Crawford, Oregon

Chapter Six: Creeps, Crypts, and Cosmic Jokes

When the school day finally ended, Mike, Ronnie, and I each raced out of our respective classrooms and out into the faculty parking lot, where we all gathered around my silver sedan. However, while Mike and I looked exactly the same as before, the same couldn't be said for Ronnie. Once again, she had discarded the false persona of a mild-mannered librarian and traded it for the true version of herself: Ronnie Taylor, monster hunter extraordinaire. But that was only the beginning. In addition to her ponytail and black leather jacket, Ronnie also toted a large duffle bag over her shoulder. And, after a second glance, I quickly realized that this was the very same duffle bag that housed her metric ton of monster-killing weapons.

I figured that Mike would have something to say about this. After all, he had never seen Ronnie in full hunter mode, and I expected him to have plenty of questions. But, much to my surprise, he never breathed a word. It didn't even seem to faze him. He just shot her a brief glance, then hopped into the backseat like everything was perfectly normal. Ronnie followed his lead, sliding into the passenger's seat and tossing her bag of weapons into the floorboard. And, once the two of them were inside, I sighed, then did the same. I hopped behind the wheel, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot as quickly as I could.

The car remained dead silent all the way to the cemetery. Although, not due to a lack of effort. I tried to put on a little music in order to break up the suffocating stillness. But, apparently, neither of my passengers cared for my taste in music, which Mike expressed by complaining for the first half of the song, and Ronnie expressed by subsequently turning the entire stereo system off. I guess people don't just appreciate the Gershwin brothers like they used to. So, the three of us just rode in silence, serenaded only by the low hum of the engine and the shifting of the tires as they rolled along the road.

When we finally reached the rusty iron gates of Oak Hill Cemetery, I turned the steering wheel and passed through the opening, allowing the car to begin down a beaten dirt path. As we followed this winding path, we quickly found ourselves surrounded by the tall grass and weeds of a long-abandoned graveyard. We made our way through the grassy fields, glancing at the wide variety of tombstones in the process.

However, when we reached the end of the path and found ourselves face to face with a giant stone monument, I brought the car to a halt. Once the car was parked, each of us stepped out onto the grass, the misty rain coating us from head to toe as soon as our feet hit the ground. Although Mike and I closed our car doors, Ronnie's remained open as she crouched down and sifted through her massive duffle bag.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What do you think?" She rose to her feet, only to reveal a pair of wooden stakes in one hand and a flask of holy water in the other. "We could be walking into anything, so we've got to be prepared for everything." She handed one of the stakes to Mike. "Here, this is in case we run into any vamps." She then handed me the flask of holy water. "And this is in case we run into any demons." As she finally shut the car door and tucked the other wooden stake into her jacket, she declared, "All right, let's find this crypt."

Mike and I nodded. Then, together, the three of us turned and began the perilous trek across the abandoned graveyard. We trudged through the weeds and tombstones, keeping our eyes peeled for the mysterious Davenport Crypt. All the while, we kept our weapons in hand, poised for attack if such a situation arose.

As we marched along the cemetery, Mike asked, "So, does anybody know anything about this crypt? You know, like who this Davenport person is, or why they've got a long-lost demon-killing dagger buried with them?"

"You're the one that was born and raised here. You tell us," Ronnie remarked.

"I have no idea. I've never even heard of anybody named Davenport, let alone why they'd have a magic dagger in their crypt." He thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe they're a hunter."