into a cat? That’s dumb. You’re just like Hattie or Jenny or the some of the rest of your family—y’all got some abilities.”

“You calling me dumb?” She scrunched her mouth to the side. Not quite teasing, but not totally serious either.

“If you think you’re a monster, then yeah. I’m saying that’s dumb.”

“Not sure how I feel ‘bout that, Jack.”

Jack shrugged. He wasn’t going to rise to that bait any longer. “That’s all beside the point. Where did that ogre go? And that giant I saw years ago? This is a lot of land, but how long can they hide? The snallygaster had to come from somewhere. Maybe some mad scientist has a lab in the mountains somewhere where he makes these things.”

Jessabelle broke a leaf off of the branch she sat on and twirled it by the stem. “My mom and me got back here before Grandma Annie disappeared. She used to talk about going ‘round the bend.’ Ma said that meant going crazy. I always thought it was a real place. Grandma would say, ‘one day I’m gonna go ‘round the bend!’ and I’d think, I wanna go, too!”

Jack snorted. “That’s funny. But there you go changing the subject again!”

“I ain’t though! Now you’re the one being dumb. Will you listen for a second?”

Jack leaned against the trunk for stability and folded his arms. “Okay, I’m listening. Your grandma talked about going crazy before she died.”

Jessabelle made an exaggerated sigh. “First off, they never found her body. She disappeared. Nobody knows for sure that she died. And second, what if she was talking about a real place? What if going ‘round the bend is going someplace that sounds crazy, not going crazy? And what if it goes both directions? The ogre and the snallygaster came from ‘Round the Bend?”

Jack dropped his arms, grabbing his branch with one hand. “That’s kind of crazy-sounding, you know? Around-the-bend-sounding?”

Jessabelle stuck out her chin. “You got a better idea for where monsters are coming from? Is there anything that doesn’t sound crazy?”

“I’m not saying it’s wrong. I’m just saying it sounds crazy.” He chewed on the idea in his head for a moment. “So you reckon there’s just a place in our woods where folks go ‘round the bend and back? Maybe on accident, and maybe on purpose. Kinda like a door or something.”

“Maybe. Maybe that’s where grandma went off to. And maybe that’s why these critters ain’t stompin’ through Branton or something on their way here.”

Jack scrambled down out of the tree so fast that his John Deer hat fell of his head, landing beside him. Jessabelle followed, no less swiftly, but with far more grace. “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked as her feet touched the ground.

Jack replaced his hat. “I want to go find it.”

“A minute ago you said it was crazy.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Now you’re the crazy one. We nearly got killed yesterday. Now you want to rush straight out there and find yourself a mess of trouble!”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Right now?”

“You know, I ought to change into my jeans first. I shouldn’t have been climbing a tree in my Sunday clothes.”

She walked beside him in silence. As they neared the trailer where he and his mother lived, she finally spoke. “Hey, I’m gonna get a couple of things. Don’t leave without me, okay?”

“I thought you said this was crazy.”

“Yeah. It is. Crazy and stupid.”

“So why do you want to come with me?”

“Because someone’s got to tell your mom where to find your body. Just promise you won’t leave without me, okay?”

“Okay. Just don’t take too long.”

Getting home was easier than leaving. Jack’s mother wasn’t about to let him go before she gave him an earful about walking out in the middle of church service. He felt like a little child again, caught misbehaving.

“And what about me? If you were just gonna walk out in the middle of everything, why did you bring me along? To humiliate me in front of our neighbors? And the preacher? What’s he going to think?”

“He can think whatever he wants. It wasn’t like I planned it.”

“Now everybody’s talking about us. My son’s a heathen, that’s what they are sayin’. And where did you go off to when you left the church, huh? Did you go off drinking with those friends of yours? Let me smell your breath.”

“Momma, I did no such thing. I just needed to think.”

“You should have done your thinking after the preacher was done!”

“I wasn’t going to sit there and listen to him bad-mouth Miss Rose and Jenny like that!”

His mother’s eyes gleamed like she’d just spotted prey. “Ah-hah! That’s it! You are sweet on that girl! She’s the one leading you astray, just like the preacher warned us about! Is she the one talked you into leaving in the middle of church? Is she the one poisoning your soul? You know, our troubles didn’t start ‘round here until she showed up!”

“Mama, your troubles started a long time ago.”

She went for the jugular. “My troubles started when I had you!”

He stiffened. The sudden silence in the trailer was only broken by the oscillating whine of the poorly-functioning air conditioning unit in the window.

His mother’s mouth dropped open. She clawed at the air with her meaty hands, as if trying to grab her words and stuff them back into her mouth. “Oh, my sweet baby, I didn’t mean that. I would never mean that. I was just so mad, I wasn’t thinking.”

Jack turned around and walked back out the door.

“Please don’t go!” his mother cried. “Jack, please come back. I didn’t mean it!”

He ignored her and kept walking into the sweltering heat. He almost made it out of the cluster of homes that passed for a neighborhood when he remembered his promise to Jessabelle. He stood motionless while he debated what to do. He didn’t want to get any closer to his mother. He didn’t want her to see him coming back and get false hopes. But he’d made a promise to Jessabelle. Lyin’ Jack kept his promises. He turned and made his way toward her house. Before he got there, he ran into Mason and Alan coming his way. Alan still wore his Sunday best.

On spotting Jack, Mason couldn’t conceal his grin even as he tried to act angry. “Why’d you run out on the preacher, Jack? What kinda sinning have you done lately?”

Jack clenched his fists at his sides and kept walking. “Funny, I don’t recall seein’ you there, Mason.”

“Maybe ‘cause I ain’t no lying hypocrite like you.”

Jack ignored them and started to push past, but Mason jumped in front of him while Alan grabbed his arm. Mason shoved his face close enough that Jack could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Did you run out on Sam when he died, Jack? Just left him to die while you hid like a little chicken-shit?”

Alan added, “Was that why you couldn’t sit through the sermon this morning? Too guilty from letting Sam die?”

Jack had no interest in whatever Alan and Mason were talking about. He’d spent months defending himself and trying to set the record straight about the giant. He learned at that young age that when the rumors were juicy enough, there was no sense in trying to correct them.

“Step away, Mason.” Jack felt his voice quivering. He wasn’t sure how much of it was rage, and how much was fear.

“Or what?”

Jack pushed forward, but Mason didn’t move and Alan’s grip didn’t lessen. Mason took the movement as provocation to throw a punch. It connected just to the left of Jack’s nose.

Jack countered with an elbow into Alan’s ribs, breaking free of Alan’s grasp so he could properly defend himself. Then both young men were on him, punches flying as they battered him. Jack gave as good as he got, but with two against one, he faced losing odds from the get-go.

In seconds, he found himself face-down on the dirt road, inhaling dust as Alan and Mason took turns kicking him. Jack curled into the fetal position, trying to protect his most vital areas. Through his bruised arms, Jack spared a look across the weed-covered field at one of the houses. Jessabelle crouched in the grass behind a rusty truck. She shrank as she watched him, dissolving into a black house-cat while nobody but Jack was looking. Jack closed his eyes as the blows slammed into him.

* * *

An older voice, of one of the neighbors, rose up. “Stop that! What do you think you are doing?”

The kicks stopped. “He started it!” Alan said. “We asked him why he ran out in the middle of church, and he just attacked us. We were defending ourselves!”

“I think you boys done enough defending. Y’all go home or something, okay?”

Mason and Alan backed away. “Careful, Walter. I think he’s just gone nuts. He may just be playin’ possum there.”

“Dammit, I hope so,” the voice said, moving closer still.

Walter lowered his cane and bent down to examine Jack as the other two fled. Walter was in his early fifties, wearing his usual uniform of overalls and a t-shirt that fit all but thirty pounds of him. He spoke slowly, half as fast as most people felt comfortable with. But anyone who assumed it reflected lower intelligence would be setting themselves up for an embarrassing surprise.

“I don’t know if you threw the first punch or not, Jack, but you sure got the worst of it.”

“They started it,” Jack said. It came out much more of a swollen mumble than he’d expected.

“They pretty much finished it, too. Okay. I think you’re gonna have to go to the hospital. Can your momma take you?”

“Hattie,” Jack croaked and coughed. “Call her.”

“Hattie Rose? What, you want her to cook up some herbs for you? Look, kid, she’s good and all, but you still ought to see a doctor.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get a ride. Could you have her check on Jessabelle, too? I was supposed to meet her.”

Walter took him into the house and dialed Hattie. Jack sat on a stool and grew progressively more irritated as the pain throbbed through his whole body. Yesterday, he had slain a dragon. Maybe not a real dragon, but as close to one as anyone was likely to find. He had fought an ogre. But today, he’d had his clock cleaned by a couple of local bullies. How did that happen?

He answered his own question, which didn’t make him feel better. Yesterday he’d been with a group of people with special abilities. His sole contribution was knowing how to use his old man’s shotgun. And the ogre had pretty much handed them their butts. It was luck they escaped with their lives, and more luck that granted them victory against the snallygaster.

Walter came back into the room. “Hattie says she’s on her way. Can I get you something to drink? Water?”

Jack shook his head. Slowly.

“Okay.” Walter opened a drawer in the kitchen, and pulled out a badly stained, threadbare towel. He cracked open a tray of ice-cubes from the freezer, and dumped them into the towel. He rolled it up into a pouch and handed it to Jack. “Your left eye is swelling pretty good. So’s your lip. You ought to keep this on ‘em.”

Jack mumbled thanks and accepted the towel.

“You can return that towel whenever,” Walter said. “Or not. It might look it, but it ain’t exactly a family heirloom.”

Jack smiled, but it hurt. He was spared further attempts at conversation by the sound of Hattie’s truck pulling up outside. Jack stood up, and nodded gingerly at Walter. “Thanks for the rescue,” he said.

“No problem,” Walter responded. “We can all use a rescue every once in a while. I figure this whole town’s gonna need one soon, so we might as well get started.”

“Nope, not the berry,” Hattie said, correcting Jenny as she tried to imitate Hattie’s healing potion. “Not unless you want the juice to work overtime curing its own poison. Remember, the doll’s-eyes are poison, but the root is perfect for healing juice, especially if you want to make one to cure problems in the gut.”

Jenny didn’t want to make one at all. But her aunt was pleased to teach her some of her skills, so Jenny played along. Besides, she owed Hattie big-time for coming to their rescue after the ogre. Not that she had any doubt Hattie would do it again, but it didn’t hurt to show some gratitude. It was something they could do together, and the closest thing to domestic peace Jenny had enjoyed since before her parent’s accident.

Her resulting concoction, so far, smelled like wet, pungent weeds. She cut some bit of the root off of the doll’s-eye plant and chopped it into tiny chunks. Looking at Hattie again for approval, she dumped the bits into the teapot.

“That ought to do,” Hattie said. “Now, I just boil it a bit, and put it in the jar, chunks and all. I find it keeps its potency longer that way, and it doesn’t really hurt the shelf-life much if you keep it refrigerated.”

“Why don’t you use the same herbs every time, like a recipe?”

“I could, but this is magic, not a cookbook. You can make this out of whatever is available when you need it, but some things just work better.”

“If it doesn’t matter what you put into it, why use anything at all?”

“Because neutral objects don’t hold onto magic very well at all, so anytime you want to put magic into something, you want it to be sympathetic to whatever you are doing. The other reason is that spells work best when they work with natural properties of the environment, instead of against them. The juice has natural healing properties, so the spell works well with that. Those of us with just a trickle of power need all the help we can get.”

If she didn’t have the proof in her own shoulder, Jenny wouldn’t believe it. While it still ached, Hattie said the stab wound had almost completely healed and probably wouldn’t scar. It didn’t even need a bandage now.

Hattie poured distilled water into the teapot, and they boiled it over the stove for a minute. After letting it cool, Jenny poured the resulting concoction into a Mason jar. It didn’t look like much. It was yellowish and still stank like weeds and grass.

Hattie pulled a bottle from a cabinet. “And now the special ingredient,” she said. “A bit of alcohol. I prefer vodka. Not much. I just use it as a preservative.”

“That explains why it burned a little on the way down.”

“Yep. You’ll have to develop your own way of doing it.”

No, Jenny decided. She wouldn’t. She’d happily help her aunt as long as necessary, but this was never going to be her thing. When the monsters were gone and things had returned to normal, she’d be more than happy to forget all of this.

Although, it wasn’t just monsters that hurt people. She’d felt lucky Hattie’s juice had been on-hand when Hattie had been knocked unconscious. Could this be something she could do and keep secret from the world forever? If she’d been there with a jar of Hattie’s juice when her parents’ car crashed, could she have saved them?

She shuddered and banished the regretful thought. She nearly dropped the Mason jar she cradled in an oven mitt.

“Careful, it’s still hot,” Hattie said.

Jenny nodded, making sure the jar was securely on top of the hot pad on the table. “So is that it?”

“Oh, no. Right now it’s just a really nasty-tasting soup. You need to infuse it with magic.”

“How do I do that?”

“The same way you healed me on Friday, with that song.”

“I didn’t even sing it right the first time.”

Hattie gave her a look that would have been at home on Yoda’s face. “I wrote down the words for you this time. It’s the same idea as the herbs, though. The actual words don’t have the power; it’s the emotion and thoughts they invoke, and the story behind them. It helps a little if they have the weight of tradition, though.”

Jenny looked at the jar and began reciting the poem, but Hattie stopped her. “No. That’s not what you did in the woods.”

Jenny shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You weren’t casting a spell just then. You were just reading words.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hattie sighed. After a few moments, she said, “Do what you did in the woods. Don’t think of this as a jar of juice. Think about what it represents. This is me, lying unconscious because that monster nearly broke my neck and cracked my head open. This is you, in pain on my mama’s couch. Maybe it’s your cousin, or Jack, or that boy who took off his shirt, all hurt or sick from something nasty, and they desperately need relief. They need you. They are hurting, Jenny. You can help them. Now recite it.”

Jenny began to feel what she felt on the mountainside, seeing Hattie hurt and helpless, and read the words, focusing on the jar. To her astonishment, it began glowing, a white-blue of electricity or the bottom of a gas flame. She didn’t stop until she read the last line, “Sickness shall no more aggrieve you.”

She looked at Hattie. “What happened to it?”

Hattie’s eyes were wide. “It worked. It worked as well as anytime mama made it, as far as I can tell. When you have it memorized and can sing it from your heart, maybe you’ll even exceed her.”

Jenny told herself it didn’t matter, but she couldn’t help feeling a thrill of excitement. “Why did it turn blue?”

“Blue? I don’t know what…oh! That must be how you are seeing it. That’s the Sight again, Jenny. Like seeing the ghost in the church, you are seeing the magic take hold of the juice. I sense it, but I’m not as attuned. It’s more of a tingle for me, like the static on clothes coming out of the drier. I can sometimes see a glow for really strong magic, like the kind your mom could do.”

“But you can see the woman in the church just fine.”

Hattie nodded, and screwed the lid onto the jar. “Yeah, I can see ghosts just fine. Magic, not so much. For some, it’s the other way around. And some people—usually the most powerful witches—are really well attuned, and can see or hear even a small amount of magic at a distance, or smell it and track it like a bloodhound. I don’t know, but I suspect that’s why your mama avoided using it.”

The phone rang. Hattie got up to answer it. Jenny stared at the Mason jar. It still glowed, not as brightly as a luminescent light-stick, but visible even in the daylight streaming through the windows. She touched the glass of the jar, and she felt that static-electricity tingle along her hand. How was any of this even possible? She didn’t want this ability.

“How serious is it?” Hattie asked, catching Jenny’s attention. She waited. After a few moments, Hattie said, “We’ll be right there,” and then hung up the phone.

“What’s going on?” Jenny asked.

“Grab the juice, Jenny. We’re going to need to test it out sooner than I imagined.”

Sean hadn’t trusted setting the alarm on his phone for fear it would wake up Evelyn. He awakened several times during the night, rolling over and waiting for a better moment to make a run for it.

But to where? His best bet was to leave town, although as soon as Evelyn awoke she would be able to find him hiking along the road. Going completely away from the roads he would risk getting lost again and getting nowhere fast. She said she was good at finding people. How hard would she search for him?

And of course, leaving meant abandoning his quest to find Debbie. Or maybe not. Perhaps he could find her on the anniversary of their other two meetings, at the university.

But before any of that, he had to find someone else who could help him against Avery. Unless the ghost was bluffing, it could find him anywhere he ran. Sooner or later, it would catch him, and it would kill him with that freaky purple knife. Sean had about two weeks to find a solution.

Maybe he’d try Hattie’s first. She had no reason to help him, but they had fought the snallygaster together. Well, okay, Sean had watched while others fought the snallygaster, but he’d been there. Maybe that was enough to earn some small measure of compassion.

He silently put his clothes on, but not his shoes. He tiptoed down the hall in his socks, toward the front door. He reached out to grasp the doorknob, but then stopped. Something was wrong. Barely visible in the dim of the pre-dawn light, a faint blue glow surrounding the doorknob.

He peered at it more closely. The glow emanated from a tiny circle of woven leaves and stems tied around the spindle where it met the door. He had no idea what the charm was supposed to do, and didn’t want to find out. He had to find a back door.

“It won’t hurt you,” Evelyn’s voice came from the living room. Sean whirled. The room had been empty a moment ago. From the couch, she reached up with a lazy motion and switched the lamp on.

How he’d missed seeing her, even in the dark, he didn’t know. She’d caught him sneaking out, and there was no point in playing stupid. “What is it?”

She stretched on the couch. “An alarm. Its real purpose was to see if you’d notice it. It looks like you can see magic as well as ghosts.”

“And since I can?”

“A well-developed Sight is a marker for a potential witch. You may be special. There are not many males in our profession.”

“What? Come on, I’m no witch.”

“Have you tried?”

It was a stupid question. Sean raised his hand, hovering over the doorknob. Had she lied about it? Was it dangerous?

“I could compel you to stay, you know,” she said.

He let his hand drop, and glared at her. “That’s what it sounded like you were doing last night.”

She matched him glare for glare. “I told you I’d fix the problem. And I promised to help you with yours. All this after I saved your life. I would expect some level of gratitude and an appreciation of my power!”

Sean clenched his fists. She was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. In a flat monotone, he said, “Okay. Thank you for not letting the ogre eat me. That was kind of you. You have amazing powers.”

She rolled her eyes. “I suppose that is the best I’m going to get from you for now. I was your age not that long ago, and I remember how it was. Look, I’m trying to sweeten the pot for you. You have potential. I’d like to help you realize it.”

“You aren’t going to teach me to ride a broomstick, are you?”

She was silent for a moment, and then cracked a smile. “No. You wouldn’t like it. It’s very uncomfortable.”

Sean snorted. “Okay. Why?”

“Why do I want to teach you? Because things are about to change around here, and when it does I’m going to be an extremely busy woman. I’ll need help, and I’d rather it be someone I choose and can rely on.”

He’d heard it before. His father repeated things like this, and Sean knew the code. What dear old dad really wanted was to keep Sean under his thumb, Evelyn wasn’t different. Instead of access to his trust fund, Evelyn wanted access to whatever power she thought he had.

Maybe it was a fair trade, if she really could teach him. He didn’t want to lead a life of stopping monsters in their tracks or banishing vengeful ghosts, but maybe life had other plans for him. Those kinds of abilities could have other applications.

Someone with those kinds of abilities could have saved Debbie.

“What changes?”

“Sorry?”

“You said there’d be changes. What kind of changes?”

She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the mountainside where they’d encountered the ogre. “Where do you think those monsters came from, Sean?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’re going to find out. And we’re going to make sure that no more monsters are going to stumble into town and start killing people.”

“We?”

“You and me.”

Obviously, she wasn’t telling him everything. What she had said so far sounded good. Probably too good. She had an angle, and he’d never forget how she’d treated him at the church ruins. However, until Avery was banished forever, and Sean had found Debbie, he might as well play along.

“Okay, let’s say that, in theory, I agreed to help you. What would I have to do?”

“Long-term? You’d be my right-hand man.”

“Short-term? Like, today?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m on a tight deadline, so for the next three days, just don’t go too far. Or get yourself killed. Maybe I’ll have you run errands for me.”

“What happens in three days?”

“That’s my deadline. My boss shows up Tuesday evening. He’ll either be really happy with me, or really pissed off. I think things would go better for both of us if he’s happy. Keep your ears open.”

“For what?”

“Mainly, for anything you might hear about Annabelle Rose.”

Hattie stopped the truck near a mobile home that looked like it had sturdy, but not-quite-code, extensions added to it. She turned to Jenny. “Hand me the juice. I’ll be a few minutes while we decide if we need to take Jack to the hospital or not. You find Jessabelle. I’m worried about her.”

“Why? Did they attack her too?”

“Not that I know. But, Jack wanted me to check up on her. I’d bet my garden that if Mason was involved, she’s freaking out.”

“Do they have a history?”

“Mason’s got a history. He was always an equal opportunity bully even before his teens, but he took a darker turn later. He scared the crap out of Jessabelle. If George had still been alive…well, he wouldn’t have tolerated any of that.”

Jenny nodded. “I’ll find her.”

Hattie offered a supportive smile. “You remember where we dropped her off? It’s the place with red paneling up yonder. If I’m not done by the time you fetch her, bring her on over to Walter’s.”

They split up. Jenny made her way toward her cousin’s home, and knocked on the door. No one answered, but Jessabelle appeared from around the corner of the house. Her wan face lacked expression, and bits of weeds and dirt covered her loose clothes. Her hair and skin were immaculate. With a flat voice, she said, “My mama went down to Branton after church. Oh, and Jack got beaten up.”

“We know. Aunt Hattie’s here to take care of him. I’m looking for you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, they left me alone, never even saw me.” Emotion began to return to her eyes. “Mason and Alan are bad news. Really bad news, Jenny. After fighting Jack they went back to Mason’s and grabbed some beers. They’ll be worse now.”

“You could call the cops.”

“Cops don’t like to come up here.”

“So?”

“So what will they do? Them two will claim Jack started it. They’ll all get yelled at. And then they’ll be full of more spite than ever.”

“You want to come back to our place? If your mom isn’t home, maybe it would be best.”

Jessabelle nodded. The two of them followed the dirt road down to Walter’s, just in time to see two young men hovering near Hattie’s truck. “That’s them!” Jessabelle said. Jenny saw the biggest of the two unfolding a blade. She ran toward them.

The one with the knife had already squatted down near Hattie’s front tire when Jenny got close. His companion slapped him on the shoulder, and he stood and turned to face her. She slowed, only then realizing that she’d once again disappointed her mother and raced headlong into trouble. The young man didn’t bother putting away the knife, or taking the cigarette out of his mouth before he said, “What have we here?”

Jenny was at a loss for words, staring at the knife. The smaller of the two said, “Hey Mason, I think she’s that new girl who lives with Hattie Rose.”

Mason smiled, looking up. “Oh, and here comes little Jess. Things just got interesting.” At this angle, Jenny saw the bruising around his eye and the swelling around his lip. At least Jack had given as well as taken.

Jenny forced her breathing to be deep and regular, as she’d been taught in her martial arts classes. Mason’s size was a problem even without the knife. She’d drilled hundreds of times against other students with rubber knives, some even larger than Mason, but it was another thing to be in a real confrontation. This could turn ugly fast. She didn’t want to start singing and acting aggressive just yet. “Please don’t do it,” she said simply.

The other man, Alan, glanced guiltily at the tires of the car. Mason shrugged. “Do what?” he said, grinning around the cigarette.

Jenny said nothing. Mason pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it at her. It landed several feet short. “You should have been in church, little girl. Preacher had all kinds of things to say about witches like Hattie. You ought to think about going back home.”

“This is my home, and I’m not going anywhere.” She couldn’t control the quaver in her voice, but the sentence gave her a tiny bit more confidence. “Hattie is my aunt. Please leave her truck alone.”

Mason grinned, and looked sideways at Alan. Alan offered a feeble smile in response. He stared at Jenny. “Or what?”

“If you know she’s a witch, you ought to know it’s probably not very smart to anger her.”

“What’s she going to do about it? Turn me into a frog?”

“Don’t be stupid. But someday, probably soon the way things have been, you may need her help. Do you really want to be the guy who slashed her tires?”

The smile on Mason’s face faded by a few degrees, but he recovered. “I ain’t never gonna need help from any witch. But maybe you will.” He advanced, casually holding the knife at his side.

He started the aggression. Jenny didn’t want to escalate it or back down now, but her heart raced. This could not, should not, be happening. A few days ago, she would have turned and fled, or at least she’d never have tried to stop him. She glanced down at the knife. “What you are doing right now could get you a year in prison.”

He raised the knife, twisting it casually in the air. “You mean this? Does this make you nervous?”

“Yes, it does. Using it in an attack will get you two to five years, automatically.”

He sneered and folded the knife closed, sliding it back into his pocket. “Who’s attacking? We’re just talking, ain’t we? Just havin’ a little conversation.” He took two more steps forward. She caught the whiff of cheap beer, and raised her hands in a defensive stance. He looked her up and down and said, “What is that, kung-fu? You a kung-fu ninja, little girl?”

Jenny said nothing, staring at him, hoping her muscle memory would work. She found her mother’s prayer in her head once more. Though the effects were subtle without her singing out loud, she felt some safety. She got in a fight with an ogre and a snallygaster this week, for crying out loud! She could deal with some hick douchebags.

She stared directly into his eyes, calm in her stance, thinking of all of the drills she’d gone through in her classes. Even if she lost, Mason would not come out of this unscathed.

Alan shook his head. “Hey, Mason, we’re wasting our time here.”

Mason sneered at Jenny again. “Alright. You’re right. We ain’t got time for this shit. We were just talking, anyway.” He took a couple of steps backwards, his eyes watching her a bit too warily for a casual departure, and they left.

Jessabelle drew close. When the boys were out of sight and earshot, Jenny slumped against the truck. Her hands began shaking. “Look at me,” she muttered. “I’m a mess. I don’t think I shook so hard after the snallygaster. I’m such a scaredy-cat.”

“Are you pullin’ my leg?” Jessabelle asked. “That was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen! You just went and faced down Mason, like it was nothing! I don’t remember seeing him back down like that before.”

“I probably made an enemy for life. That wasn’t smart.” Jenny looked over at the truck tire and said, “At least I saved the tires. Does that make me a hero?”

Jack rolled his arm, feeling how much it had healed since this afternoon. He accidentally bumped Hattie’s tiny dining table where they were all gathered, causing Jenny’s precariously-balanced fork to bounce off her plate and onto the floor.

“Hey, I wasn’t done using that!” she teased as she recovered it. Jack felt his face flush.

Jessabelle grinned at Jenny. “I ain’t seen you eat a bite in the last five minutes. I think you were done.”The air conditioner whined as it failed to keep up with the evening heat, four people, and the oven. In spite of the higher-than-comfortable temperature, the smell of roasted chicken and freshly cooked vegetables filled the air. Everyone seemed playful after the day’s trauma.

Jack felt more at home than he did in his own house. He made more subtle motions as he flexed his shoulder. “My arm’s feeling better now. That healing juice worked great.”

Hattie nodded. “I don’t see any more swelling around your eye. I guess we can call Jenny’s first healing juice a success.” She passed a serving plate to him. “More chicken, Jack?”

He hesitated, but his hunger won out. The healing juice may have done amazing work, but he was starving. Was that a side-effect?

Hattie continued. “You kids got plans for tomorrow?”

Jack and Jessabelle glanced at each other briefly. Jessabelle said nothing. Jack devoured his chicken with gusto.

Jenny shrugged.

Hattie focused on Jack. She knew his weakness. “Planning anything?”

He didn’t feel like evading. “Jessabelle and I were talking about trying to find out where them monsters are coming from. And maybe where that ogre is hidden.”

Jessabelle scowled. Hattie’s face was a blank mask. Jenny stared at him with wide eyes.

Jack shrugged, and devoted his attention to the remaining chicken to avoid eye contact. Hattie turned her gaze to Jessabelle. “I would have thought you’d have learned your lesson by now. We’re all lucky to be alive. How much luck do you think you got?”

Jessabelle started to say something, but then deflated, staring into her lap. Jack said, “We ain’t planning on fighting anything.”

“And what good would that do?”

Jenny jumped in to the rescue. “It would be good to know what’s going on, wouldn’t it? Give us a chance to prepare?”

“And what if you find that ogre, or another one? Or something worse? How will you keep it from tearing you all to pieces?” Nobody answered. Hattie continued. “Look, you can’t go on taking stupid chances. I’m trying to keep everyone in this community safe, but especially you three. That healing juice only helps so much. It sure won’t bring you back from the dead.”

Jenny broke the awkward silence a half-minute later. “Maybe Sean knows where the ogre is.”

Jessabelle shrugged. “You know a way to force him to talk?”

Jenny cocked her head to the side. “I was sort of thinking about just asking him.”

“Can you trust him? He’s working with that witch!”

“So? Hattie’s also a witch. That doesn’t mean she’s an enemy.”

Hattie cleared her throat. “Jessabelle may have a point. I like the boy, Jenny, but we ought to be cautious.”

“Why? Do you know something about that woman?”

“No. But we’ll discuss it later.”

“Why not now?”

Hattie glanced over at Jack, and then back to Jenny. “Because it may not be an easy discussion.”

Jenny shared the glance, but only hesitated a moment. “Then maybe it’s better if we talk about it now with people we trust.”

Everybody looked at Jack. He answered slowly. “I ain’t family like the rest of y’all. I ain’t too smart. But I’ll keep your secrets.”

Jenny nodded soberly, and turned to Hattie. Hattie sighed and rolled her eyes. “If you say so, hon. Witches…really powerful ones, not like me…don’t often manage to remain free. Your grandma and her mother were exceptions.”

Jack asked, “Free of what?”

“The man in the white suit,” Jessabelle blurted out.

Jenny stared at Jessabelle, then looked back at Hattie. “Who?”

Hattie took a deep breath and folded her hands together on the edge of the table. “He always wears white suits in public. He acts like a poor traveling salesman, but he’s one of the richest and most powerful men in America. From what my mama and grandma said, I think of him like the mafia boss of witches. The most powerful witches in America, at least on the East Coast, belong to the coven he controls.”

“But not you,” Jenny said.

“I’m just a granny-witch. I wouldn’t even be on his radar except for our family. He’s taken a special interest in us, and in Maple Bend, for generations.”

“He’s that old?”

“Older, I think.” Hattie said. “Either that, or it’s a family line thing. Mama used to act like he was the Devil himself. She was devastated when he took Amy. We never expected…” She stopped.

Jenny’s face grew intense. “He took my mom? How?”

“I don’t know. Promises, threats maybe? She’s the only one I’ve heard of who escaped him later.”

“But he didn’t take my grandmother. Or my great-grandmother. Why not?”

“They had powerful witches protecting them. Their own mothers.”

“But not mom? Why? Why didn’t Annabelle protect her?”

“She tried. Your mama… Look, I love Amy, and she made the right choice in the end. But she went willingly. Right now, I’m worried about you. Without your mama’s protection…well, you’ll have to come into your own before he discovers you.”

An awkward silence ensued. Jack decided to break it with a dumb question. “So this white-suit guy, is he why we’ve got monsters showin’ up in the woods? Where are they coming from? When I saw the giant that one time, Annabelle Rose was the only person who asked me real questions about it. Everyone else just figured I was lying. She wanted to know where it came from.”

“Granny Norton knew about them, too,” Hattie said. “That’s why I grabbed their journals from the old house. I’d hoped that they’d written something about it, seeing as how Mama disappeared not long after Jack saw his giant. I haven’t had much of a chance to read them in detail. As far as I can tell, there are some hints about things, but nothing specific.”

Jessabelle’s face lit up for the first time since Jack admitted their plans. “Can we read them?”

Hattie sat back. “Tell you what. Since you aren’t going to be searching for that ogre tomorrow, why don’t you stay here and do your own research? These journals ought to be required reading for Jenny, anyhow.”

Both Jenny and Jessabelle looked pleased. As for Jack, searching for a hidden ogre sounded a lot more exciting. But he was outvoted in favor of reading old hand-written journals.

They helped Hattie clean up, and Hattie gave Jessabelle and Jack a ride home. Along the short drive, she said, “Now that Jenny’s here and Jack seems to be a frequent visitor, I may have to start calling y’all by your middle names before I get too confused.”

“I think it’s kind of fun. We’re the three ‘j’s’.” Jessabelle said.

Hattie stopped the truck down the driveway from Jessabelle’s house. “Okay, I suppose I’ll see you two tomorrow. After the last few days, I’m just glad we’ll have a day of peace and quiet.” They waved and got out.

When she drove off, Jessabelle said, “You think she jinxed us all by saying that?”

Jack shrugged. “I still want to find where these other monsters are coming from.”

Jessabelle nodded. “I still think you are crazy. But I’d rather know, too. I hate thinking that ogre, or something worse, is lurking somewhere in the woods, just out of sight, watching us.”

“I know, right? I don’t want to stumble across him by accident again.”

Jessabelle grinned. “You’re going to go searching for it tomorrow anyway, ain’t you?”

He shrugged and grinned. “I ain’t going to be spending my time reading those books.”

“You even think you find something, you come get Jenny and me, okay?”

“Deal!”

Jessabelle smiled at him, and then turned and walked up the steep dirt driveway to her house. He’d always thought of her as being a lot younger than him, but just over two years’ difference wasn’t quite as wide a gulf now. If nothing else, Jack liked having friends. It had been a long time since he could really call someone that.

Sunday afternoon, while Evelyn was away, Sean slipped out and made his way back to the old witch house. He avoided going past Hattie’s home. He didn’t want anyone to see him or try to stop him. Finding the trail took more time than he anticipated, and finding the old house took nearly two hours. He retraced his path several times, following the landmarks he’d memorized on his way back on Friday.

By the time he found the old well, the sun nearly touched the western peaks. The cicada drone had given way to the sounds of other insects. Even though he knew the house stood only a few yards from the well, Sean couldn’t see it. He looked where he thought it should be, scratched his head, and found he faced the wrong direction. He repeated the effort three times, finally forcing himself to sit and stare straight ahead until the house popped into existence in front of him. Once he saw it, it seemed obvious. He didn’t waste time experimenting. He stood, keeping his eyes fixed on the front porch, and marched toward it until his hand felt the door handle, ignoring the faint blue-white glow that emanated from the nails in the door.

Inside, the living room was exactly as they’d left it. Jenny’s blood had dried to a barely-noticeable stain on the couch, and the stained towel lay neatly folded on the kitchen table. Sean closed the door, and pulled the LED survival lamp from his backpack. It was bright, but who would be in the woods on the mountain so late to see it?

He placed the lamp on the table, and set Debbie’s photograph beside it. Now what? Of course, he’d read dozens of books and hundreds of websites explaining how to summon a ghost, in preparation for this night. “Debra Ann Arnot,” he repeated, three times. “Can you hear me? Are you there?”

Nothing. He’d stay here all night if he had to. He stared at the photograph. That method didn’t sound or feel right. He wasn’t summoning some ancient ghost stuck on formality. It was Debbie. The girl he’d started falling for. The girl he’d obsessed over. The girl his head knew had been dead for decades, but his confused heart still believed was out there waiting for him.

“Debbie, I searched for you after Halloween, just like you asked. And then I found out you died in 1974. My dad was barely in elementary school back then. You might have mentioned the age difference right off the bat.”

He grinned as he imagined her response. It wasn’t really a specific response he imagined, just the idea that she might respond. He stared at the light. Outside the window, the deep shadows of the late afternoon turned into darkness.

He awoke after dozing several minutes. Some ghost hunter he was! He couldn’t even stay awake for two hours. He stood up and stomped around the room to wake up. He couldn’t see much beyond the limited radius of the LED lamp, but he didn’t feel like exploring the tiny house. He just needed to wake up and try again.

He faced the window and performed some quick calisthenics to get his blood going. He’d done his share of camping as a Boy Scout, but the impenetrable darkness of the woods outside the window gave him pause. Going home in the dark would be difficult.

It had been a mistake to come. What had he really expected to find? He turned to pick up his lamp.

Debbie sat on the couch. She wore different clothes than she’d worn the other two times he’d seen her. Her skirt and blouse were simple and homemade. Her dark hair was tied back with a tan ribbon. She didn’t seem ethereal or transparent or in any way ghostlike. The physicality of her appearance surprised him in spite of knowing better.

He blinked, wondering if he was dreaming. If he could wonder it, could he wake himself up? Did he want to? Filled with a mixture of thrill and fear, it took him a moment to find his voice. “Debbie, you’re here!”

“Hi, Sean.” Clear and bell-like, something sounded wrong about her voice. It didn’t resonate properly in the room. Aside from this one detail, she seemed like a perfectly ordinary, living, breathing girl. In that moment, he couldn’t convince his racing heart otherwise.

“You remember me!” It was a dumb thing to say. His idiot brain was still in charge.

“Yes. You are the boy I met at the back-to-school party. And again at Halloween. But, not the first time. Not originally. More recently than that. I have a difficult time remembering things since then. My memories are jumbled. But yes, I remember you. How long has it been?”

“I’ve been searching for you for months.”

She smiled. “I suppose I ought to be flattered. You found Annie’s house. But she doesn’t live here anymore, does she?”

He shook his head. “She’s missing.”

“Dead?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“’Round the Bend, maybe.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m trying to make sense of things.”

She looked so real. Was this all a dream? Was he still asleep on the couch? “Are you real? Can I touch you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s experiment.” She grinned, and her eyes—normal and beautifully human—twinkled as she extended her hand.

He knelt beside her, and took her hand in his. It felt real. Mostly. Her hand lacked the warmth he expected, but it also lacked the clammy, room-temperature feel of death. It was something in-between.

She sighed. “Oh, it feels really good to touch you.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my. That sounded real inappropriate, didn’t it?”

Sean nearly choked as he snorted. Debbie laughed. Sean clasped her hands in both of his, and said, “I don’t understand. How is this possible? Are you a ghost? Aren’t you…”

“Dead? Truth be told, I don’t know. I suppose so. The years run like water. Annie has grown so old, and I feel like I saw you just last night, or was it the night before? And yet now you look a little older. And so sad. Why are you sad, Sean? I ought to make you something. Granny Norton likes to keep sassafras root over on the counter. I can make you some tea or something.”

“No, I… Debbie, how can I help you?”

“You want to help me? That’s so sweet, Sean. I’m doing okay. Wait, no, I’m not!” She put pulled her hands away, and raised her fists to her temples and shut her eyes tightly. “I get so confused so easily.” She opened her eyes, lowering her hands and again taking Sean’s hand in her own. “Okay, help me out with helping me out. What do you think I need help with?”

Sean cleared the lump in his throat. “I don’t know. Help you pass on, cross over, something. Some business you left undone, that you need help doing?”

“Unfinished business, huh?” She looked around the room. “This house could use some serious help cleaning up. That’s something. But that’s not my problem.” She looked back at Sean. “You mean like solving my murder? I already asked my brother to take care of that.”

“He’s not made a lot of progress.”

“That figures. He’s just a little slow getting started is all.”

Sean cleared his throat. “It’s been…uh…about forty-five years.”

“Okay, so he’s even lazier than I remember. I don’t know what unfinished business I have. Some stuff I reckon I’d like to know, like what really happened to me.”

Sean tilted his head. “What do you mean? You don’t remember?”

“I remember getting kidnapped by those boys. I don’t remember dying or anything. I was in a dark room with a bright light in my face. I couldn’t move. I heard a man’s voice saying something about killing two birds with one stone, and that I was the stone. I was terrified, but I remember thinking that maybe he wouldn’t kill me, since he wasn’t comparing me to one of the birds. Or something. I was so terrified.”

“What happened after that?”

“I don’t know. I became…lost. Stuck. Like a dream that keeps changing locations and times and you just follow along. Most of the time I can’t even think straight. But sometimes, like now, or at the back-to-school event, or Halloween night, I feel like my thoughts make some kind of sense again. I can pretend that I’m still alive and well. Sometimes I even meet a boy.”

A ridiculous pang of jealousy rose up inside Sean. It made no logical sense, but the girl in front of him looked and felt so close to real. “Lots of boys?” he asked before he could filter it.

She stroked his face with an almost-warm hand. “A few. But none ever came so far looking for me. And I’ve only ever kissed one.”

The room grew warm. Debbie’s eyes twinkled. Sean wanted to respond, but couldn’t think of anything. Then he discovered the twinkle was the reflection of the light on welling tears. Could ghosts cry?

“Oh, Sean, I wish things could be different. I wish…but I’d be an ol’ lady now, wouldn’t I? Did you say forty-five years?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Weren’t your fault. I mean, wasn’t. I think I’d make a pretty good ol’ lady though.”

“But do you have any idea of what I could do to put your soul to rest?”

“To rest? What if I don’t want to rest just yet, Sean? What would happen?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Of course!”

“Will you kiss me again?”

He started to nod, but realized she’d already closed her eyes and had her lips slightly puckered. He leaned over and kissed her. She felt as real and as solid as the floor under him. She kissed back, and for a moment he completely forgot that she wasn’t really there. But then the moment was over, and they separated.

She leaned back, touching her lips with her fingertips and gazing at the ceiling. After a few seconds she shook her head and giggled. He felt self-conscious until she said, “I’m sorry, Sean. I don’t think true love’s kiss broke any spell.”

He reeled back, in shock. “Wait, what? True love?”

She grinned at him mischievously. “Maybe. Another experiment. Although it might be kind of scandalous, considering our age difference and all.”

He sighed. “You aren’t like how I’d expect a ghost to be.”

“You expected me to be different now than how you met me? All howley and chain-rattlin’ or something?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met many ghosts.”

“Many? So you are seeing other ghosts on the side? Sean!”

He laughed. “Not like that. I mean, whatever. There’s one who is trying to kill me. But, that’s beside the point. I don’t know what to expect.”

She shrugged. “Me, neither. I’m me, Sean. I don’t know how to be something else. I know you came looking for answers, but I ain’t got them. I want the same answers as you. Like I said, I feel stuck. It’s…” She looked up at the door. “Oh, no!”

“What?” Sean looked behind him at the door, then back at the couch. But Debbie had disappeared.

* * *

The front door opened. Evelyn stepped in, regal in jeans, a purple blouse, and hiking boots. She swept the kitchen and living room with her oversized flashlight, inspecting it all and finding it lacking.

“It’s a fixer-upper, isn’t it?” she said.

Sean stood and faced her. “You followed me?”

She laughed. “Like I told you, I’m really good at finding people. I suspected you’d found something. I just needed to wait until you led me to it. Thanks for breaking that seal on the door. I might have been months finding this place otherwise.”

He clenched his “You were waiting for me to come up here again?”

“Get off your high horse, kid. You knew I was trying to find Annabelle Rose, and you never said a word to me about finding her house. As far as partnerships are concerned, ours needs to work on our communication skills, don’t you think?”

“What do you want here?”

“I need to find where she went. Or, more precisely, how to get there. I can’t imagine she left without leaving clues for her daughter. I do enjoy puzzles, but this one may be a challenge.”

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Oh? And you should?” She laughed, but her eyebrows narrowed. “We’re both trespassing, sweetie. But don’t worry. I’m just going to be in and out. Behave yourself, and I’ll let you stay and entertain your dead girlfriend.”

She pointed her flashlight at the short hallway. Sean stepped in front of her. “Nothing here belongs to you,” he said, with more bravery than he felt.

There was no laughter in her voice or eyes. “You will step out of my way right now, Sean Williams, or I will make you regret it. I have no wish to harm you. But if I need to teach you a lesson the hard way, I will.”

He maintained his bravado for a few more seconds of looking into her eyes. She meant it, and he was no match for her. He lowered his gaze and stepped aside.

“Good choice, kid.” She passed him and began searching the rooms.

He considered fleeing. They were in a thick, dark forest on a mountainside. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t break anything too important within the first fifty feet. Or run into anything that would tear him to ribbons. Whatever the case, he wouldn’t get far. What purpose would it even serve?

“Did you find her?” she called from the bedroom.

“Who?”

“Duh! The dead girl’s ghost. Did you find her?” When Sean didn’t answer, she called, “Ah, you did! That’s wonderful, Sean. I’m honestly happy for you. I’d say that I hope things work out for you two, but I suppose that’s not possible.”

Her one-sided conversation trailed off with the sounds of thumping and moving things around. Then she continued. “Why would you find her here, I wonder? I knew she was born here, but I didn’t realize how close she was to Annabelle. You’d think my boss would have told me about that. He and I have some communication problems of our own.”

More thumping came from the master bedroom, and Evelyn returned, shining her flashlight in his face. “So who beat me to the book? I saw where it used to be. And…never mind, I know who did it. This is almost disappointingly easy.” She lowered the light. “I should have checked with Hattie Rose first. I was being entirely too nice and patient. I’m done with that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“To you? Nothing. I have plans for you yet. You may hate me tonight, but this is for the best. Trust me. We’re on the right side of things. But, I am going to make sure you don’t try and do something stupid like warn someone that I’m coming.”

“I won’t let you hurt anyone.”

“I hope I won’t have to. But, you don’t have a choice. Go sit on the couch.”

His body instantly obeyed the command. As soon as he sat, he wrestled some control over his body to awkwardly force himself to stand again.

She pointed the flashlight at his face. “Ah, stubborn and noble. Ordinarily, I’d appreciate that. But, not tonight. I’m behind schedule.”

Sean opened his mouth to offer a lame retort, and she sprayed his face with some kind of aerosol that smelled of vanilla and alcohol. She kept spraying until he reeled backwards, collapsing onto the couch.

Evelyn chanted something in Spanish. The odors from the spray grew heavy and tangible. His vision swam, and the room seemed to tilt. His little lamp on the table wouldn’t behave, growing darker as it flitted randomly around the room. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He’d take a short nap, and then go after Evelyn.

Sean felt hands on his cheeks. In extreme slow-motion, he forced his eyes open for an impossible moment. It was Debbie, the girl from school! He’d come here looking for her, but was having trouble remembering why. This was important. He had to wake up, but the smell of vanilla and alcohol was so strong. He fought unconsciousness for a few more seconds.

“Where is she going? Who has the book?” Debbie asked.

“Hattie. And Jenny.”

“Hattie Rose? Annie’s daughter?”

“I guess. Gotta warn her the witch is coming. Gonna…Debbie. I wish…”

He hoped Debbie would still be here when he awoke.

Jenny had trouble reading her great-grandmother’s writing. Most of the journal simply described daily life for a West Virginia mother in the 1960s. She found a few interesting notes and bits of spell recipes, but for the most part the journal’s age, combined with Granny Norton’s poor spelling and handwriting, made it difficult and slow to read. That, and Jenny had little experience reading cursive.

Finally, as she sat comfortably on the couch trying to stay awake, she found something interesting. She read it out loud to Hattie, seated in the chair next to her. “Giant skeeters at round-the-bend again. Blamed if I know how they breed, or if they slip in from the other side. Took Annie with me. I hope we got them all this time.”

Jenny double-checked to make sure she read it right. “Does this make any sense to you? I think she meant giants.”

Hattie put down her mother’s journal and held out her hand. Jenny handed her Granny Norton’s book, and Hattie repeated it herself. “I don’t think so, Jenny,” she said with some disappointment in her voice. “I think she’s just talking about mosquitoes. Big ones, but just mosquitoes. I don’t know what she means by ‘round-the-bend,’ though. It sounds like…”

A woman appeared in the kitchen. Jenny leapt to her feet, the words to her mother’s song immediately coming to mind. The figure was indistinct, wrong.

Hattie stood too, looking around before finally seeing the spectral form. The ghost didn’t attack. Her face was urgent, mouth moving. Jenny fought back fear and listened. At first, she heard nothing. Then a voice, distant and ephemeral as if on a wind, came to her. As she paid attention it crystallized.

“Hattie? Are you Annie’s daughter, Hattie?”

Jenny pointed to her aunt. “She is.”

“Sean sent me to warn you. The witch is coming for the book. Right now. You have to escape.”

Hattie cocked her head to the side. “The witch escaped? I can’t hear you well.”

Jenny could have sworn the ghost rolled her eyes. More carefully, she said, “The witch is coming. She knocked Sean out at Annie’s house, and she’s coming here for Annie’s books. You have to escape, now!”

“Who are you?”

“Debbie Arnot. I’m Annie’s friend. Don’t let the witch get Annie’s books, whatever you do! Now, run!”

The girl vanished. Jenny looked at Hattie. “Did you hear that?”

“Part of it. A witch is after mama’s journal.”

Hattie handed Annabelle’s journal to Jenny. “Take this to the church,” she said. “Get the preacher to hide it. Got it?”

“What? Why?”

“It’s the last place she’ll look.”

“But the preacher hates us.”

“No, he doesn’t. You tell him I said the book’s got to be hidden in the church, and I think he’ll do it. He’ll give me an earful later, but he’ll do it.”

“Why aren’t we running?”

“Where to, Jenny? Where can we hide?”

“Then I can stay, too. I can help you fight her off.”

“Absolutely not! I’d rather gift-wrap both journals for her than let her find out about you. Remember what I said about that man in the white suit? Our only chance of him leaving you alone until you’re ready is to keep you secret.”

“But what will happen to you?”

Hattie smiled grimly. “Mama didn’t raise an idiot. I know how to fight off a witch. I can hit above my weight on my own turf.”

“You can beat her?”

“No. But I can put on a good show, and make her dearly earn her prize. I’m betting she doesn’t know exactly what she’s looking for. She won’t miss mama’s book. Now, time’s a wastin’! You get going, and hide that book. Don’t come back until the coast is clear. If you need to, go find Jessabelle and bunk with her until morning.”

Confused, Jenny ran out the back door and made her way down to the preacher’s home next door to the church. The sun had long set over the mountains, and the darkness deepened with every minute. Without a flashlight, she relied on the crescent moon and starlight to light her way. Her eyes adjusted, but details and potential ankle-twisting snags along the dirt road remained invisible.

She approached the preacher’s house. He hadn’t closed the curtains, and his living room was illuminated by the light of the television. She stepped up to the crumbling cement porch with the book clasped tightly in one hand, and her other in a fist ready to knock. She hesitated, remembering how Jack had described the sermon earlier that day. Why would he help?

She backed away from the door. After another moment of doubt, she turned toward the church. She tried the main doors and found them unlocked. The mere idea of leaving a building unlocked baffled Jenny, but in a place where everyone knew everyone else, perhaps it made sense. She opened the door and stepped inside.

The entryway was lit by two night-lights plugged into outlets. She didn’t dare turn on the main lights. Going by feel and the faint light, Jenny found the coat rack on the side, and the shelf above it. She slid the book onto the shelf, flush against the side so it was largely invisible. Someone had left a pair of shoes on the shelf too. She slid those to the side as well, partly to support the book, and partly to provide a measure of concealment.

Satisfied, she left the church and silently closed the door behind her.

“May I help you, Jennifer?” the voice asked behind her.

She spun around to see Preacher Harris approaching. Behind him, vague and indistinct in the darkness, stood a woman in a polka-dot print dress with a broad collar. Esther. The preacher didn’t seem to notice her, but Esther stood with a triumphant expression in spite of her dead eyes, hands on her hips.

Jenny thought through a list of possible responses, all lies. With her limited religious knowledge, she didn’t think a preacher was exactly the same thing as a priest, but it still sounded like a bad idea to lie to one. She sighed. “I hid a book in there. I wanted it to be safe.”

“What kind of book?” Harris asked, frowning.

“A diary.”

“Yours?”

“No. My grandmother’s.”

The preacher smiled. “Oh, right. Annie. My wife and I met her when we first came here. She was one of the first people to greet us and make us feel welcome.”

“It sounds like you liked her.”

He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground for a moment. “Yes, we both did. In spite of…what she was. It’s a shame that we lost her before she could turn from her ways.”

“Hattie said you’d help keep it safe.”

The ghost behind the preacher scowled. The priest cocked his head ever so slightly, his expression too subtle to be read in the gloom. “She did?”

“She said to tell you, ‘It’s important’.”

“I’ll take her word for it for now. But she and I will have to discuss—”

He was interrupted by distant crashing up the hill. They backed away from the front door of the church to see tall flames erupt beyond the trees, near where Hattie’s trailer should be. The muffled sound of an explosion came a fraction of a second later.

“Oh, no!” Jenny cried.

The preacher stood dumbfounded. “What was that?”

Jenny started running. “Some of that witchcraft you were talking about!”

Harris started to follow Jenny, and then said, “Wait. Let’s take my car. It’ll be faster.”

They hurried into his ancient, tiny hatchback. As he started the car, Jenny watched dots of light appearing in windows all over the mountain. There’d be no shortage of gossip in the morning. But right now, Hattie might be hurt or dying.

“Can you go any faster?” Jenny asked as the preacher drove up the dirt road toward Hattie’s place. Jenny thought she could seriously debate whether or not it was faster than going by foot.

“This car isn’t exactly built for mountain roads, Jennifer,” he said. The car bounced, jostled, and wheezed while rarely exceeding fifteen miles per hour. Jenny caught sight of light from flames, and her heart caught in her throat. Half a minute later, Hattie’s trailer appeared in the headlights. There were no lights on, but the front of the home had been ripped open. The hulk of Hattie’s truck burned, but the flames hadn’t spread beyond the dirt patch she used as a driveway. Jenny didn’t wait for Preacher Harris to bring the car to a complete stop before jumping out. There was no sign of Hattie near the burning wreckage, so she raced in through the expanded front doorway.

Strewn furniture and broken glass littered the living room and kitchen. Books spilled through the door of Jenny’s bedroom. The refrigerator door stood open, dented and bent from a powerful blow, the light inside spilling out into the kitchen over the mound of fallen leftovers and broken containers. Hattie lay slumped against the kitchen table. Her eyes fluttered open as Jenny rushed to her, and she opened her bloodstained mouth. “Jenny, she brought the ogre. I should have expected it. This was my fault.”

“What can I do? How badly are you hurt?” From the light of the fridge it was impossible to see Hattie’s condition, but at least one of her legs seemed bent in a direction it should not be able to bend. From her limited first-aid training, Jenny knew that blood in the mouth was not a good sign at all.

“Pretty bad. Mind going to the fridge and seeing if any of your healing juice survived?”

Jenny turned to the refrigerator. The shelving had collapsed. Amid the mess on the crisper lay the Mason jar. Something heavy had fallen on it but some of the contents remained at the bottom of the broken jar. Jenny carefully pulled it out.

“The bottle’s broken. Let me get a cup and a strainer.”

“No time. Just bring it here.”

“There may be broken glass in it.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Jenny knelt by her aunt and carefully removed the lid, turning the jar so the unbroken side was down. Hattie weakly steadied the jar with one hand, and brought the edge to her lips. She choked down what she could. Then she held up one hand and weakly said, “That healing song might not go amiss.”

Jenny recited the song. “Fever a-falling, bones are a-mending…” As she did, she became aware of the preacher’s presence in the room. She ignored him and continued.

When she was done, Hattie looked up at the preacher and said, “I don’t think a prayer or two would go amiss, either.”

Preacher Harris found the telephone. “Already done, Hattie.” He punched the emergency number in, waited a moment, and reported the incident, requesting an ambulance.

While Harris made the phone call, Hattie coughed and said, “Evelyn controls the ogre. I suppressed her spell. In the seconds it took for her to resume control, the thing tried to kill us both.”

“Where’s Evelyn?”

“I don’t know. She’s got Granny Norton’s journal. That may be all she needs.”

“For what?”

“To go ‘Round the Bend.”

“What’s that? I don’t understand!”

Hattie coughed again. Instead of answering, she said, “She doesn’t know about you yet. Make sure it stays that way.” Then she closed her eyes. Her breath came with wheezing, but held steady. Jenny stood and made her way through the jumbled battlefield of her recent home, and pulled the blanket from Hattie’s bed. She draped it over Hattie, and sat by her as Preacher Harris went outside to meet with people who came by to see what had happened. Jenny listened to the sounds of the emergency vehicles making their way up the mountain. She joined Hattie in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, and sat with her until the doctor took her away for tests.

In the waiting area, Jenny covered her face with her hands, expecting tears, but they didn’t come. She was at least partly to blame for all this. If they’d never discovered the house, Evelyn might never have found it, or come after Hattie. But, if she had done what she’d been taught to do, and refused Jack’s request to join them, then maybe both Jack and Jessabelle would be dead. The logic didn’t show a clear-cut victory for following her parents’ guidance, either. No amount of logic would satisfy the guilt gnawing at her for her role in the attacks.

As she thought of Evelyn, the guilt turned into fury. Evelyn caused this. Evelyn stole books that belonged to Jenny’s grandmother, whom she’d never met. Evelyn and her pet ogre were a threat to the people she’d come to care about in Maple Bend. Maybe it was time to do more than hide. Whatever Evelyn was trying to do, it was a threat to her remaining family. Jenny clenched her fists. She would stop Evelyn, somehow.

The doctor came out to see Jenny, to ask her questions to which she didn’t know the answers. But he reassured her that while they were by no means out of the woods yet, and Hattie remained in serious condition, the greatest danger was over and she had a good chance of making a full recovery from her injuries.

Jenny was so relieved she didn’t notice the man in the white suit sitting in the corner of the waiting room stand up and leave the hospital.

Sean dreamed of Debbie. In the dream, she wasn’t dead, only sleeping, and needed true love’s first kiss to awaken. Sean raced to the big house where she lay sleeping, but room after room was empty. He couldn’t find her. The master bedroom took forever to find, and when he finally opened the door, Avery Thomas stood with a glowing violet knife in his hand. The homicidal preacher said, “Praise be to the man in white!” as he slashed at Sean. Sean backed away and tumbled down a stairway.

He awoke to the smoky light of mid-morning, not entirely certain where he was. His body ached from too long in an uncomfortable position. His head throbbed. He recognized the living room couch in Annie Rose’s house, and even recognized the discoloration on the sofa where Jenny’s blood had stained it.

Jenny! Hattie! Sean bolted upright, and immediately regretted it as his head pounded. Checking his watch, he found he’d slept almost ten hours. Whatever Evelyn planned when she hit him with the magical aerosol was probably long over. He still felt the urgent need to warn his friends, or at least help them pick up the pieces. He gathered up the now-dead lamp, and carefully closed the door behind him.

He stumbled three feet out of the door as his legs wobbled. Evelyn’s spell still worked against him. His confusion grew as he followed the path down from the house, along a trail that didn’t seem familiar in his addled state. Walking and getting his blood flowing helped. After a few minutes, he came to a small brook. He could step over it easily enough, but he hadn’t encountered it before.

Sean sat down beside a tree to rest. His stomach growled. He fished through his pack for any remaining food, but there was nothing left. The trickle along the tiny stream looked inviting, but his thirst wasn’t to the point where he was willing to risk the potential parasites. He rested his head against the tree and considered his options. He could try and retrace his steps to the house, but if he’d had trouble following his original path, he wasn’t sure if he could find his way back from here. He could walk downstream, which would probably take him in the general direction, but unless it crossed or neared a familiar road, he’d be just as lost.

The urge to travel upstream came from nowhere.

He dismissed the thought. Wasn’t wandering like this how you got headlines in the news that read “Body of Lost Hiker Recovered?” The idea stubbornly returned moments later, coupled with emotions he’d felt during his barely-remembered dream—frustration, the urge to search. He looked around, but everything around him appeared peaceful, quiet, and ordinary. No sign of any kind of spirit, but the impression wouldn’t leave.

Sean stood, and snapped the branch of a tree over so it drooped over the brook. Hopefully on his way back, the marker would help him know where to turn to start looking for the house again. Feeling stupid, he followed the stream.

Within fifteen minutes, he came to the source—a shallow pond surrounded by trees. Insects buzzed incessantly around the water. One huge tree stood out from the rest, not far from where the brook descended from the pond. A strange bottle dangled from one branch on a rope. It bore two glass handles with the rope strung through them. The bottle was coated with dirt, obscuring its contents, topped with a wooden cork marked in mostly-faded black marker with a strange rune.

In spite of the darkened, dirty glass, the bottle glowed with a faint, flickering blue light. He stepped closer, slapping idly as something—most likely a mosquito—landed on his face. The bottle’s glow wasn’t reflected light, or from any internal light source he could see. It simply glowed, like a weird post-processing smudge of light in a photograph. He could see it even when he blinked. A small fracture in the glass near its base interrupted the glow, like a dead section of a neon light.

What kind of spell was this? What did it do? Who made it? Maybe Hattie could help. Assuming she was okay and would even speak to him after whatever Evelyn had attempted. As much as he hated Evelyn, she might soon be the only person in town who would talk to him.

He slapped another insect on his hand. He had mosquito repellent somewhere in his backpack, if he stayed here much longer, he’d either have to fish it out, or get eaten alive by the things. In the back of his mind, he noted the buzzing seemed to be growing louder and deeper. Were they calling in reinforcements?

He spared a few more seconds to pull out his phone and take a snapshot of the bottle. The picture showed none of the glow that he couldn’t avoid seeing in person. He would go to Hattie first. After the events of the last two nights, he never wanted to deal with Evelyn again.

He turned and followed the stream down to the broken branch. Retracing his steps took significantly longer, but once he located it, he found the path back down to town without further problems.

Jack awoke to a beautiful Monday morning. After the disaster of the day before, it had ended well, and he’d slept soundly after Hattie had dropped him off after dinner. Too soundly, as almost twelve hours had gone by. Maybe that was the effects of the healing juice working overtime to fix him up after his encounter with Mason and Alan.

He checked himself out in the mirror, seeing only mild discolorations where his injuries had been. It was as if had been healing for days instead of less than twenty-four hours. Mason and Alan would look far worse off, if some of his hits had landed as well as he thought they had. Jenny had some powerful talent he didn’t begin to understand. Now, if she could just learn how to make it taste like something other than rotting hay soaked in urine, she’d be amazing. Unless the taste was part of the secret. Maybe injuries fled in disgust.

He showered and made himself presentable. Not that he planned to present himself to anyone. Even his mother ignored him and watched television in her bedroom. It suited him fine.

Jack made himself a meal of cold cereal, and wrapped some pieces of bread and cheese in plastic wrap for lunch later. He had an old Boy Scout canteen that he filled with water, and threw it, the food, and a flashlight into an old book-bag. Thinking of the nails in the door at the Norton / Rose home, he dug through his father’s rusty tool box and threw in some basic tools. He hefted the book-bag and found it was meant for smaller shoulders that he no longer possessed. The weight didn’t settle well on a single shoulder, and he knew he’d regret hiking around with it after an hour or two. Maybe he’d drop it off as a central base station in his wanderings.

Today, he’d continue the quest he’d started out on yesterday. Someone had to find out where these monsters were coming from.

He considered hauling around the shotgun — now hidden under his bed. It hadn’t done him much good against the ogre, although he may simply have missed a vital area. The snallygaster was dead. For now, he’d leave it. He’d come back if he needed it. This foray was only to scout.

His plans lasted no longer than the time it took for him to step out the door. His world had changed while he’d slept.

First, there was a hand-written announcement taped to the screen door. It read, “Meeting tonight 7PM at the church. All invited. All with knowledge of recent attacks invited to speak.” In different ink, another note read, “Jack—be there.”

Jack puzzled over the sign for a few seconds. Was this about the snallygaster? Had someone found its body? Had something else happened?

He left the house, spotting the black cat before he reached the end of the row of houses that marked the biggest concentration of homes in Maple Bend. It shrank back, dipping its black head a moment too late in the weeds surrounding the Rose house. Something about it reminded him of Jessabelle. Could it be her? There were plenty of cats around Maple Bend, many of them feral. They kept the mice away. He decided to chance it. He waved and walked to the edge of the property. So what if someone saw him waving to a cat?

The cat darted away up the road. Jack continued walking, nearly convincing himself that it was just a cat, when he spotted Jessabelle walking toward him, face serious. As she drew closer, he noted the dark puffiness below her eyes. He quickened his pace. “What’s wrong?”

“Hattie’s hurt bad.” Tears came to Jessabelle’s eyes, and she hugged him, burying her face into his shirt.

“Hurt? When? Last night?”

She nodded into his chest.

“How? What happened?”

It took her a moment to regain her composure. She let go of him and stepped back, running the back of her hand across her eyes, and then once across her nose for good measure. “It was the ogre. It tore up Hattie’s house but good. Jenny went with her to the hospital.”

“Jenny’s potions work really good. She could have just given some to Hattie and fixed her up.”

Jessabelle shook her head. “I don’t know. The fridge was busted up bad, too. Maybe she didn’t have any. I don’t know. They ain’t got back yet.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Did the ogre attack anyone else?”

She shook her head. “No. That witch from California, Evelyn, brought it and lost control for a minute. Jack, I watched it all happen. I couldn’t do nothing, I was so scared. Just like when you got whupped on yesterday. Just like with the snallygaster.”

“And what could you have done, aside from getting yourself killt? Huh?”

“I don’t know. I got it to chase me before.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like you were just being smart. I ran away from that thing too. No sense getting killt if it don’t make a difference.”

She sniffed. “Still don’t make me feel like less of a coward.”

“Well, I’m glad you ain’t heroic and dead. We need to do something, though. What about Sean? Jenny was going to talk to him. Do you think he’s on Evelyn’s side? Or can we trust him?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “I don’t know. I reckon not, until we know for sure.”

“What about this meeting tonight at the church? Is this about the ogre?”

“I s’pose. They gotta know it weren’t no bear that tore up Hattie’s place. You reckon they’ll finally believe you about that giant?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone wants me to be there, though. If they ask me, they ain’t going to like what I’ll say.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go.”

“Or maybe when we go, we go knowing full well what’s going on and where that ogre is. Maybe my shotgun only scratched it up some, but you get some of them boys with their big hunting rifles all going after it at once, and I reckon they’ll take it down.”

She frowned. “Maybe. Some are going to die in the fight, though.”

“Some are gonna die if we don’t fight, too. And a lot more people will die if they go running around like it’s deer hunting season with no idea what they are dealing with.”

She scrunched her lips to the side. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay. So how do we find an ogre? Last time it was on accident. You don’t think he’s back by the witch-house again, do you?”

“I’d say we see if we can follow its trail from Hattie’s trailer. But surely someone’s already done that?”

“Not that I know of.”

As they started going toward Hattie’s, Jack asked, “Hey, that cat was you, wasn’t it? Or was I just talking to some ol’ cat back by your house.”

She laughed. It looked good for a change. “Yeah, that was me. I been a little cat all day.”

“Why?”

“Cats don’t cry.”

Jenny was by her side when Hattie awakened. Her aunt lay pale and frail, as if she’d aged ten years overnight. The white linen and walls should have contrasted with her sun-darkened skin, but instead made her seem paler still. Machines fed her fluids and a regular dose of low-grade painkillers.

“I’m a lot tougher than I look,” Hattie said.

“Are you a mind-reader now, Aunt Hattie?”

“Don’t need to be. I can read your face plain enough. Do yourself a favor—don’t ever play poker. They’ll skin you alive.”

Jenny laughed nervously. Hattie patted her hand. “So how bad is the trailer?”

Jenny shrugged. “It’ll be okay.”

“What did I just say about playing poker? It’s okay. It’s just a place. What we can’t mend, we’ll rebuild. We got the two of us, thanks to you being there for me.

Tears slid down Jenny’s face. “But Evelyn…”

“But nothing. You were safe. I was stupid. Somehow this week, we keep surviving stupid.”

A nurse came in. “Why, good morning, Hattie!” she said. “Glad to see you are awake!”

“Y’all took good care of me last night. Thank you.”

“You’ve got another visitor, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, is it the preacher? Send him on in.”

The nurse nodded and left the room.

Hattie turned to Jenny. “You heard from anybody else up there yet?”

Jenny shook her head. “I didn’t know how to contact anyone. Preacher Harris went back earlier this morning to let everyone know you were recovering, but he said he’d come back. They say you might not even need surgery.”

“Small victory. They say when I can go home?”

“Um, no. Sounds like not for several days. They wanted to know your insurance information. I found a card in your purse that seems to have worked.”

“And here I was thinking I wasted my money on that.” Hattie’s smile faded, and her forehead creased. “How long ago did Harris head back to town?”

“About an hour or two. Why?”

“That’s awful quick for him to be back already. Who else is here?”

“I don’t…”

As if in answer, a thin man in a white suit came through the door, a fine straw hat in his hand and a shy smile on his face. Pale as she was, Hattie’s face grew even whiter. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Jenny looked from Hattie to the man in the white suit in confusion. The man spoke softly, maintaining his mild grin, offering the faintest of bows to her. “It’s been many years, ain’t it, Ms. Rose? I heard you were hurt, and, as I was in the neighborhood, I came by to check on you.” There was something in his voice that was vaguely familiar, but there was nothing comforting in it in spite of his pleasant demeanor.

Hattie’s voice was cold. “I’ll manage. Thank you for your concern.”

“There were a couple of other things I meant to talk to you about. Alone.”

“Anything you wish to say to me, you can say in front of my niece.”

He nodded. “Ah, right. You must be Jennifer. Please to meet you, ma’am.” He again inclined his head in something of a bow.

Jenny did the same out of politeness. “Please to meet you too, Mr.…?”

“Longrave. Thadeus Longrave.” He closed the door behind him. “First of all, I wanted to express my regret about the incident and damages last night. Evie told me what happened. If there’s anything I can do, just ask.”

Realization crept up on Jenny, and she felt her bones going numb. This was the man in the white suit, the man Hattie had warned her about.

“You’ve done plenty already,” Hattie said. “Thank you for your concern.”

The slight smile didn’t waver. “You’re so very welcome. I suppose that you’ll be in here for a while, and none of this will be a problem, but I figured perhaps you didn’t realize Evie works for me.” Hattie said nothing, and he continued. “So I came to give you my customary warning. You remember how those work, don’t you? What Evie is doing is critical. I don’t require your cooperation, but I must insist you stay out of her way.”

“Or you’ll kill me? She dang near took care of that for you last night.”

“And that was regrettable. Honestly, Hattie, people keep accusing me of being omniscient, but I really ain’t. I had no idea what you were capable of. You Rose women constantly impress me.” He flicked his eyes toward Jenny so quickly she wasn’t sure it had happened. Or if he’d intended her to see it. “To tell you the truth, I’d always hoped you’d be the one with your mama’s powers. You were the more sensible of Annabelle’s daughters.” He turned to Jenny. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean any disrespect to your dear mother, miss. Don’t get me wrong. I was quite fond of her.”

Jenny had no answer. She couldn’t answer. Her world was spinning, and every ounce of her energy was devoted to standing upright and listening to every word this man was saying.

He turned to Hattie. “You are surprisingly resourceful. You know, we could still find room for you in my organization. Things are about to change in Maple Bend, and if you are truly looking out for the best for your two nieces, you should consider the offer.”

“No thank you, Thadeus. I know the cost of your offers.”

“Do you? Well, consider this: I know about your niece. I’ve known about her for some time.”

Hattie’s eyes narrowed. “You leave her out of this.”

“I intend to. But, only if you behave. Set a good example for both of them.”

Jenny steadied herself with the edge of a table. She didn’t understand exactly what he was threatening, but he did so with incredible confidence. He really was making the offer out of politeness. He was a man who could and would take what he wanted. It didn’t fit with his appearance, with the old-fashioned suit and black string tie, the short stature and bald head. But she recognized the confidence he exuded came from power. A great deal of power. What kind, she didn’t know. But, she was terrified.

“Then you’ll leave her alone?”

“I will not approach her. She can live out her little rustic life with the yokels popping out a whole litter of kittens, if she chooses. Can she do that? That would be interesting to study. We could definitely use someone of her skills. If she approaches me, that’s another story. But, my people will leave her alone, I promise.”

Kittens? He was talking about Jessabelle. The terror turned to rage. Jenny did everything her mother taught her, trying to summon the poker-face Hattie claimed she couldn’t handle. Blank and demure, that was all she needed to be, until this horrible man left. But she would not let him take Jessabelle.

If Hattie was confused, she didn’t show it. “She won’t.”

“Well, I do suppose I have done my good deed for the day then. Get well soon, Hattie. And nice meeting you at last, Jennifer.” He offered the tiniest of bows once again, then opened the door and left.

Jenny was about to say something, but Hattie fixed her with a glance and a quick shake of her head. Jenny waited, trying to decide if she was more frightened or furious. This stranger knew who she was, knew Hattie, threatened to take Jessabelle away, and his employee had nearly killed Hattie. He tossed threats around with casual contempt.

And he was the man her mother had been hiding from Jenny’s entire life.

The nurse came in, chatted with Hattie, and checked her IV. When she left, Hattie motioned Jenny closer.

“When Preacher Harris returns, you need to go back to Maple Bend with him immediately.”

“I should stay here with you.”

“Naturally, you should. That would be the smart move.” She sighed. “Jenny, Longrave is one of the strangest and most dangerous men I’ve ever met. I haven’t seen him since the day he took your mama away, but he hasn’t changed. He came here today to threaten me. Why?”

Jenny shook her head even mulling it over. “He wouldn’t have come by unless he was really worried you could stop him, I guess.”

“Probably. And that means whatever Evelyn is doing in Maple Bend is important to him. So important he had to handle things personally.”

“So you should stop him.”

“No. I’m in no condition, first of all. But also, he’s absolutely serious about his warnings and promises. He’s got some kind of code he lives by, I suppose. But I don’t dare get in his way, now. Not for Jessabelle’s sake.”

“So then what?”

“Jenny, I don’t dare get in his way.”

What she meant slowly dawned on Jenny. “Won’t it be dangerous if we do anything?”

“More dangerous than tangling with that ogre. I would much rather take you and leave town forever.”

“But that would mean leaving Jessabelle and Jack and everyone else behind. And that would be even worse for them.”

“I don’t know that for sure. But, I can’t help but think of what he’d do if he managed to get his hands on a whole mess of ogres.”

“What should I do?”

“I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. I can’t interfere.”

“Can you still teach me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Jenny took a deep breath. “Then teach me how you broke Evelyn’s control on that ogre.”

“All I did was disrupt the spell. It’s like dimming the lights for a few seconds.”

“Then teach me that.”

Hattie smiled. “I’d love to. We can start as soon as I get out of here. Also, I promised Jessabelle that she could take a look at your grandma’s journal. That’s still a good idea. You two ought to know more about her. My mama was one of the few people I know who could stand up to that man. It wouldn’t hurt to know as much about her as you can find out.”

“Okay. But what should we do if Evelyn comes looking for Grandma Annabelle’s journal?”

“You leave her be. Give her the journal if you have to. She’s extremely powerful and dangerous, even without the ogre. You hear me?”

Jenny exhaled deeply, grabbing Hattie by the hand and holding tightly. “I do. I will. I know I’m no match for her.”

Hattie half-smiled. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“When you disobey me and try to take her on, you make sure you kick her ass so hard and fast she’ll have to buy a plane ticket to come back down again, alright? Don’t let up or give her a chance to realize you can be a real threat.”

Hattie squeezed her hand. Jenny squeezed back.

“The ground’s pretty dry,” Jack said as they stood by the wreckage of Hattie’s truck. “Still, you’d think something that huge would leave a big ol’ trail to follow no matter what the ground was like.”

“I reckon I can find him,” Jessabelle said. She checked to make sure nobody could see her, and then in a heartbeat she transformed into a black housecat.

Jack removed his John Deere hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Dang, Jessabelle. I don’t think seeing you do that is ever going to get old.”

It might have been his imagination, but he thought the cat posed for a moment in a look of pride. She roamed through the grass, stopping and sniffing and touching it with the side of her face. Then she raced forward, checking to make sure Jack followed. Jack continued along behind her toward the Casto farm. He was starting up the hill toward the forest along his usual path when he realized Jessabelle was no longer leading him.

A quick search revealed a spot of black in the grass by the Casto’s field. He knelt down beside her. She was alert, ears back, staring at the barn and quivering ever-so-slightly.

He raised his hand to give the cat a comforting pet, and then froze as he realized what he was doing. He played it off, moving his suspended hand to adjust his book-bag. He blushed, and looked away toward the barn, trying not to look at her. He’d been friendly with the stray cats in town. Had he ever pet her as the black cat earlier in his life, while having no clue? What did she think of that, if it ever happened?

She transformed back, making him extra relieved he’d stopped himself from stroking her. The grass crunched beneath her new size and weight. She remained crouched and still shivered. “It’s in the barn,” she whispered.

“That can’t be right. The one I hid in the other night?” He almost said, “we hid.” But she had used her ability to escape, hadn’t she?

She didn’t take her eyes off the building. “Yes, there.”

“That don’t make any sense. Casto uses his barn almost every day.”

“I ain’t got to explain it. It’s in there. Can’t you smell it?”

Jack sniffed at the air. At first, he didn’t detect much beyond the summer grass. The wind shifted, and he smelled something rotten. “Ugh!” he said quietly. “I don’t recall what that ogre smelled like, but it wasn’t that! That’s rotten meat!”

Jessabelle nodded. “Yeah. Something is dead in there, ain’t no doubt about it. But the ogre is there too.”

“The barn didn’t smell like that the other night. Something is going on in there. I believe you. So if we know where it is, now what?”

Jessabelle glanced at him briefly before returning her stare to the barn. “Ordinarily, I’d just tell Hattie.”

“We could tell folks at the meeting tonight. But, I’d like to know more.” His mind filled with ideas, all of them stupid. Jack classified them into “getting killed stupid” and “probably not getting killed stupid,” and focused on the second, smaller list. He stood up and approached the Casto’s house.

“Jack!” Jessabelle cried out in a stage-whisper voice. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing! I’m just going to go talk to John Casto is all.” He made his way to the house by a path that took him nowhere close to the barn. When he glanced back over his shoulder, Jessabelle was gone. Probably hiding in cat-form again. He smiled to himself. Nope, that wasn’t ever going to get old, and it was plenty cool.

He knocked on the door, and Mrs. Casto opened it. Jack rarely saw her except at church, or sometimes out in the field with her husband, especially now that their kids were grown and only came around to help during planting and harvesting season. She seemed plump, but there was as much muscle there as fat. Her silver hair had been blonde once, and she wore it in an old-fashioned bun. She looked at Jack with eyes that didn’t quite seem to focus at first, as if she’d been sleeping. “Why, you are the Parsons boy ain’t ya? I know your ma. Quite the beauty she was. Yeah. Quite the beauty.” She looked up with a stare, seeming to forget Jack was standing there.

Jack hadn’t thought that Mrs. Casto’s mind had been failing, and he didn’t smell any alcohol. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me. Jack Parsons. My mama speaks highly of you.”

“Does she now? Well, isn’t she sweet? Come on in. It’s too early for lunch, ain’t it? I haven’t made anything yet, what with John out of town and everything.”

“I’m sorry, did you say Mr. Casto was out of town?”

“Yes. He’s away on business. I’m not sure when he’s getting back. A few days, maybe? My memory ain’t what it used to be. But he’s going to be getting me that new dress for church, I just know it. My birthday’s coming up, you know. I’ll be fifty-eight.”

Jack pointed a thumb at the barn. “Did he say anything about storing anything in the barn before he left?”

Mrs. Casto’s eyes grew large and focused as tears formed. “No! No! Do not go into the barn, whatever you do!” She leaned into him, lips quivering. “Please, John, don’t go in there. It’ll kill…” She righted herself, and her eyes resumed their unfocused stare. She wiped her eyes and said, “Oh, sorry ‘bout that. I been having these strange cryin’ spells, lately. Hormones, I s’pose. Oh, that nice lady in Billy King’s ol’ house got herself a new tractor, and is storing it in our barn until she can build her own.”

Jack was confused. “Wait. You say she’s storing a tractor in there?”

For a moment, the hysteria reappeared in Mrs. Casto’s eyes, but it quickly faded. “Yes, just a tractor, that’s all. Nothing to worry about, just keep the barn closed until John gets back from business.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Casto. Goodbye.”

“Y’all come back now, uh, and tell your mama not to be a stranger.”

Jack walked back, feeling dazed himself. Something was really, really wrong, and he had a hunch at what. As he got the road, Jessabelle appeared in human form, though where she’d been hiding he couldn’t say. He opened his mouth to say something to her when she slugged him in the arm.

“Ow!” Jack said, rubbing his arm. “What’s that for?”

“I’m hopin’ it’ll help beat the fool out of you, Jack Parsons!” She balled up her fist and let it fly again, but Jack stepped back so she only brushed his shoulder this time. “And one more for good measure. What were you thinking? I know you sure weren’t thinking, `oh, maybe the Castos are working with Evelyn, or she got them bewitched, and will tell her that we’ve been snooping around so she can have us killt.’ Nope, you weren’t thinking that, were you? Fool.”

Jack rubbed his arm as the pain faded. “No, I wasn’t. And yes, I think Mrs. Casto’s bewitched. But not like that. I think the ogre killed John Casto, and the witch has got his wife believing a made-up story. That or Mrs. Casto’s gone ‘round the bend.” He wiggled his finger in a circle near his temple to illustrate the point.

“You think people are going to believe that tonight?”

Jack shook his head. “No. They ain’t. But they’ll believe the ogre in the barn when they see it.”

Sean stumbled onto Hattie’s property after noon, re-energized with fear at the sight of the truck’s wreckage. He tore across the remaining distance to the trailer, shoving aside the blanket hung across the entrance where the door had been ripped off. “Hattie! Jenny!” he called.

Jack appeared in the hallway, carrying a half-full trash bag. “They ain’t here.”

“Are they okay?”

Jack shrugged. “Hattie got beat up pretty bad. Jenny’s with her. We’re doing some clean-up until then. Couple of folks might be over shortly to see what they can fix.”

Sean exhaled through chapped lips. “I wanted to warn them, but Evelyn did something to me.”

“She did something to Hattie too. She brought that ogre here to kill her. She could have killed them both.”

“I’m sorry. I tried. I…is there anything I can do to help?”

“We don’t need his help!” Jessabelle said as she emerged from behind the blanket. “He works for her!”

“I don’t work for her. We just had kind of a deal. I have ghost problems.”

Jessabelle put her hands on her hips. “Want to compare your ghost problems to our ogre problems?”

Sean shook his head. “No. Not really. I want that ogre gone as much as you do.”

“Prove it!”

“What do you want me to do, find it and get killed by it?”

Jack shook his head. “We already know where it is.”

Jessabelle shushed him. “Don’t tell him. He’s going to tell Evelyn.”

“No, I won’t. I don’t even want to see her.”

“She’ll likely be at the meeting,” Jack offered.

“What meeting?” asked Sean.

They were interrupted by Preacher Harris pulling up in his tiny hatchback. Only Jenny got out, to their combined disappointment. The preacher opened his car door and half-stepped out from the car to talk to them. “If y’all can give me a few minutes, I’ll go get changed and come help clean up.”

Jack was quick to answer, “No, that’s fine. We got it for now. We hoped Hattie would be back this afternoon.”

“Not yet. I’ll be checking up on her again tonight.”

Jack nodded. Harris got back in the car, turned around, and drove back down the hill to the church. Jack frowned as he drove off. “I don’t understand him. Sunday he was talking about how evil she was and everything, and now he’s all wanting to take charge of helping her.”

Sean shrugged. “Maybe he believes in hating the sin, loving the sinner?”

Jack looked at him curiously. Sean shrugged. “I never really went to church except Easter and Christmas. That’s just something I heard.”

“How’s Aunt Hattie? Really?” Jessabelle asked Jenny.

“Recovering. She’ll probably stay at the hospital for a few days.” She turned to Sean. “I wanted to thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For the warning.”

All three of them looked at Jenny, confused. Jenny said, “A ghost warned us Evelyn was coming. Otherwise, we might both be dead right now.”

Sean had seen a lot of ghosts the last couple of days, but only one could have offered a warning. “Debbie?”

Jenny nodded. A strange feeling flooded through Sean. It wasn’t quite relief, but it was warm and it replaced some of the stress. He licked his lips. They hurt. “Is there any chance I can get some water or something? I don’t want to go back to Evelyn’s.”

Jack looked over at Jenny. “Uh, water’s working fine. So, are we trusting him now?”

Jessabelle still looked skeptical, but didn’t protest. They went inside, and Jack poured water for everyone. Sean downed his glass in seconds, and asked for more. The power to the air conditioning for the living room was not working, and it was already hot. Still, Sean was grateful to be indoors.

Jenny opened the doors to the other rooms and set their air conditioners running full blast, then found a fan to help blow the air toward the living room. It wasn’t much, but it helped. With everyone in the living room, Jenny said, “I met Evelyn’s boss this morning. He warned Hattie not to get involved. He threatened to take Jessabelle away. He knew about you.”

Sean wasn’t sure what they were referring to, but Jessabelle’s face hardened. “Like hell he will,” she said.

“Do you know about this guy?” Jenny asked Sean.

“No. I mean, Evelyn’s mentioned him, but no details. Who is he?”

Jenny shrugged. “He’s a thin, balding guy who likes wearing white suits. He speaks with a southern accent, not like the accent here.”

The pit of Sean’s stomach felt lined with lead. “I think I met that guy at a waffle place a few days ago. He was the one who suggested I come here. I thought he was a traveling salesman or something.”

Rumor has it you’ve been all over the northern half of the state researching a ghost, Evelyn had told him. I was looking for you last night. I have my sources.

He’d been hunted down by the man in the white suit, who had manipulated him into coming here. Sean hadn’t been lucky to find this place after all. It had been a plan. Even though it was what he’d wanted, the dread in his stomach turned to anger, not only at the man in the white suit, but at himself for leaving such an obvious trail.

You may hate me tonight, but this is for the best.

He hated her today.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault,” Sean said. “Evelyn tracked me to the old witch house last night.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at him accusingly. There was nothing left but to explain it all. And he did. He told them about Debbie. He told them about Evelyn and Avery the murderous ghost, and about the mysterious bottle with the blue glow hanging on the tree.

“A blue glow?” Jenny asked.

Sean shrugged. “Yeah. I tried to take a picture of it, but the glow didn’t show up in the image.” He pulled out his phone, but it had run out of power sometime during the night. “It looked like it was a few years old. I found it back at the source of a little stream.”

“That’d be the top of Blood Creek,” Jack said. “I’ve been there a couple of times. Lots of mosquitoes there, though, so I ain’t been back in a while.”

Jenny said, “Maybe when all this is over, we can go see it.”

Jack grinned. “Hopefully that’ll be tomorrow. There’s a meeting at the church tonight, and somebody asked for me to be there. I’m going to tell them that Evelyn is behind Hattie’s house getting all smashed up, and that she has the ogre stashed away in the Casto’s barn.”

“Will they believe you? Will they care?” Jenny asked.

Jessabelle spoke up. “We’re both telling them this time. Folks might call us both liars, but we may get the whole town out to kill the ogre tonight. And nobody’s going to be too happy with Evelyn either.” She smiled in a way that Sean’s sister did when she was plotting a particularly cruel revenge. “You going to come?”

Jenny shook her head. “There’s a ghost in the church who doesn’t like me much. I don’t think my voice would carry much weight, being new here. But if you need me, let me know.”

Jessabelle looked about to say something, but then glanced at Sean and closed up. She still didn’t trust him. Could he blame her?

“I hate to impose,” he said, “But I don’t really have a place to go right now. Any chance I could hang out here, maybe get cleaned up and something to eat?”

Jenny looked a little like a deer in the headlights. “Um…”

Jessabelle, surprisingly, came to the rescue. “If Hattie were here, she’d say yes. Make yourself at home.”

Sean looked at her in confusion. “Really?”

Jessabelle shrugged. “I’m just saying that’s what she’d say. Jenny and I may have to leave for a bit, okay?” She looked over at Jack. “I’ll meet you at the church.”

They were all hot, dirty, and exhausted. But they had a plan. As much as Sean feared Avery’s reappearance, he now feared Evelyn more. Whatever she was planning in Maple Bend, people were now getting hurt, and the town was getting angry. They’d end it tonight.

Jenny’s favorite part of the plan for the evening was how little she was in it. Not that she was unwilling to help Jessabelle or Jack. Maybe Sean, too, although she had doubts about him. She was more comfortable supporting from the background, although she didn’t know if this was her own preference or simply upbringing. Here, she was the outsider. Jack and Jessabelle would get to be the heroes.

After a feast of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, they all pitched in to finish cleaning up the damage from the night before. The living room grew hotter and stuffier as the afternoon progressed. Jack returned home to clean up, and Sean took a shower. Meanwhile, Jessabelle and Jenny took refuge outside, where a breeze provided some minor relief from the heat.

Jessabelle said, “You saved a journal, didn’t you?”

Jenny nodded. “How did you know?”

Jessabelle looked down at the ground. “I saw part of what happened. I’m sorry. I should have helped. But I was so afraid.”

Jenny shook her head. “It’s okay. I don’t know if there was much that either of us could have done. Hattie needed us safe.”

“Was it the one by Grandma Annabelle? Can you get it back?”

“Do you want to see it? I read through most of it. I didn’t find much that might help us.”

Jessabelle nodded. “When I was a little girl, my daddy taught me a way to hide smaller secret messages inside of normal ones. You used different words depending on the first letter of each line. Grandma taught him that trick, if he wanted to let us know something important as a soldier when someone else might be reading his messages.”

“Did he ever use it?”

“All the time. I used to re-read his letters, especially after he died. But there weren’t nothing really secret in them. He just included special messages to me to let me know he was thinking about me. Even though mama knew the same trick, I felt like they were my private letters.”

“And you say Grandma Annabelle taught that to him?”

“Yes. You said you didn’t see anything really useful in those books. Maybe we ought to check them for hidden messages.”

Jenny considered this. “Who else knows about this?”

“Outside of the family? Nobody.”

Secret codes for her family inside her journal? Jenny’s only reason for hesitation was fear of disappointment if they weren’t there. “Let’s go.”

When they got to the church it was, as usual, unlocked. This time, Preacher Harris was cleaning, preparing the building for the evening’s meeting. Jessabelle stood watch outside as Jenny slipped in, trying not to alert the preacher. He was vacuuming, his back turned to her. She ducked over to the side shelf, hidden from his view, and reached behind the old shoes for her grandmother’s journal.

It wasn’t there. Jenny stood on her tip-toes to examine the bottom of the shelf, but there was nothing there. Had Evelyn discovered it? Had anyone else? How would she find it?

“Looking for something?” The strange, shrill voice behind her caused her to jump. Jenny spun around and faced the woman in the polka-dot dress. Aside from her creepy eyes, she seemed almost physical.

“Esther!”

“You put that horrible book here, the one by Victoria Norton’s daughter! The book full of Devil-work, here, in the Lord’s house!”

“Did you read it?” Jenny asked.

Esther seemed baffled. Whether it was by the question itself, or simply the fact that Jenny responded to her, Jenny couldn’t tell. Finally she answered, “I would never read such filth.”

“Then how did you know what was in it? It was full of stories of raising her children.”

“Mixed with the Devil’s recipes, no doubt!”

Jenny didn’t have an answer for that one. She doubted there’d be much point to arguing with a ghost. “What happened to it?”

Esther crossed her arms and twisted her lips into a smug expression.

“You moved it?”

“I prevailed upon the preacher to move it.”

“How? Can he see you? Can he hear you?”

“I whisper into his ear. He listens without realizing it.”

“And you don’t think that’s evil, too? Influencing him like that?”

“He needs a woman’s influence, with Alice gone.”

“You’re not a woman anymore, Esther. You’re a ghost! Why do you even stay here?”

Too late, Jenny realized the vacuum cleaner had turned off several seconds ago. Preacher Harris poked his head around the corner, staring at her.

“Jennifer, who are you talking to?”

It seemed impossible, but Esther’s expression took on a deeper shade of smug.

Once again, Jenny felt bad about lying in a church, or to a preacher. He’d seen too much already, and if he was the one who took the book, she’d have to deal with him anyway. “I’m talking to the resident ghost, Esther.”

“There are no such things as ghosts, Jennifer.”

Esther dropped her hands, frowning.

“I don’t think Esther likes that answer,” Jenny said.

Preacher Harris shook his head. “No. This is what I keep trying to tell your aunt. There are demons who masquerade as ghosts, but no lingering spirits of the living.”

Esther stamped her foot, although it made no noise. “Well, I never…! A demon! Who do you think you are?” She waved her hands in the air. “Would a demon be in a church? Would a demon help you fight against witchcraft and other evil? Would a demon help preacher after preacher who served this community?”

“She disagrees. She says she inspires you and helps you and others fight witchcraft and evil. She helped you find my grandmother’s diary.”

“No, nothing of the sort. You may mean well, but these kinds of stories…”

Esther folded her arms. “Oh, he thinks he’s so smart? He took your book to his house, and placed it on his closet shelf, where he keeps other material of questionable virtue. Like those fantasy stories! Pagan garbage! He shouldn’t waste time reading about lords of rings and wizards and other nonsense.”

Jenny repeated her own version of Esther’s comment. “You put it on your closet shelf?”

Preacher Harris stopped, and the color drained from his face. “What? How did you…?”

“I told you. Esther also disapproves of your choice of literature.”

Harris gasped. “I was going to put it in the lost and found, but I didn’t feel comfortable storing it here in the church building.”

“May I have it back, please?”

“Yes, Jennifer. I’ll go get it right away.”

Jenny shifted her gaze between Harris and Esther. “Look, I know you both have problems with my family’s history. And I don’t know enough about it say whether you are right or wrong. But, my aunt is a good person who is trying to protect her neighbors from some really scary stuff, and almost died last night doing it. I would hope that counts for something.”

Esther faded from view.

Preacher Harris said quietly, “Let’s go get the book.”

As they circled around the church to the house behind it, Jenny said, “If it’s all the same to you, please don’t mention the book to anyone else. There may be stuff in there that someone might use to hurt people.”

“I wouldn’t know, Jennifer. Once I realized what it was, I stopped reading. But I see no reason to tell anyone that I know anything about it.”

She stopped at the threshold of the house, while he brought out the diary. He handed it to her. “Please understand, I have to teach what I know. There’s much that I don’t understand. I consider your aunt a friend, even though we have gone the rounds a few times on matters of doctrine. I think she understands that, and I hope you will, too.”

Jenny took the diary, and simply said, “Thank you.”

* * *

Jessabelle decoded the diary out loud while Jenny wrote everything down on a pad of paper. Jessabelle made some mistakes, explaining that it had been a long time and that there were some special rules based on punctuation to keep things from being too easy to decode. Jenny discovered that many of the spelling and punctuation errors on Annabelle’s part were deliberate keys to the message.

The hidden message explained the few spells listed in the book. In one, Annabelle described a charm to break a witch’s curse. The recipe called for the “blood of a saint” in its original form, which put it in the realm of unattainable as far as Jenny was concerned. Weren’t saints all long dead? She doubted anyone had blood samples in a filing cabinet at the Vatican or anything like that. But the selected words pulled out of that section of the recipe read, “I think anyone who stands up for truth like that, and is able to resist evil and temptation, is a saint.” It was cryptic and probably unusable, but no longer in the realm of impossible.

The closer to the end, the more hastily the journal had been written. Annabelle relied more on abbreviations and shortcuts, filling in a single day’s entry on multiple pages. The encoded messages got more complex and seemed like they needed another code to decipher, leaving out punctuation and a solid order.

“What does RTB mean?” Jenny asked. “She uses that a lot at the end. Like, `Up Blood Creek to RTB.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think it means ‘round the bend. She talks about it a few times. I remember her talking to Aunt Hattie about going ‘round the bend.”

“Okay. Maybe that’s what it stands for, but what does that mean?”

“Normally?” Jessabelle shrugged. “Around here, folks sometimes say that means going crazy.”

“That’s what it sounds like without the coded message. Like she thought she was going crazy and would die soon. But your decoded part sounds like it’s an actual place: ‘Old seals are gone. My best chance is to go RTB soon. I’ll lock the way behind me, but you’ll have the key to find me. Up Blood Creek to RTB.’ And then here, she was talking about what I thought was a weird recipe, and she explains how to assemble it into a witch bottle. What’s a witch bottle?”

Jessabelle shrugged, shaking her head. “I was ten years old when grandma disappeared. Men went searching through the woods to find her, but couldn’t. That wasn’t so unusual. Folks used to disappear a lot around here. They told me she’d taken sick in the head, and had wandered off and died. I had nightmares about finding grandma cold and dead in the woods, getting eaten by bugs.”

“Bugs?”

“I don’t know why, it’s just what I dreamed up. Bugs were scary.”

“Do you think she knew what she was doing?”

“After what we’ve seen, do you think she was just being crazy?”

“No. I just wish I knew where this ‘round-the-bend’ place is.”

Jessabelle glanced at Jenny’s notes. “Up at the head of the creek, maybe?” Jenny cast her an exaggerated dirty look, and Jessabelle snorted. “Sean said he saw a glowing bottle there. Maybe it was a marker, and there’s a cave or something up there. Jack and I were talking. Maybe that’s where these monsters came from.”

“And our grandmother went there? Why? To keep the monsters from coming out? Is that what she meant by locking the way?”

Jessabelle shrugged. “Maybe. Although look at that message at the end again.”

The encoded message from the last few pages was choppy and almost incoherent compared to the concise and cohesive information earlier in the book. Jenny could easily make the case that her grandmother’s mental faculties were degrading, or that she was simply in a hurry. The final coded message read, “Bottle blocks must do both sides RTB. Stop white suit bring daughter here pat key is safe prayer mother loves you always.”

“D’ya have any idea what a ‘pat key’ is?” Jessabelle asked.

“I don’t know. Unless she was talking about my mother, who changed her name to Patricia. But she went by Trisha. Did Grandma Annabelle know her changed name? ‘Bring daughter here pat.’ Sounds like she wanted my mom to come home or something.”

Jessabelle shook her head. “She don’t write like that. She was in a hurry, though. Maybe she was asking your momma to bring you here.”

“The white suit is a reference to that man from the hospital. She needed to stop that creepy guy.”

“Key is safe? What key?”

Jenny looked back over their notes. “There’s the witch-bottle to prevent travel from the RTB, and she suggests she’s going there. To place a bottle on the other side? So that nobody can go in or out? So maybe if you have the key you can get through?”

Jessabelle held the last blank pages up so the setting sun as was framed by the mountain and tree branches, as if trying to wring one final secret from the diary. She slammed the book closed, suddenly, and asked, “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

“I’m gonna be late for the meeting!”

“Are you going to say anything?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “Maybe. I guess if Jack needs me to back him up. After what that ogre did to Hattie’s house last night, they got to be ready to hear him out. Especially when we can direct them straight there.”

“I’ll be at the farm. With Sean, probably.”

“Jenny, stay hidden, okay? I’ll find you. I reckon Evelyn’s gonna be fit to be tied when her ogre’s killt!”

Jenny nodded firmly. “I imagine she will.”

Jessabelle ran toward the church, and Jenny continued to study her grandmother’s diary.

Jack had never seen the tiny church so full of people. He successfully defended a space on the pew beside him for Jessabelle, even though she hadn’t yet arrived when the preacher insisted on a prayer to begin the meeting. It was far longer than Jack deemed necessary. The prayer seemed like an hour-long sermon, though it was probably closer to two or three minutes.

Really, the meeting shouldn’t be much longer than the prayer. If only people would believe him, Jack could just stand up and say, “Hey, all y’all, the monster that did this is an ogre that’s holed up inside the Casto’s barn. Grab weapons and come see for yourselves!” But of course, that wouldn’t work. He needed someone to back up his claim before people invaded the Casto’s.

When the preacher at last said, “amen,” Jack craned his neck around to see if he could see John Casto, but neither he nor his wife were either seated in a pew or standing along the walls.

Michael “Botch” King—by far the wealthiest man in town—started the meeting in an even-tempered tone, insisting that people not turn the crisis into a ‘witch hunt.’ Jack thought that was funny, considering all the witches currently residing in Maple Bend. His plea was twice as long as the prayer, but it seemed to settle people down a bit. As Botch wound his speech to a close, Jessabelle slipped in through the wall of people and joined Jack in the pew. She sat just as Botch said, “Thank you” and took a seat up near the pulpit.

People whispered among themselves. Jack took the opportunity to ask, “So you got my back in this?”

She nodded, although her face was pale. “Sorry I’m late. Jenny and I learned some things.”

“Like what?”

Jessabelle shook her head, and pointed to the podium. “Not right now! After this is over.”

Fred Colton stood up beside the pulpit and reminded everyone of what nobody needed to be reminded about—the deaths of Grace Alls, his son Sam Colton, the attack on Hattie’s trailer, and Hattie’s serious injury. His emotional appeal worked, and the room grew angrier as people began to growl and call out things like, “We need to protect ourselves!” and “That weren’t no bear!” and “Someone lied to us!”

The last scared Jack, after years of suffering through his reputation. People were like animals when they were angry and scared, and frightened animals would lash out against those who meant them no harm. He sank lower in the pew, hoping no one would notice him or care.

Then, suddenly, Fred called on Jack to stand up. All eyes turned to him, including Jessabelle’s. Her eyes seemed full of trust.

All he could do was tell the truth.

Fred called out, “Jack, did you see what killed my boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was it?”

Five years of mockery and distrust stood against him like a wall. Since that one day, he’d never told a lie, but he’d learned what not to say. He’d learned to deflect attention. He could do the same here. A simple “I’m not sure, but check the Casto’s barn” wouldn’t be a lie, and it would get the job done. He didn’t have to make a stand. He glanced over at Jessabelle. She looked, if anything, even more uncomfortable than him. But unlike everyone else in the room, she believed him.

“It was no bear. It was a monster, sir.”

Some people started laughing, but when the rest of the room didn’t join them, their laughter died.

“We need to find out what did this and kill it!” Fred demanded, with cheers through the room. He continued, “Then we need to find the person responsible, and—”

Jack had to interject now. “The thing that killt Sam is dead, Mr. Colton. The thing that smashed up Hattie’s house is still alive though. And I know where it is.” The noise instantly rose. “The monster is in the Casto barn right now.”

Fred glared at Jack. “The Castos are hiding it?”

People gasped and started talking amongst themselves. Some laughed nervously. The chapel grew loud and restless. Jack had to shout over the rising noise. “No. Something happened to the Castos. Evelyn Rodriguez has control over the monster.” The crowd erupted into noise and argument, and Jack could barely hear himself say, “But that ain’t what killed Sam. Or Grace, probably. Evelyn ain’t killed nobody yet, that I know.”

People began shouting. Few were listening to Jack now as he shouted, “We need to kill it right away, now that y’all know. But shotguns don’t hurt it much!”

Jessabelle stood by him and shouted, “I’ve seen it, too! It’s real! And it’s really dangerous!”

A few people quieted down, staring at Jessabelle. She trembled so slightly that Jack could barely see it. Botch King and Preacher Harris watched her, but said nothing.

“May I say something, please?” a voice asked from the back of the room at a conversational volume. Nobody should have been able to hear her over the din, but the room silenced instantly. Jack turned, and locked gazed with Evelyn Rodriguez. Her lips curled into a vicious smile. Jack felt his blood freeze, and he hoped the feeling wasn’t magical and literal.

Evelyn strolled into the eerily quiet chapel. Aside from her footsteps and the shuffling noises as people parted for her, the only other sound was distant crickets. Evelyn strolled up along the aisle toward the front of the chapel, below the podium, and turned to face the rest of the room. “My neighbors, I share your pain. I’ve been here long enough to be a part of this community, and feel your losses as my own. The terrible animal attacks that killed our friends and family were awful, but no longer a worry. And freak storms like the one that damaged Hattie’s trailer last night are uncommon but happen all over the country several times a year. The poor dear was always a little crazy, and imagined a monster at her door. We all know there are no such things as monsters. Poor lying Jack can’t help but make up stories like he has always done. But humoring him and giving him the attention he craves won’t do anyone any good, especially not Jack. No, we must rely upon our own common sense.”

Jack felt his hands shaking with rage. “What a load of horseshit!” he roared at the top of his lungs.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. No one else spoke for several seconds. Then whispers and mutters floated toward him from all over the room.

“How rude.”

“I can’t believe he said that in the Lord’s house!”

“Lyin’ Jack.”

His jaw dropped. He searched the room. Evelyn continued to stare at Jack, but her smile had dropped. She marched back down the aisle and left the chapel. Nobody but Jack took note of her as she left.

Botch took the pulpit from Fred, who looked confused. Botch spoke over the growing noise, “Well, folks, I s’pose that’s it. Thanks for coming out and sharing your condolences and concerns. What I love about Maple Bend is how folks here take care of our own. Bless Hattie. Craziness may run in her family, but we still need to do what we can to help her get her trailer fixed up. Thanks for coming, and goodnight.”

People stood and made their way to the door with looks of confusion. Some glared at Jack. Jack sat down, and turned to Jessabelle, feeling dazed as well. Jessabelle looked as stunned and furious as he did.

“Can you believe this?”

She shook her head, looking even angrier. “No, I don’t, Jack Parsons. If I’d have known you’d come in here making up stories about monsters and saying terrible things about Miss Rodriguez, I would have stayed home. Which is where I’m going now. I’m sorry I ever trusted you, Lyin’ Jack!” She stood and left the church without looking back.

Everyone but the preacher filtered out of the church. Preacher Harris looked at Jack with a pitying expression and said, “I’ll be back later to turn out the lights and close up. Take all the time you need, Jack.”

Jack sat on the pew inside the empty church as shock turned to tears. Two minutes later, the tears were done, replaced by a cold, pulsing fury.

Sean sat with Jenny in the tall grass near the dirt road, where they could both keep an eye on the Casto’s barn and watch for the tiny army of citizens due to arrive from the meeting. Jenny looked apprehensive, and why not? Whatever happened next would not be pretty. There was a good chance that some of the locals would be killed, even with Jenny doing her best to protect them. And then there was Evelyn. The locals would want their revenge, and she would be pissed that her tool and prize for her boss had been killed. Sean wasn’t sure if he was more afraid for her or of her.

Jenny cast a look to the barn, and said, “I guess there’ll be no hiding who I am after this.”

“Maybe. Evelyn might not even know what happened.”

“She’ll figure it out.”

“If she’s stupid and isn’t out of the state before dawn, maybe.”

“But everyone else will know, too.”

“So?”

She didn’t respond. About twenty minutes after seven, a car approached. It drove by at a leisurely pace, and turned into a long driveway just before it reached the Casto farm. It disappeared behind the trees.

The minutes stretched on. After it became clear no cars followed, Jenny belatedly answered, “I’ve never seen an angry mob before, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it.”

“I guess not.”

The last of the direct sunlight faded over the mountain, and Sean grew nervous. “Hey Jenny. You didn’t happen to learn any spell to be used against angry ghosts, did you?”

She shook her head. “No. Jessabelle and I were studying our grandmother’s journal earlier today. We found a spell to remove a witch’s curse, instructions for making a good luck charm and a witch’s bottle, and a recipe for stew that sounds really good once we have a working kitchen again.”

Sean laughed. “Humor and sarcasm in the face of my grim demise!”

She shook her head. “I’m not being sarcastic. The stew does sound delicious. It’s rabbit stew, though, so I don’t know if I could handle putting Thumper in a pot. Do supermarkets sell rabbit meat in West Virginia?”

“I haven’t seen it, no.”

“So you are worried about an angry ghost showing up. Is it more or less dangerous than the ogre?”

“I don’t know. I guess I should worry about surviving the ogre first.”

“Look, if your ghost shows up, I should be able to see him too. I’ll do what I can, I promise. I’ll make myself a target if nothing else.”

Sean looked into her eyes, and softly said, “Don’t make yourself a target, please. I can’t have that on my conscience.”

She stared back at him for a moment, and then chortled. “I’m not volunteering to die for you, dummy. Protection spell, remember? It was able to hold off the ogre for a couple of shots, so it should probably hold up against a ghost.”

Sean wished that it was already dark enough to hide his turning two shades of red. “Yeah. Right. But it’s still pretty dangerous.” After a moment, he asked, “So what’s a witch’s bottle?”

“I’m not sure. Some kind of ward or protection or something. We found instructions for making one in Grandma Annabelle’s journal.”

“Is that the one that Evelyn was after?”

“Yes. She didn’t know…” After a moment, she said, “Evelyn doesn’t know about that one. We were able to hide it because of your ghost-friend’s warning.”

Debbie had warned them. Maybe his visit to the old house hadn’t been a complete disaster after all. Not only had he finally made a connection to Debbie, but she’d taken action at his request. While his research had uncovered cases of ghostly figures appearing to warn people of danger, those were very specific entities with a single purpose. This was odd. But then, he’d never found documented cases of ghosts killing the living, as Avery had done.

Maple Bend was a land of monsters and strange ghosts.

“I’m sorry, again. About Evelyn.”

Jenny shook her head. “We broke the protection on the house when we went in the first time. If it weren’t for that, she might have never been able to see it. Jack was the only one who could see through the spell in the first place.”

Then Hattie had fixed it, and Sean had broken it again. He decided against bringing that up. “Maybe that will be over tonight, after Jack and Jessabelle explain what’s been happening. I guess it’s all up to them. I feel kind of useless right now.”

Jenny half-laughed. “Tell me about it. I took a bunch of self-defense courses and practiced jiu jitsu back in Illinois. I learned all about applying wrist-locks and throws. None of which is good against monsters or ghosts.”

Down the road, a lone figure emerged, carrying a firearm. Sean tapped Jenny on the arm, and pointed. They waited, but no one else appeared. As the figure drew closer, they recognized Jack, carrying his father’s double-barreled shotgun.

Sean stood with the feeling of tiny pinpoint explosions down his lower legs. They’d been waiting a while. He and Jenny approached Jack, who scowled as they got closer.

“Is the meeting over?” Sean asked. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Ain’t nobody else,” Jack answered in a monotone.

“What?” Sean shook his head. “No way. Didn’t they talk about the ogre?”

“Yup,” was all Jack answered, as he fixed his gaze on the barn.

Jenny looked down at the shotgun, and said, “Jack, you can’t take on that ogre by yourself. It nearly killed all of us last time.”

Jack frowned, clenching his lower lip in his teeth and breathing heavily. “Ain’t going to shoot the ogre. I’m waiting for Evelyn to show up. Then I’m going to blow her head off.” He resumed his march up the road, but Jenny stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Jack, fighting monsters is one thing. Killing Evelyn is something else entirely.”

“She’s a witch, what’s the difference?”

Jenny jerked her hand away as if Jack’s arm burned her. She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Jack, you don’t mean that.”

Jack turned to face her, but stared at the ground. “I’m sorry, Jenny. No. It’s just…” He took two quick, ragged breaths. “She was there, at the church. She did something. She turned the whole town against me. Even…” he sucked in his breath. “Even Jessabelle called me a liar.” He dropped the shotgun and covered his face as he suppressed a sob. Jenny stepped forward to embrace him, and he didn’t turn away.

“Holy shit,” Sean muttered.

Jenny leaned her face against Jack’s arm, but looked back at Sean. “Can she do that?”

Sean shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s kinda what she did to the ogre. She pulled some kind of whammy on me a couple of times. If she knew the meeting was happening and had all day to prepare. Sure, I guess she could do that.”

Jack regained his composure and stepped away from Jenny. “That’s why we gotta kill her. Fast, before she has the chance to turn us all against each other, like Jessabelle.”

“You’re still talking murder, Jack,” Jenny said. She turned to Sean for support.

Sean nodded. “Yes, it’s still murder. I’m trying to think of a better solution here, but it’s not coming. She’s pretty ruthless.”

“So we need to be ruthless, too?” Jenny shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m the one talking moderation. Look, last night in the ER, I was ready to kill Evelyn. It’s one thing if we’re fighting for our lives. If she brings that ogre out against us again, then, yeah, she and the ogre are both fair game. But we gotta be smart about this. Jack, what if you pull that shotgun out on her, and she pulls her whammy on you, and commands you to shoot one of us? She might be in her rights to do that, if we’re attacking her.”

“That’s why I do it alone.”

“No. This is our fight, too.”

Sean nodded. “Okay, Jenny’s got a good point. This could go bad so many ways, and not just with you getting locked up for life in jail for murder. Evelyn is smart and dangerous. And has magic. We need to be smart and dangerous ourselves, and use some kind of magic to fight magic. If even Jessabelle can be turned, than any of us…” Sean tapered off, thinking.

“So how long do we wait?” Jack asked. “Until she sends the ogre to kill us all?”

Jenny shook her head. “Of course not. We need to stop her cold. We just need a plan.”

Sean asked, “Hey, Jack, how many people were in the church?”

Jack cocked his head to one side and answered, “More’n half of Maple Bend, I reckon, at least of the adults.”

Sean asked, “What exactly happened?”

Jack recounted the event. “When it was over, everyone was hunky-dory. Fred wasn’t looking for what killed Sam anymore. And Jessabelle was mad at me because she said I’d lied about the monsters.”

“But nothing happened to you?”

“Why should it? I knew the truth.”

“So did Jessabelle.”

Jack looked at him askance. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m just wondering why you weren’t affected.”

“Because she was talking about me? I don’t know.”

Jenny raised a finger. “Hey, Jack, you were the only one could see Annabelle’s house at first. Jessabelle and I were sitting right by it, and the spell prevented us from looking at it. But not you.”

Jack shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed it for a long time, either. I only found it the day before.”

“Maybe you are more resistant to witchcraft than most,” Sean said.

“If that’s the case, I’m the best choice to shoot her in the head!”

Sean sighed. “That’s a big risk. And, again, murder. You are old enough to be tried as an adult.”

“It’d be worth it.”

“Not to me. And not to Hattie or Jessabelle either,” Jenny said, frowning. “Look, I don’t want any part of this whole witchcraft thing. I was happier not knowing about ogres and snallygasters. But now, you guys are the only friends and family I’ve got, and I’m not about to let that witch take that away from me. Besides…” Her frown faded into the glimmer of a smile. “I think I may have an idea. I think we might be able to fight magic with magic.”

“Really?” Jack and Sean asked in unison.

“Maybe. Jessabelle and I read some things before the meeting from Annabelle’s journal. I don’t know if resisting Evelyn’s spells counts as resisting evil or temptation or anything, but it’s worth a shot. Maybe I can break Evelyn’s spell.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jack asked.

Jenny looked seriously at Jack. “The trick is that I need your blood.”

Later that night, Jenny called the hospital to talk to Hattie. The nurse said she was sleeping, but would give her a message when she awoke. Jenny wasn’t about to leave the nurse a message about witchcraft and curses, so she simply left a message that she’d called, then set about to work. She spent much of the night studying her grandmother’s journal, and the secret meanings Jessabelle had discovered.

The next morning, Jack came by and helped fix the door with the help of an older, heavyset man with a limp named Walter Norton. Jenny wondered if he was another distant relation. Probably. Jenny helped as best as she could, until Walter found a polite way to suggest that she help elsewhere. She took the hint, and spent some more time trying to put her bedroom back in order.

Jack and Walter left to scrounge up materials to repair the refrigerator. Jenny hesitated a moment before calling Jessabelle. Because there was no cell coverage, no one had personal phones. That meant a stranger—probably Jessabelle’s mother—might answer. It was a stupid thing to be worried about. If anything, Jenny should meet Jessabelle’s mother, but the uncertainty was still enough to cause anxiety.

She called anyway, and was a little surprised when Jessabelle answered the phone after all. Her cousin didn’t strike Jenny as the kind of girl who spent much time at home. But then, she probably didn’t spend that much time in human form. Had Evelyn’s spell made her disbelieve her own nature?

Jenny invited her over, and Jessabelle sounded relieved. “Is Jack going to be there?” she asked.

“Not for a while. He and an older fellow were looking for parts to repair the refrigerator.”

“Okay, then.”

Jessabelle arrived a few minutes later, and the two set to work cleaning up more of the damage. Walter had the air conditioner in the living room working again, and between that and the re-hung door, things were actually comfortable.

“That was sure a strange storm the other night,” Jessabelle said.

“What do you mean?”

“The storm that did all this damage and hurt Hattie. How is she, by the way?”

“Resting. I tried calling her last night and this morning, but the nurse didn’t want to disturb her. But I guess she’s doing alright. Hey, I was about to fix myself an early lunch. Interested?”

“What are you cooking?”

“Just peanut butter and honey sandwiches.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Jenny began making the sandwiches while Jessabelle vacuumed. She felt guilty, but added the extra ingredient she’d spent the night concocting to Jessabelle’s sandwich. A few minutes later, they sat down together at the table. Jenny took a bite of her sandwich, and then asked, “So what really happened last night?”

“Didn’t Jack tell you?”

“His version,” Jenny said.

Jessabelle sighed. “Yeah. Pay it no mind. They just had a little prayer service, Botch and Fred spoke…oh, Botch is like the richest man in Maple Bend, but I don’t know how rich that is. Fred is Sam’s papa. Anyway, it was just a show of support, and suddenly Jack stands up and starts insisting there are monsters in the woods and accusing Evelyn of causing it. Poor lady seemed ‘bout to tears when she left. Anyway, things were awkward, and they ended the meeting in a hurry.”

“That sounds strange.”

“It was! You know, I used to have a crush on Jack. I loved his stories, but I didn’t think he actually believed ‘em. I’m afraid he might have truly gone ‘round the bend.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“We talked about that yesterday, when we were reading grandma’s hidden messages out of her book, remember? Means going crazy.”

“Right. No other meaning?”

“None that I recall. Why?”

“Just some of the things grandma said in the journal.”

“Grandma went ‘round the bend herself, too. Hattie’s headin’ that way, I reckon. Maybe it’s a family trait.”

“Then you and I are doomed.”

Jessabelle grinned. “Crazy ol’ cat ladies, right? That’ll be us.” She took a bite out of her sandwich. She spoke without swallowing. “Maybe like in Jack’s ol’ stories, I’ll believe I am a cat.”

Jenny smiled, feeling strangely guilty. “And I’ll think I’m a witch.”

Jessabelle swallowed and grinned. “Just like Hattie and Grandma.” She took another bite.

“Don’t you wish you could turn into a cat?”

“Not really,” Jessabelle said through another mouthful. Then she made a strange face. She swallowed and then took another, smaller bite. She chewed it tentatively, and her expression soured. “Jenny, how old was that peanut butter?”

“I, uh, spiced it up a bit?”

Jessabelle choked down the bite in her mouth, and dropped the rest of the sandwich on her plate. “You spiced up a peanut butter sandwich? Why? With what?”

“Um, some herbs and stuff Hattie still had lying around. And, um, Jack’s blood.”

Jessabelle’s expression turned to pure disgust. “Why would you say that? That ain’t a funny joke.”

The guilt wracked Jenny, but she had to follow through with it. “Be clean, o spirit, be pure I now pray. Begone all you curses, I scrub you away!” Jenny felt the words as much as she spoke them. She hoped it would be enough.

Jessabelle’s expression turned to pure shock. “You weren’t kidding!” She jumped up from her chair, rushed to the sink and turned on the water. Jessabelle stuck her mouth sideways into the running water with her tongue out. “Nyah mblyeah!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jenny said.

Jessabelle turned off the water. “Do you know how much I have to fight off that instinct as a cat, Jenny? Don’t get me started in human f…” Jessabelle stopped, and her mouth opened into a horrified ‘O.’ “Oh. Oh, no. Jack must hate me.”

Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think so. But he hates Evelyn.”

“He ain’t the only one. I may as well get used to the taste of blood, I reckon, ‘cuz I am fixin’ to kill that witch. No offense.”

“None taken. You may have to take a number.”

“Huh? What number?”

“An expression. It means to join a lot of people wanting the same thing. Are you mad at me for lying to you?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “No. It was for the right reasons, I reckon. But you just ruined peanut butter for me forever. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you that, Jenny Morgan.”

* * *

Hattie called less than an hour later. “We got the doctors mighty confused, Jenny. They can’t figure out how I’m healing so fast, or why it looks like I’ve been beat up a couple of times now. Unfortunately, they say my arm is healing up wrong, and they have to re-break it and reset it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, sweetie. That same juice that healed my arm up wrong also saved my life. I’ll be fine. They are keeping me here for a couple more days, though. Which is just as well. I suspect our friend has left a flunkie to keep an eye on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure enough. She is probably verifying I don’t go breaking my promise. So let’s just not get into specific details. I assume you are being really safe and careful up there?”

Jenny hesitated before replying. Was someone listening to the line? Was she giving anything away by speaking? Were they listening to Hattie’s side of the conversation? “Um…yes?”

“Good. Everybody’s still safe and unharmed?”

“Yes, we’re fine.”

“How’s the house?”

“We got some help fixing it up.”

“Oh, that’s good. You took pictures first for insurance purposes, right?”

“Um…” The old-fashioned phone attached to the wall had spring-like spiral cord from the handpiece to the set on the wall. Jenny found herself absently wrapping the cord around her fingers. “Was I supposed to do that?”

Hattie snorted. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll work it out.”

Jenny’s mother used to play a game with her where they would try to hold a conversation using euphemisms and code-words they made up on-the-spot and see if they could understand what each other was saying. Sometimes they’d do it in front of Jenny’s father, and see how long it took for him to figure it out. He was a clever man, and usually understood their secret meanings within a few sentences.

Suddenly Jenny realized the purpose of that game, and what her mother had been teaching her to do. All part of the paranoia of her childhood. Except it hadn’t been paranoia after all, had it? Unfortunately, Hattie had never played with them. If the conversation was being monitored somehow, the best Jenny could do would be to avoid giving too much information away, and keep it theoretical.

“If grandma had a charm to remove curses, would that have worked against the ogre?”

“Mama did have a charm just like that. It’s a tough one, because the blood is hard to find. I wish I had that the other night. It would have made my little surprise work a lot better. Or maybe it would have killed us both.”

“How would you get the ogre to eat it?”

“What? Eat it? Oh, no. If it ain’t a potion, nobody consumes it. A charm like that, you just put it a tiny little poke or something and bury it under their doorstep for something long-term, or fling it in the air when you cast it for something quicker. Goodness, some of those charms have toxins in them; you don’t want to have anyone consume that!”

“Oops.” Jenny said.

“What was that? What happened?”

“Nothing.” Jenny looked around the kitchen. “I…um…just dropped something. I’m fine. I need to go, now.”

The hesitation on the other line suggested Hattie didn’t buy her weak effort to recover. “You be safe, hon.”

“I’ll try.” Jenny hung up the phone.

Jessabelle stood up. “So, how is she?”

“She’s doing okay. They have to reset a bone. But she’s okay.”

“Did she tell you what to do about the charm?”

“Well, yeah. I got good news and bad news about that.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“I may have ruined peanut butter for you for no good reason.”

* * *

Jack and Walter returned shortly after the phone call. Jack’s reunion with Jessabelle was almost anticlimactic. He looked at her questioningly and said, “Hi, Jessabelle?”

“Jack, I’m so sorry about last night.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I still said terrible things. Everything I’d seen… I somehow believed they were all a bad dream, and I didn’t even want to think about it.”

“Evelyn did it to you. She did it to everyone. We’re good.”

At this point, Walter called for Jack’s help. The two hauled in a refrigerator door they’d miraculously scrounged up that fit Hattie’s fridge. Hattie would want to replace the whole thing as soon as she could afford to, but for now, the appliance was functional.

Sean returned with some supplies from Hap’s, and they continued the job of fixing up Hattie’s place. Within another hour, the front door was secure if not pleasant to look at, two broken windows were boarded up, and the house was clean.

Jessabelle bobbed her head in semi-approval. “If you squint really hard, it looks back to normal.”

Walter got ready to leave. He put a hand on the knob of the replacement front door, and then turned to look at the four youth. “Y’all know, Hattie’s mama once saved my sister. Bonny had scarlet fever, and was close to dying. Mrs. Rose fixed her right up, almost as fast as Hattie fixed you up, Jack. Now, I know what people who went to the meeting last night are saying, but I know what I seen here, and that weren’t no storm. Y’all tell Hattie that if there’s anything else she needs, anything at all, just give me a call, okay?”

They nodded, and Walter waved. “You kids be safe,” he said as he left.

After the door was closed, Jack muttered, “Yeah, that ain’t likely.”

“So what’s the plan?”

All eyes turned to Jenny. A deer in the headlights, she fought her immediate reaction to hide or to look to someone else for guidance. She wasn’t supposed to be the person in charge. She wasn’t supposed to be the girl with the plan. But then, none of any of this was supposed to happen, was it?

In the end, who would prove to be the bigger threat to her family, Evelyn, or Jenny herself? All she knew was that if she did nothing, Jack would get himself killed, Jessabelle would probably follow soon after, and Hattie and Jenny would be at the mercy of Evelyn and that awful man in the white suit. Even doing something stupid seemed smarter than doing nothing at all.

She had something stupid in mind.

“I found some of Hattie’s old charms that can cure people of the spell Evelyn used last night. It cured Jessabelle.”

Jessabelle shook her head. “That’s not…”

Jenny stopped her with a dagger-stare. Jessabelle took her cue and shut her mouth. Jack just listened. Jenny continued. “We’ve got enough to cure a few more people. People with guns. We’ll prove to them that the ogre is in the barn, and get them ready. We’ll set the barn on fire with the ogre inside it. If it survives, we’ll shoot it.”

Jack grinned. “I like this plan.”

Sean narrowed his eyes. “You found some of Hattie’s old charms, huh?”

Jenny nodded. “Yes, that’s the plan. And then we’ll have proof the ogre exists. We’ll get a lot of publicity. News crews and everything.”

“Really,” Sean said. It wasn’t a question. If he smelled something fishy, she wasn’t going to confirm it. “And when were you going to do this?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll start early, breaking people free of the spell.”

“And what am I supposed to do? I don’t really know how to shoot a gun. Find me a bow, though, and I’ll do alright. I took archery for one of my mandatory P.E. credits.”

“Actually, you’ve got the toughest job of all.”

“Name it.”

“We need to find out what Evelyn and her boss are planning.”

“And how am I supposed to find that out?”

Jenny took a deep breath. “Ask her, maybe.”

Sean stared at her, mouth slightly open, moving to form words that he didn’t seem sure about. Finally he said, “What makes you think she’d tell me?”

“It’s not like she’d talk to any of the rest of us.”

Sean frowned. “Okay. Do you want me to go right away?”

Jenny nodded. “Yes. Let us know as soon as possible.”

Sean left without another word. The door slammed shut with a bang behind him.

The room was silent except for the sound of the air conditioner straining to keep up with the afternoon sun. Finally, Jessabelle spoke. “Uh, what just happened?”

Jenny was quiet for a moment. She should have talked to everyone and obtained their agreement first. Wasn’t that what a good leader was supposed to do? But she was no leader at all, let alone a good one.

“Nothing good. My mother would be proud.”

Jack squinted. “So ain’t we gonna burn that ogre down and shoot it?”

“The ogre is dangerous, but it’s not the enemy. Evelyn is. Jack, I need more of your blood. Now.”

Sean reluctantly returned to Evelyn’s house. He paused as he caught sight of its white vinyl siding peeking out from behind the trees. It looked like a trap now, like his father’s house. He didn’t want to face Evelyn again. He never wanted to face Evelyn again.

And what was Jenny up to? Her idea was reasonable, right up to the point where she’d asked him to come and try to get Evelyn to spill her evil plan to him. Jenny wasn’t telling him the whole truth, either. He liked Jenny, but had doubts there was such a thing as a “good” witch.

Evelyn’s SUV was parked in the patch of dirt gravel that counted as a driveway in Maple Bend. She’d probably be home. He knocked on the door, hoping he was wrong.

He wasn’t.

Footsteps padded to the door, and Evelyn opened it wide. “Why, Sean Williams! I wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon. Don’t tell me you are afraid Avery will come early? He’s probably forgotten all about you. Ghosts do that.”

“You have the luxury of being wrong. I don’t.”

Evelyn stepped aside and let him in. “I don’t suppose you’ve forgiven me for what I did to you.”

He stepped in, trying to summon more bravado than he felt. “Am I supposed to?”

She sighed. “No, not really. Not yet, at least. Look, I can’t do anything about Avery until he shows up.”

“Not even a little protective charm or anything like that?”

“Not anything I have ready or that I can whip up in a hurry. Remember how I can’t see ghosts like you can? It’s a weakness. I haven’t made interacting with them a matter of practice, either. Sorry. Now, have a seat, and let’s talk about the real reasons you dropped by.”

Sean was about to protest, but realized it wouldn’t do any good. He followed her lead to the living room, but he didn’t sit down. “Why did you attack Hattie?”

“Attack her? Look, she’s the one who disrupted my control over the ogre. If she’d been any stronger, we both might have been dead. I couldn’t protect her from the consequences of her actions.”

“But you went to steal those books from her.”

She raised an eyebrow. “To steal a book, yes. There are more?”

Crap, crap, crap. He’d screwed up already. He was supposed to be getting information from her, not giving it to her. He shrugged, trying to play it off. “Whatever. You were the one who stole it.”

“Yes, you should know by now I’m pretty ruthless going after my quarry, and I’m dangerous to those who cross me. But I can be generous to those who aid me.”

“So what were you looking for in the book?”

“You know what. I need to know what Annabelle did.”

“But why? What are you going to do once you learn that?”

She gently laced her fingers together. “Please sit down, Sean.”

He surprised himself by sitting down. She sat across from him, crossing her legs and staring at him. “Now tell me, Sean, is there another journal?”

“I think so. Jenny said that she and Jessabelle were studying Annabelle’s journal.”

Part of him screamed at himself to shut up. The other part of him—the part currently controlling his mouth—was pleased to answer Evelyn’s questions.

“Do you know where this journal is now?”

“No.” While his mouth betrayed him, it didn’t seem compelled to volunteer information. Sean stared at a square spot on the wall behind Evelyn where a painting had once hung. Now it was bare and sterile. He distracted himself by imagining what kind of painting had once hung there.

“Did she tell you what it is for?” Evelyn continued.

“No.”

“So what are that young lady and her friends planning, anyway?”

Damn it. Sean relayed what Jenny had told him without hesitation. The entire time, he screamed inwardly at himself. He couldn’t help it. Distantly, he knew this was her magic, but knowing didn’t mean he had any control over it.

When he was done, she clucked the roof of her mouth with her tongue. “It sounds like Jenny is quite the ambitious young lady. I wonder what we’re going to do with her. I suppose she’ll come around. They almost all come around in the end.” She sighed. “Even me.”

This was a mistake. He should have refused to come here. Jenny was stupid to have sent him.

“Did she mention which people she was going to use those charms on? Or how many she had?”

“No. No.” He felt a wave of temptation to tell her more, but she hadn’t asked. He could control himself that far.

She sighed. “Well, Sean. We’re going to save your friends, and probably a whole lot of innocent people. How does that sound?”

“What do you mean?”

“That ogre is going to kill a lot of people if your friends rile it up, especially without Hattie’s help. So we’re going to nip the problem in the bud.”

“We?”

“You and me. This is going to be at least a two-person job.”

“I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“Too bad! Now stay in that chair. I need to make a couple of phone calls. Then we’re going to escort an ogre out of town.

* * *

At sunset they left in Evelyn’s SUV and drove to the Casto’s barn. Evelyn shut off the vehicle a short distance distance away, and told Sean to get out. Outside, the air was just cooling from “hot” to “warm” and the insects were changing shifts on their choir performance.

“Do these people know you are keeping an ogre in their barn?” he asked.

Evelyn didn’t answer. “Get out of the car and stay on the opposite side from the barn. Make no sudden moves. No sense getting it excited until it’s fully under my control.”

“It’s not under your control?”

“Of course. The barn is still in one piece, isn’t it? But magic wears out over time, just like everything else. Especially with something this powerful, or when it’s put under pressure. I need to renew the spell often to keep it working at full strength. Just keep your distance until I tell you to come out.”

“What would happen if you lost control?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m way too careful to let that happen.”

If she wasn’t, Sean didn’t want to be in the same area code when it happened. He doubted the SUV would be much protection. The scene with the T-Rex in Jurassic Park came to mind. Unconsciously, he found himself hunching down a little lower behind the SUV.

Evelyn strode confidently toward the barn. She opened one of the two doors, and said something Sean couldn’t hear into the darkness beyond. Then she gracefully slipped inside.

Seconds passed. Sweat trickled down Sean’s right temple, not entirely the product of the warm evening air. Something flickered in the corner of his vision. He hesitated before sparing a glance to the side, afraid to miss even a split-second warning of the ogre’s appearance.

In the tall weeds twenty yards uphill, someone waved at him. It wasn’t clear at first in the dusk light, but he caught a glimpse of Jenny’s red hair. He started to wave back, but realized she wasn’t waving. She was warning him to get down.

Sean crouched lower, barely able to see the barn door over the hood of the SUV. All was still silent within, at least as he could hear above the insect sounds and the faintly stirring breeze. More sweat trickled down Sean’s face. As he wiped the tickling drops, Evelyn appeared, and he froze. She approached the SUV as confidently as she’d approached the barn. A hulking figure emerged from the shadows behind her. The yellow eyes of the hunched beast seemed to glow before the rest of it emerged from the shadows. It stalked forward using the knuckles of its giant fists as support like an ape.

Evelyn had her back turned to the monster when a faint-blue smoky flash erupted from the ground as it crossed the barn’s threshold. Its visage twisted into fury as its magical prison shattered. She heard its furious bellow too late to do anything besides look behind in terror as the thing batted her with the force of a truck at highway speeds. An electric blue flash exploded as Evelyn flew through the air like a rag doll, landing twenty feet away in a stack of scrap wood.

Jenny watched in horror from her hiding place as the ogre smashed Evelyn with what must be a fatal blow. The anti-curse charm buried just under the threshold had worked too swiftly, and Evelyn had been too confident. The plan had been to attack the vulnerable ogre while Evelyn was busy re-exerting control over it, taking advantage of the simultaneous vulnerability of witch and ogre. Even though Jenny had realized there was a chance Evelyn might be hurt or killed—as any of them might be—it was something else to witness someone struck with lethal force.

The ogre roared in fury, casting its gaze toward where Evelyn’s body had flown. It either couldn’t see her, or her broken body offered it no sport, because it scanned around looking for another target for its rage. It peered through baleful yellow eyes at Evelyn’s SUV. Sean hunched behind it, but it would offer little protection if he or the vehicle became the ogre’s target.

The ogre roared again, a bellow that surely must have been heard all the way down in Branton. Then it stomped forward with malicious purpose, possibly trying to frighten either the unfamiliar vehicle, or the poor young man crouched behind it. Jenny and Jack leaped from their hiding places, but couldn’t keep up with the ogre. It reached the SUV in three large, unhurried strides and delivered a two-fisted hammer-blow to its roof. The roof held surprisingly well, which only infuriated the monster. It rained blows on the top of the vehicle, spilling glass and twisting metal with each deafening crunch.

Jenny spotted Sean on the ground, curled with his back toward the car, covering his head to protect it from flying debris. She began her protective spell, substituting Sean’s name where appropriate, focusing on his defense. Something happened, she felt it. She caught a faint flicker of light surrounding him that she prayed was more than her imagination.

Jack raced behind the ogre, aimed his shotgun squarely at the base of the monster’s skull, and fired both barrels. Matted hair and thick hide vanished, exposing bloody flesh and skull. The beast roared and whirled on Jack. Jenny started the protection rhyme again in earnest, targeting Jack.

She was too late. The poem needed several more seconds that she didn’t have. Jack backed up, even as he ejected the two spent shells. The creature lunged forward, supporting itself with one hand while raising the other with open claws to tear at Jack.

A blur of black bounded from the grass to the broken SUV, and from there launched onto the ogre’s hunched back. The panther tore at the exposed flesh with powerful jaws. The ogre roared again, swinging its meaty hands over its shoulders. Its dagger-like claws connected, but the panther held fast, ripping deeper and deeper and soaking its face red.

Jenny wanted to stop the protection aimed at Jack in favor of Jessabelle, but she had to finish. Jack backed away, a look of resigned terror as he fumbled, shoving new shells into the gun’s chambers. One shell slipped out, landing on the ground beside him. He stooped down to pick it up. Just then, Jessabelle fell off the ogre’s back. Shiny streaks of crimson gleamed across her black hide. The ogre struck down at her, but she leaped away a split-second before it connected. As she landed, she faltered, stumbling and lurching into the grass.

Sean had recovered, and dove forward with a tiny knife. The blade bit deeply into the ogre’s leg, drawing blood. The ogre swatted Sean away with a back-handed blow that left Sean sprawled on the ground.

The ogre turned back toward Jack. As it lunged, Jack did the same, coming in directly beneath it. He pointed the shotgun upwards, and fired.

The gunshot silenced the ogre. Then, in spite of blood dribbling from its throat and chest, it hammered blows down on Jack. Jack dodged its first attacks, but fell under one strike. The creature beat down on him three more times, each blow coming more slowly than the last. Finally, the ogre stumbled backwards, bumping into the wreckage of the SUV, and sat down, as if taking a quick rest. It blinked several times, its breathing growing labored.

Heedless of the ogre’s proximity, Jenny raced to Jack’s side. He sat up, looking every bit as dazed as the ogre, but didn’t act hurt. The shotgun beside him bore a small but undeniable bend along the barrels, rendered useless.

Sean pulled himself to an unsteady stand, staring warily at the ogre. The ogre’s breathing slowed, and it collapsed to one side. With a gurgling final exhalation, its breathing stopped.

“Jessabelle!” Jack yelled, and jumped up. He stumbled as he did, revealing more injuries than had been apparent. The panther limped out of the weeds. As Jack stood beside her, she transformed into human form, and screamed.

Jenny rushed to Jessabelle’s side, and knelt down beside her. The girl winced, her clothes streaked with blood. “I normally heal when I change,” she explained between rapid breaths.

Jenny retrieved a bag from the weeds where she’d been hiding, and produced a lidded plastic cup. She handed it to Jessabelle. “Drink some of this. I didn’t have Hattie’s help on this one, so I don’t know how good it is, but it might help.” She looked at Jack and added, “You, too.”

Sean stared at Jessabelle, registering what had just happened. A few seconds after her transformation, he simply scratched his head and shrugged. He limped to the corner of the barn, looking around the pile of scrap wood where Evelyn had been thrown. Jenny was terrified of what he might find, but couldn’t afford to pull any more attention away from Jessabelle.

Jessabelle made a face at the taste of the healing juice, and passed the jar to Jack. Her hand shook. Jack accepted the jar from her, took a swig of the drink with a far more stoic expression, then screwed the lid the over the remains and handed it to Jenny. Jessabelle winced in pain, and her breathing grew more ragged and shallow.

Jack looked to Jenny and whispered, “Is there anything more we can do?”

Jenny nodded. She recited the healing spell she’d learned from Hattie, infusing it with everything she had left. As it neared conclusion, Jenny felt lightheaded. She pushed through it until the end. Then the world flipped.

She opened her eyes to find herself on her back in the grass. She felt like she’d been asleep for hours, but the fading sunlight still obscured the stars. The light and stars refused to stay in one position, spinning a few degrees before resetting a moment later. Jack’s face appeared in her view, doing the same record-skipping dance.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked. His face and the sky took progressively shorter steps.

“What happened?”

“You fell over.”

“For how long?”

“Just a few seconds.”

Jessabelle’s voice floated to her from a few feet away. It was weak, but no longer accompanied by ragged breathing. “Maybe you overdid it?”

Jenny closed her eyes to shut out the staccato repeat-spinning. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. But then, just today she’d cured Jessabelle, made more healing juice, made anti-curse charms for her friends, made another and buried it under the threshold of the barn, cast protection spells on Sean and Jack, and made an effort heal Jessabelle. Had she run into her limits?

“Jessabelle? Are you okay?”

“If you mean did your spell work, I ain’t got no clue. I still hurt too bad to sleep, and I’m too tired to change. But I ain’t dead.”

Jenny started raising herself to a sitting position, and instantly regretted it. Her world swam, and it was all she could do to lay back down comfortably in the grass. “I guess I’m not going anywhere for a while. Maybe I should have a drink of that potion, too.”

“Oops, sorry,” Jack said. “There might could be a few drops left.”

“It’s okay.” Jenny closed her eyes again, but it didn’t eliminate the sensation of spinning. “So I can’t do magic. Jessabelle can’t change. Jack’s gun is broken, so he can’t shoot. What’s Sean got left?”

As if in answer, footsteps swished toward them along the grass. “Evelyn’s gone,” Sean said. “There’s nobody there.”

“I guess it’s too much to hope she melted away like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Probably,” Sean answered. “I saw a flash when she was hit, like when the snallygaster hit you.”

“She didn’t have time to cast a spell. She must have had a charm made in advance, like those anti-curse bags.”

“What anti-curse bags?”

Jenny rubbed her forehead, as if it would force the world back into stability. “Right. I need to give you one. It might protect you from Evelyn’s mind-control, at least for a little while.”

“Great. That would have been handy to give me a few hours ago.” Even without looking at his face, Jenny felt the heat from Sean’s glare. “You didn’t want me to have it a few hours ago, did you? You used me, Jenny. You used me to lure Evelyn into a trap.”

“Yes.”

“You could have…she could have just killed me, you know.”

Jenny rolled onto one side to look at him. Her mother taught her to lie when necessary and to avoid confrontation. But this was her own making, and she owed it to Sean to explain. Even if he hated her for the rest of her life. It was her mess. She had to clean it up, or at least own up to it. “She could have killed all of us with that ogre. Yes, I used you. I lied to you. I’m sorry.”

Jack jumped in. “But we got the ogre.”

Sean sighed. “Yeah. I even got a stab in myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny repeated. “It was the only plan I could come up with at the time.”

“I guess it was a pretty good plan,” Sean said with a shrug. “And, I did go behind your back to your grandmother’s house.”

“Are we even?”

He nodded. “Sure. But maybe we can be more honest with each other from here on out.”

Jack looked down the hill, distracted. “Works for me,” he said.

“’Bout time,” Jessabelle said.

“I think we have a deal,” Jenny said. “But you keep our secrets from others, okay?”

Sean nodded. “Of course.”

“Guys?” Jack said. “I see headlights. A couple of sets, coming this way. I guess someone heard our fight.”

Sean pointed to the ogre’s body. “I guess we find out how well Evelyn’s spell holds against proof.”

Jessabelle smiled at Jack. “Now everyone will know you ain’t been lying.”

Jack didn’t see the smile. He shrugged.

Jenny sat up, successfully this time. The world spun more slowly now, but she was in no condition to stand. Down the hill, a pickup truck and an older car drove up the road toward them. There was nowhere to hide to avoid the attention this would generate. Jenny wouldn’t leave her friends, and she couldn’t physically escape if she wanted to. There was something curiously liberating about that.

Jack disappeared as people arrived, and most of the arriving people asked Sean what was going on. After the third time someone asked if he was okay, he realized how he looked. He was covered with dirt and grime, slivers of glass from the SUV were stuck in his hair and glistened in the beams of headlights and flashlights, and he had a smear of ogre blood across the front of his shirt.

Two women went in to help Mrs. Casto, reportedly already in hysterics. Her husband was not in the house. The shifting night wind carried the occasional rotten meat stench from the barn, and Sean feared the worst. To avoid answering more questions, Sean recruited three men to investigate the barn. “Evelyn kept it in the Casto barn,” Sean explained.

“Would there be any others in there?” one of the men asked.

Sean shook his head. “We’d have found that out already if there were.”

The barn door stood open as Evelyn had left it. Sean stepped inside with a borrowed flashlight, the three other men behind him. Well, two men and a younger guy around Sean’s age. Mason, he’d been called by one of the older men.

The fetid odor overwhelmed him more than the darkness. Sean lifted the front of his shirt to breathe through it, but it did little good, merely mingling the scent of his sweat and ogre blood with the reek of death and bodily waste. A swarm of flies filled the barn with a constant droning buzz.

The flashlight beam passed over long animal bones. Sean swept the beam across the rotting, dirty carcass twice before he recognized the remains of the snallygaster they’d killed days ago.

“What the hell is that?” Mason asked.

“Snallygaster. That’s the creature that killed the boy a few days ago.”

Mason backed away from the carcass, and nearly tripped over something else near the wall of the barn. He swore, and pointed his flashlight down at his feet.

Sean realized what the lump was almost instantly. The appearance of the figure next to Mason removed all doubt. The ghost was around sixty years old, wearing bib overalls and a hat. He stared down at the decaying, dirt-and-straw-covered object at his feet, and then looked at Sean sadly. “Y’all take care of my wife, okay? And tell my kids I’m sorry.” The figure faded from view.

“What the hell is this?” Mason demanded of nobody in particular.

Without thinking, Sean answered, “That was Mr. Casto.” He meant the ghost, but his answer applied to the grisly, half-eaten remains on the floor as well.

Mason staggered out the barn door and retched.

Sean resisted his own urge to vomit. Whether Evelyn deliberately killed Mr. Casto or merely put him in harm’s way by placing a monster on his property, the man’s blood was on Evelyn’s hands. Indirectly, Sean felt responsible. He’d wondered what Evelyn had done with the towering, destructive creature she’d subdued, but he’d never voiced his question aloud. Maybe because he was afraid of the answer?

“We need to call the police,” one of the men said.

“Bill just went to call them,” another responded.

“He probably called his nephew who works at the TV station first.”

Sean turned. “Maybe we shouldn’t disturb the scene,” he said as he headed for the door. The rest of the group seemed ready to accept any excuse to leave.

Jenny stood and approached Sean as he exited the building. It was hard to tell in the beams of the headlights, but she seemed stronger and less likely to fall over again. “What’s in there?”

Sean shook his head to clear the horrible image. “The remains of the snallygaster. And Mr. Casto.”

“His remains?”

Sean nodded.

Jenny looked down. “Oh. He seemed nice, I guess. Really helpful when he found Jack in his barn.” She looked around the field, and asked, “Did Jack go into the barn with you?”

Sean shook his head. “Nope. I haven’t seen him since people started bombarding me with questions.”

“Me, neither.” Jenny turned and called to Jessabelle, who sat by herself with her back against a fencepost, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else. “Jessabelle, have you seen Jack?”

Jessabelle looked around, and then shook her head.

Sean shrugged. “Jack’s smarter than the rest of us, I guess.”

“You’d think he’d be happy, finally being proven right after all this time,” Jenny looked down the road at the approaching flashlights. “You realize this is going to be all over the news tonight? Everywhere.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah. It’s weird.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve never been one for standing out. And now this tiny little town is going to be the center of attention everywhere. But Evelyn…”

Sean frowned. “If she survived, Evelyn’s going to be behind bars. Unless she was really, really smart and started running. Or flying. Can witches really fly on brooms?”

Jenny laughed. “I don’t think I ever would. That sounds scary.”

“Says the girl who stood up to an ogre an hour ago.”

She laughed more, and looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t the only one. We still have to face that other problem of yours. What did you say his name was? Avery?”

Sean nodded. “Maybe your protection spell will do the trick. I hardly felt it when the ogre back-handed me. I doubt little Avery will do much better.”

“I’ll protect you as long as it takes, until we figure out how to send him to Hell where he belongs.”

Sean smiled, and his anger towards her receded. Jenny seemed sincere, and she had just executed a ruthless plan to take down an ogre. He didn’t know if he could trust her, but he wouldn’t underestimate her.

The trickle of flashlights parted for the approach of an SUV. For a moment, Sean imagined it was the ghost of Evelyn’s car, returning for a visit from the dead. Same make and model, brand new, but a different color. “Botch” King didn’t bother turning off the ignition as he exited and approached Sean. Even having only been in town a few days, Sean had heard of the man, but he’d never been introduced. Botch wore plain Levis and a light-blue button-up shirt. His cowboy boots seemed expensive, but well-used. By reputation, Botch was the wealthiest person in Maple Bend, and one of the richest men in the county, but Sean couldn’t tell. He stood in the sideways spotlight of his own headlight beams.

“That thing’s dead?”

Sean nodded. “Yeah. We killed it. Uh, mostly Jack.”

“Jack Parsons?” The man shook his head and whistled. “Well, ain’t that interesting. Anybody seriously hurt?”

“Not from the fight. It killed Mr. Casto a while ago.” He felt his blood warm just thinking about the poor man’s ghost again. Sean twisted the knife. “Evelyn kept this thing in the Casto’s barn.”

The man’s face darkened. Maybe it was how he turned away from the headlight beams. “You tell anyone else that?”

Sean nodded.

“Okay. The police are on their way up, but it’ll be a little while before they get here. I reckon they’ll want to talk to all y’all. It’d be best if you didn’t talk to anyone else until then. Folks are going to be riled up enough as it is. Where’s Jack?”

Sean shook his head. “He took off a while ago.”

“Okay, I’ll see about rounding him up. Judas, will ya look at that thing?”

“Um, can we get a ride down to Hattie’s?”

The man nodded. “Yep, sure thing. Lemme move some papers out of the way.”

A few minutes later, the three of them were back in Hattie’s trailer. Jenny gave everyone cold water to drink, and they took turns showering the sweat and dirt off their faces and bodies. Sean felt like he would have to bathe for a week to get the filth of the Casto barn out of his skin. There was little warm water left by the time he stepped into the shower, so a few exhilarating minutes would have to do.

When he stepped out of the shower, he realized he was out of shirts. He had one plain, white t-shirt left, but it was badly in need of washing. At least it could be cleaned. The shirt he’d been wearing, stained with ogre-blood, might have to be burned.

He stepped out, shirtless, with a towel. “Um, hey, I’m a little bit out of laundry right now. Could I use the washer and dryer?”

Jenny and Jessabelle looked at him, and then looked at each other. Jessabelle snorted. Jenny jumped up and jogged toward the bedroom. “I’m sure you can. Let me see if Aunt Hattie has anything you could wear in the meantime.”

Jenny opened the door to Hattie’s bedroom, and used an expletive he hadn’t heard her say in the days he’d known her. Sean followed. Hattie’s bedroom looked like the aftermath of another ogre attack. Furniture was pulled away from the wall, and drawers were dumped out onto the bed. Jenny rushed to the dresser, which rested at an angle, and reached behind it. After a few seconds, she announced, “It’s gone! Evelyn stole Grandma Annabelle’s journal!”

For nearly a third of his life, he’d been called “Lyin’ Jack” because he told people monsters were real. In desperation, the naive twelve-year-old Jack decided to be so honest in all of his words that the people would realize their mistake and beg his forgiveness. At least the nickname wouldn’t stick. Neither of his hopes came to fruition. Most of the time, people believed what they either wanted to or were forced to believe. Nobody wanted to believe their safety was in jeopardy from giant monsters in the woods, and without proof, they never would.

Now there was finally proof. Either people would prove more obstinate than he could imagine, or his childhood dreams would come true and he would finally be vindicated. To his surprise, he didn’t much care one way or the other. He certainly didn’t want to deal with accepting apologies tonight or seeing their justifications. As people showed up to marvel at the dead ogre, Jack grabbed the useless shotgun and slipped away from the scene.

It was dark, which was treacherous even for him. He stayed in familiar territory and made his way down to the road out of Maple Bend. This way, he could watch the traffic come into town without the risk of being seen or asked any questions. Questions would be awkward, and there wasn’t enough time for Jack to learn how to lie.

Sitting a few yards from the road in the engulfing darkness of trees, Jack felt better. Even knowing the woods were dangerous, he felt better. The road was quiet. He wondered whether the news vans or the police would arrive first. Or, hopefully, he’d catch sight of Evelyn leaving town. On foot, broomstick, or mortar and pestle, he didn’t care. As long as she was gone.

What he didn’t expect was a black Cadillac Escalade coming up to the road to Maple Bend, stopping only a few dozen yards away from him. His throat tightened with fear. Had he been spotted? Did he dare run? Who was in the car? The car sat with the motor running and headlights beaming, the tinted windows revealing nothing of the occupants. Behind it, another truck approached, towing a horse trailer. The truck stopped much further away, and turned off its headlights.

When nothing else happened after a minute, Jack regained his courage and slipped closer. He kept far enough away to avoid being spotted. The crunch of ancient dead leaves snapped like gunshots in his ears, clearly audible over the sound of the Cadillac’s quietly idling engine. Still, no one stirred. Jack found a good position and waited.

Evelyn appeared on the road on the other side, walking with what might be either a subtle limp or a swagger. She had a book tucked under one arm. While she smiled as she approached the Cadillac, it didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes were hard.

The passenger-side rear door of the SUV opened, and a man in a white suit stepped out. He was short, barely topping five feet tall, with a fringe of silver hair and a goatee. He placed an old straw hat on his head as he exited the vehicle. His face showed little expression.

“You screwed up,” the man in the white suit said evenly.

“It was worth it, Thadeus,” Evelyn answered. Her voice sounded confident yet strained.

“Do tell. I don’t see an ogre with you, and the horn is buzzing like a hornets’ nest. Tell me what you’ve done, and it had better be good.”As terrifying as the snallygaster and the ogre had been, there was something about this man that filled Jack with a dread on an even more primal level as he watched. Somehow, Jack sensed that this man—if he was a man at all—was more dangerous than a dozen ogres and snallygasters combined.

“I have Annabelle’s journal. I think it will tell us what we need to do.”

“You think?”

“Give me a day and I’ll know. You gave me some old letters she exchanged with her friend in Morgantown. She used a code to embed messages in them. I think the journal uses something similar. I’ll cross reference it with the letters and puzzle it out. Don’t worry.”

“You better be right, Evie. Now, I’ve done called off the cops. They think the calls from town are a hoax, and I gave them some bigger fish to fry. We took down phone lines on our way up, so you’ve got yourself a short window of opportunity. By tomorrow night, if you ain’t ‘Round the Bend, you’ll be in handcuffs. Understand?”

Evelyn stared at him, setting her shoulders back and pursing her lips. “I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”

“No, but you often miss your deadlines. It took you three years to find the Morgans.”

“Amy…Patricia…was thorough in covering their tracks. But I found them for you.”

Jack steadied himself against the tree. Were these two responsible for the deaths of Jenny’s parents?

The man in white chuckled. “It’s a good thing for you that I am a very patient man. My plans for this place span generations. I’ve spent a couple of centuries cultivating the magic of this place. There are more bodies buried or lost ‘round these woods than you’d imagine. Blood Creek is wild and full of ghosts and sadness. Prime fertilizer for growing a new crossroads.”

“Why don’t we just skip all that? You could tell me where the old crossroads used to be, and we’ll start there.”

“It’d do you no good. We’ve been over this.”

“Try me.”

The man in the white suit laughed. “You want to know where? You just passed it, Evie. You pass it almost every day.” He pointed along the road. “Right where that church stands. In fact, it was a priest back then who closed it forever. Some Dutch feller. I tortured him to death, but the damage was done. I had to grow a new one. Stronger, so no third-rate practitioner would be able to shut it down. The Rose witches found it, and sealed it closed, but they couldn’t destroy it and they hardly understand what it is. Now you get to find it, open it back up, and get my daughter.”

Evelyn sighed. “I don’t understand. If you grew it, why can’t you show me where it is?”

“Don’t they teach you kids anything in those schools these days?”

“The Coven taught me. Their specific instructions were that if any of us found one, we were to inform them immediately, and if we dared mess with it without your explicit instructions, you’d keep us alive just long enough that we could watch you eating our insides. Anything else was on a need-to-know basis.”

He waved his hands in the air as he shrugged. “Now you need to know. And they exaggerated.”

“They said they didn’t.”

“I didn’t keep her alive to watch, I just made the rest of them watch. I’m glad I left an impression.”

Evelyn stiffened her back, and stuck her chin out. Jack felt wobbly. The man in the white suit wasn’t joking. Jack took this as evidence that his impression of this man—this creature in human form—had been correct.

Thadeus continued. “I can’t tell you exactly where the seed landed, but that’s why I brought you here. Crossroads are never easy to find, even when you know what you are looking for. That’s a good thing. Around the Bend, they are terrified of me. When they exiled me, they closed or sealed off every crossroads they knew of. They have wardens guarding the way just in case I ever find myself capable of going through again. They will know if I so much as touch them.”

“But they don’t know about this one?”

“If they do, they haven’t felt obligated to protect it. The ones who did this to me died a long time ago. I guess the kids these days have forgotten about me. That is to our advantage, but we can’t squander it by being stupid.”

A car approached from town. Jack wanted to scream a warning to the driver, but all he dared do was watch as the car slowed to a stop. Botch King stepped out. He left the car running, and the door ajar warning chimed in the background. “I dropped off three of the kids at Hattie’s trailer,” Botch told the other two. “Don’t know where Jack ran off to.”

Evelyn answered, “Probably up into the woods, knowing that kid. Maybe out by the Rose house.”

The man in white chuckled. “This could be an opportunity to get three for the price of one. One exploding propane tank ought to do the trick.”

Botch looked shocked.

Evelyn laughed it off. “He’s just kidding, Botch. Long day.”

The man in white nodded. “Of course I am. What I do need, Mr. King, is for you to be Evelyn’s driver for the next twenty-four hours. At her beck and call.”

“I’ve got a business meeting in the morning that I…”

“Cancel it. Or I cancel your retainer. Is that business meeting worth that much?”

“No, sir. I can move it.”

“That’s more like it. While you are at it, tell the rest of your family to attend her every demand. No matter how strange it sounds. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. But I…”

“No buts. Just do it. This is critical. Now, take her back home. Evelyn, I’ll take care of things down here and give you the cover you need. But the next time I see you, you’ll be with my daughter.”

Evelyn turned away from the man in white, and slid into the passenger seat of Botch’s car. Botch looked like he was going to say something else, but the man in white ignored him, entering the back of his own vehicle and slamming the door shut. Botch returned to his vehicle, and carefully made a three-point turn to return to Maple Bend.

The distant truck with the horse trailer backed up. The black Cadillac reversed and pulled a bootlegger turn to whip the vehicle 180 degrees, and sped off to follow it.

Alone again, Jack waited for the terrified adrenaline rush to subside. After drawing several breaths to recover, he oriented himself in the direction of Hattie’s trailer, and pushed forward into the woods.

Jenny brushed away the hand that shook her several times, to no avail. Her eyelids were all but welded shut, and her limbs were lead weights. The incessant shaking hand and the voice at the edge of her sleep wouldn’t go away. Finally, she rose to face her tormentor, pushing through the soft, inviting layers of unconsciousness to the harsh and painful world of her bedroom.

Her cousin shook her. “Jenny, you’ve got to get up. It’s almost dawn.”

“Almost? Wake me up at noon.” Her words came thick.

“Not this time, we let you go back to sleep twice.”

“Huh?” Jenny couldn’t remember being awakened earlier. All she remembered was stumbling into Hattie’s house and searching frantically for her grandmother’s journal. She jolted awake. The journal! Evelyn had it. But the real secrets were in the coded writing.

“Jenny, we’ve got to beat Evelyn to the crossroads. The sun’s almost up. We need to leave now.”

“What crossroads?”

“To ‘Round the Bend.”

Jenny regained some semblance of consciousness. “What? How does she know how to get there?”

“She knows about the code. Jack will tell you more. I made breakfast. More peanut butter sandwiches.” She smirked. “I improved your recipe. No blood this time. Get dressed. Time’s a-wastin’.”

Jenny threw on some clothes and went out to the family room where Jack, Sean, and Jessabelle waited. Sean looked somewhat uncomfortable in ill-fitting clothes, but everyone seemed ready to leave. Jessabelle handed Jenny a sandwich, and shouldered a small bag.

Sean said, “I have mosquito repellent if you don’t. The pond at the head of the creek was swarming with them.”

“We should leave now,” Jack said. “It should be light enough by the time we reach the trail. I know a back way.”

Jenny hesitated before taking a bite of the sandwich. “What about police? Reporters?”

Jessabelle shook his head. “Nope. Won’t be none of them. Not for a day or more, according to that man in the white suit. He done gave Evelyn one day to find the crossroads, and she knows about the codes from Grandma’s letters to her friend in college.”

Sean frowned. “I want to know how he got those.”

Jack held out one of the charms Jenny had made the day before—the cheap cloth sack containing, among other things, herbs smeared with drops of Jack’s own blood. Her grandmother’s special recipe. It was tied to a string to be worn like an amulet. “You wearing yours?”

Jenny shook her head. “I forgot mine. Do we even know if they work? How are we going to stop her? What if Thadeus comes afterwards? What if I pass out again halfway into things? Guys, I’m not a real witch. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Jack stared at her. She turned away from him, but his eyes didn’t move. “Your charm worked on the ogre. I reckon they’ll work okay. Maybe Evelyn’s a lot better than you, but you’re all we got. If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead by now. My shotgun’s broke, and we’re all pretty tired. But we’ve got to stop her.”

“But, is this even the right thing to do? The ogre, sure. We had to stop it before it hurt anyone else. Evelyn’s evil, but so what if she wants to go to where the monsters come from? Do we know for sure she’s bringing back more monsters?”

Jack looked at the other two. Sean nodded. Jessabelle said, “She needs to know.”

“Know what?” Jenny asked.

Jessabelle took the deep breath. “Jack overheard a conversation between Evelyn and that man in the white suit last night. It sounded like your parent’s deaths weren’t an accident. Evelyn found them for him and he killed them. Um, we think she means to kill Grandma Annabelle on the other side of ‘Round the Bend.”

The darkness out the window seemed to invade the room, grasping at Jenny’s heart. The intervening weeks and newly-discovered family hadn’t done much to dull the pain of loss, and the idea that her parents might have been murdered doubled the pain. In a shock, she remembered the man’s voice in her dream the night her parents died. That was why Thadeus had sounded familiar in the hospital room. It was the same voice. He’d been there when they’d died.

He’d killed them. Evelyn had helped.

After a few seconds, the pre-dawn world came back into focus. The gloom remained. Jenny knew that in spite of Jack’s words, she was no match for Evelyn. The fight was going to go badly, especially if Thadeus got involved. She was going to lose. But maybe her newfound friends could still score a temporary victory.

What other choice did she have? Wait and hide until Evelyn came back with an army of ogres, or worse, at her command? Short of bringing in the National Guard—all outfitted with charms to protect them from Evelyn’s mind control—nobody else could stand up to her either. Not yet. Maybe someone would come who could save the day. But in the meantime, Jenny determined that she would fill in.

Jenny delayed their departure long enough to shove some supplies into a shoulder-bag. Most were herbs she’d learned from Hattie, but common sense made her add water bottles, bug repellent, and a first-aid kit.

Jack led them along a different trail, a back way that skirted around the Casto house and the lights of the small crowd that still surrounded the dead ogre. No police or ambulance lights flashed through the trees. Jack carried an aluminum baseball bat at his side. It was a poor substitute for the shotgun, especially if they ran up against another ogre or snallygaster, but it was better than nothing. He used it to push some of the thicker brambles to the side as they hiked.

As the first direct rays of the sun pierced the top of the mountains, they reached a small gully with a thin stream. It was just a trickle of water, but the gully suggested it had been there a long time, and the bed surrounding it was as wide as three feet.

“That there’s Blood Creek,” Jack said. “I don’t know why they call it that.”

Sean nodded. “It’s the same creek I found. We should just be able to follow this all the way up.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s tricky to follow in spots.”

Sean checked his watch. “We are making good time. We’d never have gotten here this early without your help. We should beat Evelyn to the top pretty easily.”

After an hour of following the stream, they took a short break to spray on mosquito repellant, and eat more of Jessabelle’s peanut butter sandwiches. There was no clear trail up the stream making the hiking rough. Jenny’s muscles were already sore from their ambush and fight the night before, but Jessabelle seemed to be struggling the most. She bore it silently, but Jenny caught the body language and the half-concealed winces. Jessabelle hadn’t attempted to transform again since the fight at the Casto farm. Compared to what the ogre had done to her, she was still in remarkable shape, but all of them should probably be back at home, resting and recovering.

The man in the white suit had given Evelyn a day. They just had to keep her from going to ‘Round the Bend’ for a day, and then they could rest.

They came to the pools forty-five minutes later. Things were exactly as Sean described, including the nearly constant whine of tiny bugs and the hanging bottle that glowed with an eerie light.

“Don’t look like much,” Jack commented. “Is that an old syrup bottle?”

Jessabelle said, “I don’t see no glow, Sean.”

Jenny and Sean looked at each other, and they both nodded. “We do.”

Jenny found herself drawn to the bottle, and she reached out to touch it. The glow itself had a faint feel to it, a nimbus like a static charge. As she touched the bottle, she felt something more than just the warm glass. There was a dryness, like a reservoir that had long been emptied, but for a lingering puddle of cool energy. This had been a powerful protection once upon a time, blocking this side from entry by creatures like the snallygaster or the ogre, or Jack’s giant. It was barely functional now, like a light bulb that flickered a dim glow but refused to burn out entirely.

She continued to study both the physical bottle and the feelings that surrounded it. It would be best to replace it, but even though she had the instructions, she didn’t fully understand how to use them. The shoddy appearance of the witch bottle was a function of simplicity and time. It had been built with great skill and care, years ago. Maybe it would be possible to recharge the bottle, to give it enough power to continue functioning for another couple of years. Long enough to learn how to make a replacement.

Jenny glanced along the swampy clearing and spotted something else flashing in the morning sun. Staring directly at it, she saw nothing, but as she turned away, she caught the glimmer of a path, shimmering in gold. Jenny poked Sean, and pointed it out to him. “You see that?”

He shook his head. Jenny squinted to see if it was just her imagination, but if anything that only made the contrast more pronounced. Something was there.

“Must stop white suit bring daughter here pat key is safe prayer mother loves you always,” Jenny recited from memory.

Jessabelle looked at her, and then to Jack. “Didn’t you say that Evelyn was fixing to bring that guy’s daughter back here?”

“Yep.”

Jenny shrugged. “So Grandma Annabelle was trying to stop that.”

“That sounds kind of mean,” Sean said. “Why would your grandmother not want Thadeus to get his daughter back?”

Jack answered, “He said he’d been cultivating this area for more than a century. If his daughter’s on the other side, how old is she?”

“What’s he been cultivating?” Jenny asked.

“Death,” Sean answered. “Avery said something weird to me that one night. About how Annabelle was accidentally helping the man in the white suit. That fear and death help his plans.” Nobody said anything in response. It all seemed so bizarre. As the silence continued, the buzzing grew louder.

Jenny repeated part of Annabelle’s message. “Pat key is safe. Prayer mother loves you always.” The words didn’t make sense. On a whim, she stepped toward the faint glowing roadway before her, stepping through the water, sinking not quite to her ankles.

“Uh, you going somewhere, Jenny?” asked Jessabelle.

“I’m seeing where this path leads.”

“What path?”

Unsure how to explain, Jenny continued forward. The path shimmered in front of her as she stepped out of the water on the other side. She could almost touch it, but it hovered just out of reach, like mirage. She walked several more yards. Abruptly, the path vanished. Jenny stepped backwards, and it reappeared. She’d reached the threshold.

The others splashed toward her. “I’m okay,” she called, stepping forward and backwards a few times to verify the path’s boundary. She turned around, where her friends stood on the near side of the shallow pond, but she didn’t see the path from the other direction. It seemed like a one-sided illusion.

If this was the crossroads, how did someone cross to the other side?

* * *

Jenny puzzled, and the buzzing grew louder still. Just as loudly, several yards away, came the sound of a woman’s laughter. Jenny took several steps toward her friends just as a cloud of insects coalesced above them. Several dog-sized mosquitoes that couldn’t possibly exist in nature descended. Jenny cried a warning, and immediately began the words of the protection spell. This time, she targeted Jack, who stood in front of Sean and Jessabelle. Jack swung at the closest of the giant mosquitoes with his baseball bat. He missed, and it flitted backwards.

Jessabelle screamed as she transformed. Her scream turned into the roar of a predator cat as the panther crouched, ready to spring. The great cat lacked the lacerations and blood that had marked her after the battle against the ogre. If there were injuries beneath the skin, the cat’s body language gave no clues. The scream as she transformed gave plenty.

Sean pulled his knife again, ducking down and guarding their backs. Jenny stood unarmed and continued the protective song. There was little else she could think of doing. Her self-defense courses hadn’t covered what to do when fighting giant mosquitoes any more than they’d covered ogres or dragons.

She finished the modified rhyme, just as one mosquito swooped down and lanced at Jack’s chest with a proboscis that looked like an over-sized knitting needle. The air around Jack flashed briefly, and the mosquito dropped on all of its legs onto the ground. Jack took a great overhead swing and squashed the creature into the earth.

Jenny began reciting the spell for Jessabelle. Before she could complete it, another mosquito lanced her cousin, its proboscis sinking into the fur-covered flesh of her shoulder. The cat howled and attacked with a fury, rending the giant mosquito to pieces. The area around Jessabelle’s shoulder began to swell and bleed. Jenny finished the spell, snapping protection around the feline, but damage was already done.

A swarm of black insects gathered around Sean like a dark cloud. He swatted and slapped, but they were thick on him, covering his face and hands and clothes. He dropped the knife, and leapt prone into the water. Undeterred, the mosquitoes descended upon every uncovered surface of his body, as if guided by an unseen hand. Jenny recited the rhyme a third time, hoping it would protect him even though thousands of insects were already upon him. Sean thrashed futilely and curled into something resembling the fetal position as he covered his face and head with his arms.

In the middle of Jenny’s song, an uncomfortably warm but not painful sensation grew against her chest. She pushed through, ignoring the warmth and the telltale hints of dizziness even as a third giant mosquito surged toward her. At the moment she finished, a black blur flashed in front of her, seizing the enormous mosquito in its deadly jaws. Jessabelle tore into the creature, scattering pieces of thin wing and hairy insect flesh.

The air around Sean crackled like a bug-zapper from Hell, as hundreds of tiny insects disintegrated or dropped from the air. He flailed at the remainder, slowly regaining his feet. Jenny had trouble maintaining her own, as her vision swam.

Jenny touched her chest to find the source of the heat. Her hand clutched the pouch around her neck, the charm she’d made against curses. The pouch itself was warmer than it should be, and the herb mixture crackled under the pressure of her fingers as if it was ancient and desiccated.

Jessabelle stopped her destruction of the mosquito, looking victorious and ready for more. Then she fell with an animal cry and began writhing on the ground as if being struck with an electric current. On the other side of the pond, Evelyn appeared from behind a tree, watching Jessabelle’s pain with a tight grin.

Jenny’s charms protected them from curses. Jenny’s charm had burned itself up stopping some unknown spell Evelyn had thrown at them. Jessabelle’s charm had vanished to wherever her clothes went when she transformed, and no longer protected her from whatever torture Evelyn had conjured against them.

Jessabelle’s deadly claws flailed at the air and mud as she shrieked a primal, half-human cry of agony. Evelyn laughed. Jenny took a deep breath, trying to summon whatever reserves of strength she had left to protect her friends from the witch. The dizziness lessened, but didn’t go away.

Jack tossed the baseball bat to Sean and rushed to Jessabelle, scooping the flailing cat in his arms. The cat fought against him, slashing and biting. Tiny flashes of light appeared where claws struck, wearing down Jenny’s protective spell.

“Change back, Jessabelle!” Jenny cried.

In the space of a moment, Jessabelle became human again. Her screams subsided as an electric blue nimbus of light, visible to Jenny’s eyes, appeared at the base of her neck. The amulet had reappeared with her human form.

Sean swiped at more giant mosquitoes. These creatures were smaller than the ones they’d already killed, but they were clearly dangerous. The buzzing monsters flitted away from his attacks, turning their attention to Jenny.

Realizing she was targeted, Jenny began the song once more. Her vision darkened and the world spun around her. Evelyn’s laughter turned into the chant of another spell.

“We’ve got to run!” Jack called. Sean grabbed Jenny, interrupting her concentration, but not the overwhelming vertigo and exhaustion that descended upon her. His knife, forgotten, fell into the mud. He half-carried her in one arm, swinging randomly behind him with the baseball bat held in the other, pulling her through the ankle-high water away from Evelyn. Jack and Jessabelle ran beside them. The giant mosquitoes circled like low-flying buzzards. Jenny tried, once again, to finish the spell.

Sean’s grasp slipped, and Jenny fell into the mud. She made an effort to stand and rejoin the others, but even rising to her hands and knees took more strength than she had left. A quick glance around as her elbows buckled made her realize that there were no others to rejoin. Her friends had vanished. She was utterly alone.

The giant mosquitoes buzzed over her head as Jenny collapsed onto the wet earth. Her world went black.

One moment, Sean half-dragged, half-carried Jenny as they fled Evelyn and the giant mosquitoes. The next, a flash of light engulfed them and Jenny slipped from his grasp. He stopped and turned to help her up, but she had disappeared.

He raised the baseball bat, but no giant mosquitoes attacked. Evelyn was nowhere to be seen. The creek still broadened here, but the large pond of semi-stagnant water was gone. “What happened? Where are they?”

Jessabelle hunched down, rubbing the shoulder that showed no visible wound in her human form. “Nowhere. I reckon we went ’Round the Bend.”

Sean searched for his knife. It was nowhere to be found. He’d dropped it when he put his arm around Jenny, on the other side of…whatever. The bend. “We’ve got to go back.”

Jack nodded vehemently, taking several steps back the way they came. “How do we go back?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “Grandma said something about a key. Maybe Jenny figured out what it was, and used it for us.”

“Then why didn’t she come?”

Sean paced back the way they had come, and then returned, idly scratching at his face. “Maybe she couldn’t? We need to get back to her! She’s in trouble!”

“So’re we,” Jack said. “If y’all remember, this is where the monsters come from. And I reckon we only survived our last fights with them on account of Jenny.”

Jessabelle said, “She’s more than a match for Evelyn, ain’t she? She just needs to do that same trick she pulled with the ogre, and Evelyn’s gonna get chased by mosquitoes from here to Charleston. Then Jenny’ll come find us on this side.”

Not in the state she was in when Sean grabbed her, he realized. But Jessabelle had hope, and Sean didn’t want to destroy that. “Yes, she’s powerful and dangerous. She’s the sort of person Evelyn would rather negotiate with than fight.”

That last part, Sean felt, was no lie. Evelyn was like those popular girls in high school. Expert manipulators, they mastered a game of social chess that Sean never fully grasped, or even realized was being played much of the time. Evelyn might see Jenny as a chance to trade up from Sean.

They waited for a few minutes, but nothing else came through. “Jenny could be buying us time,” Sean said.

“We need to find Grandma Annie!” Jessabelle announced. “She needs to know Evelyn is coming. She can send us back.”

Jack shook his head. “Yeah, but where is she?”

Jessabelle pointed down the stream. “Things ain’t so different here from our side. So why don’t we look for her at her house?”

Sean and Jack looked at each other. Jack shrugged and said, “I ain’t got a better idea.”

They set forth along the stream. Every so often, Jack stopped and turned, looking around at the forest.

“Memorizing the way back?” Sean asked, idly scratching the back of his hand.

“Trying to,” Jack said. “There’s a good chance when we come back this way we’ll be in a hurry, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“If we can go back at all,” Jessabelle added. “Grandma Annie never came back.”

Jack shook his head. “If some dumb old ogre was able to get through, so can we.”

A short distance further down, they found a trail beside the stream. It continued down the mountain in one direction, and turned away from the stream and across the mountainside in the other. Jessabelle examined the path. She broke her silent investigations with the words, “Uh-oh!” She pointed to the ground as Sean arrived beside her. While it lacked a distinctive heel, the footprint in the dirt was clearly human-like and wearing a shoe or boot. Sean compared it to his own foot. The imprint was far larger.

“Could that have been our ogre?”

Jack looked over Sean’s shoulder and whistled. “Nope, giant,” he said. “The ogre had bare feet, and they were smaller than this. The giant I saw years ago had clothes.”

“Could he have been friendly?” Sean scratched the side of his face, looking back up the stream path.

“It wasn’t like I was going to ask him.”

“You realize that without Jenny’s protection spell, one hit from something like that…”

“Yep. But look on the bright side.”

“What’s that?”

Jack adjusted his John Deere cap. “That ghost that’s after you ain’t gonna find you here.”

Sean shrugged and chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “No, probably not. I guess that’s a silver lining.”

Jack’s face darkened. “Um, Sean, you don’t look so great,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

Jack squinted. Jessabelle turned and stared at Sean. She was the one who answered. “Oh, yeah, you got half et up by mosquitoes, didn’t you?”

Sean felt his face. He really did itch, everywhere his skin had been exposed to attack. The cloud of mosquitoes hadn’t swarmed over him long, but they’d done damage. “It’s no fair. I used mosquito repellent.”

Jessabelle started to laugh, but covered her mouth. “I think you needed Evelyn repellent.”

Jack turned back toward the trail. “We could have all used that. So, y’all think we should go down toward, well, where Maple Bend ought to be? Or across?”

Jessabelle shrugged.

Sean, trying to ignore the itching that became a hundred times more noticeable now that he was paying attention, pointed the other direction. “Wouldn’t that be kind of in the direction of the Rose house?”

Jack nodded. “More or less. But I can’t know for sure. The trees are different, and it wasn’t like I ever saw the place before last week. If we stick to the trail as best we can, we shouldn’t get lost.”

“Could you find our way back if we got lost?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe. But only some of the mountaintops look right. This ain’t what I’m used to. Back home, you can’t get lost too far before running into a road or telephone line or something. Here, we could get lost forever. Or run into a nest of monsters.”

Sean whistled. “That doesn’t sound encouraging.”

Jack grinned. “It’s kind of cool, though.”

Sean smiled in agreement. As terrifying as it was to be so lost without knowing how to get back, or even knowing where their next meal would come from, Sean couldn’t help but be caught up in the rays of sunlight shifting through the trees, treading over land that hadn’t been mapped by a satellite. It felt magical.

He stopped himself from scratching at his forehead. When he removed his hand, he spotted something up ahead, just to the side of the trail. He froze. Jessabelle also froze, her eyes open wide. Jack stopped to look at them, and then followed their gazes.

On the side of the trail, a creature resembling a horse grazed. Its hair was brown with gray spots. Between bites of grass it raised its head, its translucent central horn gleaming with a fiery hue in the sunlight. The beast turned its head so its right eye stared at them.

“It’s…it’s…” Jessabelle’s eyes widened over her slack-mouthed grin as she pointed at the creature. “It’s a unicorn!”

“A what?” asked Jack.

She spared a disgusted glance at Jack. “You dummy. You never heard of a unicorn?”

“That there is a horse with a horn. What’s so special about that?”

Sean answered. “They are supposed to be magical creatures with special powers. They are also supposed to be willing to serve virgins.”

Jack and Jessabelle quieted. The unicorn stared at them, slowly lowering its head. Jessabelle broke the silence. “Well, I’d qualify. Would I just have to walk up and talk to it?”

Sean breathed a sigh of relief. He noticed a similar expression on Jack’s face. Apparently, all three of them were qualified.

“I don’t know,” Sean said. “Maybe?”

Jessabelle took two slow steps forward. The unicorn did the same, following the slow dance at a distance. Then the beast stamped one hoof, lowered its head and horn, and charged.

Jessabelle yelped, turned, and fled from the unicorn. The creature slowed, eying the two boys. They stood stock still. It lowered its horn and charged again. Sean and Jack separated and took cover in the nearby trees.

The unicorn paced, snorting. The group backed away, but it responded with a bull-like charge again, targeting Jack. They scattered, but Jack found himself slowed by grasping weeds in his path. He leaped clear as the horn skewered the air beside him. The unicorn bolted to one side as if it expected a counter-attack. It cast its gaze around, snorting as it took another position, lowering its head again with the horn pointed at them.

“That’s not what unicorns are supposed to do!” Jessabelle said breathlessly, keeping a tree between herself and the creature.

Jack kept moving, not taking his eyes off the unicorn. “So Sean,” he called, “When you said these things liked virgins, did you mean with barbecue sauce or something?”

“I’m sorry!” Sean called back. “I don’t remember reading anything about them being aggressive.”

“Maybe you need to read better books.”

The unicorn stared balefully at them, keeping its distance while ready to charge. Jessabelle shook her head. “When I was in the third grade, I had a blue shirt with a unicorn on it. It was my favorite shi… Aah!” The unicorn charged at her, arcing around the tree. She ran and dodged, running for the two boys.

Sean held the baseball bat like a sword in front of him. The unicorn galloped on a tangent course, keeping its eye on the group. It turned and began pacing again, watching them, considering its next attack. They backed away from it, which only seemed to encourage it as it charged them again, taking aim at Jack.

Jack scrambled onto a low tree branch. The unicorn turned toward him, drew closer, and reared up, striking at him with its hooves. Fear propelled him higher as the hooves tore the tree bark.

While it was distracted, Jessabelle transformed. As a panther, she shrieked and charged the unicorn. Again, it reared up, and struck down at her with deadly hooves and horn. Jessabelle leaped away, circling the unicorn several times, but the beast kept her at bay with repeated feints. She missed a step in the lethal dance, and a hoof hit her. She rolled, and the unicorn pursued. She twisted, leaped to her feet, and fled, the unicorn only a hair behind her.

Sean approached the damaged tree. “You okay, Jack?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” From his vantage point fifteen feet up, Jack could only catch glimpses of Jessabelle and the unicorn as they chased around the nearby trees. Jessabelle, in her panther form, had the advantage of agility, but she’d taken a bad hit to her shoulder. Sean grabbed the lowest branch with his free hand, trying to climb with the baseball bat. After two failed attempts he hooked the bat over the branch, holding both ends. He managed to pull himself high enough to loop one leg over the branch, but as he tried to pull himself up, the bat slid, and he fell to the ground. Jack climbed back down to a lower branch to give Sean a hand.

At that moment, Jessabelle raced toward them, unicorn close behind. She weaved between two trees, pulling a tighter turn than the beast, but her injury showed in her movements. She twisted and launched herself up a tree several yards away, claws digging in. The unicorn swiped at her with its horn, cutting through the air inches below. It reared up, making a terrible sound between a horse’s whinny and a spectral roar. Jessabelle scrambled higher.

Sean looked left and right, seeming to realize how exposed he was on the ground. He dropped the bat and leaped for the branch. As he hung, trying to get one leg over the branch, the unicorn set its head so that the horn pointed at his hanging body, and charged. Jack grabbed one branch to anchor himself, grabbed Sean by his shirt collar and pulled. The spearhead horn sliced through the air just below Sean’s leg as he hooked it over the branch. With Jack’s help, he pulled himself up and over the tree branch.

With Sean out of immediate danger, Jack climbed up a little further to get a better vantage point. The forest was still too thick to get much of a view. The unicorn circled the two trees at a short distance, glaring as it paced. After several minutes, Jessabelle transformed back into human form.

“I’m starving,” she called to the boys. “Changing always makes me hungry, but I’m really hungry.”

Sean looked down at the baseball bat, barely visible in the weeds. “I’d make you some unicorn steaks if I thought I had a chance.”

“I’m so hungry, I’d eat them.”

Minutes crawled by. The sun arced overhead as it would their world. A refreshingly ordinary fly buzzed past Jack’s head. Sean periodically succumbed to the temptation to scratch at the galaxy of bug bites on his arms and face. The unicorn maintained its deadly march, stopping only to stare and listen with every stray movement they made from inside the trees.

Sean snorted. “You know, Jack, if it wasn’t so scary, this would be funny. Treed by a unicorn.”

“I ain’t sure what’s funny about it.”

“A unicorn!”

“So?”

Sean sighed. “Maybe it will leave when it gets dark?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. It ain’t acting much like a horse, I don’t think. But we won’t be able to see it in the dark, either.” Jack licked his dry lips. How long could they hold out? Would they fall out of the tree if they fell asleep? How long before they were desperate from lack of food and water?

The unicorn charged at the end of their conversation, a feint against the tree, turning at the last moment. It was either practicing, or trying to get them to panic. It paced back again, resuming its grim sentry.

Jack glanced down at the glint of the aluminum bat lying in the tall grass. Comparing the speed of the unicorn’s charge against the time it would take to drop to the ground and grab the bat, he couldn’t envision that ending well. Eventually, they might have no choice.

Jack didn’t see the over-sized arrow until the point and half the shaft burst through the unicorn’s chest, penetrating from the other side. The unicorn leaped to one side, slicing with its horn at its unseen assailant, heedless of the blood flowing from its wounds. It took several steps forward, and blood dribbled from its mouth. It stopped only a dozen yards from the tree, the grass and weeds below it stained bright red.

It collapsed.

Another figure approached, human in form if not stature. Its heavy, booted footfalls vibrated the tree limbs in which they hid. It stood over thirteen feet tall, dressed in skins, carrying a bow that seemed short, but easily stood over the height of a man. Even though it wasn’t identical to the creature that haunted Jack’s memories, it was clearly the same species—a giant.

While much more human-like, the giant could have beaten up an ogre every school day and taken its lunch money. Short of military weaponry or big-game rifles, there was no weapon Jack could conceive of that would be much use against this thing.

Its toothy mouth opened wide in a grin as it picked up the unicorn in one hand. It began singing softly with no discernible tune. “Unicorn meat, unicorn meat, unicorn meat is good to eat.” It stopped, lowered the carcass, and sniffed at the air. It wrinkled its nose, and peered at the tree where Sean and Jack were hiding.

The giant grinned wide, showing a jumble of yellowed teeth. “Mmm.” It began singing again. “Human meat, human meat, human meat is good to eat.”

It crossed the distance in four steps, grabbing Jack in a swift, branch-snapping move.

Jenny opened her eyes, feeling the late afternoon sun beating on her face through the trees. She sat with her back against a tree, and discovered an assortment of aches and pains as her consciousness returned. She shifted to relieve some pressure on her backs and arms, only to find that her hands were bound. Her struggles caused the loops to tighten around her wrists.

“Good, you’re awake,” Evelyn said from somewhere behind Jenny. The woman stepped around and leaned over her, temporarily shading Jenny from the harsh sunlight. “You’ve been out for a couple of hours now. I was afraid you’d be out all day. It’s difficult to wake a witch who has over-exerted herself. By the way, I would be careful about fighting that knot. You don’t want to lose circulation in your hands for too long or you’ll risk permanent damage.”

“What have you done? Where are my friends?”

“Oh, you don’t know? That’s interesting. That’s very, very interesting. I guess we get to go on that voyage of discovery together.”

“I’m not doing anything with you.”

Evelyn stood. “Then your friends may be lost forever. So sad.” Her lips faintly curled as if she was hiding a smile. Jenny was sure it was a calculated expression, but calculated for what? Was Evelyn trying to make her angry so she’d volunteer information? Or trying to find out how much control Jenny had over her emotions?

When in doubt, change the subject or play stupid. Jenny could almost hear her mother’s voice repeating the advice. Jenny glanced around, trying to fix her current position with where she remembered falling. “Where are we?”

Evelyn pointed to a tree twenty feet away. “That’s the tree with your grandmother’s old witch-bottle.”

“How did you find us?”

Evelyn chuckled, clasping her hands beneath her chin. “A magician never reveals his tricks. Lucky for you, I’m a witch. I’m really good at not being seen. I’m also really good at finding people. Things, too. Once I found Blood Creek, I just followed it and your trail.”

She stepped aside, allowing the sun to beat down on Jenny’s face again. “Now it’s my turn. How long have you been a practicing witch?”

Jenny squinted. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Jennifer! I answered several of your questions, now you answer mine. That was a serious counter-spell you pulled at the barn. Protection spells strong enough to hold up against an ogre are major-league quality. Besides myself, I know of only about a dozen other true witches who could do something like that. Did your mother teach you?”

Jenny didn’t know how much she was revealing, but answered, “About a week.” Perhaps not technically correct, with the protection song her mother had taught her, but close enough.

“A week! Are you pulling my leg? No, I see you aren’t.” Evelyn shook her head. “That explains your lack of control and stamina, I guess. You clearly have a lot of potential. I could mentor you, you know.”

Jenny felt the cords tightening around her wrists as she subconsciously strained. “No, thanks,” she growled through clenched teeth.

“Careful, or you’ll hurt my feelings! I’m not so bad once you get to know me. In fact, it’s your turn again. Want to ask me another question?”

“Did you kill my parents?” The question—more of an accusation—blurted out of Jenny’s mouth.

Evelyn’s playful demeanor fell away. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she said quietly, “So you know.”

“Yes.”

“You’re full of surprises. No, I did not. I simply located them.”

“But your boss killed them.”

Evelyn nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know he was going to kill them. Amy…Patricia, your mom…was his favorite a long time ago. She was one of the most powerful witches in his little army. I assumed he was just going to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse, using you and your father as leverage. I didn’t know he would kill them.”

The revelation that they had been murdered crashed down on Jenny. The hot rage she’d felt against Evelyn coalesced into a tiny lump in her heart, dark and icy cold. “If you’d known, would you have still told him?”

Evelyn was quiet for a long time. Finally, she answered, “We all do our job. Thadeus is not the kind of man you want to disappoint.”

Jenny stared at the ground. She felt numb. The pain and horror all returned, flooding her, making her feel even more helpless as she sat bound beneath the burning sun.

Evelyn sighed. “Do you know that he introduced your parents?”

Jenny glared at her.

“It’s true. It’s how Thadeus works. He uses the things you love against you. He threatens them. He threatens all of them. He likes having more than one hook into you like that, so he can crush them one by one in front of you to keep you in line.”

“Is that how he keeps you in line?”

Evelyn ignored the question. “The story whispered around the coven is that he introduced your parents and gave your mother an unprecedented sabbatical as a gesture of goodwill once she started gnawing at her leash. But his real plan was to give her more to lose.” Evelyn stared darkly at Jenny. “That’s how your story begins, Jennifer. You were conceived to be leverage against your mother.”

Jenny shook her head, wishing she could wipe away the furious tears that blurred her vision. “Liar!”

“Am I? I spent the last three years hunting your family down, Jennifer. I made it a point to know as much about your family as I could. That’s why I’m here now—I’m the resident expert on Rose family history.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why don’t you just kill me?”

Evelyn stared at Jenny, the malevolent spark in her eyes almost as hot as the sunlight behind her. “I want you to know what’s at stake when I tell you that instead of killing you, I’ll turn you over to Thadeus and let him know just how powerful you are. Think about what he’ll do to your cousin, and your aunt, and those two cute boys you like to hang out with. Maybe you thought you had nothing to lose but now you do. He’ll crush them to crush your soul. You’ll be a slave to the man who murdered your parents. How would you like that?”

Jenny stared at the woman in fury. She pulled on the ropes, and they tightened painfully. She didn’t care. It just added fuel to her rage.

Evelyn continued. “Or you can tell me how you sent your friends through the barrier, and I tell Thadeus nothing.”

“I don’t know.”

Evelyn clenched one hand into a fist. She leaned with her hand against the tree at Jenny’s back. Her fury matched Jenny’s as she snarled, “That is not the answer you want to give me, Jennifer. Either way, I’m going through. If you tell me, I get a few hours’ head start. Maybe I’ll even take the time to save your friends, if they aren’t already digesting in an ogre’s belly. I’d give it a fifty-fifty chance, growing worse by the hour.”

Jenny said nothing. Evelyn continued. “Or I’ll let you come with me, and you can save them yourself. You can even hide from Thadeus over there, if you want. I don’t care. You’ll have your freedom. Or you can enjoy being Thadeus’ little bitch if you are still alive when I get back. Your choice.”

Jenny shook. Evelyn was a liar, but her words now rang with truth. These were no idle threats. “I honestly don’t know!” Jenny exclaimed, her voice cracking.

Evelyn stared down at her. After a few seconds, she glanced at the watch on her wrist, and then turned her back on Jenny. Her voice was even and menacingly quiet. “How unfortunate for us both, then. I’ve wasted too much time on you.”

The giant’s grasp pinned Jack’s left arm to his side. Jack pulled and twisted, holding to the branch with his free hand and one foot. He couldn’t resist the overwhelming strength of the giant’s grip, but he was going to make the giant have to pick half the tree out of its mouth if he could. He kicked at the giant’s muscle-bound arm, but it felt like kicking solid, packed earth. The giant grinned in anticipation.

A female voice sang from somewhere below the tree.

Grandma, oh grandma, where have you gone

And why have you taken your chair

I’m sitting a spell in the ear of Bal-Sal

Gonna work on my loom while I’m there

Bal-Sal ain’t falling from poison nor shot

Nor blade nor by spear nor by snare!

Why he done dashed his brains ‘gainst a rock

Getting me out of his hair.

The hand gripping him relaxed. It wasn’t enough for Jack to escape, but he caught his breath, and shifted his pinned arm. He twisted, getting a better grip on the tree while the giant was distracted.

Down below, the voice called. “Why don’t you just let the human go? He ain’t worth your time.” The giant nodded, still grinning, and released Jack. The voice continued. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to forget all about seeing any humans. You had a good hunt and caught a unicorn, and that’s all. Go get your unicorn, go home, and don’t look back. You’ve had a good day.”

The giant nodded again, and turned its back on the trees. Padding over to the unicorn, it plucked the arrow out from the wound. It inspected the arrow, wiped some of the blood off the tip against the hide of the unicorn, and then returned it to the quiver at its side. Without looking back at Jack or the others, it slung the still-dripping corpse over its shoulder, and walked down the hill, humming the “unicorn meat” song as it left.

Once the giant disappeared, the woman below them said, “Okay, I reckon the coast is clear. Y’all can come down now.”

Sean helped Jack out of the tree. Jack’s whole body was sore and bruised, both from the giant’s grip and from his own lock on the tree. Sean didn’t look so much better with all the mosquito bites. Jack retrieved the baseball bat and faced their rescuer.

The woman appeared to be in her early fifties, with well-tanned skin and red-streaked silver hair pulled into a bun. Her patchwork, hand-sewn clothing was made mostly of hides and rough wool. She seemed healthier and stronger than most women of her age. Her bright, clear blue eyes reminded Jack of Jessabelle.

Several yards away, Jessabelle dropped to the ground and exclaimed, “Grandma Annabelle!”

Annabelle Rose turned to her granddaughter. “Jessabelle! Oh, you’ve grown to be a young woman! I missed you so much!”

Jack did the mental math, but it didn’t add up. While a little more rough and ragged, this woman didn’t seem that much older than Hattie Rose. She looked different than the vague memories Jack had of her, but not necessarily older. This world, Round the Bend, must have agreed with her.

Jessabelle rushed forward, and the two embraced. Her eyes glistened with dew in the sunlight. “Grandma, everyone said you went crazy and died.”

Annabelle released Jessabelle and took a step back, smiling. Her eyes bore the shine of extra liquid. “They might have gotten the crazy part right, but I ain’t dead yet. Lucky for all y’all.” She turned and peered at Jack. “You look familiar, too. Are you Jack Parsons?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

“Strangely enough, you are the reason I’m here.”

“The giant?”

“Yes. I had to stop them from coming through. This was my choice.” She turned to Sean. “And you…do I know you?”

“No, ma’am. I’m Sean Williams. I’m here because I know Debra Arnot.”

Annabelle jerked backward as if she’d received an electric shock. She raised one hand to her throat. “What do you mean you know her?”

Sean nodded. “I guess I can see ghosts. I met her, and didn’t realize she was dead. She told me to find her. That’s why I came to Maple Bend.”

She eyed him seriously. “Then you and I should have a talk.” She looked at all three of them. “My cabin’s not far from here. It’s safe. I’ll fix up some dinner, and you’ll tell me how you got here.”

Jack shook his head. “We came here to get you. We need to get back. Jenny was left behind, and Evelyn’s got her.”

Annabelle locked her eyes on Jack’s. “Who now? Should I know these people?”

“Evelyn’s a witch. She attacked us with giant mosquitoes at the pond. She works for the man in the white suit. He wants her to come here and fetch his daughter and bring her over there.”

“That would be bad news all around. You were right coming to warn me.”

“And Jenny’s your granddaughter.”

“What?” Annabelle’s wrinkled, sun-darkened face paled.

Jessabelle jumped in. “She’s Aunt Amelia’s daughter. She’s a witch, too.”

“Amelia? Did she come back?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “No. She died a few weeks ago. Jenny came to live with Aunt Hattie.”

Annabelle’s vigor and confidence drained away, and she seemed to age ten years before Jack’s eyes. “How did it happen?”

“Car accident,” Jessabelle answered.

“Maybe,” Jack said.

Annabelle frowned at Jack. “Do you mean maybe it wasn’t an accident?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Annabelle raised her fist to her forehead, breathing heavily. After several seconds, she regained her composure and lowered her hand. “Alright. This don’t change much.” She exhaled deeply. “Sorry. Even controlling something as stupid as a giant takes a lot out of me.”

“Was it really that hard?” Jessabelle asked. “Making the giant go away?”

“Yes, it was. People are even harder. I can influence people in subtle ways, but not like that. But your aunt Amy can…could…” Annabelle didn’t finish.

The silence felt awkward. Before he realized what he was saying, Jack blurted out, “Evelyn made the entire town hate me.” Annabelle glanced at him, and he shrugged, trying to figure out how to un-stick his foot from his mouth. “I reckon that might have been one of those subtle things you talked about, all things considered. Not like anybody liked me to begin with.”

“I liked you!” Jessabelle protested. She realized what she said, and put her hand over her mouth. Then she turned to Annabelle and said, “She made me believe Jack was making up stuff, even after we fought an ogre and killed a snallygaster together!”

Annabelle raised her eyebrows. “You killed a snallygaster?”

“And an ogre,” Sean added helpfully.

“From here?”

Jack shrugged. “Where else would they have come from?”

Annabelle sighed. “Well, there’s clearly much more to y’all kids than meets the eye. That’s good. But it also means my barrier is wearing down a lot faster than I thought. That’s bad. And you say this witch has my granddaughter?”

Jessabelle nodded vigorously. “Yes. She sicced giant mosquitoes on us. Jenny’s the one who kept us safe with her protection spells. But then we found ourselves here without her.”

Remembering the conversation between Evelyn and Thadeus, Jack said, “Evelyn may be planning on trying to take you by surprise and killing you.”

Annabelle half-smiled. “Well, y’all done spoiled that real good now, didn’t ya? Anyhow, I want to meet Amy’s daughter. But if this witch you are telling me about is as powerful as you say, we can’t go in without a plan. I don’t reckon she’ll come over here without being ready to hit me with everything she’s got, either.”

Jessabelle asked, “How do we know she hasn’t come over already?”

Annabelle shrugged. “It depends. The witch bottle on this side prevents things from coming through from the other side, not from leaving. I’d know if it was overpowered. But if Amy’s daughter…”

“Jenny,” Jessabelle said.

“Right. If Jenny told the witch the key to coming through, then she might pass in without me knowing it.”

“What’s the key?” Jessabelle asked. “Jenny and I were trying to figure out what that passage meant in your journal.”

Annabelle’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? How did you get through?”

They looked at each other, and shrugged. Sean ventured, “It was pretty crazy. We were in the middle of a fight. We didn’t know what was happening. Jenny protected us and then we were here.”

Annabelle smiled. “Amy taught her daughter well. The key is that old song of protection I taught her. Sort of a family trademark. She must have protected you, and didn’t help herself. I need to get some supplies from my cabin, and you young folk need to arm up. Then it’ll be our turn to help her.”

As near as Sean could tell, Annabelle’s cabin wasn’t too far from where her old house was on the other side. The Rose home looked like a miracle of modern convenience compared to this place. It had shutters instead of glass windows, and everything seemed handmade.

“Do people live around here?” Jessabelle asked her grandmother.

“Out yonder a ways. There’s no Maple Bend like you know it, Jessabelle. Nobody wants to live so close to giants and ogres.”

“Except you.”

“I don’t want to live that close to them, either. I’d rather live on the other side of the crossroads, to be sure, but I’ve got a job to do. I have some friends down in town when I make the trek to go trading. I even met a feller I have my eye on. He’s a widower. Oh, I do go on. I want to hear more about what you did. In particular, Sean, I want to hear about Debbie.”

Annabelle used her version of healing juice to fix Sean’s bug-bites and Jack’s injuries. She scrounged up food for them all, and then retrieved a bow, arrows, and a knife from under her bed. As she worked, she made Sean tell his story.

Sean hadn’t told anyone the full story of his encounters with Debra Arnot’s ghost, but it felt good to tell people, right up to the point where it came to breaking into Annabelle’s house and accidentally leading Evelyn to it. He also told them all about Avery, and how the ghost of the murderous preacher had promised to hunt him down.

Annabelle asked questions, but they seemed like insignificant details. “What was she wearing that time?” and “What time was it that she appeared? Exactly how long was she with you?” and “Do you know how long it took for her to appear to Jenny after Evelyn cast her sleep spell?”

She began assembling some items that Sean recognized as parts of the witch-bottle. “You are making a new one?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m also including written instructions for Jenny, in case I can’t go over to the other side.”

“Why not?” Jessabelle cried out. “You are coming back home now ain’t you?”

“Believe me, I want to. If Amy’s daughter is as powerful as you say, maybe. I just don’t know, Jessabelle.” She looked at her granddaughter, who glared open-mouthed back at her. Annabelle continued. “The problem is, I need to be here more than I need to be there. See, this place is what we called ‘Round the Bend. It’s another world, really, that runs just askew of our own. Many of them old stories you heard about monsters, dragons, giants, trolls, and all that come from this place, at least originally. It ain’t easy to go between the worlds, but where the wild things grow and magic is strong—or where magic festers, depending on one’s point of view—sometimes a path forms.”

She prepared the ingredients and put them inside the bottle. Even though it was still light outside, she lit a candle. Then she continued. “Nowadays, our world is more settled and civilized, and there ain’t many places where magic grows wild and the crossroads naturally appear. Leastways not many that accessible. But in the old days, there were lots of them. Back then, guardians were appointed over these old paths. There was only one for a smaller path, but for bigger or better-known crossroads, they placed a guardian on both sides.”

“That sounds a little redundant,” Sean said.

“A little. But you can only hold the door closed against anything coming in, not so much things going out. And two guardians working both sides could close a crossroads completely.” Annabelle finished preparing the bottle, and placed the stopper in the top. She lifted the candle and tipped it to the side, letting the melted wax dribble down along the seam between the stopper and bottle.

“So you’re the guardian of Maple Bend,” Jack said as she replaced the candle.

“I reckon. It’s sort of our family legacy. I’m here to stop people like Evelyn from coming in.”

“Why?” asked Jessabelle. “Why can’t you just let someone who belongs here guard this side?”

Jack added, “He said something about bringing his daughter back. Is that a bad thing?”

She nodded. “That’s a story for the road. Let’s get going before we lose the sunlight.”

They left the cabin, and began making their way to the crossroads. At one clearing, Annabelle pointed across the stream toward a ridge. “There’s a pack of giants who live up yonder along the mountainside,” Annabelle said. “We generally leave each other alone. These parts are wild and dangerous, even by the standards of ‘Round the Bend. Giants ain’t even the most dangerous things ‘round here.”

Jack frowned. “How come they can come into Maple Bend?”

“That’s where Thadeus comes in. He’s been involved in Maple Bend for generations. I told you magic grows wild where nature grows wild, or where human suffering and death grow. There’s been a bit of both at Maple Bend…or Blood Creek, as it used to be called. Lotta folks disappearing, dying, and their haunts roaming the woods. Like your pal Avery, the murderer-preacher. Thadeus—he went by a different name then—gave Avery a sizable donation to set up shop down there between Branton and Blood Creek. The man in the white suit brought that kind of trouble to the Creek whenever he could. Poverty, pain, and disease. Ghosts. All that weakens the borders between here and there. It’s like it comes apart at the seams, no matter what we do to seal it closed.”

“Did you have Avery killed?” Sean asked. It came out a lot more blunt than he intended.

“Yes, I did. Against my mother’s wishes, I might add. She planned to run him off. I thought that wasn’t right, because he’d keep on killing elsewhere. I reckon she knew his ghost would be a problem.”

“Can his ghost be destroyed?”

“Destroyed? No. Run off to Hell where it won’t be a problem again? Surely. Did Evelyn promise you that?”

Sean bobbed his head to the side. “Kind of.”

“Here’s what she didn’t tell you: If you can see ghosts as well as you can, then chances are you have what it takes to take care of Avery yourself. You just need a little learnin’ and practice.”

“So can I stay here for a while, so you can teach me? He can’t get to me here, can he?”

Annabelle didn’t answer. She glanced down at the pack she carried, and then looked back along the game trail upstream. “Let’s worry about Evelyn first. Then we’ll see where things fall.”

Before Sean could ask another question, Jack said, “Thadeus said something about his daughter. How does he have a daughter here? And why doesn’t he come here himself?”

“It ain’t like the folks round these parts keep a detailed history. At least, not the ones I have met. From what I gather he comes from this side. I don’t know what he is, but he ain’t human, and he might be immortal. He’s a real boogieman. They call him the Devil in White. He was a real monster, and that’s saying a lot in a land full of monsters. His bloody reign lasted centuries, until some powerful folks and their armies toppled him. They captured him, stripped his power away, and sought out a way to execute him. Before they could do that, he escaped and fled to our side. Even with his powers crippled, he’s more powerful than the greatest witches of our time. But here, he’s cursed, vulnerable, and there are still some powerful folks who are ready to take him on.”

“Did he leave his daughter behind?”

“No. She’s younger than that. She’s not as powerful as he used to be, but she’s still the most powerful sorceress around. She went on her own rampage about a century ago. She killed a lot of folks before they captured her. They keep her in a prison in Morgantown.”

“That’s where I went to school!” Sean said.

“This side’s Morgantown. They call it Lauris or something like that. At one point, the man in the white suit was trying to get a crossroads to form near there, too. But his daughter fell into a coma about forty some-odd years ago, or so I hear. She’d be dangerous if someone woke her up and broke her out. It would be a disaster if she made it back to our world.”

They approached the clearing with the crossroads as the sun dipped below the mountains. Annabelle took them to the best vantage point to hide, below the roll of a hill between two trees. As they settled in, Sean asked, “So, if his daughter is younger than his exile, did she come from our world?”

Annabelle nodded. “Yes. She’s half-human. In fact, she’s kin. My great-great something Aunt Collette’s daughter.” At Jessabelle’s expression of horror, she said, “Yes, our family legacy gets colorful. Now, this witch-bottle is the same as our family used to keep Colette from returning this way if she ever found her way back. If Evelyn gets through, I’ll need y’all to go back and use this. I’ll give you instructions for Jenny to use this to seal up the crossroads from that side. If all else fails, maybe that’ll keep Evelyn from going back with ol’ white-suit’s daughter. At least this way. For a while.”

Jessabelle said, “What about you?”

“I’ll be trying to stop her from here.”

“But you can come back by using the protection song, right?”

Annabelle shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I want to meet my other granddaughter. I really do. But there ain’t no secret key for this one. To stop the daughter of the man in the white suit, we’ve got to seal the crossroads from the other side tightly enough that even I can’t pass through. In case I fail.”

“You mean to kill Evelyn,” Jack said.

“Absolutely. Just as she means to kill me. I can’t let her wake the sorceress. This won’t stop her forever, but it may delay her for a time. Long enough for folks on this side to catch up to her and stop her.”

Jessabelle glared. “It ain’t fair! We just found you!”

Annabelle nodded. “It ain’t fair. It wasn’t fair when I had to step through five years ago. It’s never fair. But it’s got to be somebody, and there ain’t nobody else to do it.”

The silence stretched for several minutes. Jessabelle turned away from the group, brushing a tear from her cheek. Finally, Jack said, “I reckon Evelyn’s past her deadline by now. Maybe Thadeus sacked her.”

“But what about Jenny?” Sean asked. Nobody answered.

Jessabelle sniffed. “Grandma, can I ask a favor?”

“Of course, Jessabelle.”

“Can you use that protection song on me?”

“Sounds like a good idea. But it’ll only last for a couple of hours.”

“Won’t need to last longer.” Just as Annabelle started to sing the words, Jessabelle changed into a housecat.

Jenny hadn’t realized she’d dozed off. She awoke to the sound of Evelyn’s cackling laughter. Jenny’s whole body was stiff and sore. Every bump and knob on the tree trunk she was bound to felt like tiny spears pressing against her most vulnerable, bruised spots. The bonds behind her felt looser, but she knew better than to pull against them. At least the sun was behind the mountains, no longer in her eyes.

“Ah, Jennifer. You had no idea what you were doing, did you?”

Jenny slowly turned her head toward Evelyn. The witch sat cross-legged a few feet away, with Annabelle’s diary in her lap. Evelyn cackled again. “You were just protecting your friends, weren’t you? Are you even able to cast any other spells? Oh, right, you almost killed me by dispelling my control of the ogre. Otherwise, the four of you would have gone through long before I showed up. ‘Key is Safe Prayer.’ That’s your little prayer of protection, isn’t it? It’s the easy way to go through, without battering down the spell on the other side. Much less exhausting, not to mention faster.”

Now that Evelyn had solved it, it seemed obvious. Jenny kept her face expressionless. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Evelyn snorted. “Of course not, sweetie. That’s because you’re stupid. Talented, but dumb as a box of rocks.” She stepped forward, holding a thick, long strip of cloth in both hands. “Don’t worry about it. Assuming you survive, maybe one day you’ll find some young man who finds you pretty and endearing, and won’t care that you have nothing upstairs. How are your ankles? Still tied together nicely I hope?”

Jenny kicked at the bonds around her ankles, but they tightened, like the ones around her wrists.

Evelyn snorted at her efforts. “Just when I think I may have underestimated your intelligence, you prove me wrong. At least you are predictable. Be glad that Sean is the brains of your little group.”

Biting retorts had never been Jenny’s strong suit, but she’d learned to at least make an effort to not become a target. “At least I’m not—”

Jenny didn’t finish. Evelyn swiftly jammed the strip of cloth in her mouth, holding it tight and tying a knot behind Jenny’s head. Jenny struggled in spite of the pain, but she had already lost the fight. Evelyn sighed with a smile on her lips. “Like I said, predictable. This ought to make it a little harder for you to cast any spells while I’m gone. Now, I don’t like killing people, personally. At least not directly. If you’re still alive when I get back, maybe I’ll let you live, and see if you are any more willing to behave rationally. Otherwise, I guess the bugs will have a feast.”

Evelyn pulled two witch-bottles from a pack. “I did a craft project last night. Simple and crude, but they should work. It should make sure you aren’t disturbed by anyone from the other side while I’m gone. Your grandmother used a spell as a key to bypass the protection. I don’t think I’ll need one, do you? Of course not. I should have plenty of time to remove my own seal on my way back.”

Her voice didn’t sound as confident on the last sentence. She tied the bottle to a nearby tree, lit a candle, and recited the spell from the diary as she poured wax from the candle around the cork. Evelyn completed the spell, and a flash of electric blue surrounded the bottle, causing a vibration in the air. The first spell completed, Evelyn recited the protection song. Jenny felt violated and ill hearing the woman speaking the rhyme Jenny’s mother had taught her as a child. It wasn’t right.

After that, Evelyn put on a silver necklace, and spoke a brief incantation. Jenny found herself looking at the ground. She looked back up, still searching for Evelyn even after her eyes passed over the woman several times. The necklace didn’t make her invisible, so much as hard to notice or focus on. Much like the Rose house. Or Waldo from those books. She blended in.

It took Jenny a couple of minutes to realize that Evelyn had gone entirely, and wasn’t just hiding in plain sight with the aid of the necklace. The witch had gone ‘Round the Bend. With the witch-bottle in place, there was no way for her friends to get back.

Jenny immediately began escape efforts. After her previous mistakes, she didn’t dare pull the cords around her wrists. Whether they were magical, mechanical, or just cleverly tied, she didn’t want them to tighten again. She slowly rubbed the cord against the tree trunk. It wasn’t a thick trunk, so either the cord would break, or she’d saw through the trunk. It might take days, but what other choice did she have?

Could she cast spells without speaking? Not that she knew any other spells. She remembered seeing references in the diaries, but hadn’t committed any of them to memory. They hadn’t seemed important at the time.

Jenny looked where Evelyn had been sitting. Both of the journals lay forgotten in the dirt. Evelyn had taken her pack, but had left the books. She abandoned the things that were no longer of use to her.

The bonds behind Jenny tightened in spite of her care. Jenny relaxed her arms, hoping they’d loosen again over time. She focused on trying to chew at the cloth tied in her mouth. Within a minute, she began to realize how futile it was. She grunted through the cloth in exasperation.

It was at that point she realized she wasn’t alone.

Something prowled in the growing shadows behind her. It slid along softly, patiently, brushing against the ground like a soft breeze. A small animal?

Jenny called the protection song to mind. She might not be able to say the words, but could it work just by thinking them? She fought the cloth to mouth the words from memory. When she was done, she felt the slightest tremble of vibration, movement of magic. It was nowhere near as powerful as usual. It might not be enough to protect her from an ogre’s strike, but maybe it would be enough to stop a snakebite.

The sound was a few feet further away now. Jenny could almost feel a presence, and in her mind’s eye it grew bigger, more dangerous. Its steps were larger now, heavier, if still slow and measured. Jenny began shaking in spite of herself, her ears sensitive to any sound. The creature was stalking closer, deliberately, near enough to strike. She felt something right behind her, on the other side of the tree.

“Is she really gone?” Jessabelle whispered.

Jenny half-screamed Jessabelle’s name into the cloth, breathing heavily. Jessabelle worked the knot on the cloth. Jenny spat it out as it slipped loose.

“Oh, thank goodness. Yes, I think she’s gone.”

“I was looking for Sean’s knife. He dropped it in the fight, but I didn’t want to just stand around looking for it in case Evelyn showed up. Do you have a knife somewhere? I can use it to cut these cords.”

Jenny motioned with her head to a tree. “Evelyn tied a witch-bottle to that tree. Maybe you can break it and use the broken glass?”

Jessabelle stalked to the tree, swiveling her head as if she expected to be attacked from any direction. She untied Evelyn’s bottle, held it by the neck, and smashed it against the tree. Nothing happened, so she repeated the action, harder. On the third hit, the bottle shattered, but the fragment in Jessabelle’s hand held a sharp, jagged edge. She returned to Jenny and used it on the cords.

“So what happened?” Jenny and Jessabelle asked simultaneously as Jessabelle sawed the cords.

Jenny answered first. “Not much. When I woke up, I was tied to this tree. Evelyn tried to get information out of me, but I didn’t know how I’d sent you three down the path.”

“Protection spell,” Jessabelle offered.

“Yeah, she figured it out. That’s been it. She mainly taunted me. What about you guys?”

A cord snapped, and Jenny was able to free her hands. Jenny worked at the knots on her ankles, but they were far too tight. Jessabelle handed her the glass shard, and told her what had happened when they found themselves ‘Round the Bend. She finished just as Jenny cut through the cord and freed her ankles.

“So we came here, and Grandma Annabelle cast the protection spell on me. She wasn’t too happy about me going through, but as a cat I reckoned I had the best chance of anyone of not being seen. I heard Evelyn talking to you when I came through. I’m lucky I got here before she used that bottle. Once she put on the necklace, I couldn’t tell where she’d gone.”

“Where are the others?”

“Just on the other side. Waiting for us. Or waiting for Evelyn.”

“Evelyn’s protected.”

“So are they.”

They spent a few precious seconds hunting in the darkness for Sean’s knife, and getting the feeling back into Jenny’s hands and feet. Giving up on the knife, they both took several bold steps along the crossroad path. Jenny could almost see it with her strange Sight.

Nothing happened.

They tried again, with no success. “What am I doing wrong?” Jenny asked. “What’s different? I am pretty sure I got some version of the spell cast on myself when I heard you. And you still have it, right?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “I don’t know. It was easy both times. Maybe because it was cast on me when I was in cat form? But if it ain’t working for you, neither, I don’t know what’s going on. It’s like we can’t get traction.”

“I can cast the spells again.”

“Don’t! Not yet, anyhow. We don’t need you fainting away again. We gotta think. What’s different?”

Jenny looked around. The shallow pond seemed black against the murky, darkening sky. It was no longer daylight. The mosquitoes weren’t attacking. There was no bottle on this side blocking inbound travel. “Evelyn is different. She had a second bottle. She probably sealed off the other side.”

“Oh, no!” Jessabelle’s hand covered her mouth and her voice tightened. “The others weren’t too far from the entrance. If she was able to use the bottle without them being able to stop her, they could be in trouble.”

Jack watched the clearing from their hiding place. As the sky darkened, the lightning bugs came out, pulsing with random, flitting pinpricks of light. A few feet away, Annabelle and Sean spoke in hushed tones about a subject Jack didn’t really want to know anything more about.

Sean asked, “So what do you mean when you say Debbie isn’t a normal ghost?”

“I’ve seen a lot of ghosts. It’s one of those occupational hazards. While they are all a little bit different, hers is unique. Maybe it’s just because we were good friends. I don’t know. For the longest time, I thought I had reason to believe she wasn’t actually dead.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter? Whatever happened, it’s been so many years, even if I was right, she’d be dead by now. It was the work of the man in the white suit, though. She wasn’t just going to Morgantown to learn to be a nurse. He was creating a new crossroads there, a shortcut to his daughter. She got information to us, and mama got the information ‘Round the Bend, and the folks here took care of it. Nipped it in the bud. She disappeared shortly thereafter, and her spirit visited us three or four times over the next two years.”

Sean started to say something, but Annabelle shushed him. She lay quietly for a moment, and then whispered, “Jack, do you see anything?”

Jack peered into the darkness. He watched for several tense seconds, as Annabelle and Sean crept up to get a better view. The lightning bugs continued their yellow-green dance. A minute later, a flicker of light caught Jack’s attention, subtly different from the rest of the bugs. He scanned for it again, but it was gone.

“Anything?” asked Sean.

Jack answered truthfully. “No.” Still, he tightened his grip on the baseball bat.

“Maybe it was a false alarm,” whispered Annabelle. “But it smells a little like magic.”

“Then it’d be Jenny or Evelyn,” Sean suggested.

The moments ticked by. Jack began to harbor hope that it was a false alarm, but faint shadow of motion caught his attention. It was closer than the flicker of light had been. Jack whispered Sean’s name and pointed. Sean followed Jack’s gesture, but didn’t give any indication that he saw anything.

Annabelle followed their gaze, squinting into the air and frowning. After a moment she muttered something unladylike under her breath, and began casting a spell. The words were quiet, as if being spoken at a distance, and Jack couldn’t catch every word, but it was loud enough to give them away.

Another incantation rose, challenging Annabelle’s, but the words were in Spanish.

“Guys?” Jack said in alarm, but it was too late. Sean and Annabelle collapsed. Jack felt an incredible weight hit him. He fell flat, and his leaden eyelids drooped. Cotton filled his brain, and the unreal world around him seemed like a distant movie he half-watched and couldn’t care about. Every part of him but one conscious, terrified part of his brain wanted to shut down and sleep. He might be resistant to magic, but he was not immune.

He peered through half-closed eyelids and saw a shadowy form close by. Whatever had camouflaged her a moment ago was gone. The faint moonlight glimmered off of the knife-blade in her hand. It was Sean’s knife.

“I hate to have to do this. I don’t like killing people. But like I warned you, Sean, I will when I must.”

Jack fought against the weight, summoning the terror that he knew he should feel, deep and suppressed in his struggling consciousness. As Evelyn knelt by Annabelle’s unconscious form, terror and alertness hit Jack with full ferocity. He threw off the effects of the spell and leaped to his feet. His swing with the bat was unwieldy, both from the fog of the sleeping spell and his caution to avoid hitting Annabelle.

He missed. Evelyn shrieked, dropped the knife, and scuttled backwards. Jack stumbled forward, swinging at her. She rolled to her feet. Jack’s swing struck her in the arm, not solidly, but enough to know he’d struck flesh. Evelyn swore, and tore off down the hill in the darkness. Jack gave chase long enough to make sure she was gone, before returning to Sean and Annabelle. They were vulnerable, and this was a land of deadly predators and enemies.

He shook them, but they slept soundly. He slapped their cheeks and lifted their eyelids, but nothing roused them. Until the spell wore off, or he found some other cure, they weren’t waking or going anywhere. Jack shook off the lingering feeling of fatigue from Evelyn’s spell by running in place, and taking more practice swings with the baseball bat. Then he stood over his friends, holding the bat in both hands, guarding them against anything that might come their way. He might not stand a chance against a giant, but he’d make sure nothing hurt them while he was alive.

After an hour, Jack was finally convinced that Evelyn was nowhere nearby, and let his guard down by increments. With that, fatigue and sleepiness began creeping in. He thought it might be due to natural causes rather than lingering effects of Evelyn’s spell. A few minutes later, he found himself dozing off. To keep himself awake and alert, he walked out to the clearing. The moon had risen, giving enough light for Jack to see where he was going.

He walked out to where he’d spied the flicker of light just before Evelyn’s attack. When he was just a few feet away, he glimpsed reflected moonlight near a tree. He bobbed his head around and shifted position until he saw the reflection again, and pursued the glint until he found the source.

The bottle he discovered was new, but otherwise similar to the one they’d seen on their own side. Evelyn must have put it there. He unwrapped the leather lace tying it to the tree branch, and held it up to the moonlight. It bore no identifying marks that he could see, but it was placed there by Evelyn, and that was a bad thing.

Jack hurled the bottle at the tree trunk. It shattered into dozens of fragments, which disappeared against the darkened ground. Just like any other bottle. If anything, the lack of any big Hollywood special effect made him wonder he’d actually accomplished anything.

He was halfway back to their hiding place when he heard sounds behind him. He spun around to see Jenny and Jessabelle standing behind him. Jenny looked around in amazement. Jessabelle spotted Jack immediately and called to him. “You’re okay! How are the others?”

Relief flooded through him as a warm wave of pleasant fatigue. “Evelyn came through and tried to make us all fall asleep. She was about to slit our throats, but I ran her off.”

Jack took them to where Annabelle and Sean were sleeping. Jenny stared at the woman lying on the ground. “That’s my grandmother?”

“Our grandmother,” Jessabelle said, nodding. “Annabelle Rose. I knew her before.”

Jenny exhaled deeply. “I guess she kinda looks like mom.” She opened her shoulder-bag and said, “I have almost everything for removing the curse. Um, Jack…?”

Jack pulled out his pocket-knife and said, “My blood, right? Here, take extra. If we’re going to go up against her, we ought to be prepared and make more of them charms.”

Even Jenny rolled her eyes. “You don’t have an infinite supply of blood, Jack.”

“A few more drops won’t make no difference. Besides, you can always heal me up afterwards.”

She sighed. “I’m not sure I always can.”

In the darkness, they put together the ingredients. Jenny applied a portion of the anti-charm to Sean’s and Annabelle’s foreheads and recited the spell. Nothing happened at first. Jessabelle gave both of them a slight shake, and they awoke with a start.

“Woah, what happened?” asked Sean.

Jack answered. “Evelyn hit y’all with a whammy and made you sleep.”

“How long ago?” Annabelle asked.

“A couple of hours. I guess her spells still don’t work so well on me.”

Annabelle sat bolt upright, staring at Jenny. “You…you look like Amy.”

Jenny answered. “I’m Jenny Morgan. Patricia and James Morgan’s daughter. Um, Amelia, I guess.”

“Oh, my heavens. Yes, I knew she changed her name to Patricia. Come here!”

The two embraced, a little uncomfortably and clumsily at first. But even in the darkness, Jack could see the hungry expression on Jenny’s face as she closed her eyes.

“We have so much to talk about,” Annabelle said, “but so little time!”

Jack pointed along the trail. “Evelyn took off down yonder.”

Annabelle frowned. “She’s going to run smack dab into a village of giants, then. They’ll kill her if they see her.”

Jack said, “She’s good at not being seen. She turned the minds of half of Maple Bend all at once, when they were all in the church.”

“Would giants be any harder?” Jenny asked.

Annabelle shook her head. “No. Giants are simple. Even I can confuse them and give them some suggestions.”

Jenny exhaled. “Are giants as bad as that ogre?”

“Worse,” everyone answered in unison.

“We can’t fight them,” Sean said. “One at a time, if Jenny was fresh and we had guns, maybe. But we got lucky against the ogre.”

“Nobody’s fighting the giants,” Annabelle said. “Unless they are the U.S. Army. This is my problem now. It’s why I’m here. You kids are going to haul tail back through the path, and seal it.” She hesitated. “Jenny, Jessabelle, you didn’t happen to notice if Evelyn strung up a witch-bottle on the other side, did you?”

They nodded. “I broke it,” Jessabelle said.

“Oh, good. For a moment there, I was scared y’all might be stuck here with me. Not that I wouldn’t mind the company, but y’all belong back home. Evelyn’s way out of our league, and if you’d left that witch-bottle up, there’d be no going back. Not for a long time, at least.”

Jessabelle said, “There must have been a witch-bottle on this side, too. We’ve been trying to get across for a while, but we couldn’t.”

Jack motioned toward the clearing. “Evelyn set the witch-bottle up by that tree over yonder.”

Jessabelle grinned and gestured wildly. “Jenny tried to make up her own magic to get us across. It worked!”

Annabelle looked Jenny up and down. “That is amazing. It would take me weeks to break through a seal set by a competent witch.”

“I don’t think…” Jenny looked confused, then turned to Jack. “Did you break the bottle?”

Jack nodded. “Seemed like a good thing to do, what with Evelyn trying to kill us and everything.”

Jessabelle dropped her hands and said, “Oh.”

Jenny laughed. “Figures. I didn’t know what I was doing. I wish I knew how to try and break through.”

Annabelle said, “I wish I had time to teach you. Oh, I’m so glad I got to meet you, Jenny. If only…well, no sense in crying over spilled milk. If that witch has any brains in her head, she’ll know better than to leave an enemy witch guarding her escape route. A least I wouldn’t. She’ll be back once she’s rested, or sooner if she can control the giants. You four go back home, and we’ll seal that side up with a new witch-bottle. I’ve got one ready to go right now. Evelyn will be stranded here for weeks, at least.”

“What will you do?” Jack asked.

“Me? I skedaddle. And I figure out how to stop her from getting to the sorceress.”

“What sorceress?” Jenny asked.

“Thadeus’s daughter,” Sean answered. “She’s imprisoned down by what would be this world’s equivalent of Morgantown.”

Jenny began pacing. “Is this sorceress stronger than Evelyn?”

Annabelle nodded. “Much. The stories I hear say it took a bunch of wizards working together to imprison her, and they didn’t all survive the attempt.”

“Why didn’t they just kill her?” Jack asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Annabelle said.

“What about those wizards?” Jenny asked. “Can we warn them?”

Annabelle shrugged. “I don’t know. I assume they’ve got someone watching over her prison up in Morgantown. I’ll need to see if I can beat Evelyn there.”

Jessabelle folded her arms and frowned. Jenny and Sean looked at each other. Jack said, “You know, there might could be another way we could stop her for good this time.”

Everyone turned to him. Even Annabelle looked hungry for a better idea. She said evenly, “Alright, let’s hear you out, Jack.”

Jack glanced at Jenny. “You ain’t bled me dry yet.”

Jenny awoke to Sean’s gentle shaking, sprawled under a canopy of trees and a glowing pre-dawn sky. For the briefest moment she couldn’t remember where she was, or what she was doing. She forgot that she was no longer in Chicago and was now, technically, an orphan. As reality reasserted itself, she braced for a crushing despair that never arrived. The hole in her heart for her parents was there, still aching and raw. The fear of Evelyn and the monsters of this world returned. But so did the knowledge she was part of a family of three women of three different generations. She had friends who had literally risked their lives for her. This was what ‘home’ felt like. She was ready to fight tooth and claw for it.

“Jessabelle’s back,” Sean said. “She says Evelyn and the giants are on their way. We’ve buried your charms along the trail about a quarter of a mile down.”

Jenny sat up, now fully alert. “How soon will they be here?”

“By sunrise.” He looked up at the sky. “Annie says in about fifteen minutes. She wanted you to get every ounce of sleep that you could.”

“You call her Annie now?”

Sean grinned. “She told me to call her either Grandma or Annie. I didn’t feel comfortable calling her Grandma.”

Grandma. Jenny smiled. She was still getting used to the idea, but she liked the sound of it. “I feel like I’ve been asleep more than I’ve been awake the last couple of days.”

“Annie says you’ll develop endurance over time, and that there are a lot of tricks to make it easier. Using more physical ingredients and special items, for example.”

“I wish one of these witches would publish a how-to book with complete instructions.”

“Once you figure it out, you can write one.”

Jenny found herself on a mat, covered by a blanket, but didn’t remember them being there when she fell asleep. When did she fall asleep, anyway? She’d been making charms with Grandma Annabelle, and that was all she could remember. “Where did these come from?”

“Annie’s, of course. Jack wanted to go back ‘Round the Bend and pick up more supplies from Hattie’s house, but we didn’t know how much time we had. Not enough, of course. He’s with Annie now. She said that since he doesn’t really need a curse-protection charm, she was cooking up something special for him.”

Jenny stood up and folded the blanket. It seemed like the thing to do. Plan for using it again. “How many giants does Evelyn have?”

“Better than we’d feared.”

“How many?”

“Six. If we’re lucky, all six will turn against her as they cross your charms. They’ll squish her into a stain on the ground, and turn back home without us having to do a thing.”

Jenny exhaled. “Yeah. And how often have we been that lucky?”

He grinned. “Every time. We keep surviving.”

Jenny shrugged. “Okay, fair enough.” She recalled the sick feeling she’d felt when she’d seen Evelyn struck by the ogre, and wasn’t looking forward to seeing that happen again. However, Evelyn had tried to kill her friends and family. Jenny wouldn’t give her another opportunity. “Where are we setting up?”

Sean took her to a copse of trees overlooking the trail. A bow and quiver of arrows sat ready on the ground. Sean picked up the bow. Jenny raised her eyebrow. Sean shrugged. “I was a Boy Scout for a couple of years. I even got a merit badge in archery. Besides, giants are big targets.”

“It’s Grandma’s bow?”

“Yup. Giants aren’t the only ones who hunt around here. Are you wearing the charms?”

Jenny nodded, holding out the little pouches on leather cords she and Grandma Annabelle had made during the night.

“I guess we’re as ready as we’re going to get, then.”

They waited for several minutes in silence. Even the insects were still in the dawn glow. The rays of sunlight hadn’t topped the mountains yet, but what she could see of the pristine peaks in the lightening sky was breathtaking.

Sean slowly pointed into the woods. Jenny scanned the distance until she spotted the hulking, darker shadows moving in the shadows along the trail. Moments later, they took form as the first direct rays of sun gushed over the mountain top and pierced the canopy.

The giants took deliberately short steps. Four held clubs of various designs. One held a bow and wore a quiver of arrows. The smallest of the giants carried a blade that seemed too delicate for its hand. Evelyn marched in the middle of them, taking huge strides in comparison to her companions. Her head didn’t even come up to the waist of the shortest giant.

Sean tensed. Jenny watched intently. Evelyn and the giants drew closer.

“It didn’t work,” Sean whispered. “They just passed the second charm. We must have done something wrong.”

Jenny froze, thinking. She was certain the charms had been made right. As realization dawned, she shook her head. “No, we didn’t do anything wrong. Evelyn doesn’t control the giants. She persuaded them. They’ve come willingly.”

Sean swore. “We’re screwed.”

Jenny did the math. They could run for the path, and return to Maple Bend. Evelyn would undoubtedly pursue them, with giants in tow, and a lot of other people might be killed. They could stand and fight, and probably be killed. Or they could surrender. There weren’t a lot of other options. The group was separated, and there was no time to reach a mutual decision. Surrender was the only way her whole family would survive.

Sean looked at her, or past her, appearing to be doing similar calculations. He reached a different conclusion. “Get ready to run,” he whispered, as he drew the arrow back.

“What are you doing?”

“Probably nothing. She’ll be protected again.”

“Don’t!” She whispered, afraid to say it any more forcefully for fear of Evelyn hearing.

Sean ignored her. He let his arrow fly.

The arrow struck the witch and snapped in two. Evelyn looked down at the broken shaft in stunned surprise, then looked up the hill in their general direction. “Get them!” she shrieked as Sean nocked another arrow.

“Run!” Sean shouted.

Jenny didn’t. She was already casting her protective spell on him. Would it double up with the charm he wore? She didn’t care. He was about to die, otherwise.

Evelyn dodged behind the giants, preventing Sean from getting a clear shot. The giants raised their weapons and pushed forward. Sean raised his aim and let another arrow fly. It buried itself in the cheek of one of the giants, who didn’t seem to notice.

“RUN!” Sean yelled. Jenny ignored him. The giants knew where they were, and she wasn’t sure whether the giants or the spell would land first, but she wouldn’t stop until he was protected, even if it wouldn’t stop a single hit.

A black blur flew at Evelyn. She shrieked again. “Tarbos! Klot! Come back! Kill this cat!”

The giants, far from disciplined troops, hesitated to sort out her commands. Two of the giants, both armed with clubs, turned back. The others resumed their advance.

Jenny finished the spell. The protection snapped down on Sean, and it was Jenny’s turn to yell, “RUN!”

Not that it would do any good. They couldn’t outrun giants.

Jenny lost track of Sean as they fled. She dove between two thick trees as a giant crashed closer. The giant slowed to dodge around the trees, but the momentum she gained was offset once the giant resumed its ground eating pace. Someone called out, but Jenny couldn’t understand what they were saying. Nor did she care. She grabbed a sapling to help her change direction and made for another clump of trees.

The sapling and tree branches exploded behind her as the giant’s club tore through the air closely enough for her to feel the wind on her back. She jumped through the trees. The giant stepped to one side to head her off. Jenny dodged in a different direction, using the trees as shields to spoil the giant’s ability to swing the club.

The giant anticipated the move, and leaped to block her in. It raised its club. Jenny dodged into some brush, but the scraggly bushes provided no protection from the weapon.

“She ran that way, down the hill!” Grandma Annabelle’s voice rang out, making the giant hesitate. “Go get her, quick!”

The giant bolted away, down the hill, bellowing as he charged after his invisible prize.

Annabelle squatted, half-concealed in the thick summer brush, twenty yards away. “Twice in as many days,” she said. “Head on downhill. Jack’s going to need your help once Evelyn figures out what’s what.”

“What? Where?”

“Down by the trail. Keep your head down.”

An arrow streaked into Annabelle, but ricocheted off into the bushes. “Run!” she called. “I’ll be fine, you won’t! Run!”

Jenny hesitated, readying an argument, but Annabelle was already casting an unfamiliar spell. Jenny half-slid down the slope toward the trail. Giants crashed and bellowed all around her, but she couldn’t see them. In spite of their incredible size, the thick forest concealed them.

Jenny prayed it would do the same for her friends.

* * *

Running with a bow and a quiver full of arrows wasn’t as easy as it looked in the movies. Even with the arrows secured in Annabelle’s custom quiver, the quiver itself bounced and jostled, and caught on branches and leaves as Sean fled for dear life from two giants chasing him. The bow was even worse. Since he couldn’t get rid of the quiver without stopping, he kept the bow, too. He brushed past the trees as he ran, because even the giants couldn’t just plow through them. He crashed through a thick mesh of greenery, bow held in front of him with both hands to clear the way, only to emerge at the edge of a shallow ravine. Not about to change direction, Sean plunged down, sliding half the way. The muddy streambed at the bottom made him stumble, but it gave the giant even more trouble. The giant slipped and landed with a squish of mud and decaying plants only a few feet behind Sean.

Sean chanced a look behind him. The giant was already picking himself up, and retrieving the oversized dagger it had been carrying. Sean couldn’t tell where the other giant had gone.

A thick wall of weeds and small trees lined either side of the streambed. It was too narrow even for a human-sized man to navigate easily, but Sean was out of options. He plunged forward again, hoping it would slow the giant more than himself.

“Cut it off on the other side,” the giant behind him yelled, far too close for comfort. Sean again chanced a look behind him, just in time to see the massive form leaping at him with the blade. There was nothing Sean could do but to turn away and tense up.

A flash of blue light deflected the blade, but the blow sent him sprawling, and the blade flying out of the giant’s grasp and into the weeds. The giant was tangled even worse, face down in the mud.

Sean picked himself up and checked his shoulder. It hurt, but by rights he should have been impaled in the mud. Jenny’s spell had protected him again. With the amount of pain penetrating his adrenaline rush, it probably wouldn’t give him many more chances. Before the giant could get free, Sean retrieved the bow and pushed forward. A few feet away, the hilt of the giant’s blade stuck out of tall grasses. Sean grabbed it as he ran past, thinking he could use it as a machete. The grip was human-sized, which explained why the giant had difficulty holding onto it. It really was more of a short sword, like a cutlass or a sharp-tipped machete.

Twenty feet away, the grass thinned out below an overhanging tree. As Sean reached the tree, the second giant appeared and sprang toward him, club raised. The tree’s branches entangled the club, but the giant wasted no time stooping down and pushing himself forward, hand extended. The giant caught hold of Sean’s bow and pulled. Sean released the bow and lunged with the blade. The crouched giant’s head wasn’t much higher than Sean’s eye level. The sword caught in the giant’s eye socket, a target nearly large as Sean’s fist. The giant howled and pulled back, dropping the bow and nearly pulling the sword out of Sean’s hand.

Sean grabbed Annabelle’s bow and raced past the giant, who rolled on the slope with both bloody hands mashed against his pierced eye.

A minute later, panting and wheezing, Sean had lost the giants, but he’d also lost his way. He had no idea how to find the others, or even which way led to the crossroads.

Jack watched in horror as the giants gave chase first to Sean and Jenny, and then to Jessabelle. Jessabelle, at least, could outrun the giants. Probably. It was all he could do to avoid rushing in and getting himself killed trying to protect the cat. Jessabelle’s claws tore at the invisible barrier protecting the witch, and Evelyn fought back uselessly, her expression filled with fear. As the giants approached, Jessabelle sprang free and launched herself back into the woods. For the briefest of moments Jack hoped one of the giants would accidentally brain Evelyn as they stumbled after the fleeing panther.

For a moment, Evelyn was alone.

“Go!” Annabelle whispered. “Jenny and Sean need my help.” Annabelle sprang up the hill with surprising speed and silence. Jack doubted he could have done better.

Evelyn crouched behind some trees and began casting. It was likely the spell to make her unnoticeable. He had to interrupt it. He took a deep breath, and broke from his hiding place, walking toward her, reciting the words of an old folk song without singing them. He made sure they were loud enough for Evelyn to hear.

What do you will Evelyn, my son?

Ten thousand weights of burning brimstone to burn her bones brown

For she was the cause of my lying down.

Jack’s voice was strange in his ears. Evelyn paid attention. She stopped in mid-spell and stood to face him. She made a defensive gesture with both hands and started a new incantation in Spanish.

Thanks to the disguise charm he carried in his pocket, Evelyn saw and heard Jenny, not Jack. Jack repeated the song out loud, staring at Evelyn as he did so. She recited the incantation that had put Sean and Annabelle to sleep. Jack braced himself, and felt the waves of exhaustion flow over him. Already tired and in need of more sleep, he stumbled and interrupted his recitation to avoid doing a face-plant into the dirt. Even more than the night before, he fought against dimming consciousness. The sensation of falling as he staggered forward jolted him back into wakefulness. What was he singing? What was he doing?

He had to speak the songs again. Not sing. Evelyn was from California, not West Virginia, and probably didn’t know the lyrics to the old Appalachian songs. Not that Jack really did, either, but he remembered bits and pieces from what his grandmother had taught him. However, the tunes were often more recognizable. As far as she knew, Jack was reciting a spell. The disguise charm would make Evelyn think he was Jenny, at least for a few more precious seconds.

Come down, come down, Evelyn

And come on down with me

There is a place provided in Hell

For wicked women like thee

Evelyn’s eyes grew wide, and she hurled another incantation at him. And another. Then another. At one moment Jack felt like he was burning with a fever, and then like he was being bitten by a thousand tiny insects. He focused on the song lyrics, repeating them twice in spite of his discomfort. One of Evelyn’s spells made him cough and choke, but he kept at it, switching back to the verse from the previous song. His stomach felt like it was on fire, his knees threatened to buckle, and his breathing grew labored. He hoped she didn’t hear him wheezing between every breath.

The magic of the disguise faded. His voice returned to normal, or as normal as it could be with his throat feeling like he’d gargled with battery acid. Evelyn, now sweating, swore loudly. “How did you…?” she started.

Jack pulled the bottom of the baseball bat free from the rope loop on his belt. His hands were clammy and his fingers felt swollen. He gripped the bat’s handle less casually than he intended, but he strode forward with all the confidence he could fake, in spite of the pain in his every joint and his uncertainty that he had the strength to swing the bat.

Evelyn looked him over, and then bolted off into the woods.

Jack began to give chase, but in two steps collapsed. Lyin’ Jack had finally told the whopper of his life, and it might kill him. The plan was to force Evelyn to expend the bulk of her energy against him, leaving her with little or nothing left to attack the others. Hours ago, it had sounded like a brilliant plan. He’d insisted on doing it over Annabelle’s words of caution.

Now he knew pain on levels he’d never imagined possible. He made an effort to stand, but neither his muscles nor his knees could support him. Leaving the bat on the ground, he crawled down the trail. The world spun, and his breath grew more ragged each time he inhaled. After twenty feet, his hands no longer worked right. His cartoonishly swollen fingers wouldn’t unclench, and every touch of rock and root along the trail burned like he was on fire. At any moment, he felt a loose twig would rupture his fat hands like popping balloons. His face felt no better.

His forearms were only marginally better. The pain flowed down from his extremities into the rest of his body. He pushed forearm over forearm, dragging his legs when his knees wouldn’t work. His feet felt like they were being crushed by his shoes.

He was dying. Evelyn had hit him with at least a half-dozen lethal curses, any one of which his natural resistances might have allowed him to shrug off. Combined, they were killing him, and the idea didn’t sound so horrible. Dying would make the pain go away. But what about the others? Did he have anything left to protect the others?

Ten more feet passed by inches. He could no longer hear the bellowing and giants chasing his friends in the forest. Was he the last one left alive, or were his ears swollen shut?

In his dim, swimming vision, he found the spot where they had hidden the buried charm. He crossed two feet of the remaining distance before his eyes sealed closed. He pushed, feeling burning liquid inside his lungs.

With a final push, he collapsed on the trail. It was time for death to claim him, and Jack felt ready.

But the pain began to recede, as if it was all draining out of his body into the dirt. With effort, he opened his eyes, and inhaled a little more easily with one breath than the last one. The sensation of spinning shallowed. He’d made it over the concealed charm, the one that was supposed to break Evelyn’s control over the giants. She’d cast no such spell, and the charm had never triggered, until Jack crawled over it laden with a half-dozen curses.

He tried to stand, but only managed to get himself up to a kneel. The curses may have been removed, but enough of their effects remained and he was exhausted. Vertigo and exhaustion knocked him back down, and he felt himself sliding down the incline head first. Jutting roots and saplings slowed his descent and spun him sideways until he came to a stop several yards down, half-buried in weeds and decaying leaves. He tried to crawl back up the slope, but the trivial incline might as well have been Mount Everest in his current state. His eyelids drooped. He’d try again when he woke up. If he woke up. Either way, he’d given it his best.

Sean hid behind a tree, crouched in the towering underbrush, as one of the giants approached. It sniffed the air, and bared its jumbled teeth. Sean silently nocked an arrow and drew halfway back on the string. If the giant came for him, it was going to leave with some pain to remember him by.

Suddenly, the giant turned and ran in a different direction. The temporary reprieve didn’t fill Sean with any relief. It probably meant the giant had caught the scent of one of his friends, assuming any of them were still alive. For the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, he mentally kicked himself for shooting at Evelyn. He couldn’t think of a better solution, but his arrow had started the fight against impossible odds. Now his friends were scattered and being hunted down by Evelyn and her giant allies, and all he’d accomplished was to half-blind one of the giants.

Something hit the brush beside him. Sean pulled back and nearly let the arrow loose before seeing the head of a black panther. “I hope you’re Jessabelle,” he said, as he lowered the bow.

The panther flicked its ear and turned away from him. Sean returned the arrow to the quiver and grabbed the short sword beside him. He crept behind the panther, who led him to a hiding place just near the magical crossroads. Jenny was already hidden there. She placed her finger to her lips and pointed toward the clearing. Sean poked his head over the brush to see what she was pointing at.

Evelyn stood with two giants in the clearing. One held a club. The second was bare-handed, covered in mud and smeared with blood. Sean recognized it as the partner of the giant he’d stabbed in the eye. Evelyn was bloodied as well, her ripped clothing attesting to Jessabelle’s ferocity. Sean couldn’t help but smile. Evelyn didn’t seem wounded now, as she communicated instructions to the giants. Most importantly, she carried Annabelle’s bag over her shoulder.

One of the giants turned and looked in their direction. They ducked down below the rise.

“She’s got Annabelle’s witch-bottle,” Sean whispered.

Jenny’s eyes grew wide. “I bet she’s going to seal the other side and trap us here!”

“Why?”

“So we can’t escape the giants, maybe? To make sure she has control over it.”

Sean frowned. “What do you think she promised the giants? Us?”

Jenny glanced down at Jessabelle. “Are Jack and Grandma okay? Do you know where they are?”

Jessabelle half-nodded, speculatively.

Sean pulled an arrow out of the quiver and nocked it. “Maybe she hasn’t had time to restore her protection spell. Get ready to run for it.”

Jenny opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Don’t miss,” she whispered.

Sean poked his head up out of the brush again, bow readied. But Evelyn had already vanished.

He ducked down again. “Crap! She’s already crossed over. We need to go through before she seals it.”

“How?”

“Do you know any more spells, like that one Evelyn uses to hide?”

Jenny shook her head. “I have no idea how to do that. There’s only one spell that I’m really good at.”

“How much time do we have before she can seal the gate?”

“It took her maybe four minutes last time.”

“Then there’s no time to waste. Get ready to run for the path. I’ll cover you.”

“How?”

In response, Sean again raised his bow and rose over the concealment of the brush. The giants still hadn’t noticed him.

“Don’t be stupid!” Jenny whispered.

“Too late!” Sean muttered as he let the arrow fly. In spite of his best efforts, the arrow missed altogether, flying past the giant’s head. The arrow struck leaves and a distant tree behind them with a loud thunk. Both giants turned to investigate the sound, turning their backs to Sean and the girls and pushing deeper into the forest.

Sean lowered the bow calmly as if the result had been his plan all along.

“Let’s go,” he said and grabbed the sword off the ground.

Jessabelle easily outdistanced them both. She had just disappeared several yards ahead of them when the giants returned, pointing and bellowing. Sean and Jenny didn’t slow their pace. Beside him, Jenny disappeared.

Looking down, he caught the faint glimmer of light indicating a trail that wasn’t physically there. He corrected his course, and ran straight at the giant with the raised club. He leaped forward as the club came smashing down…

…and landed in a shallow puddle of the pond. Just ahead, Jessabelle crouched in front of Evelyn, who kept Jessabelle at bay with another knife. Both were bloodied with recent, shallow cuts. After a moment’s hesitation, Sean raised his sword in front of him, trying to position himself opposite Jessabelle. Evelyn turned to keep them both in view. Sean readied a blow for the moment Evelyn looked like she was trying to cast a spell.

Jenny strolled more casually between Jessabelle and Sean, staring down her enemy with an intensity that surprised Sean. “It’s over, Evelyn,” she said. “Put the bag and the knife down, and we won’t hurt you.”

Evelyn snorted. “Really? Because Thadeus will kill me for failure, and send someone else to take my place. You kids lose either way. I’m the only one likely to give you an ounce of mercy.”

“Why doesn’t Thadeus just come here and take care of it all himself?” Sean demanded.

“He can’t. He’s in exile. He can’t cross over yet, and so he leaves that to us. But here, if you get on his radar and cross him, he’ll snap your neck and turn your skull into a breakfast bowl.” She looked significantly at Jenny. “You and anyone you love. You’re better off taking your chances against the giants, believe me.”

Sean had been ready to shoot her a moment ago. It was different standing here with a sword. It was personal. She’d been trying to kill them all day, but now, he wasn’t sure he had it in him.

Evelyn looked past Jenny, and then smiled. “Well, it looks like you don’t have to make a decision after all.”

Sean couldn’t help but look. Evelyn wasn’t bluffing. Two giants appeared a few feet away, bewildered by the change in the scenery.

Against the giants, Sean didn’t hesitate. His eyes seemed to fill with red as he charged forward—once again toward the giant with the club. The giant hesitated before raising his club, and Sean plunged the blade with both hands into the creature’s lower belly. The blade sank in nearly to the hilt, but once there, Sean couldn’t move it. He gripped the sword as tightly as he could and tugged sideways, but it barely moved.

He was too close for the giant to hit him with the club. The giant swatted him bare-handed instead. Sean felt at least one bone crack from the impact. His other arm, the one that somehow still held onto the sword hilt, felt like it had pulled completely out of his shoulder socket as he crashed into the shallow, slimy puddle, staring up at the cloudy sky above.

The giant roared and took steps toward him, raising the club with both hands over his head. Sean tried to move, but neither of his arms would work. He pushed against the muddy ground with both feet to try and slide away.

Blood poured from the giant’s belly into the water, and the creature doubled over in pain. It collapsed into the mud, inches away from crushing Sean’s legs.

Sean’s attempt to stand shot excruciating pain through his right arm. He let go of his sword. The blade sank into water about an inch before coming to rest on the mud. He lifted his head to see what was going on, but the dying giant blocked his view. Once again, he was entirely helpless.

Sean and one giant lay on the ground, both badly injured and possibly dying. Jessabelle attacked the unarmed giant like an angry housecat against a full-sized human, but full of purpose and legitimate fury. It was enough to taunt the giant into chasing her. Whenever it turned back, Jessabelle sprang at it, tearing at the flesh of its ankles.

Jenny and Evelyn stood facing each other. Evelyn held the knife with confidence and trained ease, in spite of the fresh red claw marks along her arm. “You don’t have your little protective spell up this time, do you?” Evelyn taunted.

“Who says I don’t?”

Evelyn shouted something that sounded far more like Latin than Spanish. With her free hand, she raised a glass container and sprayed an aerosol at Jenny that smelled of vanilla and alcohol. Jenny sneezed as some of it got in her nose, and backed away before Evelyn followed through with a slice of the knife. A faint electric glow around her surged and faded.

Evelyn cackled, then staggered. She righted herself. “I say.”

“You look like you’re about to fall over,” Jenny taunted back. “I’ll bet you overspent yourself.”

“I still have enough to kill you, but I’d just as soon let the knife do the job. By the way, that was a ruthless work of genius disguising your friend as you. I sank a lot of juice into killing him. He died in horrible pain, but it was a viciously clever move on your part.”

Jenny frowned. That ruthless move had been Jack’s idea. “If so, that’s one more death you’ll pay for.”

“I’m seeing a lot of deaths that shouldn’t have happened. Sean’s probably dead. Your grandmother is all alone right now against four giants, so they’ve probably torn her to pieces. And Hattie’ll have to plan your funeral too.” Evelyn lunged forward again, slashing the air as Jenny dodged.

Jenny backed away, splashing through mud as Evelyn attacked with quick stabs and slices. Sooner or later, Jenny would make a mistake, and Evelyn would connect. After the first blood, the next would come faster. There was only one way this would end. Both Jenny and Evelyn knew it.

Jenny began the protective song, with no intention of completing it. “Angels surround me, angels protect me, angels enfold me…”

Evelyn snarled. “No you don’t!” she shouted as she lunged forward.

Jenny was ready. A hundred self-defense lessons took over. She danced outside the strike, catching Evelyn’s wrist with one hand. She stuck her leg behind Evelyn’s knees and chopped Evelyn’s throat with the side of her other hand. Evelyn fell backwards, and Jenny used the momentum to twist her wrist until the knife fell. Then she was on top of Evelyn, pounding at her with knees and fists and elbows until the woman no longer resisted.

Jenny stood, shaking, and recovered the fallen knife. Evelyn’s face was a bloody mess, and she didn’t move. Basic, animal urges pushed Jenny to drive the knife into Evelyn’s still-breathing chest, but Jenny resisted. She hated and feared the woman, but couldn’t bring herself to kill her fallen opponent.

Instead, she circled the dying giant to check on Sean.

Sean stared at her, wide-eyed, lying in an inch-deep puddle of blood and muck. “You did it? Is she dead?”

“No. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll live, but I can’t get up.”

A woman’s voice spoke. “He’s got a small fracture of the left ulna and a couple of cracked ribs, I think. Also, his right shoulder is dislocated.”

Jenny and Sean both stared at the source of the voice. The figure was transparent, but clearly the woman in Annabelle’s old pictures. It was the girl who had warned Jenny the night Evelyn and the ogre smashed up Hattie’s home.

“Debbie?” Sean asked. “You’re here!”

“It’s harder in the daylight. But you need me. Jenny, you need to pop his arm back into his shoulder socket.”

Jenny looked at her curiously, as Debbie’s ghost crouched and pointed to the swelling lump below Sean’s shoulder. “There,” the ghost said, and looked at Jenny. “I went to school to learn nursing. But this part I learned to do this helping my brother, Caleb.”

Jenny stepped around Sean, her feet squishing in the mud, and knelt in the blood-clouded water near Sean’s shoulder. “Get behind his shoulder, and very gently pull the arm toward you.” Debbie’s ghost continued the instructions, and Jenny followed as best as she could. Jenny shoved, and Sean winced and grunted as the shoulder visibly shifted in the water.

“I think that did it,” Sean said as he tentatively shifted his weight and rolled into a sitting position.

Jenny turned around to thank Debbie, but the ghost had vanished. She stepped out of the water and approached Evelyn cautiously. The witch still appeared unconscious. Jenny reached down to pick up Annabelle’s bag where Evelyn had dropped it, and paused as the sun glinted on something else. She bent down and picked up what seemed like a perfume container. She held it up for Sean to see. “Do you know what she was doing with this? She sprayed some at me during the fight.”

Sean nodded. “She used it to make me fall asleep at the Rose house.”

“Did she?” Jenny leaned over Evelyn and pressed down on the button. Evelyn didn’t stir as the sweet-smelling mist descended on her. Jenny thought back to another barely-remembered song, a lullaby her mother used to sing her. She remembered it poorly, but focused on the effect. “Sleep now, little child, sleep…” she sang, and she saw the faint tendrils of blue glowing magic drawn into Evelyn’s body. Jenny smiled.

“What did you do?” Sean asked.

“Improvised,” Jenny said. “Now, Grandma Annabelle should have some healing juice in here and…” The first jar she pulled out of the bag didn’t contain the yellow-brown potion, but rather the dry ingredients of a witch-bottle. Jenny stared at the bottle for a moment, and made her decision.

She found the healing juice and recited Hattie’s healing poem for Sean. Then she picked up the bag containing the witch-bottle. “Make sure my aunt and my cousin are okay,” Jenny said. She wasn’t sure what else to say, but then added, “Tell them I love them.”

“Wait, what? Where are you going?”

“To make sure you all stay safe,” Jenny answered.“You heard her. If she doesn’t come through again, someone else will. We’ve got to seal it up. And maybe stop any more giants from coming through.”

“When are you coming back?”

Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably when we find help and I can bring my grandmother home. What about you?”

Sean glanced at where Debbie’s ghost had been less than five minutes earlier. “You know, I’ve got a bunch of very good reasons to go with you, and only one to stay. Maybe it’s stupid, but I’ll stay. Besides, someone’s got to defend this side, right?”

“Goodbye, Sean.”

“See you later, Jenny.”

Jenny went ‘Round the Bend. Maybe, like any of her many moves growing up, she could just make this side her home for a while.

Jessabelle-the-cat watched Evelyn’s house in the night. Perched on a low tree-branch, she was a nearly invisible even in the waning moonlight as she waited for Evelyn to return.

Somehow, the giant had escaped. It baffled her how something so large could hide, even in the never-ending stretch of woods that surrounded Maple Bend, but it had. She’d found Sean hiking back, wet and ragged but otherwise in one piece. He’d told her what Jenny had done. Jessabelle had been furious for almost an hour. Finally, she grudgingly accepted it. Jenny and Jack could find help against the man in white while Grandma Annabelle protected the crossroads, and they’d all be back soon.

In the meantime, someone needed to keep an eye on Evelyn. At that, Jessabelle excelled.

Near midnight, Evelyn’s SUV roared into the driveway, kicking up gravel as she slammed on the brakes. She left it running as she raced into the house, switching on lights. Jessabelle narrowed her eyes as she followed Evelyn’s shadow behind the curtains. Less than two minutes later, Evelyn ran out through the front door with a suitcase in hand, not bothering to turn out lights or close the door. She hurled the suitcase into the back of the SUV when the black Cadillac Escalade pulled into the driveway behind her.

Evelyn closed the back door of her car and leaned against it as the short man in the white suit emerged from the back of the Cadillac. “Is there a problem, Evie?” he asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle, but I’m going to need more time. I found the crossroads. I even got through.”

“Wonderful! But I don’t see my daughter with you.”

“I encountered more resistance than I expected.” Evelyn looked to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

He waved his hand dismissively, and joined her at the side of her car. “No need to apologize, Evie. I forgive you.”

“I just need a few more days. The Morgan girl is strong, but not well trained. I’ll find a weakness, break through, and get your daughter back. I promise.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m pulling you off this assignment.”

“What? No!” She pushed herself away from the car door and waved toward the mountains. “I can finish this!”

“Given enough time, I know you could, Evie. But I’m giving Cheryl a chance. She could rival Amelia in strength, and she can sort this out.”

“Cheryl? Come on, Thadeus! That woman may have power, but she’s got no brains!”

“True. However, we may have more need of brute force now. Besides, everyone knows you are my favorite, Evie.”

“Am I?” Her voice cracked a little as she looked directly at him. She brushed her hair from her eyes. “Still?”

“Of course you are. That’s the problem. I love you the most. The rest of the coven knows that.”

“Is that why you give me these crappy—” Evelyn’s head flicked to one side, hard, before she finished the question. The snapping sound was audible even from Jessabelle’s hiding place. Evelyn dropped to the ground like a marionette that had its wires cut.

Thadeus dropped to his knees next to Evelyn and embraced her. His shoulders shook. “I’m so sorry, child,” he said through choked sobs. “Forgive me. But I can’t have exceptions. Especially for my favorite. Discipline must be maintained.” He knelt there for several moments, and then looked up into the night sky, moonlight reflecting off his tears. Finally, he stood, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated as he regained his composure. “I love you, Evie. You and Amelia both. But I have to think about the rest of the coven. They have to know the price of betrayal and of failure. Goodbye, child.”

He returned his handkerchief into his pocket. He took one more look at Evelyn’s broken body, sighed, and returned to his car. The Escalade pulled away, navigating backwards out to the darkened road beyond the trees.

Jessabelle-the-girl wanted to scream, but had no voice. Jessabelle-the-cat moved with languid grace nearer to the tree trunk, and with careful deliberation jumped to the ground. After a split-second hesitation to make certain she was unobserved, she leaped off into the night.

Read on for an exclusive look at the thrilling sequel to Blood Creek Witch.

Blood Creek Beast

By Jay Barnson

Blood Creek Beast - Chapter 1

Jack Parsons stood with his John Deere hat on his head and “Grandma” Annie’s sword in his hands. He guarded two powerful witches as they bolstered the magical seal on the crossroads between his temporary home “Around the Bend,” and his home in Maple Bend, West Virginia. Whoever was on the other side had been tearing the seal down at record speed. Jack stood as a last resort in case Jenny and Annabelle Rose failed.

Annie wiped the sweat from her forehead as she and Jenny finished the old song together. She ran her hand through her silver waterfall of hair, which only bore a hint of the red that matched her granddaughter’s. “I reckon that’ll do for now. But we got ourselves another problem. Normally, I’d expect that seal to last a few years. Even Evelyn shouldn’t be able to tear it down in less than four months, but it’s only been one. It’s hard sending magic across worlds. She must have a whole gang of witches wearing it down.”

Jack asked, “How long can you keep doing this?”

“Until they give up, or we run out of the makings for new witch-bottles.” She raised the bottle they had just replaced and inspected it in the sunlight. The contents were shriveled, and a powdery ash that hadn’t been there a week earlier lined the bottom. “I don’t see any cracks. We might be able to reuse this bottle one more time if we have to. Still, at this rate, I’m going to need new supplies within a month or two.”

Jenny sighed. “At least that gives us some time.”

“Not really, it doesn’t. We’re old-school around these parts, and we can’t just shop at Food Lion or mail-order what we need. We need to send someone we trust from Hobbfield to get what we need from the larger towns. Jack, do you remember how to get to Branton?”

Jack nodded. “Of course.”

“Could you get there without a road?”

“I reckon I’d just follow the creek.”

“That’s what I do.” She turned down the path to the house, and the other two followed. “Hobbfield is the village where Branton is in our world. I’ll write y’all up a list to give to a friend of mine who lives there. She can make the supply arrangements. If you and Jenny leave before noon, y’all ought to get there before nightfall.”

Jenny’s jaw dropped slightly, and she asked, “What do you mean? Won’t you come with us?”

“I can’t tell you how much I want to, hon. I don’t feel safe leaving right now for even a couple of days. I just can’t figure why Thadeus has such a bug up his butt now. The portal’s been here for decades, and it ain’t been protected by anyone but our family.” She lowered her eyes. “I ain’t done such a great job at that. I’m sorry, kids. I should have been better prepared. I should have kept a better eye on the witch-bottle on the other side. I should have tried to find someone to help while there was still time.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Jenny said.

“I should have. I know the ol’ family stories well enough. We’ve been keeping an eye and a witch-bottle on the crossroads ever since Colette went ‘Round the Bend, even after we knew she was dead. My mama might not have been so vigilant, but I should have been. Especially after that son of a bitch in the white suit killed Debra.”

Annie wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand. “Anyhow, no use crying over spilled milk. Just gotta clean it up. I’ll take care of the list and give y’all the money you’ll need. We’ll work it out.”

Jenny scanned the treetops as they walked. Jack saw her lips move, mouthing the words to the old song that served as a protection spell. She was probably unaware she was doing it. Jack knew how she felt. While they hadn’t seen a trace of giants or other monsters in four weeks, these woods still didn’t feel safe and inviting. He doubted the woods back home in Maple Bend, eerily similar but far from identical in this parallel world, would ever feel safe again. He knew too much about what could lurk there.

That was okay. Safety was an illusion. So much of West Virginia had been mapped out, marked off, and connected by paved roads. What thrilled him now was what he didn’t know. It felt so familiar, but everything was new. So much of this place might never have been seen by human eyes. What was out there, where the familiar towns and cities should be?

“Thadeus mentioned a crossroads in Morgantown when he was talking to Evelyn,” Jack said, breaking the silence. “He said it was one-way. Why haven’t they tried to rescue her through that one?”

Annie shook her head. “Who knows? Maybe they have. I ain’t got anything to go on but family stories and village rumors.”

Jack mulled this over for a moment. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I’ve got a question.”

Annie looked sideways at Jack. “It’s ma’am now, is it? That must be some question.”

Jack shrugged. “I was just thinking about when folks booted Thadeus from this world in the first place. They cut him off entirely and shut down all the crossroads. He can’t come back even through this one. So how’d he know about his daughter? How did he know she was imprisoned?”

Annie sighed. “I can only speculate. I know our little crossroads is special, but it ain’t the only way here. Maybe it ain’t the only way back, neither. As far as I know, they’ve got themselves a telephone wire between worlds.”

Jack grunted a semi-response, and remained lost in more questions he knew Annie wouldn’t have answers to for the twenty minutes it took to return to Annie’s house. It was really not much more than a shack, most of it built by Annie’s own hands with materials brought up from Hobbfield. She lived so far from the village to keep an eye on the crossroads, and to avoid drawing attention. Annie said she hadn’t planned for houseguests when she built the place. She and Jenny slept inside, on the same tiny bed, and Jack slept in a makeshift extension to the house created by canvas and boards. It felt like camping every night. Jack liked it. Still, he missed his bed in his own home. As tiny as the trailer house was, it was a mansion compared to this. He never let Annie suspect he was anything but appreciative.

While they gathered blankets and food in backpack-sized cloth sacks, Annie prepared a short list of supplies. She handed it to Jack with a small bag of coins. “Y’all take the list and the money straightaway to Vanya. Just ask for her. Everybody knows everybody there. She’s a good friend, and she’ll make all the arrangements. She also knows about me and where we’re from, so you can speak freely with her. Now, I’ve given you more money there than she’ll need. Make sure she accepts a fee for herself, then you two enjoy yourselves some spending money. Take your time. Spend a couple of extra days in Hobbfield. Y’all ought to get to know people other than me around here.”

“Do they speak English?” Jenny asked. It was a practical question. Jack hadn’t even thought of it.

Annie nodded. “Yes, but the dialect is different. They have a strange accent and use different words for some things, but y’all should be able to get along fine. Just don’t mention the crossroads or our world. They’ll know you ain’t from around here, but if they knew you come from the world where they exiled the greatest evil in history, they might get a bit unpredictable. Better to let that sleeping dog lie. Otherwise, just be safe. We ain’t seen hide nor hair of them giants since our fight with them, but that don’t mean they are gone, or that there ain’t other deadly creatures in these woods.”

“Like unicorns,” Jack said.

“Right. Y’all know. Take that ol’ sword, Jack, just in case, and be careful. Keep your wits about you, and don’t take off those amulets. If something goes wrong, those might give you a chance to survive and run away.”

Jack fingered the small handmade pouch hanging at his neck. It was like the one Jenny had made him when they came Around the Bend the first time. Annie had made this one, and while the construction seemed more solid, Annie claimed it was no more powerful than Jenny’s. As far as Jack was concerned, Jenny’s magic was better than a bulletproof vest. But then, a bulletproof vest wouldn’t be much help against a giant.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Jenny said. “Don’t worry.”

They embraced. Annabelle Rose hugged her granddaughter first, and the two spoke quietly for a minute. Then Jenny stepped back, wiping her cheek. Annie wrapped her arms around Jack. She spoke quietly to him as well. “I know you’ve been champing at the bit to get exploring. I kept you cooped up with me too long. I meant what I said. Y’all should take your time once you’ve met with Vanya and get to know folks down in Hobbfield. I’ll be fine for a few days, so don’t let Jenny convince you otherwise. She needs to socialize, too, whether she believes it or not.”

* * *

“What did you and Grandma whisper about?” Jenny asked after they had left sight of the shack.

Jack shrugged. “She told me not to let you bring us back home too fast. She thought we should to get to know Hobbfield.”

Jenny was quiet for a moment, and then said the word, “Home.”

It took Jack a moment to realize what she’d said, and he stopped in his tracks. “Hey, I’m sorry, Jenny. I meant Annie’s place.”

She smiled thoughtfully back. “I knew what you meant. I only just realized that this place is more home to me now than Maple Bend. After all, I was only there about a week.”

“Oh,” Jack said, resuming his stride along the thin, grass-hemmed game trail along the side of the creek. The trickling water bore the same coppery hue of its twin back in West Virginia. How could something feel so familiar and so alien at the same time? Adjusting his hat, he said, “I mean, I worry about Mama. And Jessabelle, and Hattie. Sean, too. But, especially Mama. She’s not been good for a long time. If I knew for sure they were all okay, I think I’d rather be here, too.”

Jenny squinted at him for a moment. “Why? You don’t have family here.”

He shrugged. “I got a whole world. Hardly anybody back home has ever seen this place. It’s all new, waiting to be discovered. I wish we could have come here a couple of years ago. No man in the white suit, no Evelyn, just a new place to explore.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “This is all just an adventure to you, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Well, yeah! I mean, I wish it wasn’t so dangerous, but I’m glad to be here. Isn’t it an adventure for you, too?”

Jenny grinned. “I suppose it is.”

* * *

They followed the creek along a shallow ravine for a half-hour. Jack took off his John Deere hat and wiped the summer sweat off his forehead with his arm, staring up the tree-veiled hill.

“What’s going on?” Jenny asked. “Do you see something?”

He flipped his hat back onto his head, covering hair that had been overdue for a haircut before he got stuck in this world. Between that and a month’s uneven facial hair growth poorly trimmed with Annie’s scissors, he would probably scare himself if he stumbled across a mirror. “I think so. Follow me.” He pushed his way up the hill.

“We should follow the creek so we don’t get lost,” she said, but she followed him up the slope of the ravine anyway.

Jack shrugged and said, “I’m sure we can find it again.” He was mostly sure. Even though the geography mirrored that of their world, and the woods he knew better than his own bedroom, much of it was different. The trees, in particular, didn’t form the familiar patterns that had grown and changed only slightly over the years in Maple Bend.

They topped the ridge to a plateau and Jack strode purposefully forward the length of a football field. The insect sounds felt familiar, although the constant drone of the cicadas he’d left behind weeks ago weren’t present. They’d probably died down in his world, too. A gentle breeze rustled the forest down the mountain. Trees surrounded them and covered them with a canopy of leaves that admitted only shifting spotlights of sun. Somewhere nearby, a woodpecker drilled in a rapid staccato.

Jenny stood beside him. “Okay, what did you see?”

“Do you recognize this place?”

She looked around, taking in the curtain of brown and green. “It’s pretty, but everything up here still looks like everything else to me.”

Jack pointed a short distance away. “Your Aunt Hattie’s trailer should be right here.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“I reckon so.”

She stared at the overgrown forest that could have been what Hattie’s property had looked like two hundred years earlier. Then she looked over at Jack, and asked, “What do you mean, ‘you reckon so?’ Does that mean you are sure, or that you aren’t sure?”

Jack chuckled and shrugged. “I reckon it means I’m mostly sure.”

Seconds passed, filled with the pleasant drone of insects and the whisper of a breeze through the treetops. Jenny broke the relative silence. “Jack, are we ever going to see Hattie again?”

“I hope so.”

“I worry about everyone else, too. I wish I knew they were okay.”

Jack nodded. Jessabelle and the others had done plenty to earn the wrath of Evelyn and her boss, Thadeus. Since they were still trying to break through the barrier between worlds, Jack’s friends on the other side were in a lot of trouble. He reminded himself they’d proven more capable of taking care of themselves than he was.

“Let’s go check out the church,” Jack said.

“What’s to check out? Look, I know you’re excited to see your hometown turned into a forest and stuff, but we really need to get to Hobbfield.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes. I ain’t gonna look for my house or anything, but I really think we ought to check out the church.” He started walking.

Jenny made an exasperated sound, but followed. “Why?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Duh. I could tell you that.”

“No, I mean...” Jack looked over his shoulder at her and waved in the direction of where the church would have been in their world. “When I overheard Thadeus and Evelyn talking that once, he said that the crossroads was originally where the church is.”

“So?”

“I thought maybe it only got closed on one side. Just like Annie said... some go only one way.”

“Closed on one side?” Jenny responded. “I don’t have any idea if that’s possible. We only seal off one side at a time, so I guess it’s worth checking out.”

They continued their hike toward the old church. It took a bit of guesswork because the terrain didn’t offer any clear natural markers. No bulldozers had come thirty years ago to build roads or prepare for development that would never happen. Jack felt like he was making his way through his own house in the dark.

At first, he didn’t notice the rocks. Covered by decades—maybe centuries—of dirt, moss, and vines, they blended smoothly with the forest and hills around them. As he gradually determined that the church could have stood nowhere else, the tall, strangely symmetrical nine mounds came to his attention.

He pointed them out to Jenny as they explored strange twenty-foot circle. Her mouth opened slightly, and she stared in what seemed like real fascination. “It’s like a smaller version of Stonehenge!” she exclaimed.

“A stone what?”

“Stonehenge. A circle of stones in Britain. They think druids put them there thousands of years ago.”

“Huh. Were they building a fort or something?”

“Nobody knows. Whoever did it is long gone and didn’t leave any records behind.”

“Then how do folks know it was... what did you call them?”

“Druids. They don’t. It’s just a fun mystery.”

“Were they giants? ‘Cuz these look like something a kid would do, but it would have to be a giant kid.”

Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

They drew closer. A shift in the breeze brought an odor... something rotten and horrible. It was the smell of death under the hot July sun. Then the wind changed again, and it was gone. While Jack tried to figure out the source of the smell, Jenny moved to the center of the mounds, heedless of the weeds grasping at her ankles. She leaned forward, peering into the distance as she turned in place, searching for something in the air. Finally, her shoulders dropped, and she shook her head.

“I reckon it was worth a shot,” Jack said.

Jenny nodded. “It certainly looks like where... huh...” She walked past the mounds, toward the creek.

“What do you see?” Jack asked. He lost sight of her past one of the mounds. He circled around it and then heard her stifle a shriek.

Jack dropped his sack, yanked the sword from the scabbard, and charged forward. Jenny stood near thick brush, one hand covering her mouth as she stared at the ground, backing away. Jack drew close, looking into the thick vegetation.

The dead man lay tangled in the weeds, twisted in a pose of agony.

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This book wouldn’t have been possible without the support of my wife, Julie, and my daughters. They do more than just put up with me spending evenings in the basement in front of the computer. They’ve encouraged this project since it was just a vague idea, and have helped me push it to its conclusion (and beyond…) Julie, besides being the best companion a guy could ask for, you also share with me your love of oral storytelling traditions and old folk tales, which provided the seed of this story many years ago. So to Julie and the girls: Thank you, and I love you.

I have been blessed with long-time friends who have gone on to do great things with their own writing careers, and who have provided me with tons of advice and encouragement. Melissa, thank you for your invaluable advice acquired through a stellar journey of your own. John, thanks for having my back and helping me stay focused. And to my editor, Jana, thanks for constantly seeing what I could not and guiding me around the rocks.

Thank you, mom, for reminding me of my heritage and the world I came from. Aunt Ellen – rest in peace, and thank you for one last, long conversation where you shared history for me as I did research for this project. And thank you, Jim Murphy, for telling me my very first fantasy stories, old folk tales of Jack and giants and witches.

Finally, thanks to Jason, Holli, and the Immortal Works team for believing in me, and in this project. You guys rock.

Jay Barnson writes speculative fiction across multiple genres. His stories and non-fiction articles have appeared in several anthologies and magazines, including The Escapist and the Hugo-nominated Cirsova Heroic Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine. He is the winner of the 2016 DragonComet writing award.

Born in West Virginia, Jay grew up on a steady diet of science fiction and fantasy, much of it from the pulp era. He’s made a career of building virtual worlds, from developing video games for popular game consoles, to more “serious” (but equally fun) training simula-tors in virtual reality. Between that and his writing, one could argue

the real world is only his part-time residence. When he does live here, he maintains a home in Utah with his wife and family, including an overactive dog.