Page 28 of Silent Ritual

There was movement by the sedan as Cassandra Jenkins emerged from the shadows, fumbling for her car keys. Sheila held back, remaining unseen behind a large pickup truck. She watched as Jenkins unlocked her car, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder before she started to climb in.

Now was the moment.

With a burst of speed, Sheila sprinted from her hiding spot, covering the distance between them in a matter of seconds.

"Jenkins!" Sheila yelled, leaping onto the woman as she was half in and half out of the car. They both went tumbling into the vehicle, knocking against the steering wheel and dashboard.

With an animalistic growl, Jenkins tried to squirm free, but Sheila wasn't letting her go that easily. She managed to flip Jenkins onto her back, trapping her against the seat while keeping a firm grip on her wrists.

"Get off me!" Jenkins said, trying to drive her knee into Sheila's side. But Sheila was ready for it; she dodged the blow and tightened her grip on Jenkins' wrists.

"I don't think so," Sheila said, her voice as cold as the night air outside. "You have some questions to answer."

Jenkins' eyes widened in fear, but then her gaze shifted to something behind Sheila. A cruel smile spread across her face. "I don't think I'll be answering anything tonight, Officer."

Before Sheila could react, she heard shouts coming from the direction of the building. She glanced over her shoulder to see a group of hooded figures rushing towards them, some brandishing makeshift weapons.

"Damn it," Sheila muttered. She tightened her grip on Jenkins, knowing she couldn't let her go, but also realizing she was now trapped. If she released Jenkins to defend herself, the woman would escape. If she didn't, she'd be at the mercy of the approaching cultists.

She slammed the door shut and locked it moments before the first of the group reached the car.

"Let her go!" he shouted, pounding on the window. Others surrounded the vehicle, their faces masks of rage and desperation.

Sheila's mind raced, searching for a way out of this predicament. She could hear the cultists trying to force the doors open, the car rocking with their efforts. Jenkins was still struggling beneath her, making it difficult to maintain her hold.

Just as Sheila thought her plan had completely backfired, she heard the screech of tires. A familiar SUV came barreling into the parking lot, horn blaring. It was Finn.

The cultists scattered as Finn brought the vehicle to a screeching halt beside Jenkins' sedan. He leaned across and flung open the passenger door. "Sheila! Get in, now!"

In one fluid motion, Sheila hauled Jenkins up and out of her car, keeping a firm grip on her arm. She shoved the professor into the back seat of the SUV before jumping in herself.

"Go, go, go!" she yelled as she slammed the door shut. Finn didn't need to be told twice. He floored the accelerator and they peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the stunned cultists in their wake.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Let’s go over this again,” Sheila said, folding her hands as she studied Cassandra Jenkins across the metal table of the Coldwater County Sheriff’s Department’s interview room. “You and your group of friends believe you summoned a creature you call ‘the Cherubim,’ which then killed the three women whose bodies have been found out in the salt flats. After you heard about the first killing on the news, you went searching the salt flats for more bodies, and you came across the second and third women before the police did. Am I on track so far?”

Jenkins, whose defiance seemed to be ebbing away to exhaustion by the minute, gave a slight nod.

“Alright, then,” Sheila said. “After that, you volunteered to speak with the police and share your theories on what was happening so that you could insert yourself into the investigation.”

“And learn about future killings without having to search the salt flats ourselves, yes,” Jenkins agreed. “It took quite a bit of effort to find those bodies, I can assure you.”

“I have no doubt,” Sheila murmured, recalling the hours of searching she’d put in herself. “Earlier tonight, you and your group had a meeting to…what…do some kind of ritual to protect yourselves from the Cherubim?”

“It’s on the hunt,” Jenkins said, her eyes burning with fervor. “And so long as it’s on the hunt, none of us is safe.”

The door opened, and Finn strode in. He was holding a coffee in his left hand, and he had another two cradled against his chest with his right arm. He placed two coffees on the table, then leaned back against the wall and sipped from the third one.

“Let’s say I believe everything you’re saying,” Sheila said to Jenkins. “Why did you try to stir up this creature in the first place?”

“It wasn’t our intent to awaken anything,” Jenkins said, her voice wavering. “Our rituals are intended to commune with celestial energies, not to stir up creatures of myth and legend. We were…exploring the boundaries of our capabilities. But we never meant for this to happen.”

Sheila leaned back, unsure what to make of Jenkins’s confession. She didn’t believe for a second that Jenkins and her people really had summoned a supernatural creature, but she felt absolutely certain that Jenkins believed it. What if someone in Jenkins’s group was the killer? A few of her acolytes had been caught, but the rest had escaped, melting into anonymity.

Had the killer been one of them?

“Tell me about the other members of your group,” Sheila said.

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