Not frantic. Just two firm raps. I opened the door and blinked at the uniform staring back at me.
"Sheriff?"
Liz, Caroline's mother, stood on the porch, jacket zipped, face tight with whatever she wasn't saying yet. Beside her, Logan Fell hovered like a dark stain, arms crossed, impatience practically radiating off him.
"I need you to come with us," Liz said.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing automatically. "Why?"
Her gaze flicked to Logan before returning to mine. "The vampires are back. We need a Hastings witch."
My eyes dropped to Logan. His frown was deep enough to cut granite, which was typical coming from a Fell. The Fells never liked relying on witches—especially me.
"You want me to clean up the mess because my mother's not here," I said flatly.
Liz sighed, the kind that carried years of compromise in it. "We would've asked Celeste, but...you're what we have."
I grabbed my jacket and shut the door behind me until I heard the lock click.
"Lead the way."
...🌺...
We didn't speak as we walked to the cemetery. Logan kept sneaking glances at me like I was going to set him on fire with a look. I might've, if I'd been in a worse mood.
The air changed as we stepped past the iron gates—colder.
And then I smelled it—burnt flesh.
Logan gagged. "I've never smelled one this bad."
I ignored him and followed Liz deeper into the grounds. The scent got stronger, curling into my throat like smoke. The bodies were scattered along the tree line, covered in yellow tarps that didn't bother hiding the blackened edges of charred bone.
"It tried to cover its tracks," Liz said, crouching beside one of them. She peeled the tarp back.
Logan crouched next to her, squinting. "Are you sure?"
