“Poppy?” Wylder’s voice is low, careful.
“Do you see it?” I whisper.
“No, but I sense it. And it looks like our tracking spell is working.” He tilts the compass toward me, and the silver inside has gone black, swirling toward the kettle corn stand. “How bad is it?”
I take a moment to explain what at first was a shimmering mirage of reality but now has sharpened to clarity.
“And it’s the same demon connected to several people?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s like the ribbons of a maypole extending out to all the people it either fed or is feeding on, but it’s got itself wrapped around that guy over there and is sucking him dry.”
Wylder frowns. “That complicates things.”
I see his point. Disconnecting a feeding demon without being seen by the locals or targeted by the demons has greater odds of success when it only involves one person. How does that work when it’s attached to a group scattered all over the place?
“What do we do now?” Asher asks.
Wylder slides the compass into the pocket of his black jeans and frowns. “We proceed as planned. We stop it from feeding and then we banish it.”
“If you can’t see it, how can we stop it?”
He casts a sideways glance at me. “You’ll have to do it.”
“Seriously?” Asher hisses. “For weeks, Poppy has been berated and belittled about being incapable and unprepared, and now you want to shove her straight at a demon monster and have her fix the problem herself?”
Wylder gives Asher a patient look, but honestly doesn’t look nearly as dismissive as he usually does. “I never said she’s doing it alone, just that she’ll have to do it. She’s the one with the spirit affinity and, believe it or not, sheiscapable of handling this.”
Asher scoffs. “You can shove your backhanded epiphany up your ass. I’ve never doubted Poppy. Not once in the five years since your people roofied her and threw her away like your unwanted Wiccan trash.”
The muscle on the side of Wylder’s jaw flexes. “I had nothing to do with that, nor did I even know about it.”
I hold up my hands, knowing that Asher is only pissy because he loves me and he’s afraid for me. “Guys, enough. The longer you argue, the worse the poor guy looks. Wylder, what do I need to do?”
“What do you see?”
“I see a spindly spider creature sucking the life out of an old man with a straw. We need to take it down and send it back to the hell realm or wherever it belongs.”
“And if we light it up in the middle of a crowd, we’ll not only tip our hand, we’ll cause a panic.” Wylder’s tone brooks no argument. “We need to be subtle.”
Asher and I both laugh at the same time.
“Oh, you’re serious,” I say, sobering. “Well, we can try, but subtle isn’t our best event.”
Asher grins. “We’re better known for our razzle-dazzle.”
Wylder ignores us and continues. “Is the feeding demon alone? And if not, how many are there?”
I get my head back in the game and look around. “I see only one.”
“Good. Asher take this.” Wylder hands him a red woven-thread bracelet with a small iron broomstick hanging from it like an odd little charm. “While Poppy and I work on breaking the connection of the feeding demon, you’ll distract the old man and tie this on his wrist. Tell him it’s a festive gift being given out or something.”
Asher takes the bracelet and touches the little broomstick. “Halloween was three weeks ago.”
Wylder shrugs. “It was all I had on hand. The important part is that it’s an iron nail. It’ll discourage reattachment while the old man recovers.”
Asher checks with me and grins. “Does this make me an honorary witch?”
I hold up my palm for a high-five. “Hells yeah. Of the highest order.”
