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“You put me in charge, Fitz when you walked away from the unit. We’ve been begging you to come back for weeks and you refused. I understand what you’re going through.”

“You have no idea what the hell I’m going through,” Fitz practically shouted. “You’ve never shot a best friend before.”

“You’re right, I haven’t, but I stood by and watched when Jude took two bullets for me. I was there when the serial killer shot you and performed CPR on you while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. I might not have pulled those triggers, Fitz, but I was responsible for what happened to both of you. I wasn’t fast enough or smart enough to intervene. The guilt I’ve dealt with over the last eight years is nearly unbearable at times. I know exactly how you feel because I live it every day.”

“Save me the sanctimonious bullshit, Ronan. You don’t understand a fucking thing!”

“Guys!” Everly slammed a hand down on the table. All eyes turned toward her. “You need to see this. Now.” Everly handed the item to Ronan.

“What the fuck?” Ronan couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. It was an old-fashioned photograph of a young woman with a very familiar face. With shaking hands, he passed the photo to Jude.

Jude gasped and passed the photo to Aurora, who sat beside him.

Aurora rubbed her eyes and looked at the photo again. “Daddy, why is there a creepy old picture of me in Delilah’s diary?

Fitzgibbon leaned over his daughter’s shoulder. “This isn’t funny, Ronan. Why the hell would you cook up a photograph like this? To make me rejoin the unit? You’ve done some pretty low shit over the years, but this takes the cake.”

“Uncle Fitz, stop. Just stop.” Everly narrowed her eyes at Fitz. “This pic isn’t AI slop. It’s Delilah. Flip it over and you’ll see what she wrote.”

“To my beloved, J. May you keep me with you, always. Love, D.,” Fitz read, sounding dumbstruck.

“The handwriting in the journal matches the handwriting on the back of the photograph,” Ten said.

“This is me,” Aurora said. “How can this be me? Everly, what’s happening?”

“I’m not sure, but I want to try something.” Everly opened the bag with the witch board and planchette and pushed both items across the table to Aurora. “Take the first two fingers of each hand and set them on the planchette.”

“I don’t want my daughter fucking around with the occult,” Fitz said, looking panicked.

“That ship has sailed, Uncle Fitz. I would never ask Aurora to do something that would put her in danger. Please let her try it.”

Fitz looked as if he had some choice words for his niece, but simply nodded. “Give it a try, but if something comes for Aurora, I swear to-”

“Daddy, stop.” Aurora set a hand on his right arm. “I’m okay. I need to do this. That woman has my face. I need to know why.” She turned back toward Everly. “Like this?” Aurora set her hands on the device and it instantly began to move. “H-E-L-L-O. A-U-R-O-R-A.”

Ronan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The planchette moved with purpose and clarity, just like that night so many years ago at Mark Anthony’s Halloween party. To be honest, he was freaked out then and was freaked out even more now.

“Who are you?” Aurora asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“D-E-L-I-L-A-H,” the board spelled out. “H-E-L-P M-E.”

“Help you with what?” Aurora wore a scared look.

The board spelled “help me,” again and again. Aurora pulled her hands away from the board. Holding them to her chest as if they’d been burned.

The planchette flew off the board and toward Ronan, who caught it just before it slammed into his chest. “How can we help you, Delilah?”

Aurora sat up straighter in her seat. Her green eyes were focused on Ronan. She studied him, as if he were a bug under a microscope. “You must find my killer.” Aurora turned to Everly. “You must avenge my spirit so I may rest in peace.”

“Who are you?” Ronan asked, already having a feeling he knew the answer.

“Why, I’m Delilah Meehan, the Witch of Devil’s Den.” Aurora/Delilah offered a demure nod of her head.

Ronan had a million questions to ask the spirit, but as a father himself, there was only one he’d want answered if it were Everly in Aurora’s place. “Is Aurora safe?”

Delilah nodded. “I could never harm my own flesh and blood. Aurora is one of us. She is the last of us. The best of us. Read my diary. Find my killer. Set my soul free.” With those words, Aurora’s head sank to her chest.

No one around the table moved. Ronan held his breath waiting to see what would happen next.