Page 61 of The Curse Breakers

That cat was lying on the mat. I stood in front of it, my stomach reeling as I leaned over and unlocked the door.

“Should we call Animal Control to clean this up?”

“In a normal world, yes. But one in which the Manteo police officers are watching every move I make? If I call, this will only make them more suspicious of me.”

“Don’t tell me that you want to clean this up yourself…”

I stepped over the cat and kicked off my shoes at the entrance so I wouldn’t track blood. “The Native Americans you’ve spent years studying dealt with worse than this.”

“Well…true…” but he didn’t sound convinced.

I grabbed several plastic trash bags and a kitchen spatula, along with a pair of cleaning gloves Myra had left under my kitchen sink one time as a “subtle” hint. I handed the bags to David, who was still standing on the porch, staring at the cat with a gaping mouth.

“You’re really going to touch it?”

I offered him a sweet smile. “Only if you won’t.” His eyes widened. “Okay, then hold the bag open.”

He obeyed, watching me as I tossed the spatula to the floor and pulled on the kitchen gloves. I was suddenly thankful I hadn’t eaten much for dinner.

Gagging, I squatted and folded the mat, turning my head in revulsion. David was jolted out of his shock, and he lowered the bag close to the floor so I wouldn’t have to lift the mat very high to get it inside.

He quickly cinched the top closed and held it out from his body. “What in the bloody hell do we do with this now?”

“There’s a dumpster downstairs. That’s where I tossed all the dead birds the spirits left on my porch.” I glanced up at this pale face. “Don’t ask.”

David tromped down the wooden staircase, and I would have worried that he wasn’t going to come back if he hadn’t dumped his messenger bag on the steps first.

I went back inside and grabbed a pitcher of water, using it to wash as much blood off the wood slats as possible.

When David came back, he stood at the top of the stairs, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry I didn’t help more.”

“It’s hard to take it in the first time you see it. I’ll cut you some slack.”

“How many times have you seen something like this?”

“Twice in person. Twice in my dreams.” I grabbed the charcoal out of the planter. I’d inadvertently washed some of the marks off the bottom of the door, so I needed to replace them before we went inside. I’d never replaced only one section before, and for all I knew, it couldn’t be done that way. I’d just have to do all of it over again to make sure.

I started on the bottom corners, placing the symbols for night, and then moved back up to the top, scratching over the still fresh symbols Collin had placed only hours earlier.

David stood behind me, watching in silence, and I was reminded of the night Collin and I had marked this door together. The night before his betrayal. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away. It always swung back to Collin.

I moved on to the sun and the other signs, forcing myself to concentrate and mentally ask the forces to protect me. When I reached Collin’s symbol, I placed my own beside it, hoping it would be enough.

“They’re just markings,” David murmured behind me. “But there’s a certain amount of reverence in the way you place them.”

“I felt that way when I watched Collin place them for the first time,” I said. “But then again, he was placing them to protect me.” I groaned. How could I be so stupid? “What are your initials?”

“What?”

“You don’t have a symbol, so what are your initials?”

“Oh…DMP.”

I scratched his initials below mine, concentrating on including David in the protection spell.

“And this will work?”

I released a heavy breath. “It will protect us when we’re on the inside. Outside we’re fair game.”

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