“It looks like a targeting spell, or maybe a marker.”
“Targeted for what? Marked by whom?”
He arches a dark brow. “Emberwood is generally a one apocalypse at a time kind of town, Poppy. I’m assuming it’s a demon mark put into play by your buddy Tharuzel.”
The way he says that is intentionally cold, and if his intention is to twist the knife, he succeeds.
I set my spoon down and rub my palms over the thighs of my pants. “I was summoned into a Hell Realm holding room and told that because he bound Mom during the ritual and she died, the Hallowind line is marked. He gave me a choice—I could accept the bond, or he’d leave me in hell and get one of my sisters to assume the contract.”
I blink against the sting of tears trying to surface and lower my voice. “What would you have done? If you think I want to be tied to that thing, you’re nuts.”
“I don’t think?—”
“And if you think I’d take the out, and leave one of my sisters to take the hit, you don’t know me at all.” I swipe at my cheek, hating that I’m crying in public and in front of him, of all places.
Wylder glances around to ensure our conversation is ours and leans over the table. “Of course you wouldn’t. I understand why you did it. He left you no other choice.”
“Then why are you punishing me? From the moment you found out about the contract, you’ve looked at me like I’m dog shit on the sidewalk. If you don’t blame me for what happened, why the hell did you ghost me?”
The brass bell jingles, and I glance toward the door to where Mr. Patterson has come inside.
As a kid growing up here, I remember Mr. Patterson as a regular guy who loved to talk about his wife and their weekend camping trips. Since I’ve been back, everything is about being retired and spending time with his grandkids.
My heart sinks the moment he steps into the diner fully. “Oh, no. Wylder? Do you see that?”
“The sigil? Yeah, I see it.”
Ice slides down my spine and something unnatural tingles over my skin. “No, not the sigil, the three ghosts attached to him. Mrs. Patterson is one, but I don’t recognize the other two.”
Wylder squints as if trying to see, but shakes his head. “Attached how?”
“Remember at the Harvest Festival, how Tharuzel’s minions were siphoning energy through those iridescent ribbons? Well, this is more like a thin red rope glowing the same as the sigil.”
Wylder leans back in the booth and chews his bottom lip. “What if that’s what the sigil is for? Not so much a target as identifying a person to tether.”
“To tether? You think it’s like a beacon for ghosts to stalk him? Why? Mr. Patterson is a sweet old man.”
“But he’s also been endlessly sad and lonely since his wife passed. Maybe that’s the chink in the armor they need to create a tether.”
The idea is repugnant. Using the man’s grief to have him haunted is disgusting. Then again, Tharuzel is a demon. If he’s doing this… it could be much worse.
I swallow. “What do we do?”
Wylder frowns. “Well, you’re the spirit witch, so I guess you have to break the tether somehow and send those ghosts back to wherever they came from.”
“Do you think that’s possible? I may be a spirit witch, but I don’t know anything about demon beacons tethering ghosts topeople. Are the ghosts aware? Are they suffering? Where do I send them?”
He shrugs. “Maybe ask Zoe or Sebastian. Is your boy at home to answer the phone and put it on speaker for your mom? Do you know where Sebastian is?”
I don’t care for the tone as he refers to Asher as ‘my boy’, but given the situation, that goes way down on the list of things to deal with.
“Sebastian is with Mom in the workroom. I’ll call him.”
I pull out my phone, and Wylder rounds the table to sit on the bench seat next to me. With my cell between us, I pull up Sebastian’s contact and draw a steadying breath.
By the time the call ends a few minutes later, I’ve got a decent idea about the ghost side of things but only a wish and a prayer for the demon element.
“You ready for this?” Wylder hands me the salt shaker from the condiments caddy.
