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“For good reason, buddy.” She turned toward the house but looked back over her shoulder. “Folks think they can just interrupt schedules and all.”

Calloway and I followed everyone else inside.

The window air conditioner cooled the small front room well. The house was decorated in almost a modern flair, even though there were toys everywhere. I wondered how she managed to keep the light-colored furniture from getting dirty. Only one of the couch’s cushions was off kilter.

“Give me a second,” she said to us as she led the kids into the kitchen.

Though there was a half wall between the front room and the kitchen, from the couch Calloway and I could watch as she set the kids up with juice boxes and snacks. She didn’t offer us anything but came back to the front room and put her hands on her hips.

“Be quick,” she said.

“Thalia, do you remember the taxidermy classes that Wilmot Dylan conducted back when you were sixteen or seventeen?” Calloway asked.

I’d never witnessed the color actually drain from someone’s face until that moment. That’s what happened as her eyes got wide.

“No.” She stepped closer to us and lowered her voice. “We can’t talk about that in front of the kids.”

Calloway nodded. “That might be, but we have a few questions. Is there someone who could watch them for a few minutes.”

“No, there’s just me.” She glanced back at their peaceful enjoyment of the snacks and back at us. “Step out front for a minute. I can watch them through the screen door, but you’ll have to keep your voices down.”

So much for the comfortable couch and air-conditioning.

We did as she asked. She stood at the door, making sure she could see the kids through the glass. She kept her hand on the knob.

“I made a vow not to talk about this shit,” she said. “I know we were kids, but who spilled the beans?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Calloway said. “We just need to know what happened.”

“Jesus, it was a fucking nightmare.” She glanced inside at the curse but then turned back to us. “Blood, a terrifying animal thing. That crazy bastard, Silas, and his ‘creativity.’ His behavior messed with all of us. I’m sure we could have all used therapy because of just that day, but who has the money for that crap?”

Calloway had more questions than she was going to take time to answer, I was sure, but he cut to the chase.

“So, Silas brought in the … thing?”

“Well, I didn’t see him do it, but I was there when he threw the blood on all of us. He was freaking out, but I don’t know what happened much before that. I wasn’t there yet.”

“Do you know what happened to him after that?”

“I think he and his father left Black Vulture, but I don’t know. I never saw him, them, again. I thought maybe Wilmot told them to leave.” She looked at me. “Your father kept it together during something that few people could.”

“But he didn’t call the authorities?” I asked.

Thalia gave a gruff laugh. “No, he didn’t.” She paused. “He separated us, though.”

“What does that mean?” Calloway asked.

“He put me and Danielle on the back patio and took Silas and Johnny to the kitchen.” She paused. “My God. It was awful.” She brought her gaze back up. “And I don’t like thinking about it.”

“Then what happened?” I asked.

Thalia sighed. “Some woman came out to the patio. I can’t remember her name, but she’d been there a couple times before. She calmed down me and Danielle, told us we were going to be okay.” She paused. “She brought us some sodas and told us she’d get us cleaned up in a few minutes. She went inside.” Tears filled her eyes as she stared at Calloway.

“Thalia. What?” he said.

Thalia sniffed away the tears, wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Then she screamed.”

“Inside the museum?” I asked.