“They’re there, trust me.”
As if I’d summoned them, a horde of people began filtering through the fog. On foot, there was no chance of confusing them for usual townies. Their dress was normal enough, but their faces were locked in menacing snarls, their gazes gleaming with a manic possession that didn’t bode well for anyone. A low grumble followed them, like the theme song of hell.
“Oh. Fuck,” I said, my step faltering.
Immediately, Brock’s hand went to the small of my back, and he hurried me back into motion. We tore up the front steps of the police station and barreled through the double doors. The second we were through them, the officer who’d been stationed as lookout snapped a bar back between the two handles, barring the door shut. With a tight mouth, he peered out the tempered glass panels, watching the street.
Molly materialized from the fog then and sprinted toward the doors, gas mask firmly in place, a shotgun in either hand. She was also encased in a bubble and I guessed it was Cho’s work. Damn I needed to work on my witchy powers!
“Open back up,” I yelled, and the man did as I asked, letting her slip inside before closing it again. I added, “We’re expecting three more parties.”
The police officer looked between me and the fog-demon-possessed people following our trail toward the station. “I don’t think they’re going to be able to make it inside. I can’t let the rest of them all in.”
“We need them to stop this fog, and they’re right behind us. They should be here any minute,” I told the officer, thinking of the Blacks, Willemena, and Cho. “Do what you have to do, but we need them inside, and fast.”
Prematurely balding, the officer scowled like I’d just told him to hop on one leg while doing the impossible, but when Detective Swanson rushed out from the back of the station to greet us, he nodded curtly. “I’ll see what I can do,” the officer on door duty said.
Brock clapped him on the shoulder while Tianna let the bubble protecting us dissolve. “See that you do more than that,” Brock said. “If the people we’re expecting don’t get in, we can’t stop the fog.”
The officer gulped so that his Adam’s apple bobbed, then nodded nervously, his eyes wide and worried as he took in three women who would’ve looked like sweet little old ladies if not for the murderous slant of their features. The women pounded on the tempered glass panels of the front doors, making the officer jump, and the rest of us hurry to the back, following Swanson.
Eugene, Oregon, was like a freaking zombie apocalypse.
7Too many witches in the kitchen
Luckily,it didn’t take long for our ragtag group to assemble. The Blacks and Willemena had arrived. Detective Swanson gave us the rundown: Chaos had descended upon Eugene, and it wasn’t going to let up until we did something about it. The cops were at a loss. The human world was completely unprepared to deal with a fog demon.
The detective, who looked like he’d aged a decade since I last saw him, scanned the many supernatural creatures gathered in the conference room around him. Fine wrinkles lined his eyes and crinkled his forehead. “The latest is that one of my officers is holding his family hostage, at gunpoint. He was the first to be hit by the fog, so far as I can tell. By now, the only ones of us on the force who haven’t been hit are inside this station.”
I’d only seen him, the guy manning the door, and a receptionist. Unless they had someone hiding in a back room behind a closed door, that was what the police force of Eugene had been reduced to.
“What’s your officer asking for in exchange for releasing his family?” Willemena asked in a strong voice. Despite the clusterfuck that pressed in on us on all sides, she was radiating a calm I envied. “If he’s holding his family hostage, he must be asking for something.”
“Or maybe not, given that we’re dealing with afog demon,” Aunt Bertie snapped at Willemena. Since I’d introduced Bertie and Willemena, Bertie had been trying to assert herself as top dog.
Willemena tilted her head to one side, her long silver hair shifting gracefully, while she waited for Detective Swanson to answer. She didn’t even direct a look at Bertie, which only made my great aunt growl softly and shake her tight gray curls.
Detective Swanson appeared lost for a moment, before rubbing his hand across a tired face. “He’s asking for ten buckets of KFC, extra crispy, and biscuits and butter.”
My mouth dropped open for a quick second. I definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “I take it you’re going to give it to him?”
“I don’t see much of a point. Before this, it was three large pepperoni pizzas, with mushrooms and extra cheese. And before that it was lo mein and moo shu pork.”
“What, is the fog giving him the munchies?” That was one of the weirdest things I’d heard lately.
“I have no idea. I’d hoped you would,” Detective Swanson said.
I turned to Cass, who was sitting atop the conference table, shaking his head. “I’ve never heard about something like this before, but I do know there’s only one way to fix it,” he said. “And you’re looking at it.”
The detective studied our group once more, before finally appearing to give up. He sank into one of the chairs around the table, slumping immediately. “What can I do to help? Gary is good people. He’s been with the force for more than twenty years. He loves his wife and kids. Not so sure about the mother-in-law, but he’ll never forgive himself if he hurts any of them.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Willemena said as Aunt Bertie rushed to speak over her: “We’re on the job.”
Johnny stepped between them, crossing his arms and glaring at them both. Neither of the witches appeared cowed in the least. Finally, he sighed and asked, “Where’s your officer’s house?”
“Ten blocks from here, but it may as well be a hundred miles with how hard it will be to get there,” Detective Swanson said. “The fog’s everywhere now, and even with gas masks on we’ll still run into all the people.”
“There’s nothing to help that now, Detective,” Willemena said. “Go gather what stun guns and rubber bullets you have while we make a plan.”
