Page 16

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, watching as Hayes made his way to a sensible sedan parked near the church steps. “We each take one,” I said, formulating the plan as I spoke. “See if anything's off. Follow them, figure out if they've been marked yet.”

Cade nodded, still scrolling through his phone. His face looked ghostly in the blue glow of the screen, all sharp angles and shadows. “Skye sent background on both. Hayes is divorced, lives alone, works as an insurance adjuster. Whitmore is a nurse, married with two kids.”

“Classic profile of men having midlife crises,” I muttered. “Perfect targets for some religious huckster promising deeper meaning.”

“Brother Michael wasn't just a huckster,” Cade said quietly. “Whatever he brought with those prayers, it was real. And deadly.”

I watched as Hayes pulled out of the church parking lot, turning left onto the main road. “You want to tell me what you think we're dealing with? Based on that prayer book?”

Cade was silent for a long moment, his face troubled. Outside, the rain intensified, drumming on the roof of the Impala like impatient fingers. Finally, he sighed.

“The symbol in that book . . . it's been nagging at me.

Something about it feels familiar, but I can't place where I've seen it before.” He rubbed his temple, frustration clear in his voice.

“There's something about this case that's triggering recognition I can't access.

Like trying to remember a word that's on the tip of your tongue.”

He trailed off, leaving the implications hanging in the air between us. I'd known Cade long enough to read between the lines. If something was bothering him this much, we were in deep shit.

Hayes's car turned onto a side street, disappearing from view. I started the engine, the Impala rumbling to life beneath us. “We should move. Hayes is getting away.”

Cade checked his watch. “Whitmore will be leaving for work soon. According to Skye's info, he takes Elm Street to the hospital.”

“So we divide and conquer,” I said. “You take Whitmore, I'll take Hayes. Keep your phone on.”

“We tail them, see if anything weird happens,” Cade muttered, already gathering his gear. “If they start acting strangely, we intervene. If not, we watch and wait.”

I gripped the wheel, eyes narrowing as I peered through the rain-slicked windshield. “If this thing follows a pattern, we're already running out of time. The last victim was three days ago. That means tonight or tomorrow . . .”

I didn't finish the sentence. I didn't need to. Both of us knew the stakes.

Cade gave me a sharp nod, his expression hardening into the focused determination that had gotten us through dangerous hunts before. “Let's move.”

I pulled away from the curb, following Hayes's sedan at a discreet distance. At the next intersection, I stopped to let Cade out. He stood for a moment in the rain, water already soaking his jacket and hair, looking like some modern-day warrior monk about to face battle.

“Watch yourself,” I called through the open window.

Cade's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. Then he was gone, striding through the rain toward the bus stop where he'd catch a ride to intercept Whitmore.

I watched him go, a familiar worry settling in my chest. Then I turned the Impala in the direction Hayes had gone, rain drumming a nervous rhythm on the roof as I drove into the gathering darkness.

I followed Edward Hayes from a distance, keeping two cars between us as he wound through the quiet streets of the residential district. The rain had let up slightly, but water still streamed down the windshield in rivulets, distorting the red glow of his taillights into smeared halos of crimson.

Hayes was driving faster than normal, I noticed. Not speeding exactly, but moving with purpose, with urgency. His sedan took corners sharply, accelerating quickly from stop signs. The behavior of a man in a hurry. Or a man being pursued by something only he could see.

“Where the feck are you going, boyo?” I muttered, adjusting my grip on the steering wheel as Hayes made another abrupt turn onto a poorly lit side street.

The sedan pulled up outside a small corner market, its neon “OPEN” sign buzzing and flickering in the darkness.

Hayes parked haphazardly, the front wheel jumping the curb, and hurried inside.

I drove past slowly, then circled the block, eventually parking across the street where I had a clear view of the store entrance.

Through the rain-streaked windows of the market, I could see Hayes moving frantically through the aisles, grabbing items without seeming to look at them.

Salt. Candles. Matches. The shopping list of a hunter preparing for a supernatural encounter—or a civilian who'd stumbled across some half-baked protection ritual on the internet.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Cade.

“Anything on your guy?” I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on the market entrance.

“Nothing yet. He's just grabbing groceries,” Cade's voice came through, calm and steady. “Normal family stuff. Ice cream, milk, cereal. Looks like he's heading home before his shift. You?”

“Mine's acting weird,” I said, watching as Hayes emerged from the store, plastic bag clutched tightly in one hand as he glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Really weird. Buying salt and candles. Classic 'I think something's after me' behavior.”

Hayes climbed back into his car, starting the engine before I'd even finished my sentence. His movements were jerky, panicked, like a man who knew he was running out of time.

“Stay on him,” Cade advised. “But keep your distance.”

“I'll call you if anything changes.” I started the engine as Hayes pulled away from the curb.

Hayes drove for another fifteen minutes, deeper into the older part of town where Victorian houses stood in various states of decay.

The street lamps here were fewer and farther between, casting islands of sickly yellow light amid long stretches of darkness.

Eventually, he turned onto a street I didn't recognize, lined with houses that had clearly seen better days.

I killed my headlights and slowed down, maintaining a careful distance.

Through the rain-streaked windshield, I watched as Hayes's sedan crawled to a stop in front of what had to be the most dilapidated house on the block.

The place looked abandoned—shutters hanging at odd angles, weeds strangling what might once have been a garden path, porch sagging under years of neglect.

A proper haunted house if I'd ever seen one.

“Jaysus,” I whispered, pulling over and cutting the engine.

Hayes sat in his car for a long moment, apparently steeling himself for whatever came next. Then, with visible reluctance, he climbed out, clutching his bag of supplies against his chest. He glanced around nervously, scanning the shadows as if expecting something to lunge at him from the darkness.

For a moment, I thought he'd spotted me, but his gaze passed over my car without pausing. His focus was on something else, something I couldn't see. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as he suddenly jerked his head to the side, as if someone had called his name.

Moving quickly, Hayes hurried toward the abandoned house, shoulders hunched against the light drizzle that continued to fall. At the porch steps, he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder one last time before climbing up and disappearing inside.