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CHAPTER EIGHT

D emetrius watched until the taillights had faded from view, then turned toward his truck. Oliver leaned against the driver’s door, arms crossed and smiling as the breeze toyed with his light red hair.

“Dammit, Oliver. You scared me.”

Oliver stood aside. “Sorry.” He smirked, not looking at all apologetic. “Who do you think that was we saw out in the woods?”

“No idea.” Demetrius used the key fob to unlock his truck. “But we need to figure it out. What are you up to now?”

“Well, I was planning on following you.”

Demetrius chuckled. “All right. I was going to go to the library and see if Tracey might have come into work. If not, I was going to look through the shelves for information on Parson Stone, and see if there’s anything about witches in the area. Want to go together?”

“Sure. I’ll drive.” He clicked the button on his own key fob, and Demetrius heard the resulting beep of doors being unlocked from a few spots down. He locked his truck before following Oliver down the road to his car.

“Think Tracey’s man will be there and give us dirty looks?” Oliver asked.

“Heath? I hope not. From what Cody said, he’s even creepier than usual. And Tracey was acting really scared of him.”

“Maybe he’s the witch?” Oliver thought a moment then shook his head. “No, that didn’t look like him out in the woods. But if he’s not the witch, then what’s going on with him?”

“Not really sure. I just know if Tracey was afraid of him, it’s got to be something pretty bad.”

Oliver made a face. “True. They seemed like a creepy match made in heaven.”

“Right?” Demetrius thought a minute, then shook his head. “The witch is different than I was expecting.”

“Did you think it would be a woman?”

“Well, yes, which I hate to admit. But whoever that was looked a lot younger than I would have thought. I was expecting it to be someone who’s been around a long time. Like maybe someone out in Parson’s Pines.”

“That would make sense. And you’re right, he seemed surprisingly young. But maybe it’s a disguise or something. Maybe he’s incredibly ancient and is adopting a younger appearance. I mean, think about Aldrik and Dr. Graham. For having been hundreds of years old, they seemed pretty young.”

“True. But they were vampires. You kind of expect that of a vampire, right?”

Oliver lucked into a parking space in front of the library. When they approached the doors, they were forced to step aside as a number of people hurried out of the building. Most were young moms carrying small children or hurriedly pushing strollers. All were wide-eyed with tense expressions. A couple laughed nervously, and one woman said to an older man, “I’ve never seen him act like that before.”

Demetrius exchanged a look with Oliver. “What do you think?”

Oliver’s eyes were wide. “I think we got here just in time.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and started recording a video. “Let’s go.”

“Is this your reporter side coming through?”

Oliver reached the door and grabbed the handle, turning to say over his shoulder, “I’m adopting what Dave calls my ‘brash and brooding investigative reporter persona.’”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“Dave’s a mouthful.”

“And we’re done with this discussion.”

He followed Oliver inside. The familiar smells of paper, binding glue, and some kind of carpet freshener met them, all overlaid by the stench of something gone rotten. Demetrius put a hand over his nose and mouth and saw Oliver do the same. They both jumped at the sound of a crash from somewhere behind the circulation desk.

Moving slowly, taking the shallow steps up one at a time, Demetrius reached the main level and looked around. The library was empty, open books and forgotten backpacks a testament to the panicked evacuation they’d witnessed. Another crash made them jump again. Oliver moved up beside him, then stepped to the left, one hand holding his phone up, the other covering his nose and mouth.

“What is that smell?” Oliver said. “Did something die in a vent?”

The air grew very still, and an unnerving silence fell over them. A shadow moved in the hallway behind the desk. Demetrius was familiar with the layout because the ancient artifacts and texts room was at the end of that hall, secured behind a locked door. He knew there was a small break room and an office shared by the library director and Tracey, who was the assistant director. Someone was back there, standing in the shadows by the door to the office, just out of sight. Someone big.

“Hello?” Oliver called. Demetrius had to fight down the urge to shush him, and not just because they were in the library. There was a strange and dangerous charge in the air.

An overhead fluorescent flickered and buzzed. Demetrius wondered if maybe the buzzing might be flies as well, attracted to the terrible smell.

The shadows in the hall moved again. They shifted and wobbled, then seemed to come together before pulling apart again to reveal Heath. He stood in the entry to the hall, and he looked terrible. His dark hair was greasy and tangled into corkscrews and knots, and his matching beard, fuller than usual, had a couple of twigs and a leaf caught in it. The lights above the desk flashed across the lenses of his dark, heavy-framed glasses as he remained very still, arms at his sides.

“Well, I think a small part of me just died inside,” Oliver said.

Demetrius gathered his courage—he’d faced an alpha werewolf and a vampire thousands of years old, for God’s sake, he could handle a librarian, even one as creepy as Heath—and took a step forward. He took his hand from in front of his mouth and tried for a friendly smile. It didn’t feel like he’d quite achieved it, but he said, “Um, hi, Heath. Are you feeling okay? You look a little rough.”

Heath turned his head slightly, and Demetrius could now see his eyes were completely black. A tingle of fear crawled across his scalp beneath the beanie, and he felt chilled and overheated at the same time.

“You know the code.” Heath’s voice was deep and completely unlike his own.

“Sorry, what?”

“The code to the door.”

That voice sent a shiver through him. He took an involuntary step back. “Oh, the code to the door in the back? No, I don’t know it. Tracey always opens it for me. Is she here? Can we talk to her?”

“She is out.” Heath tipped his head to the side, making Demetrius think of a bird eying an insect before snapping it up. “You’ve seen him.”

“Sorry, seen who?” Demetrius was at the steps down to the entrance, and he slowly and carefully descended without turning his back on Heath. From the corner of his eye, he saw Oliver do the same.

“The one who freed me. The one who wishes to…use me.” Heath drew in a rattling, wet-sounding breath and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. He opened his mouth wide, and let out a deep, terrible moan that felt as if it had reached right inside Demetrius and squeezed his heart.

“The fuck?” Oliver said.

“We need to go,” Demetrius said. “Now.”

“Already there.”

They both walked backward to the doors. Pushing the release bar with his backside, Demetrius stepped through and held the door for Oliver. As they drew in deep breaths of fresh air, Oliver tapped his phone to stop recording, then looked at Demetrius.

“What the fuck was that?”

“It wasn’t Heath, that’s for sure,” Demetrius said. “Let’s get out of here.”

They got in the car and Oliver started the engine, pulling out of the parking space. A small knot of people stood talking in the adjacent parking lot, and their heads turned as they watched them pull away. Demetrius could see another library employee among them, an older man whose name he couldn’t recall. He was pale and wide-eyed, and the breeze ruffled his white hair.

“So, if Heath’s not the witch, what the hell is he?” Oliver said.

“I don’t know. But what he said was interesting. He said we’d seen the one who freed him and wanted to use him.”

“That’s got to be the guy we saw in the woods, right?”

Demetrius nodded, his brain in overdrive. “I would guess so.”

A sheriff’s car approached, heading for the library, its lights flashing and siren blaring. Oliver pulled to the curb to let it pass, and they saw a couple of male deputies inside. Once it had gone past, he started driving again. They were quiet, Demetrius watching the houses go by outside his window.

“I’m just mindlessly driving,” Oliver said. “Any thoughts?”

“You used to be a reporter.”

“Finally, the correct phrasing,” Oliver said. “Used to be.”

“What would be your next move? All of your leads have hit dead ends. Where would you go next?”

Oliver tapped a beat on the steering wheel as he thought. “Two routes. I’d either go to the sheriff’s office and try to find out some details about the body in the woods, or, if I knew the identity of the victim, I’d work on retracing their steps. Find out who saw them last and where, that kind of thing.”

“Smart,” Demetrius said. “Tracey told Cody she and Heath and Rita were out in the woods when everything went to shit.”

“Rita ended up dead and Heath is…what? Possessed?”

“Seems that way. I’ll try calling Tracey. Maybe she’ll pick up if she sees it’s me calling.” He placed the call but it went right to voicemail. After leaving a message saying he wanted to check on her and asking her to call him back, he disconnected. He had a thought and tried calling Clarabell. The call went right to voicemail as well, so he left her a message before ending the call.

“Well, those were my two usual contacts for stuff like this,” he said.

“Maybe Rita talked about what she was doing with people she worked with,” Oliver said.

“Drives Rite?” Demetrius made a face. “Not sure I want to go there.”

“Why not? Oh, that’s where that guy worked,” Oliver said. “The one Cody whacked in the head.”

“Phil Wolek, yes. And he was attacking me, so Cody was being protective.” Demetrius sunk in the seat a bit and ran his hands up and down his thighs. He’d never set foot in the repair shop before, and he didn’t really look forward to it. But if it might help them find some answers, he supposed he should do it. Tracey and Clarabell were both unreachable, so if stopping in at Drives Rite could help them identify the witch, they needed to do it.

“Think they’ll have an attitude with you?” Oliver made a quick left turn, adjusting his trajectory through town.

“Nothing that happened back then seemed to affect their business,” Demetrius said. “And from what I understand, back on Halloween they were selling plastic wigs that looked like exposed brains, so they were definitely leaning into their reputation.”

“Seriously?” Oliver looked thoughtful. “That does sound pretty cool.”

“Yeah, a lot of shops came up with fun gimmicks. But, still… not the best taste since one of their own employees became a zombie and tried to eat me.”

“Yeah.” Oliver was quiet a moment, then admitted, “I bought a werewolf ears headband.”

Demetrius smiled. “Gotta support the cause, I guess.”

“Did you get anything?”

“No. I had actual werewolf ears years ago. That was enough for me.”

A few minutes later, Oliver pulled into the Drives Rite lot and parked beside the gray brick building. It was a standard gas and service station with one island with pumps on either side and no awning overhead. There were two service bays, both occupied, and a small office to one side. The roll up door for the service bay closest to the office was halfway up. Rock music played from somewhere in the background. Judas Priest, if Demetrius was hearing right over the bang and clank of tools and the whine of a lug wrench. A few cars were parked haphazardly around the lot, none of them newer models, all of them out of warranty.

They stepped into the cramped office area. The smell of grease and gasoline, layers of ancient cigarette smoke and sweat, hung heavy in the air. Demetrius had time enough to wonder what the online reviews were like for the place before a heavyset man walked in from the service area. He wiped his hands with a dirty rag, which looked to Demetrius as if it was adding more grease to the man’s skin than removing.

“Help ya?” His voice was deep and phlegmy, eyes a startling bright blue shining from a face riddled with what Demetrius had to assume was a collection of pre-cancerous dark patches.

“Hi, hello,” Demetrius said. “We’re looking for Rita Haines. Is she working today?”

The man’s blue-eyed gaze sharpened. “Why?”

“I’d like to talk with her about a noise coming from my friend’s car’s engine.”

“You can talk to me. I’m the owner, Harvey.”

“Oh. Great. So, you see?—”

Thankfully, Oliver cut Demetrius off before he could make things any worse. “Hi, sorry. We know Rita from around town. We’d heard something happened to her out in the woods and wanted to check and see if she was all right.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” Harvey gave Demetrius a hard look. “I know you. You used to run that critter place. You’re the one who whacked Phil.”

“I actually didn’t do the whacking.” Heat bloomed in Demetrius’s cheeks and across his scalp. Sweat prickled along the skin on the back of his neck. “And Phil was dead before my partner whacked him. The autopsy proved it.”

“You whack one of my guys, and now you come in here and lie to me about needing to talk to Rita? What did I do to get you to come after my business like this?”

“What?” Demetrius shook his head. “No. It’s not that at all. It’s just a coincidence. We just want to help.”

“Like you helped Phil? Get the fuck outta here. And don’t fuckin’ come back.” Harvey jabbed a dirty finger at the door.

“Okay, we’re leaving,” Oliver said, grabbing Demetrius by the arm and pulling him outside. They hurried to the car, and Oliver pulled quickly out of the lot. “Well, guess that rules out the only repair shop in town for us both.” He looked over at Demetrius. “You okay?”

Demetrius rubbed his palms on his thighs. The soft denim scratched pleasantly against his skin. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He flashed a rueful smile. “Guess I’m a little rusty with my interviewing skills.”

“A little rusty?” Oliver laughed and shook his head, then said in a higher pitched voice of imitation, “Hi, hello. Is Rita here? We’d like to talk to her about a noise my friend’s car is making.”

“I don’t sound like that.” Demetrius couldn’t help an embarrassed laugh.

“A little bit.” Oliver leaned in over the steering wheel. “What the hell is that? Did I get a ticket or something?”

“What?” Demetrius leaned forward against the seat belt. A piece of yellow paper had been stuck beneath the driver’s side wiper blade, fluttering in the wind. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“Goddamn it. As if Lucia doesn’t have enough to do with another murder in town, she’s got to track me down and write me a ticket? And what’s it for?” Oliver pulled to the side of the road and got out to retrieve the paper. He sat behind the wheel again and closed the door, unfolding the piece of paper. “Huh.”

“What? Is it a ticket?”

“No.” Oliver passed the paper to Demetrius before he pulled out onto the road again. “Guess we know where we’re going next.”

The ticket was actually a blank book catalog card from the Parson’s Hollow library. Written across the front of the card in bold black ink was the message: Margie’s. Now.

* * *

When he entered Margie’s ahead of Oliver, Demetrius saw Tracey at their usual booth in the back. A woman sat there facing the door. She wore a baseball hat pulled low and the kind of large, plastic sunglasses people wore after eye surgery.

“She’s in the back,” Demetrius whispered to Oliver.

“No need to whisper about it,” Oliver whispered back. “That disguise isn’t fooling anyone.”

“Hello, boys,” Margie called as she bumped out of the kitchen door with a plate in either hand. “My lucky day to see you again so soon. Iced teas?”

“Yeah, thanks, Margie,” Demetrius said.

“That’d be great, Margie, thanks,” Oliver said.

Demetrius led the way to the booth, sliding in across from Tracey and leaving room for Oliver to sit beside him. Tracey didn’t say a word, just looked toward the door and then over her shoulder at the hallway that led to the restrooms and the entrance and exit to the large parking lot in back. A plate with several crusts of toasted bread and smeared puddles of ketchup sat at her elbow, close to a half-finished tumbler of soda. She had to have wolfed down the food between the time she’d left the note on Oliver’s car to now.

“Hi, Tracey,” Demetrius said. “We got your note.”

“Were you followed?” Tracey still hadn’t looked at them, turning her head to keep her eyes on the door and the rest of the diner

“No. Are you okay?”

She looked at him then. Demetrius saw his own reflection in the dark plastic lenses of her glasses. She sat very still, then reached up to remove the sunglasses. She wore her usual prescription glasses underneath. Dark bruises colored the skin beneath her eyes, and she looked both sad and scared.

“Not really,” she said, but then she drew in a breath and gave a single nod as if telling herself she was safe. “But I’m getting by.”

Margie dropped off their iced teas. “Anybody need anything else?”

Demetrius and Oliver both said no. Tracey ordered a Reuben with fries to go. As Margie walked off, Demetrius took a closer look at Tracey. She’d cleaned up, based on how Cody described seeing her. Her hair was tucked under the baseball hat, but the little of it he could see looked clean.

“I left that note to bring you up to speed with what’s going on,” Tracey said, looking between them.

“What is going on?” Oliver asked.

“There’s a witch in town,” Tracey said. “He’s been here for a while now, since at least sometime last year. He’s powerful, too, playing with dark magic. I’ve been working with Clarabell and Rita on figuring out his identity, but we haven’t had any luck so far.”

“We saw him out in the woods,” Oliver said, looking to Demetrius for confirmation. “Just this morning.”

“You did?” Tracey looked at Demetrius as well. “Where?”

“We think it was the site of Parson Stone’s church,” Demetrius said. “We found crime scene tape rolled into a ball off to one side.”

“That’s where we found him, too,” Tracey said, tears glittered in her eyes. “Rita…well, she didn’t make it. And Heath got in the way of something that had been released. A demon.”

“A demon?” Oliver exclaimed.

“Quiet!” Tracey said, furtively looking around.

“Sorry.” He leaned in over the table and lowered his voice. “A demon?”

“Yes. The witch released it from some kind of containment. I think that’s been his plan all along.”

“Who put it there?” Demetrius asked.

“From what we’ve learned, it might have been the coven, a long time ago.”

“Are you part of a coven?” Oliver asked.

“No. But I have become interested in Wiccan studies the last couple of years. That’s how Rita and I became friends. Last year, we both realized someone with a lot more power had come to town, and we’ve been trying to figure out who it was. I invited Clarabell to help as well, since she has a lot of connections. Heath and Rita and I were out in the woods following up on something we found in our research when we came across him performing a spell.”

“What happened?” Oliver asked.

“The demon went into Heath,” Tracey said. “Took him over.”

“Possessed him?”

“Right. Rita tried to stop the witch, but he was too fast and…she didn’t make it.”

“How do we stop it?” Demetrius said.

“I don’t know that yet,” Tracey said. “Clarabell and I have been looking through notes.”

“Are you somewhere safe?”

She gave him a soft, sad smile and nodded. “I am. I won’t tell you where, just in case.”

“I understand,” Demetrius said.

Margie approached, carrying a bag with a takeaway container inside. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Margie,” Tracey said, pushing to her feet. “What do I owe you?”

“I’ll pay for it,” Demetrius said, waving a hand. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Tracey said. She took the bag from Margie, slung a leather messenger bag that had been on the seat beside her onto one shoulder, and slid the large sunglasses on over her glasses. Looking between them, she said, “Be careful. He knows who you are now.”

“We will,” Demetrius said.

“You be careful, too,” Oliver said.

Tracey nodded, turned away, and hurried down the back hallway toward the exit.

Oliver got up and moved to the other side of the booth then leaned in over the table. His eyes were bright with excitement as he gripped the bottom of his tumbler of iced tea. “A witch and a demon,” he said quietly. “Can you believe it?”

Demetrius sipped his tea. “Yeah, actually, I can.”

He picked up the bill Margie had left and flinched. It would be added to the long list of charges on their credit card. Worth it, he supposed, if it meant stopping this latest threat. And he considered himself lucky to not have lost two people he cared about, like Tracey had.

“What now?” Oliver asked, sipping his tea.

“I’m going to head home and think about next steps,” Demetrius said. “What about you?”

“I’ll probably make some notes about all of this,” Oliver said.

“You going to post it to your blog?”

“Not until we figure out who it is and how to stop him.”

Demetrius sat back, looking around the diner. They would stop him. They had to. They were the good guys, so they would win in the end. He just worried what it would cost them.