Page 71 of The Demon's Spell
“Yes.” The man on the stretcher groaned, like speaking was difficult for him. He sounded barely conscious.
“Can you tell me what happened here?” Baker asked.
“I don’t know,” Clyde said. “I can’t explain it.”
“Give it a try,” Baker encouraged.
I crept a little closer, listening intently.
“I saw a… a thing in the middle of the road.” Clyde’s voice shook. “It scared the hell out of me.”
“Can you describe this thing?” Baker pressed.
Clyde drew a deep breath, but it sounded pained. “It looked like a man, but he… he was nothing but bone. He wore a black cloak and was just… standing there.”
Clyde gagged. “I think I hit him.”
I recalled the thump I heard and the flash of movement outside the moonroof. He’d definitely hit something. But what Clyde was describing sounded like…
“Sir, are you saying you saw a reaper?” Baker asked.
“I don’t know! I’ve killed all these people. It’s my fault. I must be going crazy. I—I…” Clyde broke out into sobs, and he spoke so incomprehensibly that Sheriff Baker ordered the paramedics to take him away. They loaded him into another ambulance, along with several other seriously injured individuals, and drove away. There weren’t enough stretchers or ambulances for everyone.
I was about to head back to Lucas when I heard a familiar voice. “What a tragic accident. You made the right call by cutting our meeting short, Priestess.”
I peeked around the side of the ambulance. I wanted to hurl when I saw Professor Leto appear with the priestesses. He walked right alongside them, like he belonged in their ranks. His gaze roamed over the scene, and though he tried looking sad, he wasn’t selling it. Hunger blazed in his eyes, like he was eating this up.
“Sheriff, what have you learned?” Priestess Margaret demanded.
“We’re still working on gathering accurate numbers,” he said. “I interviewed the driver, but he doesn’t seem to remember anything. He claims he saw a reaper, but that’s not possible.”
“Let’s see what the other witnesses know,” Margaret said. A shiver traveled down my spine. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to learn something from them… or make sure certain secrets stayed buried.
The priestesses went in different directions. Margaret walked straight up to the nearest girl, who had a blanket around her shoulders and was watching the paramedics. She turned, and I realized it was Mira. She had scratches and bruises on her face, but her injuries were minimal compared to others.
“Excuse me, miss,” Margaret said.
Mira’s features changed when she realized she was in the presence of one of the priestesses. She bowed her head. “Mira Benson, Priestess.”
“Ah, Mira. Yes, I recall. You’re an Executor, correct?”
Mira nodded. “Yes, Priestess.”
“Can you tell me what you saw?”
Mira shook her head. “I saw nothing, Priestess. One second we were dining, and the next… we were upside down. It all happened so fast.”
Margaret wore a calculating look. “There’s nothing else? Nothing… suspicious?”
“Nothing but the atrocious music they were playing,” Mira said snidely.
I was offended for Monica. Her songs were beautiful.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, please, let me know,” Mira said, like she’d sell her soul to the priestesses if they asked.
“We will,” Margaret promised. “Take care of yourself, Miss Benson.”
Priestess Margaret started walking in my direction, and I hurried back toward Lucas before she could spot me. Monica was being ushered into an ambulance now, and an EMT was wrapping Quentin’s wound.