Rockford was a sizeable town―by Little River standards. It had a charming shopping street with stone buildings that were proudly turn of the century, home to galleries and artisan goods, with an eye on the through traffic. Normally, Ben wouldn’t have given it a second thought, unless it was to wonder how much farther they were from an actual town, but now he found himself sizing up the shops and houses they passed with keen interest.
Nate drove him around it twice. The first time so Ben could appreciate the fact that there was more than one main street, the second time so that Ben could assure himself they weren’t being followed. “See? Just like I said. If the sheriff wants us, she knows she just has to wait for us to go home.”
Ben decided not to argue. “There’s just the two banks?”
“Three―there’s another inside the mall. Why?”
“I want to go to all of them.”
“How come?” Nate turned into the parking lot for the nearest bank. “Planning on making me feel better about the murder investigation by robbing a bank?”
“Funny.” Ben made a rueful face. “You know that there’s a limit of how much you can withdraw before the bank flags it as potentially suspicious?”
“Somehow I never pegged you for one of them antigovernment ‘the feds are out to rob us’ types, but sure.” Nate stopped the truck and undid his belt.
Ben bit his lip. He could ask later. “I’m thinking I want to use my card to take several small amounts from different ATMs, rather than one big withdrawal that could potentially get reported back to Saltaire.”
About to open the truck door, Nate glanced back at Ben sharply. “I thought he washed his hands of us.”
“Only because he expected us to end up dead.” Ben caught his expression in the side mirror, surprised by how grim it was. He took a deep breath. “As long as he thinks we’re dead, we’ve got no problem.”
“But we’re not dead.”
“And that’s the problem.” Ben stretched out a hand, trying to grasp the words he wanted. Just the memory of Saltaire made it hard to think past the weight of his vampire sire’s power in his mind. “There wouldn’t be evidence of my death anyway, as a vampire, and Saltaire’s not interested in you. He’s arrogant enough to assume that there being no signs of us means his machinations worked, that I could not overcome the vampire’s urges and killed you and then destroyed myself from guilt once my hunger was satisfied and my senses returned.”
Nate reached for Ben’s arm again. “Remind me again why you put up with the guy for so long?”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice.” But Nate’s question lifted some of the memory of Saltaire’s oppressive influence. “Anyway, while Saltaire’s not interested in the fine print, he runs a company of hundreds of people trained to investigate supernatural related oddities. If my name appears on a watch list because of a large amount of spending and someone at ARX spots and reports it…” He shrugged. “There’s every chance that the police investigation will send someone to ARX to check up on my possible demonic contacts. They’re going to know I’m alive. All I can do is stay as inconspicuous as possible.”
Ben made Nate wait out of view of the security cameras as he made his withdrawals. “That’s one thing we’ve got going for us,” he said as he finished the last transaction. “Vampires aren’t supposed to show up on film. No way will anyone at ARX believe this is me.”
Nate didn’t smile. “Ma asked me again how we met.”
“She asked me the same question.”
“I know. She said she wanted to be sure you were a friend.” Nate bit his lip. “She said you’d been asking a lot of questions?”
Ben blinked. “Not supernatural questions. Ordinary ones. About baby photos and plants. I was trying to work out what period of his life Ethan became interested in plants. It might help us narrow down what happened.”
Nate put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “That sounds a lot like investigating.”
Ben tried to gauge Nate’s expression. “With everything that’s happened, I thought I should look into the situation as much as I could.”
“By investigating Ethan.”
“You trying to hide him has flagged him as a threat,” Ben told Nate. “We need facts―not fears.”
“You haven’t told your family you’re alive.”
“That’s different! Completely different―and you know why!” Ben took a deep breath. “You can’t compare escaping Saltaire to hiding from a murder investigation.”
“The police will do their job. They must see Ethan has nothing to do with this.” Nate bit his lip. “Please, Ben? Leave it to the police.”
Ben hesitated. It went against every instinct he had. “I’m good at this stuff, Nate. I can help.” But as Nate’s mouth drooped unhappily, Ben realized the request mattered a lot to Nate. “I don’t think this is a good idea, but fine.”
Nate’s relief was palpable in the arm he slid around Ben. “Thanks. I know it’s hard when you don’t know us, but―thanks, Ben.” He took a deep breath. “So. Time to spend all your money.”
✩✩✩
Ben would not have recognized the building Nate took him to as a mall. It was all one story, a collection of shops that shared a common roof, and nothing else. There was no food court, no Starbucks, and a complete circuit of the shops took less than five minutes. However, it had stores that stocked clothing in varieties other than denim and flannel, so Ben wasn’t complaining. He bought two complete sets of clothes and a backpack to store them in.
Nate took charge of Ben’s shopping bags. “Where now?”
Ben spotted a cell phone shop. “There.”
There were new models out since the last time he’d updated his phone. Ben settled down to browse the displays with intent.
Nate leaned against the sales counter and spent a good ten minutes establishing that the sales clerk had been a senior in high school when he and Ethan had started as middle-schoolers. Then he proceeded to ask about the status of every single mutual acquaintance they shared. Ben would have rolled his eyes, except that it gave him ample time to make his decision.
Nate straightened up as Ben set down his choice on the bench. “Found one you like?”
Ben nodded. “I’d like two of this model,” he told the clerk.
“Two?” Nate started.
“One is for you.”
“You can’t―” Nate looked up at the clerk. “Excuse us,” he said and dragged Ben over to the new iPhone display. “You can’t just buy me a phone!”
“Why not?”
“These things are expensive, Ben! I’ll never be able to pay you back.”
“I don’t want you to pay me back. I want you to have a phone.”
Nate shook his head. “This is too much.”
“Not to me.” Ben checked that they were screened for the clerk’s gaze by the display before placing his hand on Nate’s arm. “After everything you went through to protect me―including wrecking your phone in the first place―this is the least I can do.”
Nate looked helplessly at him. “You’re sure?”
“What’s the problem?”
Nate looked down at his mud-splattered boots and frayed edges of his jeans. “I don’t want you to be like my sugar-daddy.”
“Sugar―” Ben choked.
Nate continued. “Century, it’s all about the money. You and me, it’s about us. I don’t want that to change.”
Ben felt a curious mix of happy and sad all at once. “Me giving you a present won’t change that, Nate. I promise. Besides, you having a phone is as much for my benefit as it is for yours.”
“How do you mean?”
“Peace of mind. Knowing that you can call for help if you need it, or I can call you…”
“You don’t need to call me.” Nate slapped Ben on his arm. “I’m right here.” But he seemed happy to let Ben make his purchase.
Buying the phones was one thing, setting them up another. Nate could transfer over his previous number and plan, but Ben had to start entirely from scratch. Much better this way. It took the best part of an hour, but it was worth it to walk out of the store with a number Saltaire knew nothing about.
“Now what?” Nate nodded towards a bookstore. “You want to get your geek on? We have an electronics store, too.”
Ben looked towards the display. He did want to replace the laptop left behind at Saltaire’s, but a purchase like that had to be researched… A red-and-white pole caught his attention. “Hold up. I want to get my hair cut.”
“Why? Your hair looks great.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Ben stepped towards the shop. “And in my opinion, this haircut is hideous.” Now that the prospect of not scaring himself every time he passed a mirror was in front of him, Ben was eager.
“It looks good. I’m not just saying that.” Nate reached out to tuck Ben’s hair out of his face. “Gives you this soft kind of vibe.”
“You’re really not selling it.”
Nate studied him carefully. “You hate it that much?”
Ben caught his hand, tugged him towards the mirror in the window of the hairdresser’s. “When I look at my reflection now, I don’t see me―who I was before I died. I see the person I was under Saltaire’s influence.” Ben pushed his fringe out of his eyes. “I hate long hair on me. Always have. I never would have let it grow by choice.”
“But when you became a vampire you stopped caring?” Nate looked over Ben’s shoulder, studying his reflection intently.
Being the recipient of such focused attention was humbling. Ben dropped his eyes from Nate’s. “I forgot to think about my appearance. I had to concentrate on avoiding mirrors, and I stopped thinking about what they were for.”
“How’d you dress and shave and stuff?”
“Hair was easy. That was purely on memory. I trusted Godfrey and Hunter to let me know if I’d made a mistake.” Like his current look. Ben grimaced. “When they decided I needed a shave, it was usually Hunter’s stylist who did it.”
“Wait.” Nate’s grin was half-incredulous. “Hunter employs a stylist?”
“You don’t think he looks that good without help?” Ben nudged him. “Beth picks out his clothes and keeps him up to date with the latest trends. She doubles as his personal shopper.”
Nate shook his head. “Only Hunter.”
“It makes sense when you think about it.” There was no reason Ben should be this annoyed. Hunter was no longer his brother in blood. “He comes from a time when vampires were staked and torched on discovery. He cares a lot about blending in. Anyway, doesn’t Century hire stylists?”
“They call them ‘look-curators’.” Nate shook his head. “Sorry. This is cracking me up. You think of vampires being all dark and mysterious, you don’t think of them having stylists.”
“It’s not that funny.” But seeing Nate smile was a relief. Ben squeezed his hand. “You’ve got shopping to do for Ma, right? You go ahead and start on that. I’ll see if they have an appointment free.”
“Trust me. They’ll be free―another benefit of small town life.” Nate smirked. “You think you’ll be able to find the supermarket all right?”
“Nate. I’ve been in shopping malls larger than this town. I’ll be fine.” Ben stepped into the salon.
A cloud of perfume rolled out to meet him, making his eyes water. Ben coughed, attracting the attention of the blonde girl working on the woman seated in the barber’s chair.
“Here for a cut? Take a seat.” She nodded towards the chairs. “Claire’s on break, but she’ll be back soon.”
Ben nodded thanks, sitting down. He smirked as he noticed that among the glossy fashion magazines spread out over the table were a collection of farming and hunting magazines. I’m not in New Camden now. Reaching for a magazine, Ben froze.
A familiar pair of combat boots jostled impatiently under the barber’s chair, and the black scarf draped carelessly over the magazine stand was instantly recognizable. Ben looked to the mirror. Reflected back at him as she sat in the chair was the woman from earlier. As the hairdresser teased out her thick curls, Ben glimpsed again the scar he’d noticed on her neck earlier. He froze. What is the hunter doing here?
Getting her hair cut, apparently. George eyed her reflection without much hope. “You need to really tease out the curls before you cut. Otherwise it ends up uneven.”
“I’ve seen this on YouTube,” the stylist assured her with more enthusiasm than believability. “Leave it to me.” She returned to her work. “Where were we…?”
“You were just telling me I picked the right time of year to come visit.”
The stylist nodded, her hoop earrings jingling. “Right. Not too hot, not too crowded. Give it another month, and with the summer holidays, you’ll be lucky to have space for a tent.”
The hunter snorted. “Tell the truth, I’d like some company. That murder’s got me anxious.” She drummed her fingers against the arm of the chair. “I was jumping at every little sound last night. If I hadn’t just put a week’s payment down on my caravan spot, I’d have turned around and gone right back.”
The stylist hummed sympathetically. “I know what you mean. I was the exact same. You don’t expect death, not out here.”
“I still have half a mind to leave.”
Ben eyed the back of the hunter’s chair balefully. If she had any thought of leaving, she’d be gone―not getting her hair cut.
The thought didn’t seem to occur to the stylist. “You’ll be fine. Little River―where the guy was found―is a good half hour drive from here.
“What about that murder?” One of the flyers asking for information about Olivia Winkler’s death was displayed inside the salon. “That says Rockford.”
“That’s ten years too late.” The stylist sighed. “Girl I went to high school with. Fell in with the wrong guy and paid the price.”
“Yeah? I heard it was unsolved.”
“No one has any idea who the guy was. Olivia was secretive and moody, the kind to make a big deal out of nothing. No one had a clue she’d actually managed to land a guy.”
“Her friends didn’t know anything?”
“She didn’t have any.” The stylist shrugged. “She was always off reading. Preferred books to people. No one could have guessed she’d get herself murdered, but it goes to show people can surprise you.”
“How do you know it was a guy then?”
“She was dressed up when they found her. Lipstick, makeup…”
The hunter laughed. “That’s proof of nothing. She was a teenage girl! When I was that age―”
“You didn’t know Olivia. She never bothered before, not even for her confirmation.” The stylist nodded. “An odd girl.”
Ben glanced towards the door. With the stylist distracted, he could be out the door before either woman noticed. He began to work his way across the seats to the chair nearest the door.
“Plus, there was the magic,” the stylist continued.
Ben paused.
“Magic?” The hunter tilted her head.
“Hold still.” The stylist readjusted her position. “They found her in a field. She looked normal, like she was asleep, but the grass around her was blackened. It smelt like a fire, but there was nothing but a circle all around her.” The stylist’s fingers moved deftly as she warmed to her topic. “You could still smell it, even at the funeral. A horrible, thick smell of burning. Minister refused to have her in the church.”
Ben looked at the magazine he held without seeing it, conscious that he needed to hide his shock. A second demonic death.
The hunter whistled. “That poor girl. Wasn’t the guy they found yesterday in a field, too?”
The stylist shook her head. “That’s totally different, and I know that for a fact.” She jerked her comb in the direction of the second barber’s chair. “Liz Parker was in here this morning for her usual coloring. She lives in Little River, and she told me all about it. They had the police in, asking questions. Liz called up the sheriff to find out what she was doing to keep them safe, and the sheriff said that however the man died, there was no sign of struggle in the field, that he didn’t die there. Liz said she thought the sheriff emphasized that particularly.”
The hunter’s foot began to jiggle again. “Interesting. Why do you think that might be?”
“Gossip travels fast round here. Matter of fact, the Grangers―that’s the family whose farm this man died, sorry, was found on―have had problems in the past with people spreading rumors. It’s old news now, but there was a scandal when the mother got pregnant.” The stylist shook her head. “They were an older couple, and he’d been ill. People assumed they couldn’t have kids. So when she got pregnant out of the blue, there was talk.”
The hunter raised an eyebrow. “An affair?”
The stylist snorted. “Anyone who knew her would have known the answer to that in a second! She was my Sunday school teacher. Just goes to show you how petty people can be… Turns out, they’d been having IVF treatments, and she was too ashamed to tell anyone.”
Ben was aware that his mouth was open. He shut it, looking down at the magazine he held. The words swam before his eyes. In one five-minute conversation, George had uncovered more about the Grangers than Ben had in two days of staying with them. This isn’t a haircut. This is an investigation.
“Wonderful what medicine can do these days,” George said.
The stylist nodded. “There were still people who talked, said that there was no way a man as religious as Mr. Granger would go against the Lord’s will, but a man will do a lot to make his wife happy, and Mrs. Granger really wanted to be a mother.”
“IVF’s against religion now?”
“People here tend to be old-fashioned.” The stylist glanced complacently at the laptop on the reception desk, wirelessly porting music to the speaker in the corner. “Some of the older generation will tell you that her sons are a judgment on Mrs. Granger for coveting what she didn’t have.”
“Seriously? Man. No wonder she didn’t want to tell anyone she was getting treatment!”
The stylist nodded energetically. “Nobody’s business but her own. And I’ll tell you one thing, there’s none of this ‘not God’s will’ talk when they get the vet in to artificially inseminate their cattle.”
“You know the sons then?”
“Not well. I graduated before they started high school. I’ve cut their hair though, and I tell you, they could not be more different. Nate’s good fun, but trying to get a word out of his brother’s an exercise in frustration!”
“Nothing unusual about that. You often hear of a loud twin and a quiet twin.”
“Ethan takes it to extremes. There’s something…odd about him.”
Ben held his breath. No way he could leave the salon now. He pretended to be enthralled by the magazine, hoping that it would mask his face should George glance back.
“You’re sure you just want a trim?” The stylist paused, running her fingers through George’s hair.
“For now,” the hunter said firmly. “No offense, but I’m not trusting my hair to YouTube.”
“I think a pixie cut would really suit you.” The stylist continued to detangle George’s hair. “Maybe another time.”
George wasn’t buying it. “You were telling me how religious folks were?”
“That’s the other reason we’re sure that whoever killed Olivia wasn’t from around here. Folks around here don’t hold with magic. They take pride in their faith.” The stylist nodded solemnly. “No, you can sleep safe tonight. Besides, the guy in Little River brought it on himself. They say he was a supernatural hunter.”
Ben couldn’t help it. He glanced at the mirror, drawn to George’s reaction.
Her eyes met his, but there was no spark of awareness. Her expression was bleak. To Ben it seemed that she was looking inward, entirely unaware of him. He dropped his gaze back to the magazine, heard her shift in the barber’s seat. “A hunter, huh? What is there to investigate around here?”
“That’s the thing. We can’t imagine. As Liz Parker was saying, there’s something there that doesn’t add up.”
“There’s got to be something. Small town like this with a history. What about legends, folklore, ghost stories―nothing like that?”
“We’ve got stories, of course,” the stylist agreed. “But none of that’s real.”
“You can’t stop there.” The buckles on the hunter’s boots jingled impatiently. “Let’s hear them.”
Ben mumbled an apology and ducked out the door. I’m not imagining this. The hunter was in Little River on business―and she knew about Nate and Ethan. Nate’s got to listen now.
Nate was waiting for Ben in the truck. He raised an eyebrow as Ben climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut behind him. “What happened to your haircut?”
“I’ll tell you as we drive.” Ben pulled on his belt. His eyes automatically flicked to the rearview mirror. “Remember George, the hiker? She was in the salon, pumping for local gossip. She was asking questions about the Winkler murder, the guy found yesterday and local folklore.” Ben glanced at Nate. “You and Ethan were mentioned.”
“Just as well we’re ready to leave.”
Ben tilted his head. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me I’m paranoid?”
Nate’s smile was purely reflexive. “Funny thing happened at the supermarket. And by funny, I mean really fucking weird.” He took a deep breath. “People at the supermarket usually stop, say hello, ask me how my mother is. Today…you’d not believe the amount of people falling silent as I turned down the aisle. And when I talked to people, the conversation felt kind of strained. Then when I got to the register, I caught Mrs. Parker from the farm down the road saying, ‘I do think it odd that it would be their farm. After all―’ I said, ‘After all what?’ She grabbed her bags and practically ran out of the store.”
Ben reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Nate’s mouth pressed thinly together as he pulled the truck out onto the main road. “You were right. Sorry, Ben. I didn’t want to believe you.”
“As long as you believe me now.” Ben looked back over his shoulder to check they hadn’t been followed.
Nate’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I’m just glad Ma and Ethan stayed home.”
Ben nodded in silent agreement.
✩✩✩
As the mountains came into sight up ahead, grim and inevitable, a black and white car shot past on the other side of the road.
“Was that the sheriff?” Nate glanced at the rearview mirror.
“I didn’t see.”
“She saw us. Shit.” Nate clenched the steering wheel. The patrol car had done a U-turn and now came after them, horn blaring. “What do I do?”
“You pull over to the side of the road, and you don’t panic,” Ben told him. “It’s too early in the investigation for them to want to arrest you.”
Nate gave him a dire look but pulled over. The sheriff’s car came to a stop beside them a moment later, Ray winding down the passenger window.
“What’s up?” Nate asked. “Did anything happen?”
“We got a call from the timber yard.” The sheriff leaned over Ray to answer. “They found what they think could be a magical circle showing signs of being recently activated.”
“You’ve found the crime scene?” Ben sat up.
“What they’ve found is a patch of grass with burn marks on it,” the sheriff grumbled. “Word’s got out that we’re looking for a supernatural killer, and you know what it’s like. Everyone will be calling me up to take a look at their cat that jumped for no reason, or the glowing lights that could be aliens but are more likely the headlights of passing traffic. It’ll be the Winkler case all over again.”
“But why stop us?” Nate asked. “We went to the mall. We weren’t anywhere near the timber yard.”
The sheriff snorted. “Ray here had the bright idea” ―Ray grinned sheepishly― “that since we had a supernatural expert in our midst, we may as well consult. Would you be able to identify a magical circle on sight, Hawick?”
“Absolutely,” Ben said. “But what about the forensic team from Chinquapin? They must have someone who could tell you.”
“What, and have them think we country cops don’t know a magical circle from a campfire?” The sheriff shook her head. “Besides, they’re too important to spend on grunt work like this. We determine it’s worth their while, then they might deign to investigate.”
“No feelings of insecurity here at all.” Ray flashed them a quick grin.
The sheriff gave him another withering look. “I’m going to do another U-turn and head to the lumber yard. You’ll follow us?”
Nate nodded. “Right behind you.” As Ray wound up his window and the sheriff pulled the car out onto the road, he nudged Ben. “Look at you. Third day out of work, and you’re developing a freelance career already.”
Ben shook his head. “We need to see this circle first.”
The owner of the lumber yard was, much to Ben’s surprise, a woman with triceps that rivaled Nate’s. “I always take the dogs and do a walk around first thing in the morning,” she explained. “Because we’re so close to the train tracks, occasionally people who’ve jumped aboard the train see this as a good place for an overnight stop. I’ve caught people camping here, absolutely no shame. Double padlocking the gate doesn’t deter them, so I got the dogs.” She scratched the nearest under his chin. The boxer shut his eyes in pleasure, stubby tail wagging. “Anyway, this morning, I was doing the rounds as normal, and the dogs did not want to walk past this one patch. I yelled. I tugged at their leashes. Eventually, I just picked them up. Prince was shivering. That dog isn’t afraid of anything, but he was afraid of this.” The owner shook her head. “I had to take a look. That’s when I spotted the circle. I can’t make heads or tails of it myself, but as the police call went out for anything unusual, I thought I’d give you a crack at it.”
The sheriff tugged her hat in thanks. “Where are these possible magical traces?”
The owner led them to a huge pile of wood chips. “It was half-hidden beneath the chips. I wouldn’t have found it at all if not for the dogs, digging at it. Here.”
It was definitely a magical circle. The ground of the yard was mostly dirt tramped down flat, but where the odd tuft of grass grew, it was green. This circle had been scratched in the dirt, and all the grass within or immediately surrounding it was parched and yellow. There was a thick smell, suggestive of smoke, and the lines had sunk into the dirt, leaving it blackened and cracked, as if exposed to great heat.
“Well?” The sheriff asked. “Is it the real deal?”
Ben nodded. “Call Forensics,” he said. “This is what killed Harriet.”
“How do you know that?” Ray asked.
Ben pointed to the inverted pyramid within the circle. “Right way up, the pyramid amplifies. Upside down, it drains. There are no signs of candles being used to power it, and I don’t see any blood, so it looks like it was borrowed power, and the traces of fire suggest that power was demonic.”
“Just what we need,” the sheriff grumbled. “Ray, you got all that?”
The deputy nodded. “Want me to relay back to Forensics, get a team out here?”
“Well, I’m not wondering about their health. Use your brain, boy.” The sheriff turned back to the owner. “You got a security system? Camera, anything like that?”
“Sure do. No alarms went off last night. I’d have known.”
“Show me what you’ve got―no,” ―as Ben made to follow― “not the two of you. Thanks for the help, Hawick, but we’ll take it from here.”
✩✩✩
“That’s weird.”
Ben looked away from the field. The tent that had covered the scene was gone, and there seemed to be fewer police officers in evidence. “Weird?”
“Ma’s car’s in the drive. She usually has her fellowship meeting about now.” Nate parked the truck beside a neat little blue sedan sitting in front of the garage. “Never misses.” He grabbed the grocery bags out of the back seat.
Ben gathered up his shopping bags and followed.
Ethan sat on the porch. Ben thought he was just sitting there, but as they neared, Ethan picked up the needles on his lap.
Ben watched as Ethan looped a strand of wool around the needles and they clicked together. There was already a long, shapeless mass resting on his knees, but despite that and the steady click of the needles, Ben could not make himself accept the evidence of his eyes. Ethan knitting?
Nate didn’t react to the optical illusion at all. He frowned at the living room windows, through which a vacuum could be heard at full volume. “What’s up with Ma?”
“Pastor came by.” Ethan paused to unwind more wool from the ball resting on the sofa. “Expressed congregation’s sympathy―from a safe distance.”
Nate peered through the window. “I bet that went over well.”
Ethan shrugged. “Ma sent me to find her devotionals book. Pastor was leaving when I got back. Ma’s been vacuuming ever since.”
Ben studied Ethan thoughtfully. He’d been wondering how aware Ethan was of the net gathering around his family. His words were a simple recitation of fact, but there was a note in his voice that gave his sentences more meaning than the obvious.
“Shit. Okay, um.” Nate turned back to Ben. “We’re going to want to go in the back door.”
Ben’s mouth quirked, but he obediently followed Nate around the house.
Nate didn’t speak again till they were safely in Ben’s bedroom. “I’m going to put the groceries away. You don’t mind staying here?”
Ben shook his head. “Is your mother okay?”
Nate leaned on the doorframe, lowering his voice even though the vacuum was still going. “She’s going to be upset. Like I said, she never misses her church groups. I’m going to put the groceries away and then talk to her.”
“Need any help?”
Nate shook his head. “I got this.”
Ben set his new phone charging and lay back on the bed. The vacuum was still going. Was Nate waiting for his mother to exhaust herself before he approached her? Or was he unwilling to interrupt a job in progress?
The ceiling was long, thick planks of wood of a size that Ben didn’t remember seeing before. The chestnut Nate mentioned? Ben shuddered at the idea of being surrounded by even more trees. Not that I’m in favor of a blight… But there’s got to be a medium.
There was something niggling at his mind. Something that was not related to the ever-present mountains. As Ben turned his thoughts back over the trip to Rockford, he found himself dwelling on the sheriff’s words. ‘We’ll take it from here.’
It had been an unexpected shock―like walking straight into a glass door. Only in this case, Ben had stumbled into the division between civilian and paranormal life. I don’t miss being part of that world, do I? Ben weighed meeting the sun with Nate and walking outside against the routine loss and horror of ARX investigations. There’s no competition.
But all the same…
Ben reached for his phone. There was enough battery now that he could go through the setup menu. In a matter of minutes, he was tapping ‘Little River’ into the default search engine.
There was nothing about Harriet’s death in the national news sources, and the country news gave it a brief paragraph.
He was a hunter. With access to Saltaire’s incredible library, Ben hadn’t needed to use the Internet for supernatural research. However, the hunting forums and communities, where the hunters swapped news of bounties, possible supernatural sightings, and tips for approaching hard-to-kill monsters, were a good way to gather gossip about a case and ensure investigators weren’t going in blind. Ben brought up the biggest of the hunting sites. I wonder…
Harriet’s death was the first thread on the page. Ben skimmed it with a frown. Written by a moderator, it was bare on facts. His partner has confirmed that the dead man in the police reports is Harriet, known to most forum users simply by his handle ‘Old Enough.’ Partner? Ben remembered the lost look on George’s face. It put the woman’s actions into a new light…
No, Ben thought, remembering how she’d inserted herself into the farmhouse. Lying is still lying. But would he feel so strongly if it wasn’t Nate’s family being deceived?
He couldn’t answer that question. Ben turned back to the forum.
Harriet’s death is a loss to the community in every way. Active on and off the forums, Harriet was always willing to take a young hunter under his wing or join a buddy on a difficult fight. He didn’t ask for anything in return for his help. An experienced hunter, Harriet was well aware of the risks of his profession. He had made arrangements for his funeral many years ago. Instead of financial contributions or flowers, his partner has indicated that anyone wishing to honor Harriet’s memory should donate to the Fund for Hunters in Difficulty.
Ben scrolled down through the thread. Comment after comment of condolences and shock. Harriet certainly had been around for many years if his death got this big of a reaction. But the common note among all the replies was surprise. No one had known what Harriet was working on before he died.
Time to change tactics. Ben searched for Harriet’s username, started working backward through his posts. There were a lot of them. Harriet had gone out of his way to counsel younger hunters, steering the most reckless away from dangerous undertakings and advocating caution. The more Ben read, the more disquieted he felt. It was easy to dismiss hunters as crass, preying on the fears of their clients and the vulnerability of the supernatural community. But he could not dismiss Harriet…
“Hey, Ben.” Nate pushed the door open. “Ethan and I were going to throw a basketball around. You want to join us?”
Ben blinked. He hadn’t even noticed the vacuum stop. “I’m good, thanks.” A basketball in Ethan’s hands was not a prospect that excited him.
Nate walked over to the bed, looking down at Ben’s phone. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve found the forum Harriet used to frequent. I’ve been going through his posts.” Ben sat up. “It seemed like he was looking for something.”
“Isn’t that why most people use the internet?”
Ben shook his head. “This forum has posts on it going back a decade.” He set his phone down, reaching for his notebook. “He was vague about what he was looking for. Reports of unexplainable deaths at ten-year intervals.” Ben tapped the page with his finger. “I’m almost certain that he was gathering information on one specific demon.”
Nate sat down on the bed. He took the notebook, glancing at Ben’s notes, but didn’t read them. “This sounds an awful lot like investigating, Ben.”
Ben clutched his phone tightly. “I’m not asking any questions about your family.”
“But what about your fresh start? You’ve got the chance to put all of this behind you, Ben, have a normal life. Isn’t that what you want?”
Ben frowned. “I don’t know what I want,” he said slowly. “But I know I can’t ignore this. If Harriet is right―and his death is a good indication that he was―then the demon responsible for Olivia Winkler’s death is due another meal soon.”
Nate’s forehead furrowed. “Are you saying there’s going to be another victim? But Harriet’s dead!”
“Harriet doesn’t fit the pattern. He was most likely killed by the agent in self-defense.”
“How do you know that?”
“The pattern in the circle at the timber mill. It lacked the double circle to summon and contain the demon.” Ben tapped the page of his notebook with the relevant notes. “My guess is that the agent was aware Harriet was getting closer to figuring him out and took the precaution of drawing and hiding a circle at the timber yard before they met.”
“So they knew each other?”
“There must have been some contact. Enough to make an appointment to meet.” Ben held out his hand for the notebook. “If we can retrace Harriet’s movements, find out who he talked to, then we might just be able to figure out who he went to the timber yard to meet.”
Nate didn’t move. “But that sounds like you think whoever killed Harriet―and Olivia―is still here?”
A floorboard creaked. Ben and Nate looked up to see Ethan in the doorway. His expression was more wooden than ever.
“Ethan!” Nate scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave you waiting! We got to talking― What’s up?”
“The police.” Ethan jerked his head in the direction of the front door. “They want to talk to us.”