“I’m getting out of here,” Conrad said. The look on his face was a bit—if I had to put a word to it—feral. Wide eyes, tight jaw, teeth nearly bared. Grant raised an inquiring brow. The rest of us were dumbstruck and silent. “I’m not putting up with this anymore. I’m out of here.”

He grabbed a flashlight and headed for the door. I blocked him. “Are you crazy?”

He shook his head and smiled, but the expression was wild, trembling with terror. He was acting out of panic and desperation. Always a bad idea.

“No. Getting away from here is going to save me. You—you all are monsters. Those maniacs—they’re hunting monsters. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? I shouldn’t even be here. They won’t go after me, don’t you see? I’m just collateral damage. An accident. You all are the real targets. So the farther away from you I get, the better off I’ll be.”

I blocked the door with my arm, keeping him from reaching for the knob. “You want to talk about stories? You know what happens to the guy who runs out into the woods all by himself, don’t you? We’re safer together, Conrad.”

His frown became a snarl. “Being together hasn’t been safe so far, has it?”

“You don’t know that they won’t go after you, too. They’ve already proven they don’t want witnesses,” I said.

“I’ll take my chances. Look, I’ve got my phone. I’ll hike to someplace where there’s a signal and call for help. Let me go.” He raised the flashlight like he was going to use it as a weapon. Maybe he expected me to flinch back. To feel threatened by his panicked little body.

I didn’t twitch a muscle. Stared him down like the monster I was. Between the two of us, I was the dominant one. I didn’t even have to work for it. He cringed, and his eyes went wide, as if some primal part of his brain understood the exchange of body language. He understood that I wasn’t going to let him past—but he didn’t understand why he couldn’t just barge through.

Anastasia touched my shoulder. I turned, drawing away from the door—and Conrad took his chance to swing it open and scramble out.

I called, “Hey—” But Anastasia held me back. And she was right—I really shouldn’t go racing outside with snipers around. But Conrad was gone, into the wilderness, alone.

I turned on the vampire. “What—”

“We’re better off not having to babysit him,” she said.

“Well, that’s damned cold.”

Her lip curled. “You pack animals, always trying to take care of the children.”

“Fuck you.”

She turned on me, dark eyes shining, lips in a thin frown. This time, I had to work to keep my spine straight and not look away.

“We need information,” Grant said, a calculated interruption.

“Too bad our only lead is dead,” Lee said, nodding at the corpse.

Grant regarded the body a moment and seemed to come to a decision. “I need space. Move these chairs out of the way. Tina, there’s a bag in my room. Like a briefcase, black, locked. Can you bring it to me? Don’t look in it, just bring it.”

She seemed like she was going to argue. Lips pursed, she hesitated. But Grant didn’t acknowledge her and wasn’t open to argument. She went upstairs. By the time she returned with the bag, we’d pushed back the chairs and coffee table, giving us a large space in the living room.

“Anastasia, help me with him.” He went to Valenti’s head and directed the vampire to his feet. Amazingly, she didn’t argue but did as he asked. They arranged Valenti on the hardwood floor in the center of the space. Anastasia quickly backed out of the way.

“Grant, what are you doing?” I said.

“Just watch. Tina, Jeffrey, stay right there, inside the circle. Tell me everything you sense, everything you hear.” He took the bag from Tina, and she seemed all too happy to get rid of it—she’d been holding it by her fingertips.

Pausing a moment, Grant looked at each of us in turn. “Don’t say anything. No screams, no words, nothing. You won’t like this. But we need information.”

“What—” Tina started, but Grant silenced her with a single shake of his head.

“Do you have a better idea? Is his spirit forthcoming enough to talk to either one of you?” They shook their heads. Tina inched closer to Jeffrey and took hold of his hand. They stood shoulder to shoulder.

Grant got to work.

He pulled out a red votive candle, set it by Valenti’s head, and lit it, bathing the body in gold light, giving it a false semblance of life. The dead eyes stared. Next he took a piece of chalk from the bag and drew a circle, starting at Valenti’s head and moving clockwise. The chalk circle encompassed the body and about five feet all around it. He enclosed Jeffrey and Tina within the circle, as well.

Next he sprinkled some powder over the candle, and a sharp smell, burning sage, drifted out. My nose itched, and I sneezed. I tried to hold it back. But it didn’t seem to interrupt the proceedings.

Chalk in hand, Grant drew symbols—at the body’s head, feet, left and right hands. This was ceremonial magic. I knew the signs, had seen similar rituals—a circle often meant protection or a barrier. Symbols, light, incense. I had a very bad feeling about this. I was standing at the wall; I couldn’t back up any farther.

The last item Grant drew from his bag was a round mirror. This he set on the floor by the candle. Light from the candle reflected off it, a spot of brightness.

Grant knelt by Valenti’s head and said, “Ronald Valenti. I need to speak with you.” A few moments passed, a few quickly thudding heartbeats. “Valenti. Hear me. You’ve been a very bad man, but here’s your chance to do something right. Speak to me, Ronald Valenti.”

Grant was right. I didn’t like this. But I didn’t interrupt.

The mirror fogged over. The light dimmed.

“Tell me what I need to know,” Grant said in a whisper.

The body’s eyes blinked.

Jeffrey drew a sharp breath. “It’s back. His aura’s back,” he whispered.

“What color?” Grant said.

“Dark. Muddy.”

“Ronald Valenti,” Grant hissed at the body. “Who else is working with you? Where are they? What is your plan? Show me in the mirror.” The magician looked at the fogged mirror. I couldn’t tell what he saw in it, if anything.

The body blinked but otherwise didn’t move at all. If it had started speaking, I probably would have run. Grant must have seen something, because he studied the mirror, jaw set.

Then his gaze shifted back to the body. “Just one more thing. Why? Why do this?”

Again, I couldn’t see what the mirror showed, but Grant seemed to be fascinated by what he saw in it.

Grant didn’t ask anything else. When he was satisfied, he put his hand over the corpse’s face, closing the eyes. “Ronald Valenti, I’m finished with you. Rest now. Depart this place. Finish your journey onward. And may you rot in a fitting hell.”

A breath sighed through the room, as if a window had blown open, and the candle went out, all on its own. Tina gasped—she and Jeffrey were holding each other tightly now.

“It’s gone now,” Jeffrey said. “He’s dark again.”

Grant pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away the symbols he’d drawn, and scrubbed the chalk circle until it was a blurred, formless mess. The mirror was bright and clear.

“I’m done with it,” he said, nodding at the body. “We should put it with the others.”

Or drop it in the lake. But that would feel like poisoning the lake.

“I think I need to take a shower,” Tina said.

Nobody moved except Grant, who was packing items back in his case. The magician finishing his work. And I didn’t know why anything Grant did surprised me anymore.

“That was sick,” Lee said, harsh, frowning.

Grant stood, glared. “What that man did to Ariel, Jerome, Dorian, and the production assistants was sick. He and the others did what they did for sport. I do it out of necessity. And I don’t do it lightly.”