“It’s being held at Devil’s Cove, right?”
He nodded.
Devil’s Cove was a secluded cove off Otter Lake. Beyond the steep cliff that encircled the cove was a clearing where local concerts and festivals were occasionally held. Miles and miles of forest surrounded the clearing, making it ideal for avoiding noise complaints and for setting up roadblocks to catch drunk drivers. That year, though, it became an ideal place for a wildfire.
But a wildfire wasn’t my concern.
8
JAGG
“Have you ever heard of Lammas?” I asked.
“Yeah, a South American camelid. Stinky.” A crumble of cookie fell out of Colson’s mouth. He flicked it on the floor and grabbed mine.
“Not a llama;Lammas.”
“No then. What’sLammas?”
“It’s a Wiccan holiday. One of the four Greater Sabbats. Happens once a year. It’s a festival honoring the end of the summer.”
His brow cocked. “And when exactly does llama take place?”
“Lammas, you idiot.August first.”
“ThisSaturday?” His eyes rounded. “The day of the Moon Magic festival? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“And also the day of the next full moon. By the way, guess what else is called Moon Magic?”
“I don’t think I want to know. But I get the feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“Wiccan covens meet under full moons to perform rituals that supposedly bring psychological and physicaltransformations. They pull energy from the moon to amplify their spells. This tradition is called Moon Magic.”
He shook his head. “It’s like the stars are aligning for trouble.”
“Yeah. Too many coincidences here. This could also be linked to the Voodoo Tree. I don’t know.”
“Listen, Jagg, unless you find a viable link to the Black Bandit and the Voodoo Tree, let it go. Witchcraft, Wiccans, whatever, have been around these parts for decades, and let’s just say those who have barked up the witches’ trees have stumbled onto their own bad luck.”
I turned fully to him. “You’re kidding me. You seriously believe in curses, Colson?”
He shrugged. “I just know what I know.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“A few years ago, an officer took a witch into custody to question her about a kidnapping case. After he had nothing to hold her on, he let her go. The woman was bullied out of town, and a week later, the guy dropped dead of a heart attack. Never had a single health issue in his life. And remember ol’ Sanchez? Went after another rumored-witch about a bunch of cows being poisoned. Dude’s side business tanked a month later, and he had to file for bankruptcy. And, you remember that guy?—”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Just sayin’, don’t spend all your time on the Voodoo Tree, bro. Hell, give most of that part to Darby. Focus on Seagrave.”
A moment slid by as I actually considered working alongside the kid.
Colson downed his beer, then leaned back, deep in thought. “So we’ve got a bunch of witches allriled up about cursed scrolls and the llama’s holiday, going around constructing shrines and shooting police officers?”
His phone beeped with an incoming text message. He pulled it from his pocket and clicked it on.
“Shit.”Colson shoved out of his seat, dropped a few tens on the bar, then looked at me. “Are you sure there are only four scrolls?”
