Page 74 of Wicche Hunt

Hopping up, I slipped into my shoes and met him at the door. “Hi. I’m just talking with a couple of detectives. Would you like to come in and meet them?” He shook his head and turned back in the direction of his RV. “I wanted you to know that a strange man was lurking, staring in the gallery windows and trying the back door.”

Stiffening, I looked left and right. Was it the sweaty man who’d been parked in front waiting for me or a new one?

He patted my arm. “I got rid of him. I didn’t like the look of him. I think he was like the man who’d cornered you as a child.”

Unfortunately, I thought so too. “Thank you. I appreciate you keeping an eye out for me.”

Nodding, he went back toward his RV. “I liked the muffin.”

Good. I should make quiches later today. He needed protein. And I needed eggs. As I composed a shopping list in my head, I went back in to find the detectives gone.

“Hello?”

“We’re in your gallery,” Hernández called. When I walked in, she asked, “Everything good?”

“Creep, possible stalker. My uncle got rid of him for me.”

Osso gave me a look. “Permanently?”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s a historian, not a hit man. He just gave the guy a magical shove.”

“Why do you say he’s a stalker?” Hernández asked, expression concerned.

“I’ve had to do the same kind of magical shove a couple of times. He’s fixated. I can feel it. Declan even gave him a big, scary wolf glare and it didn’t register at all. I’m deciding how to deal with it.”

“You could make a report with us,” she said.

Osso shook his head. “What are we going to do that she can’t do better and faster?”

“But.” Hernández was at a loss.

Her fear for me was palpable and it warmed my heart. I patted her elbow. “I’ll be okay. I’ve had to deal with creeps my whole life.”

Osso grunted, apparently agreeing with Declan’s anger. He shook it off and then studied the walls. “I know you’re busy here, but can you come with us?”

I sighed. “Why?”

“Dead man. Luis Garza. He fell or was pushed off a cliff onto rocks, just like in your vision. We probably wouldn’t have found him, but a sailboat saw him and called it in before the tide washed him away. I want to take you to the estate. It’s on 17-Mile Drive.”

“That’s Carmel,” I said. “Isn’t that a different police force?”

He nodded. “It is, but we cooperate. They agreed to give us the case because Luis Garza used to be the groundskeeper at Cypress Academy. That means this death wraps into our cases. Garza was fired or quit—we’ll find out—five years ago.”

“Five years, huh?” I stuffed my hands in my overall pockets. I had work. The problem was, I also had nightmares about this.

“Yeah. We’re wondering if it had anything to do with a couple of former students,” Hernández said.

I headed back to the studio. “Let me get my backpack.”

On the drive, I sat in the back seat and texted Dave.

Me: Do demons write grimoires?

Dave: Not as a rule but a few exist.

Me: I had a vision about Calliope using one, building a spell. I couldn’t read the words on the page. Just looking at them made my head pound and my stomach want to hurl. I wondered if it might be a demonic language

Dave: That’s an interesting idea. Let me see if I can find out who the original Corey symbiot was. If I don’t know the demon, my father will. That would explain a lot and it might make her easier to find.

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