Page 87 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Yes. Black magic can grant you your wildest dreams, but the price is always devastating. Alcina Magus used black magic to bind me to her servitude, and you were the sacrifice needed to complete the curse. We were strangers, but you became the only person I’ve ever truly loved. If Alcina’s curse had succeeded, her deal would’ve robbed me of my future.” He twisted to kiss her head before continuing.

“Alcina consumed the hearts of her victims to steal your neighbor’s face. Charles Blaubart’s scalpel cost him his wife, and then all the women he tried to replace her with. Black magic always comes at a price, and you rarely understand the gravity of what you’ll sacrifice until it’s too late.”

“You think someone made a deal to stop Aesop’s Files from being canceled?” Bel asked. “The victims? Are they the ones who struck the deal? Are their deaths after they achieved success the price that they didn’t know they’d pay?”

“It would explain the scent on the producer’s body,” Eamon said. “I can’t be certain, but their refusal to pause filming despite the murders. The show’s fame despite its mediocrity. It makes sense.”

“Then why the red cloaks and the claw wounds?”

“Who knows? Maybe it means something to the entity. Maybe I’m wrong and the deaths aren’t the price. It just feels a little too coincidental.”

“I agree. This entire case has been bothering me. I couldn’t understand why they refused to pause filming. Three brutal deaths are more important than an episode, but not to a deal, right?”

“Black magic is all-consuming. Even those who aren’t involved suffer the effects, for as they say, the show must go on.”

“My theory predicts there will be two more murders,” Bel said. “Is that a useless idea now?”

“No. Based on the clues, it’s a sound conclusion, but you need to be careful, Detective.” Eamon sat up, gently shifting Cerberus’s drooling head off his abdomen so he could study her in the darkness. “If an entity made a deal with this show, it won’t stop until its debt is settled, and it won’t care who’s standing in its way. You included. I know you want to find the killer, but you’ve encountered people who’ve struck deals before. You barely survived.”

“I have a panic button now,” she said. “You’ll be there.”

“I always promise I will, yet I’m always too late.”

“Not next time.” She smiled as she peeled his hand off her cheek and pressed it against her chest. “I can feel it, but I’ll try not to jump into the back seats of any more cars. Filming is almost over, and I think the killer chose Bajka as his hunting ground because of its miles of undeveloped land. It’s a lot easier to kill celebrities undetected here. I obviously don’t want people to die, but once the cast and crew leave town, my job of protecting them is over. Once they return home, they are another department’s responsibility, and probably one much larger than ours. So, all I have to do is keep them alive until shooting ends.”

“Do you want more coffee?”Bel asked as they sat in the kitchen eating breakfast. “Or can I finish?—”

“Quiet.” Eamon silenced her with a hand pressed against her mouth, and for a split second, she gawked at his rudeness before realizing what it meant.

“It’s a woman,” he said after listening to the stillness. “She’s screaming.” He launched to his feet, and the urgency in his tone took her with him. The couple rushed for the door, shoving boots and coats over their pajamas, and pausing for Bel to grab her badge and gun, they bolted from the house.

“Down there.” Eamon caught her hand and dragged her down the street. Bel had driven the entire length of this road when she moved to Bajka. The neighborhood lined a dead end with expansive stretches of trees between each home, making for a private existence, but she’d ultimately chosen the empty cabin across from Vera’s. They were the first two on the lane, and being closer to town was best in the event of police emergencies. It was also the cheapest model since it was a single room.

An inconsolable scream ripped through the frigid air, and she finally heard what Eamon’s senses had detected at the breakfast table.

“Is it him?” She aimed the gun out before her because that unnerving wail was pure fear. It was the sound of a woman being chased through the snow by a predator who wanted to flay her open and bleed her dry.

Eamon tugged her faster, and she had her answer. Their red hood killer was here… on her street once again. He’d waited for her to grow brave enough to return home, and then he reared his bloodthirsty head.

“Help!” a woman screamed. “Help me!”

The couple rounded a bend in the road, and a storm of white and red barreled for them.

“Help! Oh my god, please!” A woman aimed for them, a bed sheet fluttering in the wind behind her, and Bel realized what she was seeing. The hysterical stranger was naked and barefoot, her only protection against the cold a white sheet stained with blood. Had their killer tried to force her into a red cloak? Had they finally found a victim who’d fought back?

“Ma’am!” Bel shouted over her hysterics. “I’m with the Bajka Police. Are you hurt?”

“Oh my god!” the woman screamed, deaf to her question. “Oh my god, please. Please help me!”

“Ma’am, where are you hurt?” Bel shoved her Glock into Eamon’s hands before capturing the woman’s biceps in gentle fists, but her neighbor continued to scream as if she couldn’t see the couple.

“Where are you hurt?” Bel repeated

“It’s not her blood,” Eamon interrupted, and Bel discreetly grabbed the sheet and pulled it away from the stranger’s stomach. Smooth skin met her eyes. Her neighbor wasn’t the victim, but she wasn’t from Aesop’s Files, either. So whose blood did she wear?

“The man who did this?” Bel asked. “Is he still here? Is he in the house?”

“Oh god!” Her neighbor stumbled, almost toppling to the pavement, but Bel held her tight.

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