Page 83 of Sinister

Then again . . .

He never told you, a voice whispers inside me. And you never pressed him about what the ritual would require.

He told me he couldn’t say. And I let that be enough.

Is this why? Because people were going to die?

Because they were going to kill themselves?

Who did this?

Did they sacrifice themselves?

Did the entity kill them?

Did someone else?

If they sold their souls for wishes . . . why are they dead? Shouldn’t they have gotten what they wanted?

No. Something is wrong here. This isn’t some university experiment gone wrong.

This is murder.

And the worst part is⁠—

I’m afraid to ask who’s responsible.

Afraid to know who is guilty of this.

“He’s not among the dead,” my father’s voice reaches my ears.

I quickly gather my bearings and inch closer to where he’s standing, keeping my head down, veil covering my eyes in a sign of submission.

“Then there’s only one explanation,” an elder says, someone whose voice I recognize from my father’s study.

“He must have done it. He must have killed them for that demonic sacrifice,” he adds.

He? Who? Not Sin, right?

The reverend finds my father, his expression just as grim.

“We must fight back,” he says with determination, and a shiver runs down my spine. More violence.

My father grunts. “If you’d have listened to me, it wouldn’t have gotten to this.”

“When you came to me with your concerns, I thought you were overreacting. Misplaced worry. But now . . .” he shakes his head. “I see I should have listened. And I’m sorry for that. I can’t turn back time. I can’t undo what’s been done. And seeing these young men lying here like this . . .”

His voice cracks.

“You have no idea how deeply this wounds me. And I carry some of the guilt for letting it come to this.”

“We can still act,” my father insists, stepping forward. “We have the numbers on our side.”

“What are you saying?” the reverend asks.

My father straightens. “Gather the men. All of them. Everyone over the age of fourteen. Bring them to the designated place.” There’s steel in his voice now. “We’re going to drive this evil out of our town. Now.”

“But . . . he wouldn’t still be here, would he? Not after this? Not with the town already suspicious?” the reverend echoes.