He paused at the edge of the fence to look back over his shoulder. The witches were getting dressed. At least that's what he thought they were, witches or some other type of supernatural villian.
They had to be villians because what type of person summons a demon and then does that with them.
It couldn't be for any good purpose that was for damn sure.
Tyrone took off through the brush and bounded up on a railroad track.
He was less than a mile from downtown and the small pub where he was supposed to meet the man who hired him.
After the meeting he had one plan.
Get the hell out of Dodge, because that giant bullheaded demon didn't make it back to the underworld or whereever else it had come from. It was currently running loose in Memphis, and the direction it was headed in took it straight to St. Jude's.
He wondered if he should call the police.
Wouldn't that be an ironic little kick?
A thief calling the cops to ask for help.
Technically it wouldn't be help. Tyrone would be warning them about a disaster in the making, though he wasn't sure they would believe him.
He wasn't quite ready to believe it himself even though he had watched the ritual and summoning with his own eyes.
"Damn," he said and scrambled down the railway embankment to cut across a ditch.
He could see the baseball stadium up the road several blocks away. There were cars lined on either side of the road which meant people, but he didn't slow or relax.
The streetlights on this side of town were still subject to being shot out or knocked out, and the streets were bathed in darkness.
The man who hired him had warned of supernatural AND mortal bad guys and Tyrone was a man of caution.
His erstwhile employer and predicted the ritual, and advised the best time to grab the book, and had paid in cash with a promise of more to follow on delivery.
He was accurate in prediction, so Tyrone thought he would listen when it came to the warnings as well.
He could smell a wind blowing off the muddy waters of the Mississippi River, the sickly sweet stench of dirt and decay that carried laughter and strains of blues guitar off Beale Street.
The bar wasn't far now.
He heard a roar from the east, something that sounded like a cross between a lion and Godzilla.
Even though he was running fast, he ratched it up a notch or two to go even faster.
YOU ARE READING
Witchmas
ParanormalThe Marshal of Magic is not having a great day. He's just trying to have a blind date when a coven of witches show up in Memphis intent on completing a demon rite. Totally against the laws of magic. So he has to skip his date and run around Memph...
