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“I wouldn’t bring the world down on her, but lead with how you feel.” She squeezed my knee. “What I’m feeling is fear that the sheriff will kill you, by accident or intentionally. He’s focused on Ingram Hayes, which means he’s not focused on you entirely. If by some miracle he doesn’t get you killed, August and the Otherworld are waiting. This is not an invitation to a hunt, where sometimes the deer gets away, sometimes the pack gets the deer. Reapers always make the kill, and August’s sole attention will be on you. You’ve returned Stephen’s pelt. Say the word and I will give you plane tickets or a little love bite.”
A high-pitched scream split the air. Goosebumps pricked my arms. Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach.
“Fox got a cat,” Calico mused. “You're smart, keeping yours indoors.”
The animal screeched again.
“You okay, sugar?”
In a dream turned nightmare, I rose and walked across her yard, beyond the sidewalk, past the dim streetlights, toward the car owned by Caelan's deputy. The driver's side door hung open. The closer I came, the louder grew the dinging reminder of a key left in the ignition.
“Marcy!” Calico called from the middle of the street, running in her bare feet and robe.
A swipe of dark, wet crimson glistened on the front fender. A staggering trail of droplets thickened on the sidewalk.
I twisted around to yell at her. “Get Caelan! Take the kids and go!” My legs were heavy. Sweat dripped down my neck. But I moved forward, heavy step after heavy step, up my driveway.
Glass lay scattered across my darkened porch. The dining room window had been smashed.
I knew who the screams belonged to.
I knew what I was going to find.
A sheriff’s deputy swung around the side of the house as I touched my doorknob. Blood from a cut throat stained his shirt; the wound slanted his head at an awkward angle. He gripped a large, mocha tabby cat by the throat.
Samson.
His paws twitched and stilled.
chapter 27
GONE
I knew what I had to do. What I should do. But I couldn't make my body move, couldn't tear my eyes off Samson. His tail dangled limp between his legs; his eyes, those wide, loving eyes, stared empty into the starlight.
The dead man's lips twisted. “Want to see the other one?”
I felt nothing but the cool breeze. I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my palm.
I wasn't sure if I screamed charging him, but as my fist hit his bloody chin, he grabbed me by the waist and I did then. We fell into the mulch, Samson's body pressed between us, and rolled into the grass before I was able to hit it in the eye with a spade I’d forgotten to pick up in my gardening ventures and break loose.
The deputy flung the spade at me. I ducked, running around to get my wheel barrow between it and me. Bracing its hands on either side of the wheelbarrow, the deputy laughed.
Another sound caught its attention; the head whipped around at an owl’s tilt.
Caelan was in the road, yelling at me to get down. Covering my ears from the gunshot I knew was coming, I made myself small.
The bullet hit the deputy in the throat, sailed straight on through and into the arborvitaes. Grinning, the deputy released the wheelbarrow and staggered at a fast run across the street.
I thought it might’ve been targeting Caelan, but he was near the top of the cul-de-sac, and then I saw him: Devin, standing in his driveway with a bag of fast food clutched in one hand.
“Run!” I screamed, waving my arms. “Run, Devin! Run!”
Except he didn't. Mouth open, he took a single, half-step toward the glow of his garage.
Caelan couldn’t shift without Devin seeing. He fired again as he ran, skimmed his mark, but the mindless killer rushed on, now absent a chunk of skull on the back of its head.
I tackled it from behind. Shoulders thrashing against the ground, the body struggled against my weight, tried to roll and wrap its arms around mine. In a blind rage I punched and slapped and clawed at the possessed man until my hands hurt, until the thing’s face contorted into a sneer and Devin was forgotten as it grabbed me by my hair and yanked my neck toward its flat, human teeth. I locked my arms at the elbows, dug my fingers into the deputy’s face and pushed against his pull.
