A tall stack tucked on top of a chest-high bookcase caught my eye. The top volume looked like it would fall at any second. In fact, it was surprising it hadn’t. It looked old, the pages darkened in a streak along the bottom that spoke of water damage a long time ago. I reached to shove it into a steadier position but found myself lifting it and staring at a pentacle painted in red on the dark leather cover.

  Dread crept through my gut, and I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I pictured a great eye turning my direction, like in LOTR. Sure, my mind was probably drawing on suggestions provided by dozens of fantasy and horror movies, but I had a strong feeling I didn’t want to know what was detailed in this book. I replaced it atop the stack, less precariously now, and wiped my hand on my jeans.

  Sean stepped into the doorway.

  “I’m sorry. Nothing here is linking up for me. Cherise had very…eclectic interests.”

  “In books, yes. She had an active internal life.”

  He didn’t need to say how little of her thoughts she’d shared with him; it was all over his face.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I shouldn’t have intruded here.” I’d only added to Sean’s pain. “I’m no investigator.”

  “It’s okay. Nice to have another human in the house.” He shoved a hand through his hair and rubbed at the five o’clock shadow cropping up on his chin. “Deija was here yesterday, trying to understand…”

  I gave him a moment, resisting the urge to shuffle my feet. I felt increasingly awkward now that I realized I wasn’t helping here.

  “It was difficult for her. For both of us.” He scanned the room with a blank expression, like he’d seen it all before and found it more disappointing than he could bear.

  “I’m sorry if this is painful to talk about, but Detective Morris mentioned Cherise had been accused of theft by her friend. Was that Deija?”

  “Yeah. We were looking for Deija’s trinket yesterday.” His expression shifted, anger rising.

  I waited, unsure what to say in answer to his obvious pain.

  “You have to understand, Cherise was different in recent weeks. She wasn’t behaving like herself. I don’t doubt Deija’s account. I just wish we could find the heirloom Cherise stole. At least Deija could get a little peace then.”

  “But you didn’t find it.”

  He shook his head. “Deija went through all her things upstairs. I couldn’t…” He bit his lip and his brow furrowed. After a deep breath he said, “She didn’t find what she was looking for. Honestly, I think Cherise may have lost it somewhere, because it’s not in this house. Deija was really disappointed.”

  Losing her best friend was hard enough. To have so much unresolved between the two of them must make it a lot worse.

  “I wish I’d been able to get Cherise help. She refused therapy.” He crossed his arms. “I have an appointment with a therapist next week. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep – I just keep circling these same thoughts.” He tapped a palm against his head as if to illustrate.

  I could feel how tight a leash he was trying to keep on his emotions.

  Cherise had sure left a lot unsettled.

  The artifacts she left behind, stacked in book-shaped towers, were like a wall between those she loved and who she’d actually been.

  As I left her house, I said a little prayer that these rooms would know love again, that this awful heaviness could be cleared, and Sean and Deija could both find peace.

  As I passed the busy playground behind the elementary school on my way back to Covett House, my phone rang. When I saw the name on the screen, I pulled over and answered.

  “Naomi,” Mr. Markin said in his perpetually surprised voice. “I wondered if I might have a second of your time.”

  “Yes. I’ve been meaning to call you, too.”

  “About listing the property—”

  “Thanks for looking into that, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  Markin sighed. “Oh, thank goodness.” He paused. “This is a firm decision?”

  “I don’t know about long term, but for now I need to keep the house and the land in the family.”

  “That is a relief. Now, there are certain matters we must discuss…”

  With Markin on speaker, I guided my car onto the road and passed the elementary school building.

  Across the road, the lights were still on at the museum. It was a quarter to seven. Did Sheldon think he needed to work late to make up for the closure? Sure, there was probably reorganizing work to be done, but I planned to pay the man his full salary despite the interruption. He didn’t need to stay late. I passed the museum slowly, watching the windows, and turned left at the corner.

  What had Markin been saying? “I’m sorry,” I interrupted as I pulled into the Covett House driveway. “I have to go check on something. Can we talk tomorrow?” Somehow, between everything else on my hectic agenda…it was my turn to sigh.

  “That’ll do.” He cleared his throat. “Have a good evening, Naomi.”

  I hung up and glanced toward the setting sun as I got out of the car. The moon would rise soon. I recalled the words of the ceremony, but not well enough for my comfort. I would look the whole thing over again when I got back to the house.

  I went through the back yard and took the path to the museum, rather than walking along the sidewalk. It was a few seconds faster.

  A movement next to the museum caught my eye. Someone in dark clothing stood on the street side of the building. I moved closer, my heart racing as I realized my bad feeling when I’d seen the lights on might actually prove to be something.

  I could see better once I was closer. DJ’s long hair stuck out from under the black ball cap he wore backwards. It bore an X-Files logo. He stood on tiptoes at the back window, peering inside. I took my phone out and pulled up Morris’s number. Then I cleared my throat and watched DJ’s reaction.

  He jumped a mile high and spun to face me, clenched hands raised in an unmistakable I’ve-watched-plenty-of-Kung-Fu-movies pose.

  He did not appear threatening.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Monday. Good, you’re here,” DJ said quickly. “There’s someone inside. Sheldon and someone…something else.”

  “What do you mean something?” He’d probably just watched too much X-Files.

  “The voice is wrong. Way wrong.” He turned toward the window.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I tucked my phone into my pocket and pulled my keyring out, approaching the back door. I would see what this was all about. Maybe Sheldon was just caught up in a podcast while he worked.

  “You can go,” I told DJ, who’d followed me to the back of the building.

  He lifted his chin and met my eyes through his overly large black-framed glasses. “Not if you’re going in.”

  I thought about arguing, but another person for backup was probably a good idea. The fact he thought I needed backup put me on edge.

  As quietly as possible, I unlocked and opened the back door. In a credit to Sheldon’s remarkable upkeep, the hinges didn’t even squeak.

  “You will tell me where it is.”

  I blinked at the sound of the voice – it was deep, melodic, and sounded oddly hollow, the words uttered in clipped bursts. I could tell instantly that it wasn’t human. Goosebumps rose on my arms.

  “For the last time, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sheldon sounded scared, but steady. “Look…you haven’t done anything yet that we can’t get past. Let’s call someone, get you the help you need.”

  “Where is it?” the voice shrieked. It broke on the last word, and I could hear muttering. Something crashed inside. Glass shattered, and so did my remaining calm.

  I scrambled back from the door, my heart racing. “Bramm,” I whispered into the night, “I think I found something.”

  “I found something,” DJ grumbled. He didn’t ask who I was talking to. Maybe he hadn’t heard that part. Sheldon needed our help. I was scared, but I had to go in and make sure he was okay. That might be the murderer in there.

  And sure, that was a great reason to rush into the building.

  DJ followed me inside and I was surprisingly grateful for his company. We crept down the short hallway past the office on the left and the bathroom and storage room on the right. Behind us, the door clicked closed. I paused and stiffened as the muttering stopped.

  A blur of motion crossed the room and stood in the evening light streaming through the windows. It moved impossibly fast and when it stopped it still appeared to be vibrating, but in the light it resolved into a human shape.

  The shape of Deija Hardy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Deija?” My voice sounded weak.

  I knew it wasn’t Deija. Not exactly.

  The Not-Deija began vibrating again, and the ugly voice tore from her throat. “You!” It lifted one shivering hand and pointed at me. “You must help me find it!”

  “Find what?” The inane question was all I could gather.

  My eyes darted between Not-Deija and Sheldon, who sat in the high-backed chair next to the fortune teller. Ropes bound his arms and legs to the chair, but the fire in his eyes said she hadn’t harmed him too badly.

  “She took it. She took the coin, and that part was supposed to be mine. I need it!” The voice rose to an ear-shattering shriek. The intensity stunned me.

  She was completely out of control. Just like she’d been the last time she was in the museum.

  When she had killed her best friend.

  That’s the only way she would be here now, talking crazy and shuddering like she was on some weird drugs. But that human explanation wasn’t enough. This vibrating wasn’t a high.

  Cherise had been terrified of her best friend.

  She’d been sure Deija wasn’t the same. Something had happened in Rome.

  But Deija managed to convince Sean, the police, and me that she’d been heartbroken over Cherise’s death. That had been the real Deija, I was sure of it, or she couldn’t have convinced Sean over the word of his wife.

  This wasn’t the same person. This wasn’t even human.

  Deija was possessed.

  “Deija! Calm down and explain.” Quaking in my boots, I still injected as much command as possible into my tone. There was more on the line than my fear. “Let’s untie Sheldon—”

  DJ had just reached him and was bending to untie his legs.

  “No!” Not-Deija hissed. She moved toward them, impossibly fast. It was like an outline of her moved first, followed by her body, bubbling in and around her form like it could barely be contained.

  She hit DJ shoulder first and knocked him out of the way. He grunted and sprawled onto his backside, narrowly missing taking out a tall curio filled with death photos and Victorian mourning wreaths crafted from human hair.

  Not-Deija grabbed Sheldon by his hair.

  “Don’t!” I shouted, running over.

  “Naomi,” Sheldon grunted. His face twisted in pain. “My pocket. I think I know what she wants—”

  Not-Deija shook him and shrieked in triumph. “Give it to me!”

  She wrenched his head back and reached a shuddering hand into the pocket of his cardigan. Clenching her fingers around something, she yanked it away and shoved him back at the same time.

  The old-fashioned chair rocked back on two legs and DJ appeared at Sheldon’s side, righting the chair and steadying him.

  I refocused on the object she’d taken from Sheldon. She held it flat on her palm. The coin with the reddish patina that Sheldon had been fiddling with earlier.

  “Yes,” Not-Deija hissed. “Finally.”

  It didn’t look like much. I met Sheldon’s eyes and he gave a little shrug. “I found it when we moved a cabinet. It had rolled under there.”

  “Or Cherise put it there,” I said. She had. I could feel it. She’d hidden it to keep this creature from obtaining it. She’d lost her life in the process. The other object, the one in evidence at the police station, hadn’t been nearly as important.

  “What do we have here?” said a woman’s voice from near the office. I looked over and saw…

  Sarah Griffin?

  “Mrs. Griffin.” DJ moved to guard her from the action. “You shouldn’t be here—”

  “Aww, son. Don’t worry about me.” Sarah turned her attention to Not-Deija. “That thing should be worried about me.”

  My jaw was hanging wide open. I scooped it off the floor, trying to decide which question to ask first. “What are you doing?”

  “Coming to your rescue,” she said with a nod. “You know I live right across the street?”

  I nodded, my voice failing me. Sarah was not the person I’d ask to rescue me in this particular situation. Or at all.

  She removed her glasses, folded them carefully, and placed them on Sheldon’s counter. “You all right, dear?” she asked him as she turned. A shimmer began to work its way from the crown of her head, down to cover her face.

  I blinked, trying to rid myself of the illusion. Now was not the time for visual hallucinations. It must be the stress.

  Sheldon nodded. “I think it has what it wants.”

  Not-Deija remained focused on the coin in her hand, turning it over and over in fascination. Faster, and faster, she spun the coin, until it rose into the air and hovered there spinning. The shudders that ran through her body grew to teeth-rattling shakes and I saw that strange outline again, something bubbling against the containment of her form.

  A shimmer burst through the air at chest height.

  I shuffled back a step, gasping.

  DJ exclaimed, “I knew it!”

  Where Sarah had been standing, a chimera stood now. Intense eagle eyes met mine and she snapped her beak. The dark gold feathers that covered her head blended into fur at her shoulders. Wide, strong shoulders, and the body of a lion.

  Body of a lion, face and clawed feet of an eagle.

  And wings. You couldn’t ignore the wings.

  Griffin.

  Griffin.

  Now I was shaking, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t possessed. This was a tremor borne of my world shifting on its axis. Because how in the hell was my brain supposed to accept my grandmother’s best friend shifting into a creature out of myth?

  But my time to digest – all thirteen seconds of it – was at an end.

  Not-Deija gave another brain-wrenching shriek. She threw her head back as the shadow form burst from her body and lifted into the air like it was being sucked toward the spinning coin.

  Deija collapsed onto the floor.

  Griffin-Sarah lifted her wings and launched herself toward the shadow. Her talons pierced it, though it shouldn’t have a physical form.

  It had no voice now, but it still fought her, twisting and wrapping her in its translucent darkness. But it started to shrink. Rapidly. One end of the shadow pulled toward the coin, stretching into a point in order to reach its aim. When it connected, a flash of light burst from the coin, and Sarah cried out in an eagle’s voice, flapping her wings angrily as her prey disappeared from between her talons.

  The coin dropped to the floor with a clatter.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  DJ breathed harshly, his earlier delight no doubt giving way to the disturbing reality of what they’d just witnessed.

  “Is she…is she inside the coin?” I asked.

  “She isn’t. But whatever was inside her seems to be, yes,” Sheldon said.

  Sarah raised her huge wings in what I took as agreement. She came a feather’s breadth from knocking a ghoulish statue with a head much too large for its squat body off the top of a cabinet.

  “Not in here!” Sheldon waved her toward the door. “Outside if you need to fly!” She tossed her head and her eyes flashed at him. With incredible confidence, Sheldon stared her down.

  After a long, tense moment, she gave her whole body a shake. A shimmer started at her feathered crown.

  I turned away. I couldn’t watch. Seeing her shapeshift would be too much right now and I needed what I could gather of my wits.

  Deija stirred behind me. I stood over her, not quite confident enough to bend down and help her. What if the presence was still in charge? She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  The back door rattled as someone shoved it open. Bramm rushed in. “Where is it? I can feel its stink all over this place.”

  Sarah crossed her newly re-humaned arms and tapped her toe. Luckily when she shifted back her clothes were intact. The sight of Sarah naked was not a preferable addition to my night. But now I had to wonder if that meant her clothes were some sort of illusion. Did she always wear illusion-clothes?

  I glared at Bramm. “We could have used your help ten minutes ago.”

  “It’s done?” He turned toward the coin and pointed at it. “I can feel it there.”

  With a nod, I said, “Great deduction. Now what do we do with it?”

  Deija moaned and blinked her eyes open. She gasped sharply, then straightened and looked around. “What? Where am I?”

  Sarah and I locked gazes. Did she really not remember?

  “Oh, no—” Deija put her hand over her mouth as she started to cry. It hadn’t taken her long to put it all together.

  “No one is hurt, dear.” Sarah came over and nudged the ancient coin with her toe. “We contained the presence—”

  “Demon,” Bramm interjected, oh so helpfully.

  Sarah shot him a long-suffering look. “The presence is in this artifact.”

  We all stared at the coin, motionless on the floor.

  It didn’t look like much.

  I looked over at Sarah again, questions swirling in my mind.

  In Crescent Bay, appearances weren’t to be relied on.

  Hot chocolate had a habit of fixing just about anything. We tested the theory in the Covett House kitchen after Detective Morris took Deija into custody. We didn’t fill in any of the blanks for her – and we weren’t about to give police the details of trapping a nonphysical entity that had set out to wreak havoc in Crescent Bay.

 

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