He’s still got his hat in his hands. He’s still smiling. “I would like you to tell me exactly what the heck is going on here.”
“Or what?”
“Or—” He pauses. His smile drops. His eyes narrow. “Or… I’m gonna start taking a special interest in Saint Mark’s. Because you know what?”
“I couldn’t even begin to guess.”
“I just remembered something about this place. And that’s interesting, you know? That I would forget something like this, and then all of a sudden it pops back into my head.”
We both pause. The silence hangs there, making the air around us feel heavy and thick.
“Well, you gonna let me in on it? Or you gonna make me guess?”
“I remember my granddaddy telling me a story about this place. This was a long time ago. I was maybe… eight, nine. And he said, ‘You stay away from that place, Russ. You stay clear of it. Or those monsters up there? They’ll come getcha.’ Of course, being eight or nine, I wasn’t about to stay clear of this place. Me and all the boys from town came up one day. Hiked through the woods for hours following the train tracks. And we came out by a lake. Which is very strange, now that I can remember this. Because there aren’t any lakes up here, Pie Vita. Not a one.”
“Is that so?” My voice is trembling. I think I know what happened. Grant put a spell on him. Maybe the entire town. And now that Grant is gone, that spell is wearing off.
That’s part of it, at least.
How he got in here? I don’t know. But Tomas is probably right. He is bloodline.
He is my bloodline?
Am I part cupid?
“That is so. I was never able to find it again.” He puts up one hand. “Hold up. Let me correct myself here just so we’re all understanding. I never looked for it again because I forgot about that trip up here. And do you know why me and all the boys forgot we found a lake up here at Saint Mark’s all those years back?”
I say nothing.
“Because a young man named Grant—”
Here it comes.
“—he put a spell on us, Pie. That’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? Magic.”
I force a laugh. “Sheriff—”
“Don’t.” He growls his word. His smile is long gone. His amicable, aw-shucks demeanor never existed. He is hard, and he is serious. He is the law of this land, and he knows this. “Do not tell me I’m crazy, girl. Don’t even try it. I don’t know why those memories just came back to me the other day.”
The other day! He set me up. He asked me out on that date as a setup.
“But,” he continues, “they are back. I know what this place is because my granddaddy told me. The monsters live here. The monsters of Saint Mark’s. And you, dear girl, are the new caretaker. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I… am… speechless.
“Hey! Sheriff!” We both turn to find Tomas—regular, old, hot-as-fuck Tomas—just coming up the stairs. “Long time, brother.”
The sheriff takes a step back. Which is actually a step towards me. And then he draws his gun. It’s not some little pistol, either. It’s not some six-shooter like you’d imagine a sheriff would carry. It’s not even one of those compact modern types. It’s fucking huge. Even I can tell this is no ordinary gun and everything I know about guns, I learned from old-ass TV shows. “Stay the fuck back, monster. I don’t know who or what you are, but you had better stay the fuck back or I will blow a hole in you so big, we’ll all be able to see out the other side!”
I don’t think this is an empty threat, either. I think that gun of his has many hidden talents and blowing big holes in people is one of them.
“Sheriff!” I yell it.
And then Russ Roth turns towards me, aiming that big gun at my face. And I don’t really know what happens next. Tomas is moving towards us and a bird comes swooping down from the ceiling. Pia! She passes over the top of my head, straight towards the sheriff and then… BOOM! My hands fly up to my face, trying to shield myself from the incoming bullet.
But everything is suddenly slow motion and swarms of beautiful wood nymph moths are fluttering up out of my palms. Exactly the way they did in the hallway forest dream.
They circle around the sheriff like a gorgeous twister of destruction out on the plains. Spiraling around his body until I can’t even see him anymore. There’s a sharp twang on the floor at my feet, and when I look down, there is a slug. The remnants of the bullet that never hit me.
I look back up. The sheriff is stumbling backwards, towards me, past me.