Chapter 25

It had been quite a while since Catlyn had been so lazy, even for a Sunday. After sleeping in late, she put on a sundress, then went outside and reclined on a lounge chair by the pool, reading. If there hadn’t been a cloud of fear hanging over her, it would have a mini vacation. Alarms and closed-circuit cameras protected Jade’s house, along with magical spells. Fort Knox might not be as secure.

Catlyn jerked from her doze, sitting straight up. Her eyes wide, she searched for the danger. She finally identified the buzz of a lawn mower in a neighbor’s yard. She settled back on her lounge chair. Shrill cries made her heart leap. A moment later, she heard a loud splash, then laughter. The kids next door were playing in the pool.

Mittens wandered out and jumped on her lap. “I don’t how I’m going to do this. I can’t handle days—or weeks—living in terror.” She lifted the cat to her face and rubbed her cheek in the soft fur. “In some ways, kitty,” she whispered, “I hope Michael will hurry and do whatever he has in mind for me. This waiting is driving me crazy.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait too long,” Maak said. “I can sense a disturbance in the portals.”

A daemon must be ready to cross. Catlyn leaped to her feet, pacing the concrete in front of the pool. A shiver went through her. She felt exposed being outside, and she hurried into the safety of the house. The thought of sitting, waiting for Michael to snatch her, made her skin crawl.

Gathering her jewelry making supplies, she carried them into the family room. She dragged the pub table closer to the patio door for more light. At least she could continue crafting inventory for her Etsy shop. That part of her life hadn’t changed. She selected rose quartz heart-shaped beads and silver balls to make a necklace and earring set. The motions—and the quiet energy of the rose quartz—soon soothed her jangled nerves.

A tail thumped on her shoulder as she worked. She twisted around and glared at Boots, where he sat on the back of her chair. He didn’t like being in the strange place. Mittens sprawled in a patch of sunshine. The tip of her tail twitched as she dozed. Catlyn leaned her head back, petting Boots. Her eyes soon drooped closed in the quiet.

The sound of the patio door opening disturbed her nap. As she sat up, she rubbed the grogginess from her face. Sean’s normally olive complexion was ashen, and his feet dragged. Catlyn’s stomach dropped to her toes.

“Something awful has happened, hasn’t it?”

“I have bad news.” Sean pulled out a tall chair across the pub table from Catlyn. He wouldn’t look at her, but kept his eyes locked on his clenched hands. “We’ve been doing research, trying to find out why Michael is targeting you.”

“And why he hasn’t killed me yet like the others?” Catlyn had wondered the same thing. It had to do with her not being “ripe”, but she still didn’t have a clue what that meant.

Sean looked up, his face bleak. “These murders started two-and-a-half years ago. From what we’ve recently discovered, you seem to be in the center of this mess. Of the thirty-three people killed, twenty-six had contact with you in some way. Do you know why he’s targeting people close to you?”

Catlyn gaped and her muscles stiffened. “No! There’s no way.” How had she not known so many people she knew had died?

Sean reached over, lightly stroking her forearm. “We just made the connection. Why do they want you?”

“I don’t know!” Catlyn leaned away from Sean, her eyes wide. “I … No, this can’t be…”

“You know it’s true,” Maak whispered to her. “There is power deep within you the daemons can sense and want to use.”

Catlyn resisted the urge to squirm. She watched Sean’s face to see if he had heard Maak. He didn’t act like he had.

“A daemon prince is being summoned.” Maak showed Catlyn an image of a large, muscled male with smooth, hairless ice-blue skin, electric blue eyes, and blood-red lips. He had an allure about him that made Catlyn suspect people would do whatever he wanted.

Catlyn rubbed her eyes to wipe away the vision. She couldn’t blurt out to Sean that a daemon was preparing to cross into their realm. He’d never believe her. How could she help him without him thinking she was a weirdo? She thought back to the visions she’d had of her friend’s death. Both of them had the flavor of human sacrifice about them.

“Sean, do the killings look like they’re part of a ritual, or is there something strange about them? Weird symbols? Anything?”

“Everything about them is weird and strange.” He gave her a sidelong glance and shifted in his chair. “In every single instance, we find the victims hanging in various ways in the center of a pentacle. There are symbols drawn in it and an eight foot circle drawn around it. We haven’t found any indication the murderer killed his victims elsewhere and moved their bodies. Based on the killing methods, blood should drench the room. But not even a drop mars the outside of the circle. It’s as if some kind of force-field or barrier trapped it inside.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“Yes.” He pursed his lips and rubbed his upper arm. “You really don’t want to see them.”

“No, I don’t want to see them. But I need to see them. I need to see the symbols.”

Sean pulled out his phone, sliding through the pictures, then reluctantly handed it to her.

Catlyn steeled herself and looked at the first picture. It wasn’t too bad, only concrete walls painted with arcane symbols. Then she clicked to the next one and gagged at the mass of exposed muscle and sinew hanging inside a metal frame. Gore dripped from the wicked-looking spikes. She recognized the medieval torture device—an iron maiden. Catlyn quickly swiped to the next picture, which, thankfully, focused on the pentacle. She studied the symbols.

“Those are of the first murder,” Sean said. He’d moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. “We found the body on May third, two years ago. Her name was Francine Miller…”

Catlyn frowned. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “I don’t know a Francine Miller.”

“She attended a few of Jade’s classes that April, and you gave her a tarot reading two weeks before her murder. She cut your hair once.”

“Oh, I remember her now. It was a terrible haircut and I had to have it redone by someone else.”

“She’d been dead at least two or three days when we found her. We estimate the killer tortures his victims for three days before they’re killed. We usually find them within a few days of their death.”

Catlyn tapped the back of the phone. “That means the first ritual was completed on Beltane. It’s a sacred day for Wiccans and pagans to celebrate the fertility of the earth. How often are the murders?”

“Usually one every four to six weeks. I haven’t been able to figure out any type of pattern or timing.”

“Besides the current string of deaths, has there been any other instance when more than one murder occurred?”

Sean paced behind her. “Yes, the first time there were three victims, then a little over a year ago, three more over several days. All the others have been a single victim. Do you have any idea what it means?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. But in the occult world, everything has meaning. And for certain rituals, the timing, such as the moon phase or planetary alignments, are very important.” She clicked through more pictures. By the tenth one, she couldn’t look at any more gruesome deaths.

She stopped on one with a clear shot of the symbols. Something about them niggled the back of her mind. They were similar to the ones Jade had taught her, but different enough they weren’t from the same system. Although, she was certain she’d seen this set somewhere. She wracked her memory. Finally, she recalled seeing it in a book—an extremely old book.

“Sean, I need to go to my place.” She stood and handed his phone back to him. “I have a book there that might have the answers. I also need the dates of every murder.”

He tapped on his phone. “I’m emailing them to you.”

She grabbed her laptop, opened her email program, and printed the file. On the drive to her apartment, she compared the dates to a lunar calendar. The majority of murders corresponded to a dark moon; the time when the moon couldn’t be seen in the sky. Astrology called it new moon.

In the magical system she followed, new moon occurred three days later, when the first sliver of the moon shone in the evening sky. The only time there had been a killing on a full moon had been on the last blue moon. It also corresponded to the three-victim killing spree. While Sean drove, she mulled over what the original three killings meant. But until she looked it up on the internet at home, she didn’t have a clue.

When they reached her apartment, Catlyn rushed up the stairs and threw open the door. It seemed so empty and forlorn without her cats greeting her at the threshold. She searched her bookcase for the book she wanted. The ancient tome dated to the middle ages and was written as journal entries, with references even farther back into prehistory. She carefully carried it to the coffee table and laid it down.

“It’s about the efforts of a secret society called, ‘The Sentinel Witches’, who hunted down and stopped demons and other malevolent beings,” she told Sean. He jerked at the society’s name, but he didn’t say anything. Now that she had the book in hand, she remembered more about it.

“There’s a daemon prince. What was his name?” —she opened the book and carefully flipped the pages— “Oh, yeah, Bho-Ahp. He’s manifested in our world several times, and humankind suffered terribly while he ruled. He possessed Caligula, Attila the Hun, and Pope Innocent IV, the one who legalized inquisitors to use torture in 1252. As well as King Ferdinand II of Aragon in 1480, who established the Spanish Inquisition. His latest possession was Adolf Hitler. Each time Bho-Ahp has crossed the portal onto Earth, the Sentinels have managed to send him back to his own dimension. But they haven’t been able to destroy him.”

She finally found the entries she remembered. When she’d first seen the illustration, it had sent shocks of terror through her, and it still did. Now, though, she had a full-color photograph to match it.

“I’ve seen that.” Sean’s hand trembled as he pointed to the page. “Thirty-three times, I’ve stared at that scene. What is it?”

“It’s a ritual to make the host ready for inhabitation by Bho-Ahp. Since he’s a high-ranking daemon, he can’t just waltz into our world and possess a person. First, he has to have the consent of the person. Second, they have to summon them, and third, the human body can’t hold the power of the lower dimensions without preparation. Long, exacting preparation.” She leaned over the book and read. “It says here the ritual can only be conducted on the dark moon. I’d already figured that out. And oh, it must commence and end on a black moon.”

“I’ve heard of a blue moon, but what is a black moon?”

Catlyn put up her hands up, palms facing up, then searched the internet. “A blue moon is two full moons in a single month, while a black moon is when there are two dark moons. It only occurs every two-and-a-half years. The next one will be…” A wave of dizziness washed over Catlyn, and she gulped. “The next one is this Friday.”

“Fuck!” Sean swore. “That isn’t very much time. How do we stop it?” Sean leaned forward, turned the page, and blanched. If the other rituals had been gruesome, they were nothing compared to the last one.

The sensation of Michael’s tongue licking the blood from Catlyn’s neck returned. Along with it came the stench of his hunger, and his thoughts crept back into her memory. ‘So sweet, so strong. I want you … Bho-Ahp wants you. You are the one to release him!’

Tremors shook Catlyn’s body.

“Catlyn, what’s wrong?” Sean pulled her into his shoulder. “What has you so terrified?”

“That … that’s what Michael has in store for me. I just remembered what else he said to me when he attacked me. I’m to be the final sacrifice that brings Bho-Ahp across the portal and into this world.”

Sean stiffened, pulling her closer. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Wait!” She stepped back from him. “You believe me? You believe all of this?” She waved at the book about witches who fought demons.

“I do.” She couldn’t quite fathom the emotion that filled his face. “There’s no way he’ll get his hands on you. We’ll keep you hidden, and Jade’s protections will keep you safe.”

Realization struck Catlyn, and she raised her hand to her neck where the cut from Michael’s knife had scabbed over. “No. No, it won’t. Nothing will. He has the power of a daemon prince helping him. He’ll find me no matter where I am. Sean, I’m scared.”

Sean’s strong arms enveloped her, and she clung tighter to him. His solid presence reassuring and offering safety. She would gladly stay there forever.

“I’ll keep you safe. He won’t get you,” Sean promised. His confident voice had the ring of a vow to it.