The Cabin Is Always Hungry

DEAD PACIFICA

Part 22

Things were a little different when Xavier and his followers performed the ritual again.

For one, they didn’t kidnap the delvers to be present at the ritual site, as they had with the Astarothian soldiers. As I had said before, pantheon spells were quite dynamic and ripe for improvisation for me and my followers to cast. I didn’t know the minute details of how they differed from a normal spell, but it might have something to do with The System itself, another primal force of the universe and the hidden rules it followed. Unfortunately, I wasn’t privy to such big answers as long as I continued to feed it with essence.

For pantheon spells, the intent was all that mattered, and The System filled in the gaps.

The Church of the Unworthy had stolen a few mundane objects from the delvers. Not all of them, but a few, and they were enough to make the ritual effective and anchor the spell. They snuck into the Hyacinth Hotel to steal some stuff from the crew of Dead Pacifica. A toothbrush here, a scrunchie there. An old college sweater. A single earring or a loose button from their shirt. A flimsy lock of hair pulled from the shower drain. Or a wad of bloody tissue pulled from the garbage bin by Gordon when Retto Kearns had a mild nosebleed after playing golf for hours under the hot sun. Xavier used all of these to channel the arcane energy behind the veil and fed it into the ritual.

Xavier let Cassie lead the prayers this time, and instead of copying Xavier’s sermons, she gave a dazzling, campy cabaret-style performance that I found quite enjoyable. It lasted thirty-six minutes, weaving her sorcery directly into her vocals and elevating her songs and chanting as she manifested spectral drums, violins, and flutes. She danced and sang, kicked her legs up, and twirled. At one point, she cut her index finger and smeared blood all over her forehead as demonic shadows peeled away from the grass and the nearby forest to dance and swirl in her wake.

Everyone was up on their feet, matching Cassie’s energy. They chanted, “Pain is love in the Eye of our Lord,” as Cassie instructed them every time she ended her chants or songs with “Friends, with us as witness.” They were having fun with it. Maybe too much fun for my liking, but who am I to judge them for having a hobby before a delve? And yes, there was weed involved and other hallucinogenic drugs I had never heard of before. They claimed they could “see” me better while taking it, but I already proved that as false a long time ago. I didn’t bother correcting them. One less murdering hobo taken out of the street for the night.

They built a small bonfire at the back of the ranch, gathered and pinned all the stolen trinkets to a wooden board, and cast them into the fire. At some point, Cassie took off her clothes until she was only in her underwear, and the rest followed suit without question, unbothered by the cool late September night air. They were like tiny black ants circling the growing fire, ghoulish and haunting in their nakedness as they drank the fervor of their devotion.

High up the trail, Joshua exited the barn and carried a version of me. No, not the gemstone. Something I should probably be offended by. Using the rotting, decapitated head of the ranch’s owner, they stuck it at the end of a broomstick and draped a yellow curtain over it as if it were a flowing robe. They also took down the taxidermy mount of a stag by the dining room, hacked off the antlers, and glued them onto the rancher’s head, and then stapled a paper crown from a burger joint so that it wouldn’t fall off the guy’s sloughing scalp.

Joshua swung it around the bonfire as if it was a war banner. Only then did he stick it in the ground, face forward, just as Cassie was close to finishing her song and dance. She plucked the rancher’s head off the broomstick and tossed it into the fire. The others dragged the bodies of the rancher’s family and tossed them in as well. A ritual and disposing of the dead bodies all in one go. By the end of tonight’s scenario, Xavier and the cult planned to move out before the cops or the rancher’s extended family noticed their absence.

The ritual was finished, and Xavier took the reins from Cassie. He, too, wore a golden cloak—and nothing else—made from the same curtains they used for the rancher. He stood at the forefront, the bonfire still raging behind him, waiting until he had everyone’s attention.

“My friends, we are truly blessed. He has enlightened us with His intentions, and we have delivered our aid gloriously on the most sacred night of all, the delving night. My sister, whom you all know has veered off the true path, has returned to Point Hope to face Him. It has been my greatest wish for her to join our family since the day I created this blessed Church. You know what it’s like to be lost out there. You know what it’s like to be blind and afraid in an unjust world. There is a god out there that grants us our prayers. And yet my sister refuses to see the truth. Tonight, she will be a believer.”

Several “hear, hear” or “yes, yes” murmured throughout the congregation.

Xavier’s smile beamed as his eyes grew hot with intensity. “I say that my sister will not be lost! I love my family as you do yours. Onward, we will make them see the truth of this world, starting with my own blood. I will delve tonight.”

The congregation’s murmurs grew louder, with several praising his bravery. Deep down, Xavier knew this wouldn’t be a true delve, at least not for him. Even now, I couldn’t detect the Resolve on him. Just a faint glow, but not enough for me to feed on. Give it another year or two, then maybe his Resolve would recover. But perhaps that was exactly the point. Without Resolve, my archetypes would not target him in a room full of delvers; he was practically invisible. At the end of the day, he was still mortal. He would still experience fear and pain. My archetypes could easily kill him, and they probably wouldn’t bother drawing out the kill without Resolve. But like all predators, why expend all your energy chasing after tainted prey?

Xavier was counting on being one of the last ones standing.

“I will choose five among you to join me in this mission,” he said.

That got everyone’s attention, and I could feel their excitement choking the air.

“What will we do?” Rachel asked from the crowd.

“Our Lord seeks to continue the war against the Astarothians. We will aid him by bringing in those bodies He needs. We will disrupt the delvers. We will make sure only a few will survive the bloodbath. We will cut off any chances of escape. And if we survive ourselves, we will be rewarded.”

A jolt of excitement swept through the congregation, with their faces shining with eagerness to be the one chosen. Even knowing that the delve would most likely kill them, they didn’t see it that way. This was a holy pilgrimage that only a small few were privileged enough to do. Unhinged smiles rippled from row to row, yearning to throw themselves into the meat grinder.

Xavier pointed a finger at the chosen individuals who would delve with him. Cassie was the first he chose. As his right-hand man, she was a powerful sorceress, and it made sense to have her in the delving group to keep them alive a little longer in the dungeon. Melissa Poole was no surprise either. Little miss psycho was a whirlwind killing machine, worthy of an archetype slot, all but the name. Joshua Shaffer was a good choice: a capable marksman, one of the few in the cult who knew how to handle a gun and a bow, and he rarely missed. What was surprising were the last two people Xavier picked. Caleb Lloyd had been quietly complaining to the others that he wasn’t picked for these delves, but now was his chance to prove them all wrong. When Xavier’s finger landed on him, I swore he almost peed himself from excitement and soaked up the jealous looks from the others. Maria Velez was an odd pick, too. Like the rest of the cult, she had her fair share of killing, but she was slower and weaker than the rest. If things went south in the dungeon, Caleb and Maria would be cannon fodder.

A wave of envy swarmed the others, but the lucky five erupted with joy, jumping up and down, praising and thanking Xavier. They stepped out of the ranks to join their leader’s side like eager hounds.

Xavier raised a hand to silence everyone again. “But there are still other important tasks to be done,” Xavier said softly. “Gordon. Rachel. Step forward.”

Rachel and Gordon peeled away from the crowd and stood before Xavier. Both of them had delved before and won their scenarios, but the big brute of a man didn’t look quite happy that Xavier benched him for tonight’s slaughter.

“By our Lord’s request, the two of you will fly to New York in three days. Oracle will send you more information when you arrive. I have faith in both of your skills that you will do whatever it takes to do our Lord’s bidding…no matter who’s on the way. Make us proud.”

Rachel beamed. Even she knew how important New York was to my plans. “Anything He asks, we will carry out a thousand percent. You can trust us.”

“That’s good to hear, Rach.” Xavier turned to the other man. “And you, Gordon?”

Gordon looked at the others and then at Xavier. He wanted to delve, for another chance to win a reward, but he couldn’t go against Xavier’s orders with the whole congregation watching. That would be a bad look. He swallowed his anger and forced a nod. “If our Lord needs me in New York, then that’s where I will be.”

Xavier’s face softened, and he clapped Gordon on the shoulder. “Thank you, brother. I trust you most to face our Lord’s enemy, and New York is full of them. Be careful when you get there.”

Melissa suddenly gasped. “Look over there!” She shouted, pointing toward the end of the clearing.

The red door to the Selection Chamber stood there.

Melissa twitched with adrenaline, and she was about to bolt for the door when Xavier’s hand shot out to stop her. “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

Melissa whipped her head around and scowled. “We’re delving. The door is here for us, right?”

“We will let Dead Pacifica choose their hunters,” Xavier said.

“Why not us?” Melissa hissed. “We can choose the scarier ones. Go for the jugular and all that. They’ll mow down those stupid idiots.”

Cassie stepped up beside Xavier, flipping her hair as if she was bored. “Then it will be quite a short night.”

“Isn’t that the goal? Killing them all?” Melissa demanded.

“We are also prey, Melissa, as well as hunters. If you want the reward, you’ll need to survive first,” Xavier reminded her. “But more importantly, this is Dead Pacifica’s delve. It is only fair they get to choose how they will die. We are merely there to take care of the scraps.”

Meanwhile, six miles away from the cabin, a car drove up the exit ramp.

Vivian pulled her jacket sleeves over her hands and clutched them tightly as soon as Karen drove past the gas station. She couldn’t believe she was back here again after all these months trying to forget what happened. A part of her wanted to hear from her uncle, who didn’t even bother to check up on them when Xavier attacked their grandmother. Wherever Kevin was now, she was jealous that he was far away from this hellscape.

“So, let me get this straight,” Chloe started. “The Duke is a bloodsucking vampire. The Sawyers are werewolves. The cabin is haunted by demons. And the lake is infested with killer mermaids. Is that correct?”

“Oh! Don’t forget the summer camp,” Karen said.

“Yes. Discount Jason. How can I forget?” Chloe typed it down on the notes app on her phone. “Did I miss anything else?”

“There’s a killer tree, too,” Vivian said quietly, staring out of the window at the sea of trees. “And…I think killer black bees that strip your flesh down to the bone?”

Chloe stopped typing. “Like tiny flying piranhas?”

“Like the scarab beetles from The Mummy?” Karen suggested.

Vivian’s mind suddenly flashed to the black swarm that blanketed all over Kate’s flesh. The moment she did, she knew she made a mistake. She could never forget Kate’s screaming face melting into her own skull. “Yeah. It’s something like that.”

Chloe huffed. “Jesus. Is there a single square foot on this mountain that isn’t trying to murder us?”

“Why do you want to know anyway?” Karen asked.

“I’m looking for a safe zone, duh. In case we get in trouble?”

“Maybe this car,” Karen said, laughing.

“Yeah, but what if we don’t have it? Or it gets destroyed, or whatever?”

“Oh shit. Careful!” Vivian warned. “There’s a cop ahead.”

Karen slowed down and coasted past the parked black cruiser sitting idle on a gravel turnoff. For three agonizing seconds, it felt like they were in the clear. Then, the lights came on.

“Oh, come on! Why does this always happen to me? This isn’t even my car!” Karen hissed. “What did I do? I wasn’t speeding. Were we speeding?”

“Is he pulling us over?” Vivian asked, looking back. “Are we getting arrested? What if they’ll recognize us?”

“I didn’t see anything online that they reported us missing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just calm down, Viv.” Karen flipped the turn signal and eased the car onto the road’s shoulder. “Act normal. Let me do the talking.”

“Maybe this is a good sign,” Chloe said.

“How is this a good sign, Chloe?” Vivian asked.

“At least there’s a cop around.”

“How is one cop going to do anything?”

Gravel crunched beneath heavy boots as the officer approached the driver’s side. Karen’s hands were on the steering wheel, and she smiled as Officer Ron Cornell peered through the window. Cornell might be in his early fifties, but he was still a big man with broad shoulders and a thick, silver-flecked mustache that framed his always-grim expression. Dress him up in a police uniform, and he looked quite intimidating.

Karen rolled down the window. “Hello, officer. Good afternoon.”

“License and registration, ma’am,” Cornell grunted, with his hands resting casually near his heavy-duty belt.

Karen swallowed hard, keeping her movements slow and deliberate as she retrieved her wallet from the glovebox with Vivian’s help. “Here you go, officer.”

“You’re not the owner of this vehicle?”

“That would be me,” Vivian said nervously. “I’m—just too lazy to drive.”

Karen glared at her before turning around to face Cornell again. “I want to drive for once.”

Cornell took the cards into his gloved hand. His brow furrowed beneath the brim of his hat. “Washington plates,” he noted. “A long way from home.”

“I’m on vacation with my sisters,” Karen said.

Cornell peered into the cabin, and Vivian felt uncomfortable under his gaze. “Do you know at what speed you were going, ma’am?”

Karen gulped. “Um, fifty?”

Cornell grunted. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strolled back toward his idling cruiser. The silence inside the sedan stretched forever. In the backseat, Vivian was getting anxious. “Do you have a license to carry that gun?”

Karen frowned. “Um…I have a concealed carry permit…for the State of Washington.”

“Is that bad?” Vivian asked.

“Well, Oregon doesn’t really recognize permits from out-of-state. So….”

“Oh, my God. What if Mother Elaine reported us as missing? Do you think we’re gonna show up on some database or something?” Vivian panicked.

“God, I hope not,” Karen said. “Calm down. We’re just tourists. That’s all we are, okay? Tourists. Look, he’s coming back.”

Cornell marched back to the car, tapping two fingers against the roof above Karen’s window before handing the cards back through the opening. “Everything checks out, Miss,” Cornell said, leaning in just enough for them to catch the faint scent of coffee on his breath. “You were just nine miles above the speed limit on your approach back there, and you were swerving. This is a forty-five zone all the way through the manor.”

“Thank you, officer,” Karen said. “I’ll slow down. Promise.”

“I’m going to let you off with a warning. The roads in these woods are quite treacherous this time of year,” he said. “So, what brings three girls from Washington all the way out to North Cedar Lake this late in the afternoon?”

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Karen slipped her license back into her pocket. “Just taking a little road trip. We were hoping to take a quick detour to the lake and see the waterfalls before heading back to the Hyacinth Hotel. That’s where we’re currently staying.”

“Fancy.” Cornell stared at her for a long, unblinking beat. “You girls aren’t up here for that Dead Pacifica nonsense, are you? Half the internet seems to think these woods are some free-for-all tonight.”

Karen tilted her head, managing to look confused. “Dead Pacifica? I…honestly don’t know what that is. Are they like a band?”

Cornell studied her face. Then, he let out a short breath. “Doesn’t matter,” he said gruffly. He stepped back from the door. “If you’re going down to the water, make sure you pack up before it gets dark. These woods get real dangerous after sunset. I don’t think you’ll be able to get to Anicho Falls with little daylight left, so you might have to return at some other time. Understand?”

“Crystal clear, Officer. Thank you,” Karen said.

“Is it just the three of you?”

Karen paused. It was a weird question to ask. “Um, yes. Just us three.”

Cornell’s frown deepened. “Since you’re not from around here, I should tell you that we locals have sort of a superstition, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

“Superstition, sir?”

“Yup. It’s bad luck to travel these woods in three after dark.” He studied Karen’s face, then Chloe’s, then Vivian’s in the back seat.

“Why’s that?” Chloe asked.

Officer Cornell shrugged, and he was unsure if he should even tell them. But out of the goodness of his heart, and the strange things that had happened over the past year, he thought he should at least warn them not to get caught after dark. “Just something folks say around here since I was a youngin’, but I don’t mean to scare you or anything. You seem like good people. Anyway, you drive safe now. Remember, pack up before dark.” He gave the roof of the car another brief double-tap and walked back to his cruiser.

Karen waited until the patrol car pulled a U-turn and headed back up the highway. “Do you think he’s one of them?” Karen asked Vivian.

“One of what?”

“Is he—you know—a werewolf? Or a vampire?”

Vivian turned around and watched the police car disappear beyond the bend. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen him around town, but I don’t really know him. My parents didn’t hang out with cops.”

“Werewolf or not, we might as well keep going. We don’t have much daylight left,” Karen said.

They arrived at the Sawyer Farm seven minutes later.

Karen parked the car off the road just a few hundred yards away from the farm itself, behind the trees, hidden from view. They didn’t want to take any chances of the Sawyers spotting them. A bullet through the head from a hunting rifle and a well-aimed shot could still kill a witch, and Vivian was unsure how good of a shot they were. Since they were farmers and lived in the mountains, they were probably good at it.

This was supposed to be only for recon, but Vivian ended up being stuck in the car anyway. Karen refused to let her leave, saying, “This is your car anyway. You’re gonna be our getaway driver. We’ll keep in contact on the radio.”

But what she really meant was that Vivian might do something stupid. If Vivian had the audacity to sneak out of Mother Elaine’s house on a crusade to save her grandmother alone, she would be dumb enough to knock on the Sawyers’ door to ask for directions.

Vivian tried to argue that she wouldn’t do those things, of course, and failed at it. It did cross her mind to ask the Sawyers directly for Margie’s whereabouts, maybe use some magic that compelled them to tell the truth. She was pretty sure Joanna had it in her spellbook and showed her once, but unfortunately, Joanna wasn’t here, and the details of the spell were lost to her. She was pretty sure it involved a type of flower found only in Southeast Asia.

“Viv, you’re a kid, and you might get hurt. These are werewolves, remember? I know my magic, and I trust Chloe’s. I am not sure about yours. If something happens to us, I want you to get the hell out of here and find Mother Elaine.”

“She’ll just scold me and drag me back to Seattle.”

“Mother Elaine won’t do that. She won’t let them harm your grandmother if she can do anything about it.”

“But instead, she decides to wait. Who knows what they are doing to her?”

“That’s not fair to Elaine, Viv. You know that.”

“Oh, whatever.” Vivian hated it when she was treated like a child even though she was eighteen, but to Karen, apparently, that wasn’t enough. “I grew up around here. I can be useful,” she insisted.

But Karen shook her head. “You are staying in the car, and that’s final,” she said, climbing out of the car with the binoculars and the gun with the silver bullets. “If we find that the house is empty, sure, you can come along. But we will approach the house together. Got that? Don’t do anything stupid.”

So, Vivian stayed behind the wheel.

An hour crawled by. The static humming from their CB radios was the only sign of life, along with the maddening drone of a cicada trapped somewhere behind the bushes near the car. Not a single soul had moved across the porch or behind the curtained windows, not even near the barn or the corn fields adjacent to it. Occasionally, Karen repeatedly signaled for patience as she and Chloe snuck around the property’s edge.

Another hour passed.

Vivian slumped lower in the passenger seat, wiping the line of sweat from her collarbone and picking at the frayed threads of her jacket. The boredom was excruciating and torturously slow. It left her mind to wander, running straight back to Grandma Margie. It had been over thirty-six hours since Margie had been taken. A lot of things could happen within that time, and a sudden, sickening thought surfaced: Has she been eaten? Is she already dead? And the most horrible thought of all: Has Xavier already killed her?

Margie’s got blood sugar problems. If she missed a meal or two with her medications, she would get dizzy and confused. What would over a day in captivity do to her? The image of her grandmother sitting alone in some cold, dark room, scared and hungry, was like a twist of a knife in Vivian’s stomach.

Vivian rested her forehead against the window and stared blankly at the forest. She tried to picture what she would actually do when she finally came face-to-face with Xavier. The fantasy always shifted. Sometimes, she imagined hugging him. Sometimes, screaming at him until her throat bled, demanding to know how he could betray her. She memorized all the horrible things she wanted to say to him. Other times, she imagined pulling the trigger of the gun or slamming him against a rock with a spell to end his torment. But she knew, deep down, that if she cornered him, it would likely end in violence.

Xavier crossed a line that could never be forgiven.

Yet, underneath that fury, a pathetic sliver of hope refused to die. She missed her brother terribly. She missed the guy who used to mock her taste in music or would often take her on long drives at night just for kicks. The brother who knew exactly how to lift her spirits when she felt down in the dumps because of school, boys, or life. Part of her clung to the desperate delusion that she could still pull him back from the ledge, that the madness infecting him could be excised.

But as she stared out at the stillness of the woods, a darker truth settled over her. Xavier died on this mountain a long time ago. The thing wearing his face was now just a stranger to her, and if she had to, she would put that stranger into the ground to save her grandmother. But if another game started, could she wish for the real Xavier to come back? Clinging to such hope was a dangerous game in its own.

“Fuck this,” Vivian muttered under her breath.

She slipped out of the car and crouched low, and then darted across the forest toward the direction of the farmhouse. It was a quick hike, barely a hundred yards, when she emerged at the edge of the property right by the cornfields. Crouching low again, Vivian waded through the tall stalks, following the fences and the driveway to her right, until she reached the far edge where the dirt gave way to the open yard of the farm. She then snuck across the high grass toward the nearby barn.

The radio at her hip crackled to life. “Vivian, I swear to God. Get your ass back to the car right now!” Karen said.

Vivian reached down and switched the volume dial off. Hopefully, no one heard that.

Reaching the corner of the barn, she dropped to her hands and knees and hugged the wall, ignoring the pounding of her blood against her ears. It was already too late to chicken out now, but she still couldn’t stop her adrenaline from shaking her body. Vivan thought about pretending to have a broken car and knocking on the door, but that was stupid since they’d probably recognize her immediately. She almost tried to convince Karen or Chloe to do it, but that was also a dangerous gamble that would end with either of them dead. She couldn’t have that in her conscience.

Vivian took a deep breath to center herself and risked a peek around the corner. The farmhouse sat just a hundred feet away. She saw no movement and heard no one walking or talking; she took that as a good sign. Should she find a weapon? She caught sight of a pitchfork leaning against a tool shed, but it was too far away, and she didn’t want to use her magic just in case it would alert the Sawyers, or worse, the god of the mountain.

Vivian gathered her footing and prepared to make a break for the back porch.

Suddenly, a low rumble stopped her dead in her tracks, a guttural growl coming from the shadows right inside the barn.

Vivian slowly turned her head. Through the partially open barn door, a massive, hairy dog of jet-black and reddish-brown fur and an island of white around its snout and chest stood less than ten feet away. Hay dusted it, and its dark eyes locked onto her with terrifying intensity. Its drooling lips drew back, showing sharp teeth.

“Easy, Teddy. Heel,” a deep voice drawled from around the corner.

The giant dog instantly cut his growl, darting out and around the door, then stepped back to lean against a tall man walking out from the other corner of the barn. Alan Sawyer, dressed in faded canvas work pants and a field coat, stepped out with a heavy hunting rifle rested casually in the crook of his arm. He looked at her with a calm curiosity that made Vivian want to bolt for the cornfields.

Panic seized her. She looked around and caught sight of that same old, rusted three-pronged pitchfork leaning against the shed. Sparing no hesitation, she reached for it with her mind. A familiar pressure slammed behind her temples, and with a violent jerk of her head, the pitchfork ripped away from the shed wall and flew through the air like a thrown spear, whistling straight for Alan’s chest.

The dog was barking, but Alan didn’t flinch nor even drop his rifle. Just an impossibly fast shift of his weight and a casual half-step back, he reached out with his free hand and caught the wooden shaft mid-air. The sheer force of the throw vibrated through his arm, but his grip stayed locked around the handle. He looked down at the pitchfork in his grip, then slowly looked back up at Vivian with an amused grin.

“Well, well. Would you look at that,” Alan chuckled. “Vivian Yates, daughter of Dave and Ashley Yates, all grown up to become a witch. Interesting. Nice throw, by the way.”

Before Vivian could process the fact that he had caught the pitchfork with his bare hands, she heard heavy footsteps pounding from the driveway.

“Get away from her!” Karen screamed, sprinting into the yard.

Alan didn’t even turn his head as he hurled the pitchfork back across the driveway like a javelin. The pitchfork slammed upright into the dirt four inches in front of Karen’s feet, forcing her to stumble backward onto her back.

Instinct took hold of Karen. She raised her right hand, curling it into a claw. A swirling orb of orange flame materialized in her open palm, illuminating her face.

“I swear I will burn you if you lay your hands on her,” she said.

Alan raised both hands (including the rifle) above his head. But his amused smile never left his lips. “Whoa, whoa. Easy with the fireworks, witch. I’m not here to fight either of you,” Alan said coolly, stepping back. “Are you two hungry?”

Karen kept the flame hovering above her palm, but the question stumped her. “Uh…what?”

“Are you hungry?” He asked again, lowering his arms. “I got a pot of beef stew on the stove, and I just finished making mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. You two look like you’re gonna need it for tonight. Tell the other witch in the woods to come inside as well. Such reunions are better to have over a plate of warm food, no?” He gave Vivian a cheeky wink.

Is this some kind of trick? Vivian thought. She was afraid to make any sudden move. “Where’s my grandmother? Do you have her in there? We’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”

“Oh, I insist. Both of you should really join me for dinner. I won’t take no for an answer. After all, you’re trespassing. By law, I have the right to shoot you both,” Alan said. Without waiting for an answer, he turned his back to them, giving a soft whistle. “Come on, Teddy. Time for dinner.”

Teddy wagged his tail and trotted happily at his heels as Alan walked toward the porch, entirely unbothered by the two witches behind him. Vivian slowly pushed herself up from the dirt, brushing the grass off her knees. She exchanged a stunned look with Karen, whose fire flickered and died in her palm, leaving only the faint scent of ozone in the air.

Karen picked up her radio. “Chloe, get back to the car.”

“But what about you two?”

“He invited us to dinner.”

“He—what? Really? What if it’s a trick to get you alone and then kill you?”

“Maybe, maybe.” Karen shrugged at Vivian, but the latter was already following Alan’s trail. “Shit. We’re going in. Maybe this lycan can help us find Margie.”

A deep sigh from the other line. “You guys are out of your minds. Fine, I’ll stay by the car, but you better be very careful. Call me if there’s trouble.”

Karen put the radio back on her belt and joined Vivian at the foot of the porch steps.

“Are you sure?” Karen asked.

Vivian didn’t answer. She climbed the porch and walked through the yawning door.

Inside, the afternoon gloom shrouded the space. It was an old house, thick with the scent of aging wood and plaster. Yet beneath the grime, it was quite homely. Yellowed floral wallpaper peeled from the corners, and dust motes danced under the sunlight filtering through the slightly dirty windowpanes. Clutter spilled across every surface—stacks of various magazines and envelopes, rusted engine parts and tools sitting on side tables, unwashed mugs and plates, and empty cans of beer. Taxidermied animals were displayed everywhere. It felt like yesterday that Vivian had crossed this threshold, and a sense of déjà vu filled her.

“Have a seat at the table, ladies,” Alan called out over his shoulder as he walked into the adjoining kitchen.

“Alan, what are you planning?” I asked, curious about what he had in mind.

Alan didn’t look in my direction since the two witches were still watching his back. “Just a little bit of fun, my lord,” he said cryptically.

I don’t know whether that sounded good or bad, but it confused and unnerved Karen and Vivian.

A long table dominated the dining room and could easily seat eight, surrounded by taxidermied mounts on the wall, including a massive stag with a magnificent set of antlers. Vivian’s eyes immediately darted toward the staircase at the back of the hall. She wanted to explore more of the house, screaming Margie’s name, just to figure out if she was in here. The urge to bolt up those steps and throw every damn room open until she found her grandmother was almost overwhelming.

But when she heard Alan call for Teddy and dump a big scoop of dog food into a metal bowl, she forced herself to calm down, then sat at the opposite end. She had to play along. One wrong move could turn this flimsy truce upside down, and she was not ready to fight a werewolf just yet, especially on its home turf. Karen followed her lead, nudging her with her elbow as she gestured at the gun resting behind her back. At least they had the silver bullets to protect them. They watched Teddy devour his food.

“Good boy,” Alan said, scratching the top of Teddy’s head. He turned to face the others. “Your other friend is not coming?”

Karen shook her head. “She’s…not hungry.”

“Oh. A shame.” Alan went back to the kitchen when a timer went off.

Suddenly, they heard a vehicle sputter down the gravel and approach the house. Outside, a pickup truck parked right in front. Doors opened and slammed closed, then footsteps thundered across the front porch, and the screen door screeched open.

Garth and Luke Sawyer strode into the house mid-argument about yesterday’s football game. Both men froze the second their eyes landed on Vivian and Karen sitting in the dining room.

“What the fuck?” Luke exclaimed.

Garth’s hand instinctively dropped toward the hunting knife strapped to his hip, but before a fight could break out, Alan stepped out of the kitchen, carrying a massive, steaming pot of beef stew, and placed it down onto a wooden trivet at the center of the table.

“Oh! You two are right on time,” Alan said. “Dinner’s ready. Take off your boots and jackets, and let’s eat.”

Luke glared at the two women. “Alan, what are they doing here?”

“I said, prepare for dinner,” Alan repeated with finality. He shot his brothers with a warning look. “We have guests, and we are going to be proper hosts to these two lovely women. Garth, grab a seat. Luke, grab the plates.”

Luke grumbled a string of curses under his breath, stomping over to a hutch and grabbing the plates and silverware from the shelf and drawers. He placed them onto the table, glaring at the two women the entire time.

Alan sat at the head of the long table, with Garth and Luke taking the chairs immediately to his left and right. Vivian and Karen sat at the far end, trying to hide their nervousness.

The moment Alan picked up the ladle, Vivian leaned forward to speak. “Where is my grandmother? Is she hurt? Just tell us so we can—”

“Now, now, Vivian,” Alan interrupted without looking up, scooping some mashed potatoes and then spooning a dripping heap of stew onto his plate. “We are going to enjoy a nice, hot meal together first. Our Lord provided us this meat, and it’d be a sin to let it go cold while we squabble and talk dungeon business. Do you take us for a bunch of savages?”

“You kill people for fun. What do you think?” Vivian spat.

Alan let out a whistle. “You should save all that venom for the game, sweetheart. Now, now. Let’s pray, shall we?”

He set the ladle down for his brothers to grab their share. Garth scooped Vivian’s and Kate’s share as well. Alan clasped his calloused hands together and bowed his head. Garth and Luke instantly mirrored him, closing their eyes. Karen and Vivian exchanged a tense glance.

“Lord of the Mountain, bless this food before us,” Alan said. “We thank you for thy bounty and trust. Bless the meat of the land, keep this family fed, and grant us the strength to hunt down what threatens our home. Maybe your light and pain guide us in our eternal suffering.”

“They suffer for your glory,” his brothers echoed. Luke almost laughed, breaking character. They’d heard that from the Church of the Unworthy worshippers and liked it enough to parrot what they chanted.

Without another word, the Sawyers dug in, tearing into the stew like starving, rabid animals. Luke shoveled massive chunks of meat into his mouth with his bare hands, gravy dripping down his chin and staining his shirt. Garth snapped a marrow with his bare hands too, swallowing the fat-rich juices within while making loud, wet smacking sounds that echoed across the room. Alan ate with slightly more composure, but his teeth tore through the tough gristle with ease.

Vivian and Karen sat in silence, watching the grotesque spectacle. Neither of them touched their spoons, unsure whether the stew had a hidden meat surprise besides a cow. Vivian imagined a human eyeball floating in her bowl. The smell of the stew, once appealing, just made Vivian’s stomach churn.

Alan lowered his fork, wiping a smear of dark gravy from under his chin with the back of his hand. His eyes flicked down the length of the table, settling on the two witches and their untouched plates.

“You girls aren’t eating,” Alan said disappointedly. “You really ought to get some food in you. You’re gonna need the calories later tonight.”

“I’m not hungry,” Karen said.

“Suit yourself. You’re gonna regret it.”

“You know, I smelled some of you,” Luke said between bites. “Back in town, I caught a whiff of your kind. Three, maybe four others around that cheap motel. I don’t think it’s the two of you, though.” He took a quick sniff of the air. “No, not you. Different scent.”

Alan leaned back on his chair. “I take it that’s the rest of your little coven?”

“Where’s my grandmother?” Vivian asked again, changing the subject. “She’s not here, is she?”

Alan picked up his water glass and took a sip. “Honestly, I’d love to tell you. Like everything in this mountain, it doesn’t come for free, I’m afraid. But I do know where she is.”

“What do you want in exchange then?” It was Karen’s turn to ask.

“Finish your plate,” Alan said. “I worked really hard for it.”

Karen narrowed her gaze. “Just that?”

Alan looked at his brothers and shrugged. “Yes. Just that.”

“There must be a catch. Why kidnap her then?”

“We…don’t really care? We’re not hiding her, if you can believe it. I know that’s a bit rude to say. Knowing Margie’s whereabouts doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It will suck for you, though. Boy, it will suck big time. That’s a lot of steps for a human.”

Luke laughed. Bits of broccoli flew across the table. “Ha! It will be epic. A lot of people are going to die.”

Garth grumbled in agreement. “Boom, boom, boom,” he said.

Vivian couldn’t contain a shudder up her spine. To be so casual about murder and talking openly about it didn’t sit right with her.

“Take a bite. Go on,” Alan urged them.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Vivian said. She grabbed the fork on the table and cut a big piece of the meat on her plate. She hesitated for a second, avoiding the three men’s gaze, who watched her intently. She took a bite, and to her surprise, it was very delicious.

“So? Whatcha think?” Alan said, hopeful. “I put nutmeg. Can you taste the nutmeg?”

“It’s…um, good. Very good.”

“Of course it’s gonna be good. It comes from my secret cookbook.”

“Even we aren’t allowed to look at it,” Luke said, taking another big bite from his plate.

Then, Alan’s gaze landed toward the wall behind the women. “Ah. And here it comes.”

A sudden drop in pressure made Vivian’s ears pop. They whipped around in their chairs. Where once a window had looked out over the front porch seconds ago, it was replaced by a simple red door. Vivian stared at it, shocked.

“You know how this game goes, don’t you, Vivian?” Alan said, calmly gesturing toward the selection door. “Tonight is a big night for us.”

“Is that…where we choose the monsters?” Karen asked, curiosity blooming in her voice. She wanted to reach out and touch the door, but Vivian was glaring at her.

“The very same,” Alan said. “I won’t fault you for taking a peek inside. Many do.”

Vivian looked back at the selection door in horror and disgust. There was no way she was going to choose werewolves again after what happened last time. “We will not choose you,” she said.

“Oh, I won’t be too sure, sweetheart,” Alan said with a wink.

But then she started hearing voices and laughter behind it.

There were people in there.

A lot of people.

Vivian was pretty sure that, after watching his videos and listening to all the podcast episodes, she recognized Dylan Griffin’s booming voice.

A cold chill ran down her spine. They are going to choose, Vivian thought in horror. They are choosing NOW.

“Well, the deal is the deal. Your grandmother is in a castle on the other side of the lake. At the abandoned amusement park. You know exactly where that is, Vivian,” Alan said, wiping the sides of his lips with the tablecloth. His right hand twitched as multiple fingernails suddenly popped off from the bleeding nailbed, replaced by extending sharp claws. He opened his golden, wolfish eyes, salivating at them with hunger.

“Unfortunately, you are in our territory,” Alan added, his voice growing deeper and deeper into a growl. “Run, little rabbit. Run.”