Page 54 of Dead Heat

“Like what?” the chief asked.

I cut a quick glance at West. “I don’t want to drown you in details.”

The chief looked grim. “Take me to the crossroads. I want to see.”

Leo punched the air. “Ooh, yes!”

West frowned. “Now?”

“Now is as good a time as any.” She reaffixed her badge. “If I’m going to serve as the chief of police to this town, I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

“We can take you there,” I said.

West typed a quick text message. “I’m relieving the guards of their duties until we’re finished.”

The chief perked up. “Guards?”

“We post guards at the crossroads to alert us to any imminent threats,” West explained. “We have a text chain for emergencies, which Lorelei is on.”

“There’s also a list of approved visitors,” I jumped in, “and we don’t report locals who come and go out of respect for their privacy.”

“An entire operation right under my nose.” She shook her head. “I’m equal parts mortified and impressed.”

“You have enough on your plate with human world issues,” West said. “We didn’t want to burden you.”

“It isn’t a burden, West. It’s my job.”

I understood her sentiment all too well.

West used an industrial flashlight to illuminate our path as we walked through the dark forest to the crossroads.

“Dude, can I see your wolf form?” Leo asked.

“Another time.”

Chief Garcia was noticeably quiet. Finally, she said, “Those bodies in Bone Lake…”

“Supernatural causes,” I said.

“And Vincenzo Magnarella. He wasn’t human, was he?”

“Vampire,” I said. “A very nasty one.”

“How did he die?”

“He was eaten by a creature known as a kulshedra,” I said.

“I was surprised the kulshedra didn’t reject the taste and spit him out,” West added.

“This really does feel like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one,” Leo said.

The chief offered a weak smile. “I’m glad one of us is enjoying this.”

“Here we are,” I said, as we arrived at the two large oak trees that stood sentry at the crossroads. “You can identify the trees by this mark.” I motioned for West to shine the light on the bark.

The chief peered at the outline of a tree carved into the trunk. “What is it?”

“The image of Yggdrasil,” I said. “You might know it as a sacred tree in Norse mythology.”

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