Page 18 of Coven of Corpses

“Oh no,” Clarabell said, shaking her head. “That sounds bad. And if Tracey was alone, that means Rita might be in trouble.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that name. Who’s Rita?”

“She works over at Drives Rite.”

Cody made a face. “Not my favorite place in town.”

“That’s right. That’s where the guy you whacked used to work.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cody muttered. “He was already dead. You can’t whack a dead guy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clarabell tapped her lip as she looked out the windshield. “Sounds like they found what they were looking for but things got out of hand. Dammit.”

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“I’ll tell you,” Clarabell said. “But first, is there anything else you know?”

Cody gave her a look, but then explained about the hex bag outside their house. He pulled the wooden box from his jacket pocket and showed her the one he’d found in his grandmother’s belongings.

“Hex bags,” Clarabell said, staring into the box. “So, your grandmother was one.”

“Goddammit, talk.”

“Wow, you’re really walking that edge these days, aren’t you?”

“Look, my grandmother died, my family’s in town and driving me crazy, and now there’s some kind of spooky crap going on again, and Demmy and I have no idea what it is. I have, like, no patience anymore, okay? Talk.”

“All right, all right.” Clarabell paused a moment, gathering her thoughts, then she looked him in the eye. “I buried the hex bag outside your window.”

Cody blinked. “You did?”

“Yes, it was me.” She gestured to the box he still held, clutching it so hard it made his fingertips ache. “I had no idea about the one your grandmother had, but it doesn’t surprise me with everything I’ve learned.”

“Everything you’ve learned? About what?”

Clarabell took a breath and let it out. “What do you know about witches?”

CHAPTER SIX

Demetrius parked his truck at the start of Main Street, in front of a little park maintained by the city. Well, maintained by Harriettville’s DPW now. A nice addition to the city a few years ago, it had been wedged into an empty lot on the corner of First and Main, across the street from Parson’s Pharmacy.

At the intersections of several cement paths in the center of the park stood a tall slab of polished black marble. A small moon dial was positioned several feet away. During the full moon at a specific time of year, the perfect circle carved into the tall marble piece directed moonlight at the moon dial, illuminating the time the full moon had risen on that fateful night years ago when the werewolves had tried to take over the town. Seventeen names had been etched into the marble column to honor all of those lost that August night.

He stood before the column, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. A breeze made him shiver. They were in that weird time of the year where the weather couldn’t decide from hour to hour what it wanted to do. The breeze lifted the loamy smell of the flowerbeds to him, along with the heavy stench of the new mulch spread throughout. These mingled with the familiar scents of town: the bright tomatoes of Antonio’s marinara, the deep fryer at Margie’s, and a gentle hint of coffee from Hollow Grounds at the other end of Main Street. He found Hap’s name on the list and ran a finger across it.

“Thanks, Hap,” Demetrius said. “I hope you and Rufus are together again and happy.”

Turning away from the sculpture, he followed one of the cement paths to the sidewalk. Like any small town across the country, businesses lined a few blocks on each side of Parson’s Hollow’s Main Street.

Demetrius crossed First Street. Parson’s Pharmacy took up three lots on the corner. A few concrete steps led up to the glass entry doors. Accessibility hadn’t been a consideration when the town had been built, so Raymond Fisher, the pharmacist and owner, had years ago paid to have a ramp installed off to one side. And he’d been griping about it ever since.

A new women’s clothing store had opened recently: Clarissa’s Rizz. Headless mannequins in the window sported flashy outfits, their price tags tucked carefully out of sight. He wondered how long this store would last. Most people who lived in town ordered their clothes online or drove to Creighton to hit the outlet mall there. Antonio’s had a decent lunch crowd, and the fringes of the vinyl awning above the entry and large front window waved in the breeze.

Demetrius paused at the end of a pedestrian alleyway. It ran between Antonio’s and Bryerson’s Frame Shop, providing a mid-block cut through to the large parking lot behind all the stores. A mural depicting a bird’s eye view of Main Street ran the length of one wall, and a few benches had been installed opposite. The alleyway had been the scene of a few pretty gruesome vampire attacks back on Halloween night. All traces of blood and violence had been scrubbed away, but standing there again sent a shiver up Demetrius’s back.

The canvas awning that spanned the front of the frame shop was faded and stained from the hickory tree planted at the curb. The frames displayed in the large front window were in dire need of dusting, and he marveled, like he usually did, that the place was still in business. Margie’s Diner was next door, and she’d recently hired someone to power wash the metal awning that spanned the front so it gleamed even in the flat light of the overcast day. He wondered if power washing would be a service he could offer people in town. Would it pay enough to be worth it? Would he enjoy it?

He opened the door, hearing the familiar jingle of the bell above.