THIRTY-THREE

SEEMINGLY UNRELATED DETAILS had come together in my mind to form a shocking, sickening picture of what Molek had planned for tonight.

“What are you looking at?” Ray Anne asked.

I was still in the grass, holding my cell in one hand and Ray Anne with my other arm, unable to bring myself to tell her the agonizing truth. “I have to make an important phone call. I need to walk away a minute, but I’ll come right back, okay?”

I could tell by the frown on her face that she didn’t like it, but she didn’t try to stop me. I stepped away and called Detective Benny. “I really, really need your help tonight, sir.”

“What’s going on, Owen?”

As usual, I faced the challenge of having to explain a spiritual dilemma to a nonspiritual person. “I have strong reasons to believe that Veronica is going to bring Jackson to my property tonight —most likely to that clearing with the well —and take his life.”

There was a long pause. “What makes you say such a thing?”

How to tell him?

Over a century ago, I believe it was a child sacrifice on Caldwell’s land at the hands of his mystic daughters that had brought Molek —an ancient, high-ranking spirit of death —and his army to Masonville to begin with, enacting some kind of legal claim to the property in the spirit realm. From then on, under Molek’s tyranny, violence and murder had continued to curse the land, and his invisible militia had grown in strength and size. At one time, my own grandparents held satanic rituals out there that were so dark and unthinkable that, to this day, my mother refuses to speak of them.

Like Betty had said, after the mass shooting, the pleas of praying people nationwide had helped turn the tables, prompting Heaven to set up some kind of cosmic perimeter that blocked Molek from the land. But the soil remained tainted, stained in the spirit realm with innocent blood, which allowed Molek’s army to remain, plotting their king’s return to power.

Arthur’s letter had helped Ray and me realize how to cleanse the land, terminating Molek’s territorial right and purging him and his army from Masonville completely. But once again, Betty had been right: if a person were to collaborate with the spirit of death —if Veronica offered up Jackson’s life on the land tonight —Molek would have a spirit-world right to breach the Watchmen’s perimeter, ushering in a new reign of terror even worse than before.

And tonight happened to be the annual occult holiday devoted to Molek.

It came down to this: in order to stop Molek in the spirit realm, we had to stop Veronica in the woods.

But it wasn’t like I could share all that with the detective, so I gave a seriously condensed version. “Veronica Snow has been going to my woods —I’ve witnessed it myself. And I believe she’s going again tonight, with Jackson, and it’s going to turn deadly.” I was as blunt as I could be. “I think Veronica is into . . . occult practices. Either way, the baby’s life’s in danger.”

“Hmm . . .”

I couldn’t tell how seriously he was taking my claims.

“We’ve combed through every square foot of that land in recent months and found no trace that occult rituals are taking place out there anymore.”

Anymore? So he knew they had in the past.

“Look,” I said, “I don’t know how many people she has or hasn’t recruited to join her out there, but I’m telling you, something bad’s going down tonight.”

I could tell by the lame questions Detective Benny asked and the way he kept huffing into the phone that he wasn’t buying into my suspicion. I was sure that, based on my senior year, in his mind I’d forever be a psycho. Still, before we hung up, he assured me he’d have officers keep an eye on my property throughout the night and also assign a squad to check the clearing.

I was grateful, but far from confident. What if Veronica took Jackson somewhere else on the property? My land covered more than twelve hundred acres —two square miles.

“It’ll only complicate matters for us if you’re out there tonight,” Benny warned me. “Stay out of the woods, and let us handle it.”

All I said was, “Thank you.” I wasn’t willing to commit to staying off my land, sitting idly by.

Ray Anne approached as my call ended, crying all over again. “Who were you talking to?”

I gripped her petite arms. “Listen to me. You need to get some rest tonight and let me take care of things.”

“I’m not going home!” She stomped her foot. “What’s going on?”

I looked away. How was I supposed to tell her?

She grabbed hold of my chin and turned my head to face her. “Owen, don’t shut me out. Please.”

I took a deep breath, then pulled her close. “Ray Anne . . . this is going to be really hard for you to hear.”

I explained the horrific situation, and like I thought, she became hysterical, pacing around and crying harder. But then she got quiet and hit her knees in the grass. I knelt beside her, and together, we told God the obvious . . .

This was too much for us to handle without him.

Jackson was way too precious to be harmed.

There was too much at stake for things to end in Molek’s favor tonight.

Once Ray said amen, it was like a switch had been flipped and she was done crying. “Let’s go.” She jumped to her feet and yanked me by my arm, stomping toward her car like a marine on a mission.

No one was going to keep her out of the woods tonight.